Maggie Malone Makes a Splash (11 page)

“I'm a horrible, smelly turd,” Elizabeth says as we're unlocking our bikes. “I feel awful for not believing you about Brianna. And even worse than awful that I didn't stand up for you when she lied about the practice laps. And not just because you saved my butt
,
but also because you're a great friend. I told everyone you were a liar and you didn't deserve that.
I'm
the liar.”

Elizabeth looks as miserable as I feel.

“Well, actually,” I say, pretending to be very busy working my bike lock. “I might not have been
totally
honest…”

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asks.

“I pinkie-promise you that Brianna said she was going to make your life miserable,” I say, crossing my heart and holding up my pinkie when I do. “Mine too. She even poked me in the chest really hard when she said it.”

“Okay, then… What is it?” Elizabeth wants to know.

“I might have made up the head shaving and Ex-Lax stories,” I say, nearly tripping over my words. “But I was desperate! I needed you to believe me, and I couldn't think of any other way to get you to quit the team. I'm sorry I lied to you. I feel awful.”

Elizabeth looks at me for what feels like a million years. I'm actually holding my breath.

“Well, you wouldn't have had to if I had listened to you in the first place,” she finally says, and I want to cry happy tears. “I should have known better. I just got so crazy about making the team that I wanted to believe you were a liar so I didn't have to quit. I guess I never really thought I could measure up to my dad and my brother, and when I found out I might actually be good at swimming, I started to want it so badly that I couldn't think straight.”

“I get that,” I tell her. “So, are we friends again?”

“Do you really want to be friends with somebody who told everyone you're a big, fat liar?” Elizabeth asks, looking at the ground. “That was an awful thing to do. I'll do anything to make it up to you.” She looks like she's about to lose it, and since I know exactly how she feels, I want to cheer her up.

“Would you clean out Carl Lumberton's smelly locker?” I ask.

“Yes!” she says, laughing.

“Would you wear your hair in seven braids for seven days?” I ask her.

“Yes! Anything!” Elizabeth says. “That would
not
be a good look for me, but yes, if you'll forgive me for being such a humongous jerk, I'll tie rainbow-colored ribbons on the end of every braid!”

“Okay,” I say, slinging my leg over my bike and hopping on. “Maybe you could just tell Alicia and Winnie and Lucy that I'm
not
a big, fat liar.”

“Done,” Elizabeth says, giving me a sheepish smile. “And Maggie, I
am
really, really—”

“I know,” I tell her, hooking my helmet. “Me too. It's all good. Race you to the light!” I take off before she can even answer me, which isn't exactly fair, but since she just crushed me like a bug in the pool, I figure she'll let me have this. And she does. We're both laughing and panting when we reach the light.

“Thanks for being so…so Maggie,” she calls over her shoulder as we break to go to our separate houses.

For some reason, as I'm riding home, I think about the letter Auntie Fi sent with the MMBs. “You get to decide how big you want your life to be,” it said. I guess if we all started scratching people off our friend list because they made a mistake, our lives would get pretty small pretty fast. I'm really glad that didn't happen. I think Auntie Fi would be proud of us, and this makes me smile as I'm rounding the corner into my driveway.

Alicia calls me that night to apologize, which feels really good. “I should have known that you'd never try to hurt Elizabeth—or any of us,” she says, and that makes me feel even better. “And you know what Monday is, right?” she adds. “The big pep rally to kick off Spirit Week! You and Elizabeth get to sit with the swim team. Sweeeeeet!”

I'd forgotten about the pep rally. Normally the weekends fly by and all of a sudden it's Monday morning again and I'm not even sure where the time went, but this weekend seems to drag on and on. Funny how that happens when you're excited about something.

When Monday morning finally rolls around, I put on cute jean shorts and the “Just Keep Swimming” T-shirt my mom bought me when I made the team (I'm assuming we don't wear our swimsuits under our cover-ups, right?), and then I tie my Pinkerton Minnows bathrobe over it. It isn't
technically
a bathrobe, but that's pretty much what it looks like. I feel a little silly riding my bike in this getup at first with my terry-cloth belt flapping in the breeze—especially when Stella sees me and shouts, “Hey Maggie, you forgot to get dressed!”—but after we pass a girl in a feather cap and a boy in a suit and
bow tie
, I realize it really doesn't matter. Besides, I would put on an alien costume with tentacles sticking out of the ears if it meant I didn't have to sit in Siberia with Mrs. Shankshaw and Mrs. Grossbottom at the pep rally.

I cruise up to Pinkerton and Elizabeth is by the bike rack waiting for me.

“I brought you something,” she says shyly, pulling a Dippin' Donuts bag out of her backpack.

“Wow, thanks!” I tell her, sliding a giant, sticky glazed doughnut from the bag. “You must have gotten up early today to get this.”

“That's what friends are for, right?” She smiles and we head to the Pit Bull Arena together. Mr. Mooney is waiting outside, and he's dressed up—wait for it—like a giant pit bull. He's wearing a full-body suit that looks like it's made out of brown shag carpet, with paws for his hands and feet and everything.

