The circle of fifteen grew suddenly quiet. As the other members exchanged nervous looks, Maggie turned slightly toward Arnie, who raised his eyebrows. As the Pound Patrollers leader for the past eight months, Electra had kept everyone on track, but always with an element of fun. Either she’d had some very difficult summer experiences herself, or didn’t deal well with change.
“I’m kidding!” she declared, beaming after a stunned pause. “You guys rock. You know what you’re doing, and how to take care of yourselves. In fact, I’m so not worried, I encourage you to indulge in a small slice of apple pie every now and then—you deserve it!”
“Did you do that just to keep me from crying?” Samuel asked as the group members exhaled and laughed in relief. His shocked expression was replaced by a sentimental frown.
“Sammy,” Aunt Violetta said affectionately, flinging one arm across his shoulders and squeezing. “Get a grip.”
“In honor of summer, and of everything we’ve accomplished as a group over the past several months, today we’re going to celebrate,” Electra continued before Samuel could protest. “And we’ll get right to it—after one small order of business.”
Maggie’s heart tumbled in her chest as Electra stood and took her place next to the pink scale in the middle of the circle. Despite eight months of these meetings—meetings that she’d been, initially, absolutely mortified to attend but which she had come to actually look forward to as she got to know everyone—and her own personal success, Maggie still dreaded the public weekly weigh-in.
“Do you think anyone would notice if I lunged for the scale right now and threw it out the window?” Arnie whispered as the first Pound Patroller stepped onto the small platform.
Maggie giggled. She hated the weekly weigh-in, but Arnie would probably eat only celery forever rather than endure such torture. Their common aversion to the scale, their initial resistance to attending the meetings at all, and the fact that they were the two youngest members in their Pound Patrollers group were some of the many reasons why they’d become such good friends. Maggie knew that she’d never have survived the eight months without him.
“163!” Electra announced when the scale’s metal bar stopped moving. She made some notes on her clipboard before beaming at the nervous Pound Patroller, and then the rest of the group. “Who wants to guess Mary’s grand total?’
As the rest of the group called out numbers ranging from fifteen to fifty-five, Arnie leaned toward Maggie. “Doesn’t look like I’ll be tending the flowers of my private garden anytime soon.”
“Our wonderful, hardworking Mary first came to us weighing 224,” Electra declared loudly. “And after several months of hard work, dedication, and commitment, she’s lost sixty-one pounds.”
“You go, girl!” Aunt Violetta called out.
“Great performance,” Samuel said, clapping, shaking his head in wonder, and jumping from his chair to give a standing ovation. “Truly inspiring.”
Never one to volunteer to take to the scale and knowing this weigh-in would take even longer than usual as grand totals were calculated and everyone applauded, Maggie returned to her textbook. She’d resisted Pound Patrollers for months, and though she’d eventually warmed to the too-cheery meetings enough to not dread Wednesday every other day of the week, she was still ready for it to be done. It had served its purpose, and now she had better things to do. Like study for finals. And figure out if she should wear jeans or a skirt when she told Peter how she felt. Sandals or flip-flops. Tank top or T-shirt. Ponytail or—
“Peter’s in.”
Maggie grabbed the textbook as it suddenly slid from her lap. “In?” she asked casually.
“My house. This weekend. End-of-year extravaganza.”
Arnie looked at her like she had two noses. They’d only been talking about the end-of-year extravaganza (with unabashed pizza consumption and marathon movie viewing) for weeks, and she sounded like she’d forgotten. Which was certainly the opposite of the truth, but Peter’s confirmed attendance meant her plan was officially solidified, and that made her stomach turn—and textbooks fall from her lap, apparently. “Right.” She nodded. “Great.”
“You okay?” He looked at her, his eyes squinting slightly in concern.
“Of course.” She patted her open textbook. “Big test.”
“You study too much. The world is your classroom.”
“Really? The same world you live in, with video games and TV on DVD?”
Shrugging as if to say it was her choice and there was nothing more he could do, Arnie turned his attention back to the scale, where Samuel stood on the small platform, wiping his eyes.
“217,” Electra announced. “Which makes for a grand total of—”
“Seven pounds.” Samuel sniffed. “Seven pounds in ten months. I couldn’t have done it without you guys.”
Maggie brought the textbook to her face to hide her smile, and didn’t lower it until Samuel rejoined the circle. It was no secret that Samuel’s love of Krispy Kreme doughnuts kept him on the slow track to weight loss. Maggie and Arnie had already decided he was a Pound Patrollers lifer. They even guessed that he gave in to his fried-dough cravings more often than not just because he loved the supportive social network.
Turning her attention back to finals, Maggie pulled a pink highlighter from her jeans pocket and started making notes, stopping only to clap with everyone else when a new weight-loss total was announced. She read, highlighted, and memorized until every Pound Patroller had stepped on the scale—every Pound Patroller but two.
“Arnie and Maggie.”
“Ow,” Maggie whispered loudly when Arnie elbowed her.
