Diary Two: Dawn, Sunny, Maggie, Amalia, and Ducky

by Ann M. Martin

  They’re more like girls.

  Not that Brendan is like a girl. He’s not. It’s just that in the quality of his personality—Why am I explaining this to myself? I know what I mean!

  Anyway, the other day, Brendan brings me a tape. A mix he’s made.

  “What’s this for?” I ask.

  “Just paying you back for the Vanish tape,” he says.

  Nice, huh?

  That’s what I mean.

  He’s different in homeroom too. Not so stiff and shy. Lately he slips me these corny notes. Jokes like, “When it comes to homeroom, I can take it or Leavitt.”

  Real groaners, but that’s okay. They’re cute.

  Plus, he likes my friends. Especially Sunny, who flirts with him (when she’s actually in homeroom, which isn’t that often). When I introduce him to Maggie, he’s thrilled. He loved her voice on the tape. (And, believe it or not, he has never heard of Hayden Blume, which makes Maggie appreciate him even more.)

  I don’t want to make a big deal of this, Nbook. I just mean to say that he’s a change of pace from the Guys that have become familiar to me at Vista.

  It’s refreshing to be around someone who’s newer in the school than I am. It’s good for my self-esteem.

  Thurs., 10/8

  4:35 P.M.

  Nbook, I am RED.

  FURIOUS.

  Look at this. Look what I find today in my locker:

  Like I need this?

  Two days before our biggest concert. Two days before my debut as manager of a professional rock group. When I have to worry about buying spare electrical cords. Fixing mikes. Making sure the risers are set up. Keeping my best friend (and lead singer) happy and healthy.

  AAAAAAGGGH!

  This is not cute, James Kodaly.

  Why do I bother keeping his notes, Nbook? Am I perverse or what?

  I know why I do it. Because I might need them. As evidence. For something. I don’t know what.

  Oh. You know what the translation is? “You can run but you can’t hide.” It takes me practically the whole day to figure that out.

  Oh so sweet. He sure knows how to win a girl’s heart.

  Whenever I see James in the hall, I feel angry. I can’t even look at him.

  He acts as if nothing has happened.

  Jerk.

  Creep.

  Sicko.

  Okay. Enough space wasted. This topic is closed.

  From here on out, all I will think about is the Homecoming Bash.

  Fri. 10/9

  Soc. Stud.

  The mike’s not ready at the shop. No spares.

  Risers are too small. Will have to move some of the equipment onto the dance floor.

  Rico’s home with a cold.

  Oh. And we’re going to have to set up around cheerleading practice! (Can you believe this?!)

  ’Bye. Gotta pretend to study.

  Study hall

  Before lunch I call Rico. He’ll be OK. Also, his dad has an old mike left over from his band. But I’m still worried as I walk to lunch.

  Dawn and Maggie are waiting for me, and we get in line. I must be complaining pretty loudly, because behind us I hear, “What happened? Aren’t you guys going to play?”

  It’s Brendan. He’s sliding his tray down the line, next to mine.

  “I mean, I don’t want to go to the Bash if you’re not playing,” he explains.

  I tell him everything’ll work out. Then I start loading my tray.

  I glance ahead at Maggie. She has taken a folded sheet of paper from her pocket. She reads it carefully, then chooses a cup of soup, a green salad, and a bread stick.

  Progress.

  As we leave the line, Brendan and Maggie are chatting about music. Maggie asks him to sit with us.

  He looks totally flustered. Like, Who, little old me?

  I say, “What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever eaten lunch with a star?”

  Maggie elbows me.

  I run to grab a table.

  Brendan sits next to me. Mostly we talk about the Bash.

  I’m in a crazy mood. Feisty.

  Dawn says she’s glad it isn’t a date kind of party.

  “Ends up being the same, only the guys don’t have to buy flowers,” I say.

  “That’s the only thing I’ll miss. Flowers.”

  Maggie says it would be perfect if the guys brought the flowers anyway, but it was still a non-date party.

