Maggie Bean in Love

by Tricia Rayburn

  “This might be my new favorite exercise,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “It might not burn very many calories … but I’d stop eating to make up for it.”

  “We should probably practice it a lot before recording it for the Abdominator,” Maggie said into his shoulder.

  They stayed like that for a minute, until the phone rang. As Arnie ran to answer it, Maggie leaned against the counter and looked around the kitchen. This was where she’d told Peter that she liked him as more than a friend. And this was where he’d told her he liked her as only a friend. They’d sat on the tall stools by the center island while Aimee distracted Arnie by asking about the fancy towels in one of the house’s many bathrooms. Maggie’d been so upset that shortly afterward, she ate three slices of gooey, greasy pizza to try to smother the aching in her belly.

  That aching had been gone a while, but now there was no chance of it returning. Eating twelve slices of gooey, greasy pizza wouldn’t have the same effect that being Arnie’s girlfriend did.

  “Good news,” Arnie said, coming back into the kitchen. “Little Mom and Dad Junior are partying at Target like it’s Disney World, and then they’re going to Applebee’s for potato skins and margaritas. They won’t be back for a few hours, and the other parental units won’t leave until the club kicks them out and locks the gates. Which means we have plenty of time to do something we’ve never done before.”

  “Great,” Maggie said, more sincerely than before. For some reason, the idea of being alone with Arnie seemed less intimidating now.

  He smiled at her, then took her hand and led her out of the kitchen.

  “Where are we going?” Maggie asked as she followed him through a series of rooms and hallways she’d never been in.

  “I don’t believe in keeping secrets from your loved ones,” he said as they reached a shiny, closed wooden door at the very back of the house. “I mean, besides your parents. It goes without saying that that’s not only okay, but necessary.”

  “Definitely,” Maggie agreed, trying to focus on Arnie’s words and his fingers wrapped around hers at the same time.

  “But my dad keeps a very big secret from my mom. The only reason I know about it is because Little Mom and Dad Junior get loose in the lips when I put on my iPod and they think I can’t hear them talking.” He looked at her. “But I hear everything.”

  “Of course you do.”

  Arnie put one finger to his lips to remind her that what she was about to see was to be kept between them, and opened the door.

  Maggie gasped.

  “Not bad, right?” Arnie sounded pleased.

  “Why would anyone want to keep this a secret?” She hardly felt her feet on the floor as she entered the room and walked across the thick, plush carpet.

  “You’ve met my mother. She’s small, but she can do some serious damage.”

  “True, but still.” Maggie stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly. A floor-to-ceiling movie screen took up an entire wall. Four reclining, navy blue seats that looked like they could fit three people in each faced the screen. A glass cabinet filled with Twizzlers, Milk Duds, Sour Patch Kids, M&M’s, popcorn, pretzels, and cans of soda sat against the back wall. “This is a real movie theater—in your house. What’s not to like?”

  “My mom’s idea of a fun movie night is watching a documentary about the Civil War or Einstein’s Theory of Relativity—the more educational, the better. My dad’s idea of a fun movie night is watching anything with car chases and explosions—the noisier, the better. Mom would flip if she knew Dad occasionally liked to unwind by shutting off his brain for a few hours every now and then.”

  “Well,” Maggie said, flopping into the closest chair and smiling up at him, “thank you for letting me in on the secret.”

  “I know you can keep it.” He squeezed her hand, and then gently let it go. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  Don’t move. She probably should move—an action-packed blockbuster would last at least two hours, and she still had to finish the Patrol This spreadsheet, read fifty more pages of Little Women, do twenty math problems, study for a history test, and call Aimee to check in. Oh, and save the swim team, which she hadn’t gotten any closer to doing since finding out it was up to her. But she wouldn’t move. She couldn’t. The chair was too comfortable, and Arnie had already hit play and was in the seat next to hers before she could feel even a little bit guilty. On top of which, she was Arnie’s girlfriend. The thought made her so happy, she might never move again.