“May I please have your attention?” he calls out, and when he does, he reaches back and flips the carpeted suit's hoodie up onto his head. It's got two little pointy ears sticking straight up on top. He totally looks like a pit bull! Just when I think this can't possibly get any better, he turns around so that his back is facing everyone and shakes his stubby little tail, just like a puppy would. The crowd goes wild.

“You've got to give it to him,” I tell Elizabeth with a laugh. “The guy's got school spirit!”

“He's not the only one,” says Alicia, sliding into place next to me. She's wearing her soccer uniform, of course, and she has the words “pit” and “bulls” painted in bright red lipstick on her cheeks.

She pulls two neon-pink swim caps out of her bag and hands one to me and the other to Elizabeth. She'd written “Don't Mess with the Minnows” on the sides of each.

“I'm game if you are,” I tell Elizabeth, tugging that thing down onto my head. I didn't squish my crazy curls up into it first, so I'm sure I look like that clown in the bald-head cap who came to Stella's eighth birthday party and couldn't even make a decent balloon wiener dog, but do you know what? I honestly don't care. Elizabeth pulls her cap on too. Her straight blond hair sticks tightly to her neck, and her round face looks even rounder.

“Am I cute?” she asks with a laugh.

“Adorable,” I insist. Because she is.

When I get home from school, Stella is sitting on my front porch.

“I couldn't find the hide-a-key!” she says, standing up. “Did your mom hide it from me again?”

“Well, you
do
keep taking the keys home in your pocket…” I say, one eyebrow raised, while unlocking the door.

“Oh yeah, there is that.” Stella chuckles. “I could make a pretty good wind chime with that pile of Malone hide-a-keys I have at my house!”

Stella called last night to see if I could help her with her math this afternoon, because, well, I am pretty good at math and her new math teacher at Sacred Heart teaches class using Marty the Math Wiz MeTube videos. I can tell you for sure that once the higher-ups at Sacred Heart catch wind of that, she'll be tossed out like last week's lasagna.

We fix a fancy afternoon snack of cheese and crackers on a tray with a side of purple grapes—
ooh-la-la!—
and use the tall, blue plastic wineglasses for our milk.

“Oh Mags!” Stella says, plopping down on my bed and chomping on a cracker. “Did you hear about the huge scandal on Marina Tide's boat last week?”

I'm distracted by the cracker crumbs falling from Stella's mouth and collecting on my comforter. I really love Stella, but she eats a cracker like the Cookie Monster eats a cookie, and I can already feel those crumbs on the back of my legs when I get into bed tonight. Wait, did she say scandal? Marina Tide?

“No!” I lie, brushing the crumbs off my bed. “What happened?”

“Well, hand me your computer,” Stella says, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “I saw it on the Daily Scoop.”

As she's pulling up the web page, Stella summarizes the story for me. “So basically, Marina and her dad are in big trouble 'cause they were planning to blow up this coral reef to get some buried treasure and…”

“No, that's not how it—” I stop myself. “I mean, are you sure that's what happened? They're conservationists…maybe it was somebody else, like somebody on their boat and not Marina and her dad?”

“Maybe…” Stella says scrolling down the web page, looking for the story. “All I know is, I saw
Sea
Goddess
—that's the name of her boat—and ‘plan to destroy coral reef' and ‘buried treasure.' I think that pretty much says it all, don't you think?”

First
of
all, it's the
Sea ANGEL! I want to say, but I don't. I can't.

“There it is,” I say, pointing to a headline. Stella clicks on the link and I scan the story quickly, relieved to see that they got the facts straight.

“It wasn't Marina and her dad,” I say, pointing to the mug shots of Lexi and Captain Jack looking not at all happy. “These are the guys who were planning to blow up the reef to find the treasure.”

I scroll down some more and see a picture of Zac standing with Flynn's arm around his shoulders. Stella perks up.

“Mother of a mongoose! Who's the hottie?” Stella clicks on the picture to zoom in.

Can I tell you I am dying—
dying!
—to tell her that the hottie's name is Zac, and as cute as he looks on the computer screen, he's about a billion times cuter in person—not to mention funny and sweet. And then I think about when he held both of my hands and looked me in the eyes, and I thought I'd melt on the spot and how I never got to say good-bye.

“Earth to Maggie!” Stella says, waving her hands in front of my face. “Come in, Maggie!”

I shake my head a little to focus.

“Seriously, dude. Where do you
go
when you check out like that?” Stella asks. “You might want to talk to Dr. Stapleton about that, because my uncle Vern? He started staring off into space, and next thing we knew, he got caught streaking down the cereal aisle at the Shop 'n Save. True story.”

“Okay, first of all, eww!” I tell Stella. “I really,
really
wish I didn't just see your uncle Vern naked in my brain. And second of all, I hardly think that a little daydreaming is reason to enough to go sit in that smelly, vomit-covered waiting room at the pediatrician's office.”

“Yeah, I think you're fine,” Stella agrees.

I sit back on my bed and pull Stella's heavy backpack into my lap.

“What do you have in here, Willis Freedman?” I laugh, pulling out her math book.

“Very funny!” Stella scowls. “I'm so done with him,” she insists.

“Uh-huh,” I agree, even though I don't believe it for a second. Because while there are some things you absolutely
have
to deal with, there are other things that are best left alone.