  I say why not just have them bring the flowers, then go home.

  Soon we’re laughing a lot. But Brendan’s looking lost and uncomfortable, so Maggie starts asking him questions. Where did you live, etc. I, the big mouth, end up answering some of them.

  Brendan lets me. He doesn’t say much at all. He never likes to talk about himself or his family. Just music.

  The boy still needs to loosen up, Nbook.

  We’ll work on him.

  Language Arts

  The Maggie Morph continues.

  Before class you could mistake her for Cece: “So, did you see how Brendan was looking at you in lunch? How disappointed he was when we were dissing date parties? How he laughed at all your jokes? How he couldn’t keep his eyes off you,” etc. etc.

  Part of me is thinking, Dr. Fuentes is a genius.

  But part of me prefers the quiet Maggie.

  Frankly, with every-thing that’s on my mind, I’m in no mood for hints and gossip.

  “Do you think I care about stuff like that?” I say. “I have enough to worry about.”

  Maggie acts as if I’ve slapped her.

  Maggie says this, Nbook.

  Maggie.

  And you know what?

  She’s right.

  10/10

  It’s here.

  We’re in the gym.

  Home

  6:19 P.M.

  OK. Deep breaths.

  Approx. 11 minutes before I have to go back to school.

  The equipment fits (yea!). It’s a little cramped, but we’ll live.

  Everybody’s home changing. I’m wearing my black scoopback Spandex dress. Won’t show dust & dirt. Show

  starts at 8. Have to be there by 7 at

  the latest. Guess where Mr. and Mrs. Chavez take us out to dinner after setup? Mexican Kitchen. (WRONG kind of food for a nervous stomach.) They invite Ducky and Dawn, because they’ve helped us and have been big fans.

  Ducky can’t go. Doesn’t say why.

  Justin sits at a table near restaurant door. He’s smiling at Maggie, but she doesn’t see him & sits at next table.

  I think, Is she ignoring him on purpose? Who knows?

  I sit w/ her and notice veget. section of menu. “Lite meals for lite appetites.”

  But Maggie just orders green salad and bottled water.

  And when it comes, she barely eats any.

  And I’m thinking, Oh no.

  Everyone’s talking at once. Making toasts. Laughing. Bruce is wild. Singing. Shouting, “We’re kings of the world!” Patti announces that the Homecoming Bash is due to “one person only, Amalia Vargas” and everyone stands and cheers.

  But I’m still concerned about Maggie.

  She’s getting worse.

  WHY WON’T SHE EAT? She needs to. I can’t have her passing out onstage.

  I want to say something, but I don’t want to upset her. Not today.

  She gives me a look. “Are you OK?”

  “Fine.”

  She leans over and whispers, “Amalia, I know what you’re thinking. Relax. This time it is nerves, OK? I just don’t want my dinner to end up on the risers!”

  She’s smiling.

  I believe her.

  I have to stop worrying.

  OK.

  Time 2 go.

  NBOOK, THIS IS IT.

  Sat. 10/10, Late

  I’m numb, Nbook.

  Exhausted.

  But I can’t sleep.

  I’m afraid of sleep. I may wake up tomorrow to find it was a dream, and I’ll have to do it all
over again.

  And if I do, it won’t turn out the same.

  It couldn’t possibly.

  So it’s you and me, Nbook. Until dawn if necessary.

  Then, if it is a dream, I’ll have it on paper. So I can read it again and again and know how it felt.

  It starts out horrible.

  We get to the gym and I’m a wreck.

  Christina McDonnell tells us that the cheerleaders have moved their practice to the auditorium. That’s the good news.

  Things go downhill from there.

  I’m ready to call it quits and head home.

  Meanwhile kids are starting to arrive. Are they supposed to be here? No. Are my door people telling them they should wait till 8:00? No.

  Christina is stepping in now. Both of us are running around, solving problems, signing papers, giving orders, bossing kids around.

  “Out! Out!” I’m shouting, herding kids away like cattle.

  No one’s listening.

