“They were supposedly together for a decade,” Julia hissed behind Maggie and Aimee as other classmates took to the bleachers. “Ms. Pinkerton thought she was getting a ring for their ten-year anniversary, and instead all she got was Lost on DVD. She was so devastated, she immediately tried to turn herself into the kind of person she thought he wanted her to be.”
“A more feminine fashion disaster?” Aimee peered over her shoulder. “And how do you know all this?”
Maggie glanced back to see Julia shrug smugly.
“My mom,” she said.
Maggie and Aimee nodded. That wasn’t surprising. The only person who spent more time at Water Wings practices than the Water Wings themselves was Mrs. Swanson, and not because she especially loved being class cheerleader. Julia’s mom loved her daughter. But she loved gossiping even more.
“Okay, ladies!”
Maggie turned back to see Ms. Pinkerton standing at the bottom of the bleachers.
“We have a few things to go over,” she continued, wincing as she shifted from one gold high heel to the other. “First order of business—your gym uniform. If it ain’t broke, we’re not fixing it.”
Maggie was so distracted by Ms. Pinkerton’s appearance, she hardly heard the speech. Not only did Ms. Pinkerton look like she was trying out some sort of glamour-girl Halloween costume a few weeks early, she’d also gone so far as to do her hair and makeup. Maggie didn’t wear much makeup, but she knew enough about it to know that “less is more” was usually the way to go. Unfortunately, no one had shared this tip with Ms. Pinkerton; her cheeks were flaming red, her lips were magenta and outlined in purple, and her eyelids were bright green. And instead of the usual ponytail sticking out from the back of the baseball cap, Ms. Pinkerton’s hair hung in tight curls—not pretty, loose waves—to her shoulders. She looked like she was trying really hard … which was almost worse than looking like she wasn’t trying at all.
“Last order of business!” Ms. Pinkerton declared, snapping Maggie from her appearance analysis. “In the locker room are sign-up sheets for every athletic team and club meeting this fall. You snooze, you lose, so if you have any interest in participating, you’d better sign up now.”
Maggie heaved her backpack onto her shoulders and stood, happy to have a reason to visit the sports sign-up table for the first time ever.
“One more thing!” Ms. Pinkerton shouted over the din of papers shuffling and bleachers squeaking.
“Do you want to put some of your books in my bag?”
Maggie glanced up to see Julia and Anabel standing right behind her and Aimee. Anabel’s half-empty backpack hung from one shoulder, partially unzipped.
“Your backpack looks like it might rip at the seams, and I have plenty of room.”
She didn’t seem to be kidding. Maggie was debating whether to take her up on the offer—if not to reciprocate the attempt at civility, then to ease the dull pain that already throbbed in her back—but before she could respond, two shrill whistles sounded from below.
“Listen up!” Ms. Pinkerton hollered. “Due to current school budget concerns, some extracurricular activities are being evaluated. Which means that some teams that were offered last year might be cut this year.”
Maggie looked at Aimee.
“More specifically,” Ms. Pinkerton continued, “if you plan to sign up for either the synchronized or regular swim team, go ahead, but don’t bust out the bathing suit just yet. Pool maintenance is pricey, and one of those teams will go.”
Maggie’s chin dropped against her neck. After training for Water Wings tryouts and sinking into the worst candy depression she’d ever known when she didn’t make it, the swim team had changed her life. It had made her stronger, thinner, and healthier. Regardless of how things had turned out with Peter Applewood, swimming had given her the confidence to reveal her feelings in the first place, which had eventually led to becoming Arnie’s almost-first girlfriend. Swimming had gotten her into good enough shape to, she hoped, run the annual mile in gym class without stopping once to catch her breath.
She felt better in the pool than she did anywhere else, and had looked forward to practicing with the team all summer.
Maggie looked up just in time to see Anabel and Julia, Water Wings cocaptains, exchange shocked looks. Careful to avoid making eye contact with Maggie, Anabel zipped up her half-empty backpack and shifted it to her other shoulder.
