Maggie Bean in Love

by Tricia Rayburn

  Her mom didn’t say anything, but Maggie knew what she was thinking: that if only Maggie had looked up from her computer screen long enough to think about it, she might’ve had fun coming to a different conclusion.

  “There he is,” Maggie said, smiling automatically as soon as the Gundersons’ silver SUV pulled into the dirt parking lot. She turned back to her mom. “Thank you for the advice. I promise I won’t think of school, homework, or anything or anyone else but Arnie for the next few hours.” More specifically, she wouldn’t think about anything or anyone but Arnie until nine o’clock, which was when he would drop her off at home and she’d start the next chapter of her history reading. But she kept that part to herself.

  She gave her mom a quick hug, grabbed her purse from the floor, and hopped out of the car. The distance between her, school, the swim team, and all of her other responsibilities grew as she hurried across the parking lot. If anyone had asked what she’d learned about the northern and southern states in the post–Civil War era just before getting in the car to drive to Sugar Plum Farm, she wouldn’t have been able to answer. Because for better or worse, by the time she reached Arnie, there was just Arnie.

  “Hi,” she said, aware of her heart rate picking up speed.

  “Hi, yourself.” His lips twitched like he was trying not to smile as he climbed out of the car. “Your purse, please.”

  “My purse?” She looked at Arnie’s outstretched hand. “What for? Lips chapped? Hands dry? Run out of your favorite vanilla-scented lotion?”

  “Hey.” He glanced around to make sure no one was listening. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “We discussed that. No one but you and me needs to know about my appreciation for girly pampering products.”

  She tried to keep her face as serious as his. “I’m happy to share my lotion, but we might have to come up with some kind of weekly allowance. A dollop a day will have to suffice, and you’ll have to learn to use it sparingly.”

  “You don’t know what we’re doing tonight—and potentially for the rest of our lives. You might want to reconsider those terms.”

  She pretended to think about it. “Nope.”

  The right corner of his mouth twitched, and then the left, until his face finally cracked in a big, crooked grin. “I had a whole thing planned, you know.”

  “Thing?” She smiled as he took her hand in one hand and waved to Dad Junior in the SUV with the other. “What kind of thing?”

  “About survival of the fittest, and living off the land, and the nutritional value of snow.” He squeezed her hand as they started walking toward the farm’s entrance. “I was going to demand to search your purse—politely, of course—to make sure you didn’t have a compass, map, or anything else that would give you an unfair advantage.”

  “An unfair advantage for what?”

  They stopped walking, and he looked up without answering.

  “‘The Sugar Plum Farm Locally Grown, Regionally Famous Corn Maze’?” Maggie read aloud from the wooden sign hanging from the arm of a very tall scarecrow. “‘Enter to play, prepare to stay’?”

  “You haven’t done it before, have you?”

  “No,” she said, eyeing the narrow trail before them that ran between two seemingly endless fields of towering corn stalks. “I can’t say I’ve ever done anything with corn besides eat it.”

  “Oh, man,” he said, groaning lightly as he patted his stomach. “You’ll never have corn sweeter than the corn grown on Sugar Plum Farm. Assuming you make it out, I mean.”

  She looked at him. “We’re actually going in there?”

  “No.”

  Maggie breathed a small sigh of relief. She didn’t go for walks or drives without knowing exactly where she was going, and she definitely didn’t go for walks or drives without being able to see 365 degrees around her at all times. The corn stalks were twice her height and stood so close together, it was like looking at a solid green wall. She knew that after the maze’s first turn there’d be nothing to see but leaves, kernels, and silk.

  “You’re going in there.”

  Maggie inhaled sharply.

  “I’m going in there.”

  She followed his pointer finger toward another maze entrance on the other side of the petting zoo.

  “Two entrances, one exit,” Arnie said.

  She looked at him. “You want to race?”

  “I only know one person who likes to win more than me, and that’s you. I thought a little friendly competition might be fun.”