  My fuse is burning short. I’m about to say things I wouldn’t write on your clean pages, Nbook.

  And then the crowd opens up, and he’s standing there.

  Smiling.

  It’s a direct smile. Open. Not off to the side. Not shy.

  And it changes him.

  Then I notice the outfit. A gorgeous dark-patterned shirt and baggy black pants.

  Hardly any of the other guys have dressed up for this party.

  Brendan has. And he looks totally cool.

  But my eyes fix on a flower he’s holding. A long-stemmed rose.

  Now, roses are boring. But I’ve never seen a color like this. A kind of peach, with hints of red and pink and amber.

  It’s stunning.

  I know I’m supposed to shoo him out. But I can’t.

  “Nice,” I say.

  Then I see the rose coming closer. And I realize he’s giving it to me.

  He remembered what I said at lunch yesterday. About flowers.

  I’m speechless.

  People are now stampeding into the gym. Christina’s running around doing all the work herself. Vanish is warming up fiercely. I know I have to be in a million other places.

  But all I see is the rose and the smile, and they’re both so beautiful, and I’m thinking, What does this mean? But I know what it means, it’s obvious, and I realize everyone else has known it all along and why haven’t I seen it in him before? And it’s all so strange and confusing and exciting, I can’t think of a word to say. So I just look at him.

  Nbook, it’s like I’m seeing someone new, someone I’ve never met, and I’m thinking:

  Brendan?

  Brendan?

  What now? If I take the rose, does that make me his date? I think, Is this going to be like the ankle bracelet James gave me? Like, once I wear it, I become his property?

  No. Brendan is not James. Brendan is sweet.

  But James was sweet when I first met him too.

  “AMALIA!”

  Rico’s voice shocks me into reality. I have a concert to run.

  “I have to go,” I say.

  I turn and race toward the band. I feel the blood rushing to my face.

  “WHERE’s MAGGIE?” Bruce is shouting.

  Maggie.

  Maggie should be at the keyboard, but her seat is empty.

  Patti is near the door, pointing into the hallway.

  I’m out there in a second. Room 134 is open. Our dressing room.

  Maggie’s inside. Staring into the mirror. She’s plastered her face with a pale shade of pancake.

  When I’m closer, I realize she doesn’t have any makeup on. That’s the color of her skin.

  “What’s up?” I’m trying to sound loose and calm, but my voice is tight and edgy.

  No.

  This is not happening.

  Maggie is a wreck.

  I try to give her a shoulder rub. I tell her she’s going to be great.

  But she’s stiff and silent. Which makes me panic.

  That’s all she needs. A frantic manager pummeling her shoulders.

  Easy, Vargas, I say to myself. You’re supposed to be the calm one.

  I let go of her poor back. I count to 10. And then I sit down next to her.

  She’s staring at me. She looks like she’s about to cry. “Amalia, I can’t do this.”

  I’m searching my brain for the right thing to say. Trying to remember pearls of wisdom from Dr. Fuentes. Anything that might work.

  And then I remember one thing that did. Something that Justin had said.

  I tell her to let the music take control.

  She turns away. She’s in some other world. I don’t know if she’s even heard me.

  Outside, the band’s warm-up has stopped.

  We hear Christina’s voice over the gym loudspeaker. She’s quieting the crowd.

  Rico peeks into the room and asks if every-thing’s OK.

  “Girls only!” I snap.

  Now Christina is thanking the committees, the teachers, the administration…

  “We’re starting,” I say to Maggie.

  She stands and walks toward the door. She looks so fragile, I almost want to pull her back. But the rest of the band is waiting outside, and they’re applauding her and chanting, “Mag-gie! Mag-gie! Mag-gie!”

  I’m right behind her as we walk into the gymnasium.

  From where we’re standing, in the doorway, we can see Christina’s back and not much else. The crowd is hidden by the risers and the equipment.

  “And now, what you’ve all been waiting for,” Christina announces. “Vista’s very own…Vanish!”

