Calling Maggie May (2 page)

Thurs, Oct 16

Chemistry: 82% on test

Debate meet: Fourth place PF, no place LD.

English: 85% quiz

I was wrong about that girl. Ada Culver. The one Tyler was talking to.

I just assumed she was one of the popular girls, the ones who all blend together, with their honey-blond hair and their honey-tan skin and their skinny tan jeans. But she's not like that.

She's not exactly popular, for one thing. She eats lunch alone every day, and I never see her talk to anyone. That makes her sound like a loser, doesn't it? Like she's an even more hopeless case than I am. But that's not quite right either.

There's something sort of mysterious about her. I tried to cyberstalk her, but she's got almost nothing online. Usually the popular girls and the wannabes are all over the Internet, where they can control and curate their image from the safety of their bedroom. On the Internet, it's easy enough to make yourself look cool in front of the whole world, but her profile is totally locked down. Almost like she's hiding something.

I wonder if that's what Tyler likes: a little mystery. Or maybe it's just that she's beautiful . . . sheets of coppery blond hair and
long legs like a model. I guess it's not so hard to understand the appeal there.

Thurs, Oct 23

I think I'm becoming a little fixated on Ada Culver.

Maybe it's not the sanest hobby, but it's something to do, something to think about other than the endless stream of tests and papers and competitions. I feel like if I just study her closely enough, learn everything I can about her, I could unlock her mystery.

There's something so different about her. Strange? Weird? A little off? But not in a bad way. I almost can't believe now that I ever mixed her up with the other girls at school. She doesn't dress like the popular girls. She doesn't dress like anyone else, really. It's like she doesn't even care about things like fashion and trends.

I guess people might say that about me, too (if they bothered to say anything at all about me). I don't seem to care about fashion because all I wear are baggy jeans and bulky sweaters and plain T-shirts. Definitely not the height of fashion.

But I don't think anyone could ever think Ada Culver and I have anything in common. If I avoid fashion, it's mostly because I don't have the time, don't have the energy, definitely don't have the money, and don't see the point in it. The result is that I look
frumpy and invisible at all times. Whereas with Ada . . . it's not exactly that she's outside of popular style. It's more like she's above it.

Obviously money is not an issue for her, because even I can tell that her outfits don't come cheap. And it's not that she doesn't care or put in the effort, because she always looks amazing. Like, even the popular rich kids at school mostly just wear skinny jeans and tank tops or band T-shirts or whatever. They look cool, but they all look pretty much the same. But Ada . . . She dresses like a . . . like an adult, kind of? Or like a movie star. Maybe that's it.

Just an example: Almost everyone in school has these puffy ski jackets that are popular right now. And the people who can't afford those, or don't care enough to buy them, we have lumpy hand-me-downs or jackets from thrift shops that don't fit right. But Ada came to school yesterday in a perfectly fitted coat that swirls around whenever she turns, a deep blue scarf threaded with gold, and leather boots that click-clack on the pavement when she goes outside to smoke. No one else wears heels to school—not even the teachers.

The other weird thing is that even though she doesn't seem to have any friends at school, she's on her phone all the time. (A superfancy top-of-the-line phone, obviously, in a shiny pink case.) I always see her at lunch or between classes, looking like
a model in a fashion magazine spread as she lounges against some wall and talks or texts on her phone. But who could she be talking to? And who picks her up after school? She's never on the bus. The other day I saw her get into the passenger side of a really nice car that I think was a Jaguar. I'm pretty sure no one at school drives a car like that. It must be her parents, and they must be loaded.

Okay, maybe I am being a little creepy. It's not like I spy on her. . . . I'm just curious, because she is so weird. I mean, interesting. And so different from me.

Fri, Oct 24

I did something crazy today. I wore a scarf. Blue paisley. Silk. My dad gave it to Mom for her birthday a few years back, but she's never worn it. When I was putting away laundry yesterday, I happened to see it, and before I even thought about what I was doing, I grabbed it. And I wore a dress today, too—my piano-recital dress. It's not particularly elegant or flattering. Actually, it kind of makes me look like a dumpling. But I had to do something.