“Wait till I tell my mother,” Julia declared before taking Anabel’s elbow and stomping down the bleachers.
4. “They don’t seem very excited, do they?” Arnie asked.
“Can you blame them?” Maggie looked out to the crowd of kids gathering in the classroom. “Last week they were sleeping late and playing video games. This week they’re getting up early for school and being dragged to weight-loss meetings. That’s a pretty painful double-whammy.”
He turned to her and grinned. “Little do they know that after sixty fun-filled minutes with the Patrol This dream team, the only thing they’ll want to do with that video game controller is use it as a weight for bicep curls.”
“Will that be the next edition of Arnie the Abdominator?” Maggie asked, grateful for a reason to turn toward the projector screen hanging on the wall behind them. Two weeks ago, when they were still just friends, hearing him refer to them as a “dream team” would’ve made her smile. Now, it made her cheeks turn pink. She wanted Arnie to know she liked him, but she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know that she liked him so much that even the idea of the two of them being any kind of team made her blush.
“Did you see the last one?” Arnie’s voice was excited as he looked at the Patrol This website home page blown up on the projector screen. His smiling face sat on top of a young Arnold Schwarzenegger’s muscular body in the bottom-right-hand corner.
“Yes,” Maggie said as Arnie clicked on Arnold’s shiny chest and a video of him holding on to the back of his living room couch and rolling from side to side on his skateboard appeared. “I did it for twenty minutes and was sore for three days.”
“But I bet you didn’t you notice how hard you were working while you were doing it, right?”
“Right.” He sounded so pleased with himself, she couldn’t help but smile.
“And why’s that?” he prodded lightly.
“Because,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully when he turned back to her, “the Abdominator knows how to pump you up.”
He frowned.
She looked at him. “There are no known exercises to shrink a big head, you know.”
“It’s not about me,” he said seriously. “Or about my ego. It’s about branding. And marketing our product. Who’s going to sign up for the Abdominator e-mail newsletter if I don’t sound as cool and powerful as possible at all times?”
“Fine.” She forced the smile from her face and took a deep breath. When she spoke again, she sounded like a teenage boy from a faraway country. “Arnie the Abdominator knows how to pump you up.”
“Awesome.” He grinned and quickly squeezed her hand “Thank you.”
She opened her mouth to say “you’re welcome,” but nothing came out. The words got lost somewhere in her swirling head as soon as his fingers touched hers.
“Can you believe it?”
“No,” Maggie said automatically, even though she guessed Electra probably wasn’t talking about the strange effects being so close to Arnie was now having on her.
“We’re up to fifteen kids. Fifteen. That’s almost double our last session.” Electra stood between Maggie and Arnie and put one arm around each of them. “I’m so happy word’s getting out.”
“Speaking of happy,” Arnie said, “where’s the sparkly asparagus? The glittery orange?”
“The coloring books and crayons?” Maggie added, suppressing a giggle. As the beloved leader of Pound Patrollers, Electra was great at helping grown-ups lose weight, but her success there hadn’t quite translated to Patrol This, which had been formed by the Pound P
atrollers organization for kids even younger than Maggie and Arnie. The first and only other time they’d started a Patrol This session, Electra had dressed up as a spandex-clad superhero, festooned the classroom in enormous cardboard cutouts of fruits and vegetables, and placed coloring books about grocery shopping on every desk. There’d been glaring reminders everywhere of why the kids were there—and as any chubby kid knows, reminders that you’re chubby are never necessary. It had taken all of five minutes for Arnie to intervene, and after that first good-intentioned misstep, he and Maggie had led most of the meetings.
“Hey.” Electra gently hip-checked Arnie, then Maggie. “You live, you learn. This time I’m sticking with the adults and leaving the kids to those who know best.”