  “What about the dream team?” she asked, hoping her voice sounding teasing and not terrified. “The dynamic duo? Aren’t we better together than not?”

  “Of course we are.” He squeezed her hand. “And we’ll be together again in no time—with one of us having a slight edge over the other.”

  “What about the nutritional value of snow? Why were you going to talk about the nutritional value of snow before if we’re both going to be out in no time? It’s not going to be cold enough for snow for at least two more months.”

  “I was kidding.” His grin grew as he shrugged. “Everyone knows snow has no nutritional value.”

  She watched him, mouth open, as he started jogging backward. She didn’t want to tell him the idea of running through Mother Nature’s labyrinth made her nervous, and even more than that, she didn’t want him to think that she didn’t like his idea for their date. So she didn’t say anything as he moved away from her, and eventually remembered to close her mouth.

  “Have fun! I’ll see you on the other side!”

  She tried to smile as he blew her an exaggerated kiss—even though she thought it was tragic that she was going to die in a corn maze before she got to experience the real thing. When he reached the other entrance he faced her, raised one hand in the air, and then slowly curled his fingers, one by one, into a fist. As soon as his pinky was down, he pumped his fist and darted into the maze like the Sugar Plum Farm scarecrow was chasing him with a pitchfork.

  Maggie sighed and turned back to her entrance. Arnie was right—she liked to win. She liked to be the best at whatever she attempted. But … racing through a maze of corn? That was for farmers, and coyotes, and little kids who grew up without television and had too much time on their hands. She’d never cheated at anything in her life, but she was tempted to now. She could ruffle her hair, sprinkle some dirt on her clothes, and wait for Arnie outside the maze exit. He would never have to know that she hadn’t set foot on the trail.

  But then she pictured his smile. And she knew she had no choice.

  “If I’m not out before the sun goes down, please send a search party,” she said to the scarecrow standing next to her.

  As she stepped onto the trail she told herself that the maze was just another test. She’d taken dozens at school over the years, and had aced them all. Just because she hadn’t studied for this one didn’t mean she couldn’t pass with flying colors. Plus, her reward at the end would be even better than an A plus with a shiny gold star. As soon as she finished, she would get to see Arnie.

  Or, maybe not quite that soon. He might’ve had a thirty-second lead, but she could still beat him.

  She smiled and quickened her pace as her competitive spirit kicked in. Soon she was jogging down the path, dodging parents and little kids and tuning out their voices as they discussed navigation strategies. She stayed focused and didn’t think of anything but which way to turn. Every now and then she looked up to the sky; since it was late in the afternoon and the sun was already starting to set in the west, she used the lingering light to figure out which direction she was heading. When she hit a wall of corn stalks, she spun right around and tried another route. When she accidentally retraced her steps backward instead of moving forward, she quickly shook off her frustration and started jogging to make up for lost time. Her confidence was fueled by years of straight A’s and gold stars, and she couldn’t wait to meet Arnie at the exit and tell him he’d been right—that a little friendly competition was de
finitely a fun way to spend an afternoon.

  She felt good. Excited. So good and excited, in fact, that she didn’t notice when the sun’s lingering light began to dim. She didn’t notice when the voices around her grew quieter, and the trails became less crowded. She might not have noticed how late it was getting until it was so dark, she couldn’t see the path beneath her feet … but then her right foot landed the wrong way on a stray cob of corn.

  Her right leg shot out in front of her and her left leg crumpled under her as she landed hard in the dirt. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

  She sat up slowly and climbed to her knees. Her legs felt shaky but okay, but her right ankle throbbed like the Sugar Plum Farm scarecrow had pierced it repeatedly with his rusty pitchfork. Afraid to try standing on it, since she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to walk and make it out of the maze, she looked around her. Finally realizing the sky had gone from blue to gray, and that she was the only person on the path, she checked her watch. “Oh, no,” she said again, not bothering to whisper.