This all probably doesn't sound that crazy, but for me, it is. The geek table noticed right away. They asked if I had a recital that afternoon and gave me a strange look when I said I didn't. But a strange look is better than no look at all, right? I'm not sure, but it seemed like it might be worth a try, anyway.

I don't know what I'm doing. I've been feeling a little nuts ever since I wrote that last entry. It's like expressing all those thoughts awoke something strange in me. And I know I should be worrying about my upcoming history test, and I am trying to study, but somehow all my mind wants to think about is what I can do to make myself less me and more . . . someone else. More Ada.

That's hopeless, I know, but school stuff feels hopeless too these days. If I'm not going to be the brilliant scientist Mom dreams of, maybe I can be cool and exciting at least. Enough so Tyler might know my name. I'd be happy with that.

I don't know why he doesn't just forget about her. She obviously has bigger things going on than him, though I can't figure out what. Who is she always talking to on her phone?

Wed, Oct 29

French: 84% on test

Math team: Meet, but I didn't place.

I haven't seen Ada and Tyler together in a while. Did they break up? Did he dump her? Did she dump him? A while ago I wouldn't have believed it was even possible to say no to someone as gorgeous as Tyler Adams, but I guess if anyone is
in a position to turn him down, it's Ada Culver. She's probably dating someone even better now.

But who could be better than Tyler? It would have to be someone pretty amazing.

A celebrity. A prince. An alien. Or maybe no one at all. Maybe a girl like Ada Culver is so cool she doesn't even need boys.

Thurs, Oct 30

I spoke to Ada today. And to Tyler. It was so weird! I almost can't believe it really happened. Nothing this interesting has happened to me in . . . well, maybe my whole life. How can that be? How can a conversation with a couple of kids at school be the most exciting thing that ever happened to me? But Tyler is Tyler, and Ada's not just any girl, as I've already made pretty clear.

I want to get it all down now while it's still fresh in my head. I'm afraid if I go to sleep I'll wake up convinced it was all a dream. Even now I'm not so sure.

It was lunchtime. I was in line to collect my uninspiring rations of institutional-grade chicken fingers, stressing about this huge history test I bombed that morning, when I noticed Tyler moving across the lunchroom. I let my eyes follow him because even though it's painful to look at Tyler and see how
gorgeous he is and think about how hopeless it is to be in love with him, I prefer that kind of pain to thinking about what's going to happen when Mom sees my end-of-semester grades and realizes her dreams for me are dead.

So instead of dwelling on that, I watched Tyler. And as I watched, I noticed that he was heading toward the door out to the playing fields, and obviously if he went through that, I would lose sight of him. I don't know what came over me exactly, except that I really didn't want to go back to thinking about that history test or those chicken fingers. So I started moving. I stepped out of the line and I followed him.

It was drizzling a little outside, so there weren't many people around. I scanned the low wall and the steps where students usually gather at lunchtime, but I didn't see Tyler or anyone else. Then I turned and saw Tyler ducking down into a little passageway between the main school building and the auditorium.

I hurried toward where I'd seen him last, still with no fixed idea what I was doing or what I'd do if he spotted me. It's like I was on autopilot. That's when I heard the click-clack of heels on a small flight of concrete stairs, along with the soft thud of Tyler's sneakers. He'd been looking for Ada, of course. And now he'd found her.

From where I was, I could lean over a railing and see them both
at the bottom of the stairs. Ada was wearing a short red trench coat that matched her nails. She slipped out of the rain under a little overhang and pulled out a cigarette and a book of matches.

“Dammit,” she said in a low voice as one match after another went out. The wind had picked up. She was facing away from Tyler, and at first I thought she might not know that he was there, but then she said, “I don't suppose you have a lighter.”

“I don't smoke,” said Tyler.

“Of course you don't,” said Ada, still not looking at him. Her straight blond hair fell like a curtain between them.

They stood together in silence a moment while Ada tried and failed to get another match to light. Tyler took a step forward. “I can help,” he said. He leaned his body close to hers, rounding his shoulders to block the wind and blocking my view of her. After a moment, I heard her say thank you, and a plume of smoke rose to where I was standing. He didn't move.

