“Maggie,” Arnie said, sinking to the couch. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know I didn’t have to,” she said happily, sitting next to him. “But I really, really wanted to.”
He looked at her and smiled, and for just a second, she thought it would happen right then. She thought he might be so touched by the gifts that he would lean over and plant a quick, grateful kiss on her lips.
“Open them,” she said, just in case. Because it wasn’t time yet.
He looked at the presents like he didn’t think he should, but after a few seconds, his smile grew and he gave in. “Guitar Hero World Tour?” he exclaimed, tearing the wrapping paper from the first present and tossing it to the floor. “Maggie, this costs, like, fifty dollars.”
“Do you have it?” she asked.
He stared at the cover and shook his head.
“Do you like it? Will it make you happy?”
Still staring at the cover, he nodded.
She grinned. “Then that’s all that matters.”
She had to remind him of this after the next present, and then next one, and the one after that. Three video games, four CDs, two DVDs, and one four-pack of Sugar-Free Red Bull later, she was still promising him that the money wasn’t an issue.
“We do get paid for babysitting the little ones every week,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, but not much.” He leaned back on the couch and hugged his presents to his chest. “And you said you wanted to use that money to build your personal library and start saving toward college.”
She shrugged. College was part of her future … but she hoped it wasn’t the only part.
“Arnie,” she said quickly after checking her watch and seeing that it was already 8:03—three minutes later than she’d planned to start the date’s next phase. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“I’m always here to listen.” He flashed her a quick smile before picking up a DVD case and reading the back.
She slid closer to him on the couch and gently pressed down on the DVD case. “It’s kind of important.”
He looked at her. Seeing that she was serious, he lifted the presents from his chest, placed them on the coffee table, and shifted on the couch so he faced her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She smiled. They sat so close now that his right knee touched her left one. “Everything’s great, actually. Couldn’t be better.”
“Okay . . .”
She took a deep breath. This was it. The last step before the main event. She’d written out everything she wanted to say and read the small speech until it was memorized. She’d recited it in front of her bedroom mirror a dozen times, and even practiced accompanying facial expressions and hand gestures. In a way, this was the final test. And it was one she couldn’t afford to fail.
“Arnie,” she started, hoping her voice sounded more normal to him than it did to her, “I gave you these gifts because I thought they would make you happy.”
“They do,” he said when she paused for his response. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, relieved when he answered the way she’d thought he would. “I wanted to make you happy, because that’s what you do for me every single day.”
“Well, that’s—”
She held up one hand. “Please. Let me finish.”
He raised his eyebrows and scooted back on the couch.
Her eyes shifted to his right knee, which was now several inches from her left one. “Arnie, the thing is, I really like you.” She lifted her eyes to his. “I really, really like you. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. When I have a bad day, thinking about you makes it better. When I’m stressed, hearing your voice makes me calmer. You’re my first thought when I wake up, and my last one before I fall asleep.”
She paused. During rehearsals, this was when she allotted five seconds for him to grab her hand and say, “Maggie, I feel the exact same way.” But he didn’t grab her hand. He didn’t say anything. He simply stared at her without blinking.
She looked down at her purple suede flats as her cheeks warmed. “Anyway … I just wanted you to know all of this, because I wanted you to know that I’m ready. I’m ready to take our relationship to the next level. We were good friends, and we’ve been a good couple.” She made herself look up. This was the last line, the clincher, the one after which nothing would be the same. “But I’m ready to be great.”
The only light in the living room came from the candles on the coffee table. The soft sounds of violins and cellos surrounded them. The moment was as romantic as she’d planned it to be.
“Arnie … ,” she whispered, leaning toward him and closing her eyes.
“Maggie.”
Still leaning toward him, she opened her eyes. Arnie had leaned away from her, and was holding his stomach with both hands and sweating like he’d just ridden his bike up Mount Everest in slipper socks.
“I’m so sorry … ,” he whispered. “But I think I’m going to be sick.”