  It was six o’clock. She’d met Arnie at five. She’d been wandering through a field of corn for almost an hour, and had less than an hour to find her way out before the sky went completely black.

  There were many things about being lost in the field that should’ve alarmed her immediately. Like the fact that she might be spending the night under a blanket of corn silk. And that her ankle was probably broken. And that Arnie and her family would be worrying about her, and she had no way of contacting them.

  But instead, the only thing she could think about was that this little adventure was costing her a lot of valuable time.

  Afraid to test her ankle but unwilling to lose another second, Maggie stood carefully on her good foot. She tried keeping her injured foot lifted behind her as she hopped forward, but the path was uneven and she struggled to keep her balance. After three attempts—the third of which almost sent her crashing to the ground again—she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly lowered her injured foot.

  “Maggie?”

  Her eyes snapped open.

  “Is that you?”

  She looked around, her heart racing like she was on the final lap of a mile run. It sped up even more when there was no one there.

  “Great,” she muttered. “It’s only been an hour and I’m already hallucinating.”

  “Maggie, it’s me. Arnie. You probably can’t see me, but I can see you.”

  She looked around again. This time her eyes searched the corn stalks instead of the path running between them. If Sugar Plum Farm had installed hidden security cameras to prevent corn thievery and lost visitors, she’d definitely underestimated its modern advancement.

  “I don’t want to rush you, but it’s getting pretty late . . .”

  Maggie’s eyes traveled up. Arnie’s voice wasn’t coming from inside the field of corn; it was coming from somewhere above her. “Where are you?” she called out.

  “Not far. I can tell you exactly how to get to me, if you want.”

  If you want. Maggie didn’t know how he knew where she was, but she was pretty sure he was hesitant to give her directions because he thought she’d want to finish what she started all on her own. And under normal circumstances, he would’ve been right. But these weren’t normal circumstances. She was injured. And precious seconds that could’ve been spent reading and studying were ticking by, lost forever.

  “Fine,” she relented. “Go ahead. But it might take me a while, since I’ve been attacked by an evil ear of corn.”

  “What do you mean?” Arnie asked quickly, his voice tense. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

  Maggie opened her mouth to say that no, she definitely wasn’t okay, that she hadn’t been further from okay in months … but then realized she was no longer teetering on one foot. She’d been so surprised to hear Arnie calling down to her that she didn’t notice when her injured foot landed on the ground—especially since her injured foot didn’t seem to be all that injured.

  “No,” she said, taking two small steps forward. Her ankle felt tight, like it had a light weight wrapped around it, but it didn’t hurt. “I think I’ll make it.”

  “Great,” he said, relieved. “So just go back about ten feet, hang a left and then a quick right, and you’ll find me.”

  That was it? She was that close to the exit? As she followed Arnie’s directions she thought she should feel happier about having come so close to finding her way out all by herself. But she wasn’t happy. If anything, she was slightly annoyed. She didn’t want to be annoyed, and definitely not at Arnie, but not only had she wasted time and almost ended up having to be whisked away by ambulance, she’d given up. She’d never skipped a single question on any test, and always finished minutes before her classmates. But she couldn’t finish this test. She might as well glue three ears of corn on her chest in the shape of an F.

  “Arnie?” she called out when his directions ended at a wooden ladder. “I don’t see the exit.”

  “Can you climb? Or did the evil ear of corn tie your hands together with husks and silk before fleeing the scene of the crime?”

  Maggie frowned. He was joking, but she wasn’t in the mood.

  “I think the county health department might want to pay a visit to Sugar Plum Farm,” Maggie said, her hands and feet moving quickly up the ladder’s rungs. “I’m sure they’d love to know the dangerous conditions visitors are expected to endure without any kind of warning or—”

  She stopped when she reached the top of the ladder.

  “Surprise,” Arnie said quietly—almost apologetically.