  As the lights dimmed and the movie started, Maggie suddenly knew why she’d been nervous about being alone with Arnie.

  She hadn’t been afraid of what Arnie would want to do when they were alone as a couple for the very first time. She’d been afraid of what he wouldn’t want to do. What if, after everything that had happened and everything they’d been through, he never wanted to kiss her?

  But she would worry about that later. Because Arnie was her boyfriend. And he was holding her hand like he might never let it go.

  8. “Aim, don’t you want to wait inside?” Maggie peered out from under her heavy hood.

  “Nope,” Aimee said, her eyes locked on the empty circular driveway before them. “They’ll be here any minute.”

  Maggie turned carefully to avoid spilling the water pooled in the creases of her hood onto her face, and checked the teachers’ parking lot. Not only were the school buses probably still miles away, but the teachers were delayed too. There were only four cars in the parking lot. “But it’s pouring!” Maggie half-shouted, turning back to Aimee. “You’re standing six inches from me and I can barely see you.”

  “Mags, we talked about this for an hour last night. This is the plan—to get them before they go inside, so we can take advantage of their good moods. As soon as they walk through these doors, the reality of the school day will take over, and we’ll risk losing their attention—and their signatures.”

  “I know that was the plan. But that was before we knew it was going to rain cats and dogs. And goats, sheep, horses, pigs, kangaroos, and every other animal under the invisible sun.”

  “Do you want my jacket?”

  Maggie frowned. “No, thanks.” Aimee’s jacket didn’t even have a hood. Water streamed down her face, and her blond hair was so wet that it looked brown, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  Aimee shrugged and hugged the petition—which was currently protected by a plastic shopping bag—to her chest.

  “Aim,” Maggie tried again when the rain started falling even faster, “don’t you think we might lose even more signatures if we stay out here in these conditions? The reality of the school day can’t be worse than getting soaking wet.”

  “Actually, I think this makes our jobs easier,” Aimee said brightly. “We won’t have to spend as much time explaining the cause and convincing people to sign, because they’ll be so anxious to get inside. The conditions couldn’t be better.”

  Maggie doubted that logic, but didn’t say anything. Aimee had been so excited to meet before school and start collecting signatures, it was hard to put up much of a fight. Maggie knew this was more about Aimee focusing all of her energy and attention on something besides her parents than it was about saving the swim team or getting back at the Water Wings … but Aimee was her best friend. Maggie hoped she would talk about what was bothering her eventually, and if a little distraction helped her get by until then, then standing in the rain was the least Maggie could do.

  “And here comes our first signature of the day,” Aimee said, unwrapping the petition as a silver SUV skidded to a stop at the bottom of the steps.

  Maggie squinted to try to see through the rain. The weather had to be playing tricks on her, because the SUV looked a lot like Arnie’s parents’ SUV, and the boy charging up the steps looked a lot like Arnie … but Arnie went to a private school in the next town.

  “I’m so sorry!” the boy called out as he ran.

  “Sorry?”
Maggie blinked and shook her head. When she realized the weather wasn’t playing tricks after all, her heart fluttered against her ribs. “Why? And what’re you doing here?”

  Arnie stopped on the step below theirs and grinned at her from under the brim of his soaking-wet baseball hat. He reached into his backpack and pulled out something long, thin, and black. “I tried your house first, but your mom said you’d already left.”

  Maggie looked up when a bright blue sky with puffy white clouds suddenly appeared above her.

  “I wanted to get it to you before you went outside,” Arnie said. “I thought it would help make your rainy day a little brighter.”

  “It did.” Maggie thought her smile had to be as wide as the open umbrella as she took it from him. “It does. Thank you.”

  “Good.” He returned her smile and started backing down the steps when a car horn honked. “I have to go. But I’ll call you later!”

  “Mags,” Aimee said as they watched him jump into the silver SUV, “I think you’ve got yourself a keeper.”

  “Excuse me?” a small voice asked before Maggie could agree.

