That’s kind of a thing we do. Whenever one of us says “love you,” the other always says “love you more!” A lot of times my mom says just the “love you more” part, even though I didn’t say anything first. When she does, it’s like she’s saying she already knows how much I love her, which makes me feel really good. I grab my bagel and run back toward her bathroom, where she’s in the shower.
“Mom?” I shout through the bathroom door.
“What is it, sweetie?” she calls back.
“Love you the most!” I yell. “Bye!”
I take off, dashing out the front door and around to the side of the house where my bike is stashed. I jump on it and check my watch. Right on time to meet Stella! I can’t wait to tell her everythi—
Rotten, stinking rats! Did I mention the other thing about the MMBs? Not a peep to anyone, not even Stella, or all of that magic will just disappear. How unfair is that? I mean, magic is cool and everything, but half of the fun of anything cool is sharing it with your BFF!
I coast to the corner of Spruce and Maple and wait for the light to change, my head swimming with a zillion thoughts. Poor Zac and how he must be feeling today on the boat. Elizabeth and how she thinks I’m a liar. Lexi and Captain Jack and the super-hot water they’re in right this very minute. Tiny, two-faced Brianna and her giant threats. I shake my head to try to make those thoughts go away or at least settle them down a bit.
“Margaret Flannery Malone!” I hear from what feels like far, far away. “Earth to Maggie!” Stella is waving wildly at me from the opposite corner. I wave back and do the twirly-finger-to-the-temple move we always do when we bust each other daydreaming. The light changes and I pedal over to Stella’s side.
“Well?” she demands right away. “How did tryouts go? I called you, like, eleventy billion times last night and emailed you at least fifteen more! The suspense is killing me!”
“Sorry,” I tell her. “Tryouts were crazy and then I had this huge paper to write for English class, which by the way isn’t nearly as fun as the English class at Sacred—”
Stella cuts me off. “Did you make the team?” she wants to know, rolling her eyes and doing the twirly-finger-to-temple move back at me.
“Oh, right, that!” I laugh. “Yeah, well, sort of. Second alternate. But it’s better than nothing, right?”
“Way better,” Stella agrees, giving me a thumbs-up while pedaling alongside me.
“Yeah, I guess…except there’s this one thing,” I tell Stella.
“What is it?” she wants to know. “And make it snappy, we’ve got to split up in two blocks!”
“Well, I tried out with my new friend Elizabeth from Pinkerton. I told you about her, right?” I say. “And it turns out she’s, like, crazy good, which is great, but…”
“So? You’re crazy good too!” Stella shouts, standing up on her bike pedals and doing a rolling dance in my honor.
“Thanks, Stella. She’s, like, Olympic good, but that’s not the problem. See, there’s this kid on the team—she’s actually the coach’s daughter and her name’s Brianna—and when Elizabeth kicked her butt in tryouts, Brianna told me that it was up to me to get Elizabeth to quit the team or she’d make both our lives miserable.”
Stella actually laughs at this. “She’s threatening Margaret Flannery Malone? She obviously doesn’t know who she’s dealing with! Does she know I taught you those super-fast and dangerous karate moves?” Stella thinks she’s got skills like the star in The Karate Girl.
“The other problem,” I tell Stella, looking at my watch, “is that I tried to tell Elizabeth what Brianna said…but she doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’m making it all up because I’m jealous that she made the team and I’m only an alternate.” My stomach sinks when I say this out loud.
“Well, then you just need to set her straight,” Stella says. “If she’s a real friend, she’ll listen to you. Am I right? I mean, you either trust your friends or you don’t. And if she’s not smart enough to trust you, I say you’re better off without her. Shoot, gotta run or I’ll be late. You okay?” We’re at the corner where we have to go in opposite directions.
“I’m good, Stella. Thanks,” I tell her, trying to smile.
“Hey, Mags,” she calls over her shoulder as she crosses the street. “You’ve got this.”
That’s what they all say, I think to myself as I cruise the last block to Pinkerton. I sure hope they’re right.