“You won’t be disappointed,” Arnie assured her. “Maggie and I have been spending a lot of time together—”
“In a completely and totally professional way, of course.” Maggie shrugged when Arnie leaned forward and raised his eyebrows at her. She didn’t want their new personal relationship to affect their old working relationship, or for Electra to think that they wouldn’t continue to take their Patrol This responsibilities just as seriously as they always had.
“Excuse me … ?”
Electra stepped toward a puzzled-looking mother holding the hand of a scowling little boy.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the mother said, wincing and tightening her grip on her son’s hand when he tried to yank it away, “but we’re looking for Patrol This?”
“You’ve found it,” Electra said. “I’m Electra, and this is Arnie and Maggie, our weight-loss dream team.”
Maggie looked down when the heat in her cheeks instantly flared up again.
“May I show you to your seats?” Electra reached one arm forward to usher the mother and her son to an empty pair of desks, and then shot Arnie and Maggie a pointed look over her shoulder.
“If we can make him smile by the end of the meeting, we’re miracle workers,” Maggie whispered, watching the little boy stomp his feet and refuse to sit down.
“Miracle workers, huh?” Arnie seemed to consider this as he looked back to the screen behind them. “I wonder if the website people could fit that in somewhere. . . .”
“Welcome, everyone!”
Maggie’s heart fluttered in her chest as she turned away from the screen and joined Electra by the front desk. Like Arnie, she felt pretty good about what they had planned for the kids, but she was still nervous. Their first session had gone so well, the Pound Patrollers corporate office had given Arnie and Maggie cash bonuses and asked them to continue to help with the program. And while that vote of confidence had made Arnie even more comfortable leading the kids, it had done the opposite for Maggie. Last time, there were no expectations. This time, real businesspeople had invested actual money in them.
Plus, as Electra had pointed out, now there were fifteen kids to inspire and encourage. And judging by the latecomers trickling into the classroom, that number was only going to grow.
Maggie smiled and scanned the room as Electra introduced her, Arnie, and the program. The parents listened attentively and nodded. Every now and then a mother nudged her daughter or patted her son’s back, as if the kids were making the same connections at the same time instead of pouting, staring off into space, or picking at their fingernails. The last little boy who came in sat slumped in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, and glared at the desk the entire time Electra spoke. He probably would’ve eventually slid all the way to the floor in protest, but, thankfully, Electra kept the introduction short.
“Hi, guys,” Arnie said easily once Electra sat down in a metal folding chair on the side of the classroom. “How’s it going?”
The parents had stopped nodding and now looked skeptical. A few of the kids looked up curiously, but most didn’t even seem to hear him.
“Everyone happy to be back in school?”
Maggie glanced at Arnie when no one answered.
“Well, I’m not.” Arnie leaned against the front desk. “I had a great summer—no, an amazing summer. Probably the best summer of my entire life.”
Maggie looked down at her sneakers when the pink in her cheeks spread to her nose, chin, and forehead. She wondered if it had been the best summer of Arnie’s entire life for the same reason it had been the best summer of her entire life: because by the end of it, they were together.
“It’s always hard going back to homework and tests and papers after three months of freedom,” Arnie continued. “I mean, who likes giving that up to sit at a desk and listen to teachers rattle on about whatever they think is important for hours every day?”
“Not me!”
Maggie bit back a smile when the boy yelled from his seat in the back of the classroom. His mother looked mortified, but he looked interested for the first time since entering the room.
“Me neither,” a little girl agreed.
“We have lives,” another boy chimed in. “They don’t think so, but we do.”
“I know you do,” Arnie said. He sounded as serious as they did. “So do I. So does Maggie. And believe me—the teachers don’t stop rambling once you hit eighth grade. If anything, they start talking even more.”
A few of the mothers exchanged concerned looks as the kids groaned.
“And it’s been really tough getting back into this year, especially after having the best summer ever.” He paused. “But you know what helps?”
“Video games?” a little boy guessed.
“Movies?” another offered.
“Counting down to Christmas vacation?” a third asked.
“All very good distractions,” Arnie agreed. “But even better, at least for me, is talking to kids who are going through the same exact thing.”