Ignoring her pout, Arnie stood and held out one hand. Maggie looked at his hand, then around to find everyone watching them with proud smiles. She capped her highlighter and closed her textbook sheepishly.
“Is this some kind of group thing?” Still holding out his hand, Arnie deflected attention from Maggie as she got herself together enough to stand. “Like on Celebrity Fit Club? Are you about to wheel out a monster-size scale for us both to stand on?”
“You two,” Electra said warmly, holding out both arms.
Quickly sliding the textbook underneath her folding chair, Maggie took Arnie’s hand and let him lead her to the center of the circle.
“Now, we all know how wonderful Maggie and Arnie are.” Standing between them, Electra put her arms around their shoulders and squeezed. “We know how hard it is to gain and lose weight at any age, but to be their age, and sit with a bunch of adults every week when other kids are hanging out, having fun, and not worrying at all about the same kinds of things … well, that must be torture.”
“Not at all,” Maggie protested politely.
“It was a living nightmare,” Arnie corrected.
“And for your reward—besides good health and a longer life, of course—I have an announcement.”
“If I knew there were cash prizes, I would’ve started coming to these things years ago.”
“This is way better than money, my friend.” Still keeping her arm around his shoulders, Electra ruffled Arnie’s hair.
“New car? Trip to Australia? Guest spot on Heroes?”
“I think everyone in this room will agree when I say that these two are inspirations,” Electra said, addressing the group. “And to show my sincere appreciation for their time, commitment, and even their initial reluctance—because that was just one more thing they had to overcome to get where they are today—I have a very special offer for them.”
“You really didn’t have to get us—”
“T-shirts!” Arnie exclaimed when Aunt Violetta started toward them, modeling a purple T-shirt over her denim button-down and sashaying through the center of the circle like it was a fashion runway. “Sweet.”
“www.PatrolThis.com?” Maggie read the back of Aunt Violetta’s T-shirt when she spun around and sashayed in the other direction. “Patrol what?”
“Dude.” Arnie’s voice w
as heavy with disappointment. “You should’ve told me you were doing custom design. I have some amazing sketches of important Lord of the Rings symbols and—”
“The T-shirt isn’t for wearing,” Electra said. “Well, it is because it’s a shirt and what else would you do with it, but it’s really much, much more than that.”
Maggie leaned forward slightly to catch Arnie’s eye. She didn’t want to be suspicious, but this seemed rather complex for a reward.
“Because of your great accomplishments,” Electra said proudly, “Pound Patrollers has invited me to head a brand-new, local program geared toward kids even younger than you. As we know, bad food habits can start at any age, and Pound Patrollers wants to reach kids in fun ways—including this new website—to get them excited about eating healthily.”
“Wow,” Arnie said slowly. “So Maggie and I basically started an entire weight-loss revolution through our own pain and suffering?”
“It’s a very nice T-shirt,” Maggie said appreciatively.
“I don’t know about a revolution,” Electra said, “but the company definitely took note of your accomplishments. And not only did they ask me to spearhead this new trial program, but they also asked if you two would like to be involved. They think you’d serve as great inspiration and motivation for other kids.”
Not bothering to be subtle, Maggie leaned all the way forward to look at Arnie.
“What exactly does that mean, Electra?” Samuel asked when Maggie and Arnie remained too stunned to speak.
“Well, that’s to be determined. There will definitely be a large technological component—kids surf the Internet more than they watch TV, so major efforts will be made on the website. The design is preliminary, but we’re thinking message boards, fun, easy recipes, exciting exercise moves that can be done anywhere.”
“You’re asking us to run a Pound Patrollers website?” Arnie asked. “No offense to you, the company, or chubby little kids everywhere, but that sounds more like a job than a reward.”
“You wouldn’t exactly run it,” Electra clarified. “You’d contribute, come up with new ideas for content, and communicate with website visitors on a regular basis. It’s an incredibly exciting opportunity that can be done primarily over e-mail. Oh, and at one local Patrol This meeting each week, which you would help me run.”
Maggie’s head spun as the other Pound Patrollers started firing excited questions. Arnie was right—this did sound like a job—but Electra was also right. Maggie’d intended to never have anything to do with Pound Patrollers ever again after tonight, but she couldn’t ignore that this offer really was an opportunity. Pound Patrollers was a legitimate company that was undertaking a new project with, she guessed, actual money behind it. Even if the trial program didn’t last beyond the summer, and even if she and Arnie were compensated only in cheap T-shirts that they’d dust furniture with before wearing, it was still an impressive accomplishment that would bolster future Ivy League college applications. Contributing to a new business venture—even on a small, local scale—at thirteen years old was definitely way cooler than volunteering at an animal shelter (which she’d already done enough to include as an extracurricular activity).
Still, did she really want to be reminded every day of her summer vacation that, at one point, she’d attended Pound Patrollers for a reason? She might’ve achieved what she needed to, but she’d failed before that, which is why her father had sent her against her will. It wasn’t her proudest moment, and it was one she thought she might like to pretend never existed.
“I’m in.”
Maggie’s chin dropped. “You’re what?”
