I lie back, totally frustrated, and lay my arm over my eyes. "This isn't going to work, is it?"
Maggie sits up. "I'm trying," she says, her voice full of regret.
I want to tell Maggie I wasn't responsible for hurting her leg, but I can't. What if Leah was right? I can't let my sister go to jail when I've already paid for her mistake. I'm committed to living with that blame forever.
The night of the accident, I was supposed to drive Leah home. But I was too drunk and enraged from Maggie's accusations. Staying with Kendra and making sure she didn't go home with any other guy was more important than anything else. My f**king ego. I had no idea Leah took my keys until she came back to the party ranting like a lunatic about an accident.
The rest, as they say, is history.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Maggie
I had everything I wanted and I screwed it up. Caleb loved me, all I had to do was show him my scars to prove to him how much I trust and love him back.
But I couldn't. Something was pulling me back into my protective shell.
I told my mom I was too sick to go to school today, so I'm lying in bed. The dress Mrs. Reynolds bought me is hanging in my closet, a cruel reminder of the most romantic evening of my life. I won Caleb and lost him just as quick.
When he took me home and we parted, he gave me a small smile and said we've always been friends, and we'd remain friends.
That's the most important thing. Right?
So why have I been crying the entire morning? I call Mrs. Reynolds' house to see how she's doing after last night.
Mr. Reynolds answers the phone. "Hello?" he says, his voice shaken.
"Hi, it's Maggie ... Margaret. Is Mrs. Reynolds there?"
Mr. Reynolds doesn't say anything for a long time, and my throat gets a huge lump in it.
"My mom died this morning, Maggie."
"No," I whisper as my life comes crashing down on me. "It can't be true. We were together. Last night she was dancing and laughing and--"
"She was grateful to have you in her life," he says. "She loved you as a granddaughter. More than that, she loved you as a friend."
"Where is she? Was she alone when she died?"
Mr. Reynolds sniffles. "They just took her away in an ambulance. She died in her sleep, no pain. Her heart has been bad for years, Maggie. It was only a matter of time."
Tears roll down my cheeks as I remember the times we spent in the past few months. She taught me so much about life. "The daffodils ... she'll never see the daffodils come up," I say, stifling my emotions.
"Mama loved those daffodils, didn't she?"
I don't know what else to say to him. Mrs. Reynolds may have been up in years, but there was so much she still had planned. Having my mom and me over for dinner, watching the daffodils bloom in the spring. Eating Irina's pies.
"I'll miss her."
"I know you will. She never wanted a funeral. She said they're just an excuse for depressed people to make senseless chatter."
I smile wistfully. "That sounds like her." She just accused me of it yesterday, which reminds me ... "A dress. She bought a dress."
"The blue one slung over the chair in her bedroom?"
"Yeah. If she's going to be buried ..." I can't even get out the words.
"I'll make sure of it. Listen, if you want to come over and take something from the house before we sell it, you can."
"You can't sell the house." The daffodils, the gazebo ... everything she cared about in the last two months are for nothing.
In the evening, my mom drives me over to Mrs. Reynolds house for the last time. She's holding my hand as Lou greets us. "Take anything you want, Maggie."
In the laundry room, all clean and folded, is the muumuu.
I pick it up and clutch it to my chest. It was Mrs. Reynolds' way of protecting me, covering my clothes so I wouldn't get dirty. "Can I have this?" I ask.
Mr. Reynolds seems surprised I'd want it, but says, "I was serious when I said anything."
There's two more things I want. I head to the kitchen and open cabinets until I find it. My mom is shrugging to Mr. Reynolds, who is as baffled as her. "It's got to be around here somewhere. Aha." I open one of the top drawers and on a piece of old, stained and ripped linen paper is her favorite Snickerdoodle cookie recipe.
"Anything else?"
"One more thing."
Mom and Mr. Reynolds follow me up to the attic. I head for the trunk and open it up. Holding up a picture frame, I say "This is the last thing."
Mr. Reynolds says, "It's yours."
I stare at the picture of two people madly in love on their wedding day.
May they both rest in peace.
THIRTY-NINE
s
Caleb
Maggie wasn't at school yesterday, and I haven't seen her all morning. Twice today I've passed by her locker, but she's been as elusive as a ghost.
During third period I can't focus. So I take the bathroom pass and head out the door. But I don't head straight to the bathroom. I turn the corner and go down the hall where I know her locker is. I've turned into a stalker.
"Looking for someone, Caleb?" It's Kendra, with a hall pass of her own dangling from her fingers. "Maggie Armstrong, perhaps?"
"Stop playing games with me, Kend." She flashes a wicked smile. "No, seriously. I just don't get what you see in her."