  “YEAAAHHHH!” Bruce shouts, leaping onto the platform.

  Patti follows him, raising her drumsticks high.

  Rico’s next.

  The crowd is hollering.

  Soon Patti’s beating out the tempo for “This Is War.” Bruce attacks the bass line.

  “Knock ’em dead,” I say to Maggie.

  But she’s frozen in place. She won’t move.

  It’s as if this week never happened. The sensational rehearsals, the incredible singing—down the toilet. She’s forgotten them.

  “Go!” I practically push her through the door.

  Rico pulls Maggie up onto the platform. I hear a swell of cheering.

  My heart is beating so hard I think it’s going to come loose.

  Maggie sits at the keyboard.

  She misses her entrance.

  Now I’m dying.

  Rico is smiling patiently. Bruce is in his own world. They’re vamping now. Waiting for her.

  Then Maggie’s fingers strike the keyboard. The opening chord.

  And she starts singing.

  She sounds tense. Unsure.

  But she’s doing it. She’s there.

  I sneak around the side of the platform. Now I can see the crowd. A group has gathered in front of the band. The Vanish groupies.

  Some kids are dancing in small clumps, but most everyone’s at the food table.

  Maggie’s starting to look sick.

  I move in closer. I elbow my way past the groupies.

  Then her eyes slowly close.

  She’s passing out.

  Panic.

  I begin to vault onto the risers. But I stop myself.

  I realize she’s not sick. She’s just feeling the music. She’s singing with strength. Passion.

  I take deep breaths. I try to enjoy this.

  The next song is even better.

  By “Hey, Down There,” Maggie is her old self again.

  She’s rocking by the time they do “Friday Night Blues.”

  Me? I’m screaming. Dancing with myself.

  Then Rico calls “Fallen Angel.”

  Dumb choice, I’m thinking. The crowd is worked up. You’re supposed to give them another up-tempo tune, not a soft ballad. I’ve trained them to do this. (But who am I, Nbook? Just the manager.)

  The song begins and I can feel the energy in the gym start to dip.


  Kids are drifting away, talking and laughing.

  In the corner of the gym, Christina is dimming the lights. Trying to create a mood.

  Good luck, I think.

  Then I hear Maggie’s voice.

  Down to earth,

  Feet on the ground,

  I look straight ahead,

  Don’t turn around.

  In all I do,

  I’m here for you;

  I’m your fallen angel…

  Nbook, my jaw is dropping open.

  Maggie doesn’t sound good. She sounds phenomenal. Her voice is soft but intense. It’s as if she’s making the song up on the spot. Out of her own emotions. Surrounding the words with her soul.

  I’m so caught up, I almost don’t notice what’s happening around me.

  The chattering and laughing have dwindled away.

  At the food tables, people are turning to face the band.

  To face Maggie.

  Now some couples are pairing off. They’re slow dancing.

  I suddenly realize I’ve been clutching Brendan’s rose this whole time.

  I look around for him, but he’s nowhere.

  Which makes sense. I figure he’s gone home. Or maybe he’s found another girl. Someone who didn’t run away from him.

  I realize I shouldn’t have taken the rose. He could have given it to her.

  Oh, well.

  Soon the band is playing “Hey, Down There” with the new, reggae beat. Then “Slow Down.”

  When Maggie sings “Dust off your heart/Take it off the shelf/And don’t forget to love yourself,” I’m all choked up. She’s singing about herself, Nbook.

  And if I’m not mistaken, she’s believing it.

  For the last two numbers, Rico calls for the rockers “No Retreat” and “Just in Time.”

  The mood change is amazing.

  Everyone’s going wild.

  When the set is over, the place explodes.

  Cheers. Screaming. Stomping on the floor.

  I’m ecstatic. Laughing and crying at the same time.

  Someone behind me starts calling out Maggie’s name. It spreads through the whole gym, until the rhythm of the stomps matches the rhythm of the chant.

  Maggie looks flabbergasted. Dazed. She’s still sitting at the keyboard.