She couldn’t move as he jumped up from the couch. By the time her legs realized her brain was screaming at them to run, he’d already darted from the living room and through the dining room. She reached the front door just in time to watch him pedal down the driveway and disappear up the road. After a few minutes, when he didn’t return, she went inside and closed the door.
She stopped by the kitchen on her way back to the living room. And until nine o’clock sharp, when she heard her dad’s car pull in the driveway, she sat on the couch listening to Mozart, watching the candles cast shadows around the room … and eating the chocolate bars leftover from her perfect dessert.
20. “Milky Ways, Snickers, Twix, and Three Musketeers.”
Maggie opened her eyes to see a red whistle dangling above her nose.
“Not exactly a breakfast of champions, Bean.”
“I’m not exactly a champion, Ms. P.”
Maggie reached into her backpack pocket, grabbed a handful of M&M’s, and dropped them in her mouth. “Besides, I already had chocolate chip pancakes with extra maple syrup for breakfast. This is my midmorning snack.”
“It’s seven o’clock.”
“When you’ve been up since three, seven’s midmorning.” She closed her eyes and reached for another handful of M&M’s.
“How’d you get in here, anyway? School doesn’t start for half an hour.”
Maggie pointed to the bag on the floor.
“Butterfingers?”
“The custodian’s favorite.” She dropped the M&M’s into her mouth, one by one. “A few more bags of those and I’ll have my own key to the principal’s office.”
Which would probably come in handy, considering her recent academic downward spiral. She’d never considered herself the breaking-and-entering, computer-hacking type, but maybe she should give it a try. She had nothing left to lose if she got in trouble, and if she got caught she’d probably get suspended … and she could definitely go for an extended vacation.
“Bean.”
“Ms. P,” Maggie sighed, “no offense, but I’m really not in the mood for a lecture.”
Ms. Pinkerton paused. “I was just going to ask if you had any Kit Kats.”
Maggie opened her eyes again. Ms. Pinkerton leaned over her, her normally scowling face a combination of embarrassed and hopeful. Maggie sat up slowly, the movement sending a flurry of candy wrappers from the diving board to the white tiles below, and lifted her backpack to her lap. She sifted through the plastic bags until she found the Kit Kats, and handed them to Ms. Pinkerton.
“Thank you,” Ms. Pinkerton exhaled, taking the bag and sitting on the other end of the diving board. “And I know what you’re thinking.”
Maggie doubted that, considering all she could think since Arnie’s abrupt departure two days before was that she’d never felt worse in her entire life. She felt worse than she did when she weighed 186 pounds. And when she couldn’t finish the annual mile run in gym class. And when Anabel and Julia mad
e fun of the black swimsuit with the waist ruffle she’d worn to try to hide her belly. And when her parents made her go to Pound Patrollers with Aunt Violetta. And when she didn’t make the Water Wings. And even when she told Peter Applewood that she liked him as more than a friend, and he didn’t feel the same way.
“Get a grip.”
Maggie’s head snapped toward Ms. Pinkerton. “Excuse me?”
“Get a grip.” Ms. Pinkerton ripped open a Kit Kat packet and crammed two full wafers in her mouth. “That’s what you’re thinking. It’s obvious by the silly skirts and high heels I’ve been forcing myself into every day that I don’t need Kit Kats. I need to get a grip.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.” Maggie peered over Ms.Pinkerton’s shoulder to the sparkling pool water behind her. “In fact, I think you should have as many Kit Kats as you want. You should have as many Kit Kats as it will take for you to feel better.”
“The factory doesn’t make that much in a year.”
Maggie looked at the dozens of candy wrappers littering the tiled floor. She knew how Ms. Pinkerton felt.
“Anyway, Bean, I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m glad you’re here. And not just because of the free chocolate.”
“Then why?” Maggie asked, unable to come up with another reason, since Ms. Pinkerton never seemed glad to see any of her students. And it wasn’t like Maggie was especially good company these days.
