As distracting as her new fan club was, Maggie guessed only fifteen minutes remained before she had to get in the water. Aimee had moved down the pool’s edge with her group, and Maggie stood alone.
She stood just behind her group and clung to her towel, shifting from one foot to the next and trying not to notice that while her bathing suit might have been a size fourteen and something for her to be personally proud of, her group members suits were definitely size fours or smaller. She tried to ignore the sharp edges of their shoulder blades, the narrowness of their calves, or the backs of their toned thighs, each of which was separated from the other by at least an inch.
Try as she had, her thighs were still very unfortunately affectionate with each other.
The first four groups finished quickly, and without a perfect performance. Angela Washburn had lost her footing, fell underwater, and came back up spouting water out of her nose. Ginny Vega had missed a cue and fallen so far behind, she’d pulled out of the circle entirely and pouted until the rest of her group had finished. Aimee had done a great job, but Missy Tooker accidentally swung one palm in the wrong direction and caught it upside Aimee’s head, causing her to yelp in surprise.
As Maggie’s group jumped into the water, she turned her head slightly to the stands. Peter, Arnie, her mother, and Summer all watched with wide, encouraging smiles. She took a deep breath and faced the pool. This was it. There was no turning back. She closed her eyes and pretended the tile beneath her feet was the worn wood of Arnie’s dock. She opened her eyes, dropped her towel as easily as if she still wore sweats underneath, lowered herself to the pool’s edge, and slid in. The water was like a hot bath in comparison to Mud Puddle Lake, but Maggie shook anyway.
The five Water Wings took their positions and performed another brief routine for Maggie’s group. Once hidden in the pool, it was much easier for Maggie to concentrate on the task at hand, and she focused on the basic movements and felt her legs and arms practicing discreetly underwater.
She floated on her back. Feeling the feet of the other girls near her own, she pretended they were her mother’s and sister’s, and that they were at the beach and not in the school pool. The thought was calming as she waited for their musical cue to sound overhead.
When the music started, Maggie took a deep breath and pictured every movement the Water Wings had just demonstrated. She’d recognized everything from the competition tapes she’d borrowed from the athletic department, so there was nothing new to worry about. Her head was clear, her mind focused, and she didn’t even have to work hard at pretending the bleachers were empty or that she was all alone in the freezing October lake water with only the small-brained fish for spectators.
She didn’t even flinch when the blonde on her right accidentally rolled into her or when the redhead on her left stretched her legs instead of her arms into the air. She’d seen it on TV shows of physical competitions: Competitors will hang from metal bars over the ocean for a new car or $25,000, their confidence unshakable until the weakening of one person who falls and reminds everyone else of their own fatigue. But Maggie was unfazed.
This prize was hers.
As the music ended and the girls climbed out of the water, Maggie’s face turned a shade of red much lighter than that of her bathing suit—so light, her cheeks were almost pink … pale, carnation pink, instead of fuchsia or maroon. For once her heart pounded in excitement and not paralyzing embarrassment.
She’d nailed every move.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply the sweet scent of chlorine. The warm, moist air wrapped around her body like a baby’s first blanket, and she raised her face to the soft afternoon sunlight filtering down from above. For the first time in as long as she could remember, her body felt healthy and strong, as though it had really given all it had—as though it’d been capable all along and had been waiting only for her cue.
30.
“Daddy, you should’ve seen her!” Summer squealed, dashing toward the couch.
He cleared his throat. “Seen who?”
“Maggie!” Summer threw her arms overhead and twirled. “She was like a ballerina in the water!”
Their mother closed the door behind them, her face flushed. “Really, Robert, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look like that. She was so sure of herself!”
Maggie bit back the smile that had been glued to her face all afternoon, since tryouts and through steamed chicken and broccoli at Mr. Chi’s House of Chow with her mother, Summer, and the McDougalls. She’d aced the group performance and had even gotten a standing ovation from a third of the crowd (everyone who’d been seated somewhere near her family, whose enthusiasm was unavoidably infectious) after her solo performance.
“Congratulations.” He flashed Maggie a small smile before lifting the remote off his chest and aiming it at the television.
Maggie saw her mother frown slightly as she glanced at the flickering screen. She shifted her eyes back to him, waited.
“Don’t you want to know what she was doing when she looked so sure of herself?” her mother prompted, forcing the smile back to her face.
He sighed, then raised the remote again and turned off the television.
“What were you doing when you looked so sure of yourself.” It should’ve been a question, but his voice stayed flat.
Maggie had been excited to tell her father where she’d been and what she’d done. She’d hoped he might even notice and be proud that she’d lost weight. But when he couldn’t even look up from the television, her heart sank to her stomach and squashed any leftover butterflies.
“I tried out,” she blurted after her mother’s elbow nudged her, “for the Water Wings. Mom’s old team.” She flashed her mother a quick smile.
“Congratulations,” he said again, turning the television back on.
“Well, I didn’t actually make the team yet, but I think I did okay and have a pretty good shot.”