“But you can’t talk while the teacher’s talking,” a cute girl with curly brown hair pointed out. “It’s not allowed.”
“You’re absolutely right. Talking while the teacher’s talking probably isn’t a good idea. But talking after class is definitely a good idea.”
“Like … in a club?” a girl with long blond hair suggested.
“Exactly.” Arnie grinned.
“We don’t have clubs,” the blonde said.
“We’re too young,” the Christmas vacation boy explained.
“You’re not too young for this one,” Arnie said.
“This isn’t a club,” a boy with dark hair and deep dimples declared. “Or, if it is, it’s for our parents.”
Arnie waved his hand, as if to say adults weren’t his concern. “Your parents have each other. And now we”—he pointed to himself, Maggie, and half a dozen kids throughout the room—“have each other. This is our club. We’re going to have a lot of fun, and we can talk about anything we want every time we get together.”
“Even our parents?” the Christmas vacation boy asked coyly, grinning at his mother.
“Absolutely,” Arnie said. “The only limit we have is time—because we do have lives, and so we only get to meet for an hour each week.”
Maggie smiled. The parents still looked uncertain, but the kids were hooked. This was part of the plan, and what had made their first session so successful. Arnie spoke to the kids like he was one of them—which he was. He didn’t talk down to them or make them feel like they were there because they’d done something wrong. They responded to that, and came to trust him—and the program—much faster than they would if he’d immediately started lecturing them on calories, sugar, and refined carbohydrates. Those might’ve been the things that interested adults—but Patrol This wasn’t for adults.
“Now, I hope you don’t mind if I start things off,” Arnie continued with a big sigh, “but I have a problem that I’ve been dying to talk to someone about all week. Cafeteria food. How am I supposed to stay healthy when my only options are grilled cheese, tater tots, and pizza? How is that fair? Who on earth makes those menu decisions?”
“And the cookies?” Maggie added. “They just giv
e them to you without even asking. Sugar cookies, chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal raisin cookies … a different kind every day.”
“Don’t forget the ice cream!”
Maggie grinned. The scowling boy who’d stomped his feet while refusing to sit down was not only sitting straight up in his chair—he was participating. His mother looked stunned.
A sudden movement made Maggie look toward the back of the room. When she did, her grin dropped slightly, and froze. She’d been so caught up in what Arnie was saying—or perhaps just in Arnie himself—that she hadn’t noticed anyone else come into the room. Five more kids and their parents listened while standing, because all of the desks and chairs were already taken.
Which meant there were now twenty kids to inspire and encourage. That was almost three times as many as they had in their first session. Maggie didn’t know if they could pull it off … but if they did, they just might have to add “Arnie and Maggie, Miracle Workers” under their pictures on the Patrol This website.
5. “Take a wrong turn in the locker room, Bean?”
“Sorry,” Maggie said breathlessly. She shuffled as fast as her weighted-down feet would carry her toward the bleachers, where the rest of the swim team already sat. “I had to talk to my English teacher, stop by the French club office, drop off some papers to—”
Ms. Pinkerton fired a quick, short breath into her whistle. “Do you think I just sit around twiddling my thumbs and counting down the minutes until I get to see you people?”
“No?” Maggie guessed, trying not to gawk at Ms. Pinkerton’s latest style shocker: a short denim skirt, a tight pink T-shirt under an orange sweater vest, and furry black boots.
Ms. Pinkerton frowned. “We all have things, Bean, yet everyone but you managed to get here on time.”
“I’m sorry.” Maggie slowed down and dropped onto the bleacher seat like she’d also climbed Mount Everest after talking to her English teacher, stopping by the French Club office, and dropping off papers to the Mathletes coordinator. She was now eleven days into eighth grade and still hadn’t been to her locker to drop off any books. Her backpack was so heavy, sometimes she carried it in front of her and supported the bottom with both arms to keep it from ripping. “It won’t happen again.”
Maggie Bean in Love Page 3