Chapter 21
When It’s Back to Being Invisible for Me
I see Elizabeth pulling up to the bike rack at the same time as me. I figure that’s kind of perfect! We can get this misunderstanding straightened out before school starts. But a funny thing happens. Not funny like ha-ha; funny like a three-headed-monster coming after you—as in not funny at all.
“Hey, Elizabeth!” I say, locking up my bike. She parks hers on the opposite side of the rack.
I know she heard me, because she’s standing right there. But she’s pretending I didn’t say a word, like somebody hit the Maggie Malone mute button or something.
“Elizabeth?” I say again as she pulls her book bag from the basket on her bike and slings it over her shoulder. Nothing. She just looks straight ahead and walks away toward the multipurpose room.
Okey dokey. I get it. She’s giving me the silent treatment. My mom always says if someone’s not being nice, then you should just leave them alone and go find somebody else to hang out with. Since it’s better than following Elizabeth around like a lost, pathetic puppy dog, I decide that’s what I’ll do.
I get to my locker, and wouldn’t you know it? Clumsy Carl Lumberton is there, above my bottom locker. Papers and pencils and half-eaten stale sandwiches are pouring out of his locker like an avalanche.
“Organize much, Carl?” I say. He just looks at me with his mouth hanging half open and goes back to trying to get his locker shut. He’s not much of a conversationalist.
I stand there for another three torturous minutes but it’s no use. Carl might be here all day. I realize I have my Spanish notebook and textbook in my backpack so I decide to head straight to class.
“Hola, Margarita!” Señora Burro says when I walk in. Did you know that “burro” is Spanish for donkey? So back in her homeland, which I’m not sure but I think might be Mexico, they call her Mrs. Donkey. Maybe that’s not considered a bad thing in Mexico, but around here, donkeys aren’t known to the smartest ponies in the pasture, if you know what I mean.
I slide into a seat next to Alicia, who looks at me like two slimy tentacles just sprouted out of my head and are about to snatch her up and sling her to a pack of hungry wolves.
“Uh…oh, sorry, Maggie,” Alicia says with a scared half-smile. “Winnie’s sitting there.”
“Wow, I didn’t even see her,” I say, pretending to look around. “I hope I didn’t squish her too badly!” Alicia doesn’t laugh.
“Well, she’s not sitting there yet, but I’m saving it for her,” Alicia says, not meeting my eyes.
She’s saving a seat for Winnie Ipswitch? This is new.
“No prob,” I say, plopping my book bag next to an empty seat behind Lucy.
“Actually, that one’s for Elizabeth—she asked me to save it for her,” Lucy says with a shrug.
“O…kay…” I mumble to myself. I can feel my face getting hot. I look around the room and finally find a seat against the cold cement wall at the way-back of the room.
I can’t focus on gender-specific Spanish pronouns for one second, even though I know we’re having a quiz tomorrow and this is probably my only shot at understanding them.
The truth of what’s happening starts to sink in, and my eyes start filling up with tears. I swear my body has a mind of its own and is always insists on announcing to the world exactly how I’m feeling. Ugh. I try not to blink, but you know you can only do that so long. Finally wh
en I do, a puddle of tears plops on the page where a guy is smiling and waving while riding a burro. This makes me laugh a little because I wonder if that donkey might be Mrs. Burro’s second cousin.
I quickly swipe the tiny tear puddle off my page, and wouldn’t you know it? It hits Carl Lumberton right in the arm. I figure he’s going to look at me all mean like, Thanks a lot for spitting on me, Malone, but instead he looks down and wipes the corner of his mouth. He assumed he drooled on his own arm. I exhale a sigh of relief. You have to appreciate small victories at a time like this.
I lean back against the icy wall and wonder how everything got so bad so fast. So much for turning things around at Pinkerton.
Chapter 22
When Things Get Worse at the Mountain View Pool
Every other class is pretty much a repeat of Spanish class—socially speaking, anyway. The only break I get all day is during speech class, because it’s the one class I don’t share with any of my “friends.” When lunchtime finally arrives, I snatch my lunch bag from my locker and race over to the auditorium. I go to the back where all the costumes are hanging behind the red velvet curtain and climb between racks of smelly clothes and pull out my genie pocket mirror.