“She even got a standing ovation!” Summer exclaimed.
“Yes, she’s being very modest. She had to swim twice, by herself and in a group, and the bleachers were packed! And let me tell you, those routines are way more complicated than they used to be.”
“That’s great, Mag Pie.” He shifted slightly and Maggie thought he might sit up to better converse, but then he pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch, covered his legs, and rested the remote back on his chest. “Really, really great.”
On any other day, she might’ve retreated to her room, annoyed yet defeated, but it wasn’t just any other day. Her mother had been right. She’d looked sure of herself because, for once, she’d actually felt that way.
She marched across the room, snapped off the television, and blocked the remote’s target so he couldn’t turn it back on. Her mother’s and Summer’s mouths fell open as she put her hands on her hips and faced her father.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I tried out for the synchronized swim team—not the chess club or the debate team. A real sports team.”
He exhaled, closed his eyes, and rubbed them with the forefinger and thumb of one hand. “Maggie, now is not a good time for me.”
“But it’s a good time for me.”
He opened his eyes, looked at her warily. “I’ve had a hard day. You don’t understand.”
She shrugged. “Try me.” Her heart fluttered in her chest.
“Please get out of the way.” He raised the television remote.
“Why is watching TV more important than talking to us?”
“Maggie!” Her mother gasped.
“What?” She was on a roll and didn’t care if she got in trouble. “All I’m saying is that if Dad ever looked up from the TV, he might notice that Summer grew an inch in the past few months, that I’ve lost almost twenty pounds, or that you worry so much about money, you hide in my room when I’m not there.”
Her father shot her mother a confused look as Maggie took a step backward upon realizing what s
he’d just said aloud.
“I mean,” she continued before she could lose her nerve, “things haven’t exactly been a barrel of laughs the past six months. And I just don’t understand why you’re not doing more about the situation, why you don’t even seem to be trying. You wanted me to try for my own good, and I did! So what about you?”
“Maggie.” Sternness had replaced the surprise in her mother’s voice.
Her father rubbed his temples.
“I tried.”
“What?” She shook her head, momentarily uncertain he’d actually spoken.
He squeezed his eyes shut once more as though bracing himself. Opened them and looked at her.
“I did try.” He grunted as he slowly sat up. He clasped his hands loosely between his knees and met her mother’s confused gaze. “That job? The potential employment opportunity I’d talked about?”
Her mother nodded.
“It was with your uncle. I did what you wanted me to do. I called him up. We had lunch, talked shop. I convinced him that I was serious about working for him and righting things for us.”
Her mother crossed her arms, shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“And he said that he was looking to train someone, because he was getting tired and predicted retirement was just around the corner. And he said if I really was that serious, that he’d consider giving me a chance. And if I really worked hard and proved myself, that maybe my future in his furniture business would be very, very bright.”
“ You mean—”
He nodded. “That when the time came, he’d hand it over. To me. For us.”
“Well, but that’s incredible,” her mother marveled as a small smile played at the corner of her lips. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t tell us this before.”
Her father leaned back, rested his head on the couch, and looked to the ceiling.
“It’s not happening.”
The smile disappeared from her mother’s face.
“I called today because I hadn’t heard anything in a while, and he said that he was very sorry, but that he talked it over with your cousin, who apparently agreed to take over the responsibility.”
Her mother sighed. Summer sank into an arm chair, disappointment clouding her bright blue eyes. Maggie was disappointed too. She’d imagined weekly dinners at Nora’s, bumping into Peter Applewood and his family so frequently that their two parties would eventually converge. She’d continue to lose weight until she was able to dress up like everyone else in the restaurant, and maybe one day she’d lose enough that she’d let herself taste the extra-fattening, extra-yummy tiramisu.
As her father resumed his reclining position on the couch and pulled the blanket up to his chin, Maggie bolted from the living room. She grabbed her laptop from her bedroom and raced back down the hall.
“Here.”
Her father looked at the computer skeptically.
“Take it.” She leaned forward and stretched her arms.
“Maggie, what is this—”
“It’s what comes next.” She lowered the laptop to the coffee table, turned it on, and pulled up the Master Multitasker. “There,” she said proudly. “Those are the names and phone numbers of every construction, landscaping, and swimming pool company in the area.” She bent down and clicked. “And those are ads for all the available outdoor jobs from four different newspapers, including requirements, contact information, and salaries.”
Her father sat up and pulled the computer closer. As he scrolled through the listings, Maggie winked at Summer.
“When did you do this?”
“We started two weeks ago and have been adding to it since. We were holding on to it because of your other potential opportunity, but …” Her voice trailed off.
“We?”
“Me, Summer, and Aimee.”
Maggie’s heart pounded as he examined their compilation. She hadn’t intended to present the information so abruptly, but if she hadn’t done it then, he might’ve given up completely.
Her mother joined her father on the couch. “You girls were very thorough.” She nodded approvingly as she read along.