  Maggie waited until the silver SUV disappeared before turning around and looking down. She wondered where the little girl with short black hair had come from, and why she wasn’t at the elementary school down the block.

  “You’re Maggie Bean, right? The 400-meter freestyle record holder?”

  “That’s me.” Maggie glanced at Aimee, who was watching the little girl curiously.

  “Oh, my goodness.” The little girl beamed and hopped up and down. Like Aimee, she didn’t seem to notice the monsoon currently hurling buckets of rain at them. “It’s so, so great to meet you. I think you’re such an amazing swimmer. I didn’t miss one of your meets last year—not one. I even got my mom to drive me all the way to Marshfield for your last meet of the season, even though Marshfield is, like, an hour away and my mom hates driving five minutes to go to the grocery store.”

  “Wow,” Maggie said, confused but flattered, “that’s great. Thanks for the support. But speaking of your mom … does she know you’re here?”

  “Of course. She just dropped me off. She always drops me off. We live too close for me to take the bus, but too far for her to let me walk. I’m here half an hour before the first bell rings every day, because she likes to avoid all school traffic.”

  She was talking so fast, Maggie had to watch her lips to make sure she didn’t miss anything.

  “What grade are you in?” Maggie asked when the girl finally paused to take a breath. She had to be several inches shy of five feet tall, and was so thin, she could’ve easily fit three more of herself in her baggy jacket. If she hadn’t said she came to their school every day, Maggie would’ve guessed she was in fourth grade, tops.

  “Sixth grade,” she said proudly, holding out one hand. “I’m Carla Cooper—aka C. C., aka your biggest fan.”

  Maggie glanced at Aimee again. Aimee raised her eyebrows, and Maggie could tell she was trying not to smile.

  “Most people in my class couldn’t wait to get to middle school so they could have their own lockers and more than one teacher every day. But I couldn’t wait to get to middle school just so I could walk the same hallways as Maggie Bean.”

  Maggie was slowly shifting from flattered to concerned. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “It’s great to meet you. So, so great.” She winced. “Sorry, I already said that, didn’t I?”

  “You did.” Maggie was still slightly concerned, but couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t sure why Carla was such a fan—Maggie was a record holder, but not the only record holder—but knew how it felt to worry about not making a good impression on someone you really wanted to impress.

  “So when’s your first meet? I went to the swim team website to find the schedule, but it hasn’t been updated since May. And I looked for flyers in the gym, but didn’t see any, and then I asked Ms. Pinkerton, and she asked me if she looked like she had time to answer such ridiculous questions.”

  “That’s our Ms. P,” Maggie said. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to her.”

  Carla smiled.

  “The reason you can’t find any information on the swim team schedule is because the swim team is in danger of extinction.” Aimee stood by Maggie and held out her hand for Carla to shake. “Aimee McDougall. Swim team campaign manager and Maggie’s best friend.”

  Carla’s mouth fell open as she took Aimee’s hand. “Extinction? But … why?”

  “Because a crazy, lip gloss–eating swarm of silver-suited vultures are—”

  “Because of budget cuts,” Maggie said, cutting off Aimee in hopes of not alarming Carla more than she already was. “Apparently running the pool is very expensive, and the school can’t afford to have so many swimming-related teams.”

  “That’s crazy,” Carla blurted.

  “Crazy, but true,” Aimee said, clucking her tongue. “You’ll learn, little Carla, that life doesn’t get easier just because you get older.”

  Carla looked at Aimee, obviously unsure of how to respond, and then at Maggie. “What will you do?”

  “I’m not sure,” Maggie said honestly. “But right now, I’m hoping I’ll keep swimming. We have a month to convince the school board that we deserve to hang around.”

  “That’s why we’re here now,” Aimee added. “We’re collecting signatures for a petition.”

  “In the pouring rain?” Carla asked.

  “In the pouring rain,” Maggie confirmed quickly, before Aimee could get defensive.

  “Good idea.” Carla nodded. “Get them before they have a chance to think too long about what they’re signing.”

  Maggie looked at Aimee. Her smile was fleeting, but it was definitely there.