“I said ‘thank you,'” Ada repeated, more sharply this time.

“Don't be stuck-up,” said Tyler. “I know what you are.”

“Is that a fact?”

“I'll tell everyone.”

“Be my guest,” said Ada, not looking at him. Her phone trilled with a text message. “I've got to take this,” she said.

“Okay.”

“That was code for, ‘Run along, now.'”

“Go ahead,” he said. “I don't mind.”

The phone trilled again. “Fine,” said Ada, and she moved out from behind him, back into the rain. She started to walk up the stairs, but he reached behind him and grabbed her arm, tugging her back down to his level. “Ow,” she said. “What's the . . . ?” But she didn't say anything else because he was kissing her.

“Hey,” I cried out. Not stopping to think, I took the steps two at a time. “What are you doing? She said no.”

Tyler stepped away from her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“No, she didn't,” he said. “Who are you?”

At that point, my sudden attack of bravery wore off, and my throat closed over my voice. It's funny, because even then Tyler barely glanced at me. He kept staring at Ada until she said in a low, hard voice, “Get lost now. I mean it.” At that he shrugged his shoulders, forced out a laugh, and wandered off toward the playing fields as if that had been his plan all along.

Ada's phone trilled again. “I've got to take this,” she said, and she walked off in the other direction, leaving me alone in the rain.

I don't know exactly what to make of that whole scene. But I guess Ada doesn't really like Tyler.

Mon, Nov 3

I spoke to Ada again today. Or actually, she spoke to me.

I'd stayed away from her since our last interaction. I don't know why, but somehow I was embarrassed. I thought maybe she was mad that I interrupted what was going on between her and Tyler. And I definitely didn't want to see Tyler. So I did my best to stay out of sight, which is usually easy for me.

But Ada found me after school today. I was walking across the parking lot to the buses when she called my name. I was so surprised I didn't even answer. Ada Culver knows my name? It was hard to imagine, but she must have done some detective work after our last meeting.

I stopped and stared at her. She was standing by herself, away from the crowd, in a dun-colored coat with a cream fur collar that almost blended with her pale hair. She had her hands stuffed in her pockets, and she was shivering even though it wasn't that cold. I continued not to move, and eventually she approached and stood before me, maybe two feet away.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” I had thought of her before as beautiful and stunning, but now that she was close-up, I realized there was nothing unusual about her face or her body. She was skinnier and taller than me, but not statuesque. Her skin was pale, and a smattering of freckles on her slightly snub nose made her
look almost wholesome. I had been fascinated before by her confidence, her coolness, but standing in front of me now, she seemed almost fragile. But that was fascinating too.

“The other day,” she said. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it. She had a lighter this time. “Stuff like that . . .” She waved her cigarette vaguely. “We need to look out for each other.”

We? I didn't know what she meant. Humankind? Women? Or me and her?

“It's fine,” I said, and I turned to go.

“Why did you follow me outside?” she said abruptly.

I stopped again. “I wasn't following you.”

She nodded as if she had half expected this answer. “You like Tyler,” she said. It wasn't a question, so I didn't answer. She took a long drag. “A bit of advice,” she said on her exhale. “Stay away from him.”

I stared at her in surprise. Did she actually think I was a threat?

“You don't have to worry about me,” I said.

“No?”

“Boys don't . . . do that to me.”

“Lucky you.”

I didn't say anything.

“You don't think you're so lucky,” she said. “Is that it? You wanted it to be you he was mauling.”

“No,” I said quickly, but my hands were sweating. She was right. I hadn't even admitted it to myself, but there was a part of me that did wish it was me he had pushed up against that wall.

Ada shook her head, her hair catching what remained of the winter light. “You think that's what passion looks like, but it's not. Tyler's just a little boy, trying to be a big man.” She dropped her cigarette on the pavement and crushed it under her heel. “Anyway, I should have said thank you the other day. So thank you.”

“Sure,” I said.

Ada turned away and walked toward a waiting car.