“Frank! Oh, Frank, best genie in the whole wide world!” I sing, hoping that a little appreciation might encourage him to show up faster and, I don’t know, maybe stick around long enough so I can give him the full lowdown.
“Mags!” he says, his face coming into focus. “You’re already back at school. Hey, nice work out there on the ocean! That’s what I’m talking about. You figured it out and all on your own, Magpie—I told you that you could!”
“Oh that, yeah…thanks, Frank!” I say, smiling, because it was all kinds of awesome out there.
I was calling Frank for some genie advice on how to deal with these girls being so mean to me, but he gives me an idea.
“Hey, speaking of that, Frank,” I say in a nice, but hopefully not over-the-top sweet voice. “I’d like to take another spin as Marina Tide. Like right now, please. And thank you.”
Why not? I was super helpful on the Sea Angel and jumping back into her life would be a quick escape out of my own life, which as of eight o’clock this morning has become the exact opposite of all kinds of awesome.
“Oh Maggie, darlin’, you know that’s not how it works,” Frank says, shaking his head. “You only get one day in somebody else’s life. That’s why I always say you’d better make it good!”
“Okay. I know, then I’ll be somebody else lickety-split, Frank. Got any good ideas for me? I just have to run home and get the MMBs and—”
“Hold on there, cowgirl. You know the MMBs aren’t about stepping into somebody else’s life when things in your own life get tough,” Frank says, looking straight at me. I have to tell you, but when a genie looks you straight in the eyeballs, it’s about impossible to look away. I see a colorful boat float by behind Frank and realize he’s on a river somewhere.
“Where in the world are you, Frank?” I ask, because he is one globe-trotting genie.
“Early morning on the Ganges, Mags! India. You do not want to know what’s in that water,” he says, motioning over his shoulder at the murky water behind him.
“Ewww,” I agree, taking his word for it. “I guess I don’t.”
“You just saved a fragile, endangered coral reef, my dear,” Frank says and I can tell he’s about to sign off.
“Wait, Frank!” I plead, falling against Mr. Mooney’s crown and scepter.
“Now go save yourself!” he calls out just as his image turns back to my own.
Save myself? Genies!
At the end of the longest, loneliest school day of my life, I race cheetah-like to my locker and grab all of my gear. I’m hoping to make it to the bike rack quickly so that I can catch Elizabeth before she takes off for practice at Mountain View Pool. I know she’s technically not speaking to me, but I’m determined to turn that around. Even though I booked it, when I get to the rack her turquoise ten-speed is already gone. I huff the six blocks to the pool feeling about as lonely as a stowaway mouse on a ship at sea.
I check in at the front desk and get a locker key. That makes me feel better for a split second. I don’t know why, but I love having my own locker key. My miniature bubble bursts before I even get to the locker-room door. How am I going to get Elizabeth to forgive me when she won’t even talk to me? She has to come around sooner or later, doesn’t she? I just wish I knew how to make it sooner. The whole point of this stupid swim team was to do it together, to be a part of something. And right now, the only thing I’m part of is a big, fat nothing.
I take a deep breath and push open the locker-room door. Most of the swim team is in there getting ready, and every head in the room swings to look at me. Nobody says a word. “Hi guys!” I say as brightly as I can. My words echo off the tile walls. If my life were a movie, they’d be playing a sound track of crickets right now.
“Want to do a few warm-up laps before practice starts?” Brianna asks Elizabeth, totally ignoring me and linking her arm through my friend’s. Elizabeth gives me the Look (“Oh yeah, Maggie, she’s really making my life miserable here.”) before turning to parade out the side door to the pool, arm-in-arm with the Mountain View Monster.
I wait until everyone else shuffles out, and then I tuck into a bathroom stall and try not to cry. Get it together, Malone. You can fix this. You can! You stopped a pair of cold, hard criminals from destroying something endangered and beautiful yesterday! And you convinced everyone on that boat that people they thought they could trust were rotten to the core. Of course, you had Zac’s help with that one. Who can help you now? Think. THINK!