  “Here come your petitioners.”

  Maggie followed Carla’s nod toward the circular driveway. The first bus was screeching to a stop, and two more followed behind.

  “Okay, Mags,” Aimee said, taking Maggie’s elbow and leading her to the middle of the top step in front of the school’s main entrance. “Remember what we talked about. ‘No’ is not an option.”

  “Right.” Maggie’s heart started to beat faster. She trusted Aimee, but still wasn’t sure that their classmates cared enough about the swim team to sign a petition. Plus, she hated being the center of attention and was seconds away from trying to talk to the entire school.

  “Twenty-eight days,” Aimee reminded her gently. She squeezed Maggie’s hand as the first kid stepped off the bus and started running for the front door.

  “Twenty-eight days,” Maggie repeated, hoping this didn’t up being a waste of part of that time.

  The first kid off the bus was now sprinting with his head down, and taking the steps two at a time.

  “Excuse me,” Maggie called out.

  If he heard her, he ignored her. He cleared the landing in one giant step and was on the other side of the doors before Maggie could say anything else.

  Maggie turned back toward the bus. “Hi,” she tried again as two girls started dashing up the steps. They looked out from under the binders they held over their heads, but continued into the building without slowing down.

  “Louder,” Aimee suggested, waving the clipboard that held the petition over her head.

  “Good morning!” Maggie practically shouted as a group of four boys started toward the front door. They walked slowly enough that she was able to see who they were before they bolted through the doors, and she was happy when she recognized them. They were in her grade and were usually late to every class. They might actually welcome the reason to not head right to homeroom. “Hi,” she said as they got closer. “I was wondering if I could borrow your ears for a second.”

  She tried to stay calm when they exchanged amused looks. She’d told Aimee that asking to borrow their classmates’ ears wouldn’t go over well. Teachers might respond well to that kind of ancient language, but kids their age would probably think they so
unded like they were from another planet—just like these guys obviously did.

  “Have you heard about the pool issue?” she continued before they could say anything. “And the cutbacks?”

  “Yeah,” one of the guys said as they paused on the landing. “And?”

  Maggie glanced at Aimee, who was already holding out the clipboard expectantly.

  “Well,” she said, “the school wants to cut some teams. Specifically, one girls’ swim team, and one boys’ swim team. For the girls, that means that either the Water Wings or the regular swim team has to go. And we’ve started a petition to try to save the regular swim team. It does wonders for girls’ morale and self-confidence, and promotes—”

  “We don’t really care about teams,” another guy said.

  Maggie’s cheeks burned instantly. “Oh.”

  “In fact, we think school would probably be a better place without them,” a third guy added. “They’re too exclusive. They promote feelings of inadequacy in anyone who isn’t on one.”

  “Wow.” She nodded. “Okay.”

  “But there is one team we support,” the fourth guy said, gently elbowing one of the others. “One team that we’d probably even be cheerleaders for, it if was allowed.”

  “Which one?” Aimee asked when Maggie was too rattled to.

  They grinned and exchanged amused looks. The fourth guy took two notebooks and held them like pom-poms as he silently waved his arms around like a bubbly cheerleader. When they’d stopped laughing, the first guy looked at Aimee’s clipboard and shook his head.

  “No one’s better in a pool than the Water Wings,” he said.

  Maggie couldn’t even look at Aimee as the guys moved past them and through the front doors. She stared down at the wet toes of her sneakers sticking out from the wet cuffs of her jeans and wondered why they were wasting their time. Of course half the school would automatically support girls who swam to be seen instead of girls who swam for sport.

  She would’ve probably stood like that, content to hide under the hood of her jacket until the buses were empty and everyone was inside, but then a pair of bright pink rubber galoshes appeared in front of her soggy gray sneakers. Her eyes traveled slowly up, to the tops of the boots, and over a short purple skirt, a pink plastic poncho that flared out and kept the rain falling at least a foot away from the person wearing it, and a pink dome-shaped umbrella with white stars.