Ms. Pinkerton finished one Kit Kat and immediately opened another. “Do you know that, up until a few days ago, I hadn’t cried in thirty-four years?”
Maggie’s chin dropped. That was almost three times as long as Maggie’d been alive—and Maggie had probably cried hundreds of times since being born. “Not once?”
“Nope.”
“Not at movies? Or to get out of a speeding ticket? Or when you broke an arm, or a leg, or whatever?”
Ms. Pinkerton shook her head. “The last time I cried was when my childhood dog, Squat, died.”
Maggie watched Ms. Pinkerton shove another wafer in her mouth. “You named your childhood dog Squat?”
Ms. Pinkerton’s eyes flicked to Maggie’s and narrowed. “I’m trying to have a moment here, Bean. Want to guess how often I do that?”
“Never.” It wasn’t a guess.
“Anyway, every minute that I wasn’t at school Squat and I spent together. When I went to the fishing hole, he carried my rod in his mouth. When I watched TV, he rested his head on my lap. When I went to bed, he curled up at my feet and stayed there all night.”
“He sounds like a good dog,” Maggie said, trying—and failing—to picture a young Ms. Pinkerton hanging out at a fishing hole.
“He was a good dog. He was the best dog.” Ms. Pinkerton sighed. “And when he was gone, I thought my life was over. Because I’d never known life without him, and I didn’t know what to do when he wasn’t there anymore.”
Maggie nodded and looked down. She knew how that felt too. She hadn’t heard from Arnie after their disastrous romantic evening, and she’d been having trouble filling the hours since then. Which was why she’d been sleeping and gorging on chocolate. If she was asleep, she couldn’t think about how she’d ruined everything, and sugar comas were basically like sleeping with your eyes open. They weren’t exactly productive activities, but they passed the time.
“I cried for days,” Ms. Pinkerton said. “For weeks. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t do anything but think of all the fun we had that we would never have again. And later—much, much later—I vowed that I would never let myself feel that kind of pain again. It was just too hard.”
“I’m sorry,” Maggie said after a minute.
“It was the toughest thing I’d ever gone through. And because of my vow, it remained the toughest thing I had to go through—until this summer.”
Maggie looked down at her sneakers, remembering what Julia had said about Ms. Pinkerton’s relationship during the first gym class of the year.
“I don’t like to talk about my personal life, Bean—to anyone, let alone my students. But I’m telling you this now because I think you deserve an explanation for my recent behavior. I trust that whatever I say will stay between us. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Maggie promised, even though part of her wanted to hide in the locker room, or dive into the pool and wait underwater until Ms. Pinkerton went to her office. She didn’t know if she’d ever want to hear details about Ms. Pinkerton’s love life, but it felt especially strange now, when her own love life had suffered such an early, tragic death.
“Ten years ago, I met Junior in the produce aisle of the supermarket. We both grabbed the last honeydew melon at the same time, and proceeded to argue for fifteen minutes about who should get to leave the store with it.”
“I bet you won that argument,” Maggie said.
“No bets about it, Bean.” Ms. Pinkerton tore open another Kit Kat. “The following week, we ran into each other at the deli counter and argued over whether ham or turkey was the better cold cut. The week after that, we met in the freezer aisle and debated the nutritional value of frozen spinach versus fresh spinach. The week after that, we met in the dairy aisle and he asked me out to dinner. When I said no, he opened a carton of eggs and juggled six at once.” She looked at Maggie. “Have you ever seen anyone do that?”
Maggie shook her head.
“Trust me—it’s impressive. He didn’t drop one. Not one.”
“Wow.”
“You said it. I was a goner after that. We were together for ten years.”
Maggie waited as Ms. Pinkerton chewed and swallowed another chocolate wafer.
“He wanted to get married right away, but I wasn’t ready. He proposed every year for nine years … and I turned him down every single time.”
“Why?” Maggie asked. “If you were that crazy about him and knew you wanted to be with him, why not make it official?”
Ms. Pinkerton shrugged. “I was nervous. I thought if we got married, things would change. And they were already so good the way they were.”