  Maggie looked around. They were on some kind of long wooden platform that stood several feet above the tallest corn stalks. They were so high up, she could see dozens of paths zigzagging through the green maze, the parking lot, and even the farm on the other side of the street.

  “It’s in case you get lost, or need a hint,” Arnie explained.

  “Or want to refuel and unwind by candlelight?” Maggie asked, her voice as apologetic as his.

  Because while she’d been quietly fuming about the precious time she was losing, Arnie had been arranging a romantic picnic for two. A small, round table sat in the center of the platform, covered in a blue-and-white-checked tablecloth and holding a vase of yellow sunflowers. A basket of Sugar Plum Farm grilled chicken, corn on the cob, and caramel apples sat at the base of the table. And ten tealight candles lined the platform’s railings, casting a warm, fuzzy glow.

  “I’m sorry if the race was a really bad idea,” he said. “I just—”

  “Don’t be sorry.” She stepped toward him, took his hand, and smiled. “It’s perfect.”

  It really was. And she’d never deserved an F more.

  12. “Head’s up,” Aimee said, flopping into a folding chair. “Mini Mags, ten o’clock.”

  Maggie looked up from her history textbook to see Carla heading for them like an arrow from a bow.

  “Have you two been shopping together?” Aimee asked. “Or discussing your outfits every night before bed?”

  Maggie eyed Carla’s long-sleeved T-shirt. It wasn’t quite blue, and it wasn’t quite purple … which was exactly what Maggie loved about the long-sleeved T-shirt she was wearing.

  “Seriously,” Aimee whispered as Carla neared, “today it’s the shirt. Yesterday it was the corduroy skirt. The day before that, it was the patent leather belt. How does she do it?”

  “I have no idea,” Maggie said. “But I must admit—she looks pretty cute.”

  “Girls!” Carla flew at them so fast, she had a hard time stopping. She bumped into the table they sat behind and sent their water bottles rolling to the floor. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “We’re always here,” Aimee said, retrieving the water bottles. “We sit here with the petition before homeroom, before and after lunch, and after the last bell. You know this, because you always just happen to be here at those same exact times too.”

  Maggie smiled
. Carla had become a well-dressed shadow over the last few days, popping up wherever Aimee and Maggie happened to be collecting petition signatures or meeting about next steps for the swim team, but Maggie didn’t mind. Carla didn’t get in the way; most of the time she just hung back, watched, and listened. Maggie still didn’t know why Carla was so interested in Maggie’s swim team accomplishments, but she couldn’t help but be flattered.

  “I know you’re here before homeroom,” Carla said breathlessly, “but this is ten minutes earlier than you usually get here. And I wanted to catch you in time.”

  “In time for what?” Aimee shot Maggie a wary look.

  They turned toward the front doors when something that resembled a cross between a foghorn and a cow sounded outside. The noise seemed to come from an old green pickup truck that was sagging on one side and missing the back window.

  “Sorry.” Carla ran for the doors as the horn sounded again. “That’s my mom. I’ll be right back!”

  “Wow,” Aimee said when Carla ran to the rear of the truck, put both hands on the cab door, and pushed.

  “She’s stronger than she looks,” Maggie added as the truck inched forward.

  Aimee turned to her. “Now that we have five seconds to ourselves, let’s finish our conversation from last night. You said there was something you wanted to ask me?”

  “Oh,” Maggie said, her cheeks warming at the unexpected change of topic. “Right. There was.”

  “Sorry again for getting off the phone so fast. But Dad started yelling about a credit card and Mom started yelling about a car payment, and they were so loud, I could barely hear you.”

  “No problem.” Maggie glanced toward the front door. Carla was still helping her mom, but she moved so quickly, Maggie didn’t want to start talking about what she and Aimee hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about on the night before. Maggie had wanted to ask about Aimee’s parents, and since that conversation might take a while, she didn’t want them to be interrupted.

  “So what was it?” Aimee wiggled her eyebrows. “Relationship advice? My thoughts on whether you should make the first move on Señor Lipless?”