“I know it’s hard,” Maggie continued. “But you can do it! I just wore a bathing suit in front of a hundred people. Two weeks ago I’d have hidden under the bleachers.” She said this lightly, hoping to convince him that nothing was as bad as it seemed.
Her father closed the laptop and pushed it toward Maggie.
Her heart sank.
“Congratulations on the tryouts, Mag Pie.” He lay back down and turned on the television.
She looked to Summer, then her mother. They were silent.
Leaving the laptop on the coffee table, Maggie headed slowly down the hallway.
Once inside her bedroom, she closed the door, flopped onto her bed, and felt her breathing slowly return to normal. She’d just said all the things she’d wanted to say for six whole months—all of the things she’d never intended to say, at least not to her father.
She knew Water Wings would change her life, but she couldn’t have predicted this.
31.
“Maggie, you were awesome yesterday!”
She felt her cheeks warm, smiled slightly, and tucked her hair behind one ear. Peter Applewood walked right next to her toward their lockers and she refused to freak out.
“Thanks.”
“No, really. All that self-inflicted torture in the lake really paid off. You were just really, really good—better than pretty much everyone else who tried out.”
She laughed. “Okay, what do I have that you want?”
They stopped in front of their lockers.
Peter looked at her, confused. “Huh?”
“I mean, I think I did okay, but I’m sure lots of girls did better. So you must want something!” Her hair fell out from behind her ear and covered the left side of her face as she spun her locker combination.
36 dates, 24 phone calls, 36 kisses.
“No, really!” he exclaimed. “I was hanging around the judges’ table afterward—”
“Waiting for Julia,” Maggie added without thinking. All sorts of things had been flying out of her mouth since tryouts.
“And I—what?” he asked when her comment registered. “Why would I be waiting for Julia?” He shook his head quickly and continued. “Anyway, I heard the judges talking and your name definitely came up more than once. They were really impressed. I think I even heard one of them say that you were a natural!”
Maggie looked at him, her heart still flipping from his reaction to her Julia assumption, and noted that he hadn’t yet opened his locker. Had he not even needed to go to his locker and just wanted to walk with her? The books in her hands suddenly grew slippery.
“Really?” She quickly searched her vocabulary-saturated mind for words that sounded like “natural,” but that meant something more along the lines of “disaster,” “catastrophe,” “nightmare.” But her mind had somehow gone mushy and capable of focusing only on one thing.
Dozens of people milled around them, shouting, laughing, and running. On any day before today Maggie would’ve retrieved her books and rushed to her next class, head down, shoulders slumped, and focused only on her next forty-five-minute academic undertaking and not the faces or words of those around her. But today she was actually engaged in a normal, between-bell conversation, like anyone else.
A normal, between-bell conversation with Peter Applewood—which really was completely and totally abnormal, but which, Maggie hoped beyond hope, might slowly become a regular occurrence.
“Maybe my stellar performance had something to do with a certain sparkly sign?”
“Hey, you earned that sign.”
“ Well, you and Arnie are certainly gifted in the ways of construction paper and glue sticks.”
“And glitter,” he reminded her.
“And of course, glitter!”
“We took kindergarten very seriously.” He cleared his throat and leaned
against his closed locker. “So, the announcements are today, right?”
“They post the list after lunch.” She wrinkled her nose in nervous anticipation.
“Well, I have no doubts you’ll make it—”
“I don’t—” She tried to cut him off, shook her head.
He held one finger to his lips, grinned, and started again. “I have no doubts you’ll make it, and I’ll be so psyched for you, but kind of disappointed, too.”
Disappointed? Did he think she really wasn’t Water Wing material? Was he afraid for her that she’d pass out again and make a fool of herself?
She shook her head again, waited for him to clarify.
He raised his eyebrows, waited for her to figure it out.
She didn’t.
“If you make it, then you’ll probably take your practicing to the pool, right? With the rest of the team?”
“I guess it’d be the thing to do, yes.”
“So if you take to practicing in the pool, then that means you won’t need the lake anymore?”
“I think the eight o’clock winter sunrise, four forty-five winter sunset, and eventual freezing over of the water might play small roles in the transition too.”
“True. But whatever the reason, it means that Arnie and I will have to spend many an afternoon in that big house all by ourselves.”
She tried to contain the sudden bubbles of delight that filled her belly and threatened to cascade out of her mouth in laughter.
“Just don’t forget about us little people, that’s all I ask.”
She couldn’t speak, so she nodded and smiled and hoped her face didn’t reveal the dance party her heart and stomach threw inside her body.
The bell rang, and Maggie looked up to the ceiling, shocked. She’d never not been seated comfortably in the classroom, textbook open and pen in hand, when the bell rang.
“Well, good luck. I can’t wait to hear how it goes!” Peter called over his shoulder as he began jogging down the hallway.
Maggie waved quickly before getting the rest of her books and slamming her locker shut. As she hurried through the emptying halls, her heart raced at what might be in store for the new Maggie Bean.
The Melting of Maggie Bean Page 13