Maggie nodded. She didn’t know if she’d be able to say no to someone she loved so many times, but she understood not wanting to mess up a good thing—especially now.
“But last year … ,” Ms. Pinkerton continued. “Last year, I was ready. Every time we went on a date, I hoped that night would be the night that he asked the question again. I wanted to say yes more than anything. I finally wanted to take the plunge—I wanted to get married and live happily ever after.”
“So what happened?” Maggie asked gently.
“There was no proposal—at least not from him.”
“ You proposed?”
“I did. On the last day of school last year, I called him from work and asked him to stop by the supermarket and pick up a honeydew melon for dessert later that night. When he got to the produce aisle, I was waiting for him. On one knee.”
“Ms. P!” Maggie exclaimed, temporarily forgetting her own heartbreak. “That’s so sweet!”
“Thank you.” Ms. Pinkerton slapped her knee, like she was happy someone had finally appreciated the gesture. “That’s what I thought. Unfortunately, Junior didn’t agree. Or if he did, it wasn’t enough for him to say yes.”
“Oh.” Maggie grabbed two full-size Snickers from her backpack and handed one to Ms. Pinkerton.
“Yeah. And then right after that, he said he needed space. He needed time to think.” She ripped off the Snickers wrapper, took a big bite, and looked at Maggie. “He’s still thinking.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Maggie said automatically. “What’s there to think about? He’s been waiting for you to be ready, and you’re ready. Bring on the wedding bells.”
“Yes, well … while he’s been thinking, I’ve been trying to become someone else. Someone completely different from me, since he obviously didn’t want me.” She looked down at her brown suede pants and sparkly orange heels. “And I’ve been trying really hard not to worry about it, but I
am. I’ve been a mess. It’s been like losing Squat all over again.”
Maggie frowned and took another bite of her Snickers bar.
“Anyway, Bean, that’s why I broke down in front of you last week. When you told me the swim team was done, I realized how obsessing about Junior was taking me away from my other responsibilities. So when I cried for the first time in thirty-four years, it wasn’t just because I miss Junior. It was because I was so upset for neglecting you and the rest of the swim team. I mean, I let those crazy Water Wings just float in and fill an entire period with preposterous propaganda!”
“Yes,” Maggie said with a nod. “Yes, you did.”
“It wasn’t fair, Bean. I lost my head. And I apologize.”
“It’s okay, Ms. P. Really. Like I said, it was pretty much a lost cause to begin with.”
Ms. Pinkerton started to say something but stopped when the locker room doors on the other side of the pool flew open.
“Carla?” Maggie called out, squinting to make out the petite sixth grader’s face.
“Oh, hey, Maggie!” Carla yelled back. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was here. I usually have the pool to myself until the first bell. But that’s okay! I’ll just come back later, or tomorrow, or whenever it’s convenient for you.”
Maggie suddenly noticed Carla was wearing a yellow swimsuit and blue goggles. “You swim here?”
“Every morning, now that I’m not meeting you and Aimee at the petition table.”
“How do you get in?”
“Easy.” Carla shrugged. “Buster the custodian will do anything for a few Butterfingers.”
Maggie’s chin dropped. Not only did Carla know how to win over the custodian, she knew his name. Maggie hadn’t known his name until Carla said it, and she’d been going to the school two years longer.
“Anyway, sorry to interrupt! I’ll just—”
“It’s okay,” Maggie said. “Stay. Swim.”
As Carla ran for the pool and dove in, Maggie and Ms. Pinkerton started gathering the candy wrappers from the diving board and tile floor. Ms. Pinkerton talked about the factual inaccuracies of Mrs. Swanson’s and Mrs. Richards’s special presentation, but Maggie hardly heard her. She was too busy watching Carla. Carla was little, but she was strong—and fast. Her arms and legs sliced through the water like it was air, and each time she reached a wall, she somersaulted and kept going without slowing down.
Maggie Bean in Love Page 16