“In,” Arnie repeated with a shrug.
She looked at him, eyes wide. “Don’t we need a bit more information?”
“Mags,” he said affectionately, “great achievement comes with great responsibility. And it’s for the good of America’s youth, which means it’s for the good of America itself. A great country, without which we would simply be nomads looking for a warm place to lay our weary heads.”
“This from the guy who wanted to wrap up the meeting as fast as possible so he could go play air guitar in his private garden?”
Apparently growing uncomfortable still occupying the small space between them, Electra pulled away gently. “We have some time,” she said casually, “so why don’t we talk more after the meeting? I’ll answer all your questions and then you can decide after you’re fully informed.”
“Great idea.” Arnie nodded.
“Perfect.” Maggie crossed her arms and looked at the floor.
“In the meantime,” Electra said, clapping her palms together, “you still have one last piece of old business to take care of.”
Maggie looked up when no one spoke. “Not in any hurry to get on the scale for the good of America?”
Arnie grinned. “Ladies first.”
Shaking her head, she couldn’t help but laugh. They didn’t always agree on his comedic timing, but he’d always been the best friend a girl could ask for in such circumstances. The thought was so reassuring, she headed for the scale without another word.
Just as she’d done every week for the past eight months, she stepped on the small platform and held her breath. There was no real reason to think that holding her breath would alter the scale’s reading, and there wasn’t even any real reason to fear the scale’s reading the way she once had, but she held her breath, anyway, and waited as Electra slid the small weights along the metal bar.
“146.”
Maggie grinned.
“You lost another pound this week, which means your grand total weight loss is …” Electra paused dramatically. “Forty pounds!”
Instead of immediately jumping off the scale and sprinting back to her chair the way she usually did, Maggie lingered on the platform and let the group’s cheers and applause wash over her. She really was a different person from when she’d first started. She didn’t know if Pound Patrollers could claim sole responsibility, but if the supportive environment had helped even a little bit, how could she not try to provide the same for other, younger kids, who would probably be even more nervous and embarrassed than she’d been?
Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at Arnie. He clapped louder than everyone else, stopping only every now and then to put two fingers in his mouth and whistle.
If he was game for more Pound Patrollers—for the sake of America’s youth, America itself, or free T-shirts—then she guessed she was too.
3.
“Oh, good! Another dinner, another animal saved.”
“It’s not just another dinner,” Summer corrected. “It’s tofu and broccoli tossed in a spicy peanut sauce and served over long-grain brown rice.”
“All organic,” Maggie added.
“I’m sure it’s delicious.” Their dad stabbed a broccoli spear with his fork. “And I’m sure we can start our own wildlife refuge with all the chickens, cows, and pigs whose lives we’re now putting before our own.”
“You had salmon three days ago,” their mom reminded him, coming into the dining room and pointedly placing a serving bowl of salad in front of his plate.
“Salmon is not a fat, juicy burger with extra cheese and bacon.”
“Dad, please. You know this is for your own good.”
He pouted playfully around a mouthful of lettuce, and Maggie grinned. It had been his last routine checkup—and high cholesterol—that had prompted the gradual shift from red meat. She was concerned for him, of course, but it wasn’t that long ago that he’d made demands for her own good, including diets and mandatory Pound Patrollers meetings with Aunt Violetta, and she couldn’t help but appreciate the role reversal.
“You even said you feel better,” Summer added. “Not as tired.”
“And you need all the energy you can get,” her mom said suggestively.
“You win.” He held up his hands in defeat. “I’m now and forever a fruity, nutty, granola guy.”
“Because …?�
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Maggie exchanged glances with Summer as their parents exchanged small smiles. They’d been getting along much better in recent months, but Maggie still wasn’t used to the grins, jokes, and subtle displays of affection. For a while, they couldn’t even talk to each other without arguing about something. The fact that they actually seemed to talk now, even when no one else was around, when they didn’t have to maintain the happy-parents appearance, was a very good sign.
“Because I got a promotion,” he finally said proudly, taking her mom’s hand.
Maggie had been chewing on a tofu cube, and focused on swallowing before she choked. “A promotion?” she squeaked.
“From sales associate to district manager of Ocean Vista Pools.”
“But you’ve only been there a few months! That’s huge.”
“It is,” her mom agreed when he shrugged modestly. “Your dad will be overseeing five stores and almost fifty employees.”
“So you’ll be, like, the boss,” Summer said breathlessly, eyes wide.
“I’ll be a boss, yes. And I’ll certainly be busier, with more responsibilities, obligations, and challenges.”
“But with time for at least one extracurricular activity.”
Maggie watched another exchange of smiles. “Golf? Couples’ tennis? Now that Dad’s a head honcho, are you guys joining the leisure set?” she teased. “Arnie’s parents are proud country club members. I’m sure they could get you a discount, and probably some argyle sweaters.”
“Girls,” their dad said, taking a deep breath and waiting for a nod from their mom before looking at them. “We’re buying a house.”
Maggie Bean Stays Afloat Page 2