“MALONE, ARE YOU IN HERE?” A male voice booms through the locker room.
“Coming, Coach!” I shout back, hoping he’s not actually in the room looking for me.
“Well, hurry it up. I’m waiting right outside and I need to talk to you,” he barks.
I quickly splash some water on my face, grab my towel and goggles, and head toward the huge glass door that leads to Mountain View’s famous pool. When I swing the door open, Coach King is waiting outside it, just like he promised. “Brianna says you didn’t want to do your practice laps today,” he says before I can even get a word out.
“Well, actually, sir, that’s not exactly—”
Coach King cuts me off.
“Listen, Malone, you’re part of this team, and like it or not, I’m the boss of this team. I made it pretty clear that you had some work to do, and Brianna was nice enough to offer to help you. Turn her down again and I’ll have to seriously consider removing you for good.” He turns and strides off toward the pool, where the rest of the team is waiting.
“But Coach—” I say, following him. My voice echoes through the gigantic tiled room. “That’s not—”
Brianna has picked up on what’s happening and she jumps right in.
“It’s okay, Maggie,” she says in a sickeningly sweet voice. “We can work on your strokes tomorrow if you want. I’d be more than happy to do that for you. Even though, you know, today…”
“But you never offered to swim with me today!” I wail. “You didn’t. In fact, you didn’t even say hello to me.” I’m making a bit of a scene here, but I am downright furious.
She’s lying through her teeth!
“I did too,” Brianna shrieks, even louder than me. “Didn’t I, Elizabeth? Didn’t I offer to help Maggie today, and didn’t she say no right to my face? And wasn’t she totally rude about it on top of it all?”
Everyone looks at Elizabeth. Come on, friend. Don’t throw me under the bus! You were right there, and you know for a fact that she’s totally lying. Do the right thing, pretty-please-with-sugar-on-top.
Elizabeth opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. Instead, she nods her head just the tiniest bit.
I’m not sure, but I think the tiny gasp that comes out of my own mouth is the sound of my heart ripping in half.
Chapter 23
When I Save Myself
Every day at school for the rest of the week is pretty much a repeat of my terrible Tuesday. It doesn’t take a super sleuth to figure out that Elizabeth went around and told all of our friends that I’m a lying, conniving sack of sour snails and so nobody—I mean, nobody—wants to have anything to do with me. Here’s what I don’t get: Why was Elizabeth so quick to believe the worst? And also, why was everybody else so willing to join forces with her?
My mom says this sort of thing is just part of middle school. That’s pretty depressing considering I’m in the sixth grade and have two more years of this. Frank says it’s up to me to save myself. I’m starting to think that’s his genie stock answer for everything, but in this case, I’m pretty sure he’s right. I mean, I don’t see anybody else stepping up to the plate to swing for me.
I just deal with Wednesday and Thursday and look forward to Friday afternoon when I can hang out with Stella and we can ride our bikes to Dippin’ Donuts and eat double-dunked chocolate doughnuts as big as flying saucers. But when Friday finally rolls around, I remember I have swim team practice. Ugh! I huff it up the hill to the Mountain View Pool, walk into the locker room, and pull out my swimsuit. If I could set this ugly one-piece on fire, I would. But obviously I can’t do that. I have to come up with another plan, and so far I’ve got nothing. So I’m sitting on the toilet. More like crouching on top of the seat so no one can see me.
Someone walks into the bathroom. I peek through the crack between the stall and the door and see that it’s Brianna. Luckily she can’t see me. She’s swinging a pair of goggles around her index finger and talking in a voice that sounds an awful lot like one of those evil queens in a Disney movie.
“Let’s see how well you swim the fifty-yard freestyle without your goggles, Elizabeth O’Connor,” she says into the mirror and then breaks into a devilish laugh as she shoves the goggles to the bottom of the towel bin. Once she’s satisfied that the goggles will never be found, Brianna turns, clasps her tiny hands behind her back, and whistles as she leaves the bathroom. I slide off the pot, sneak out of the stall, and fish out Elizabeth’s goggles. I wrap them in my towel and head for the door.
Maggie Malone Makes a Splash Page 8
