my boyfriend and my best friend are getting along.
When we get outside, Maggie grabs my arm and whispers, “How far would you go to get what you wanted?”
“Huh?” I say. It’s freezing. Our breath envelops us like summer clouds.
“What if you really, really, really wanted something and you didn’t know how to get it—or you did know how to get it but you weren’t sure you should do it. How far would you go?”
For a second, I wonder if she’s talking about Lali and Sebastian. Then I realize she’s talking about Peter.
“Let’s go into the barn,” I suggest. “It’s warmer.”
The Kandesies keep a few cows, mostly for show, in an old barn behind the house. Above the cows is a hayloft, where Lali and I have retreated hundreds of times to spill our most important secrets. The loft is fragrant and warm, due to the heat from the cows below. I perch on a hay bale. “Maggie, what’s wrong?” I say, wondering how many times I’ve asked her this question in the last three months. It’s becoming disturbingly repetitive.
She takes out a pack of cigarettes.
“Don’t.” I stop her. “You can’t smoke up here. You could start a fire.”
“Let’s go outside, then.”
“It’s cold. And you can’t grab a cigarette every time you feel uncomfortable, Mags. It’s becoming a crutch.”
“So?” Maggie looks evil.
“What did you mean before—about how far you would go?” I ask. “You’re not thinking about Peter, are you? You’re not thinking about…are you taking the birth control pills?”
“Of course.” She looks away. “When I remember.”
“Mags.” I leap toward her. “Are you insane?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
I slide in next to her and fall back on a bale of hay, gathering my arguments. I stare up at the ceiling, which nature has decorated with swags of cobwebs, like a Halloween extravaganza. Nature and instinct versus morality and logic. That’s how my father would put this dilemma.
“Mags,” I begin. “I know you’re worried about losing him. But what you’re thinking about doing is not the way to keep him.”
“Why not?” she asks stubbornly.
“Because it’s wrong. You don’t want to be the girl who forced a guy to be with her by getting pregnant.”
“Women do it all the time.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“My mother did it,” she says. “No one’s supposed to know. But I counted backward, and my oldest sister was born six months after my parents were married.”
“That was years ago. They didn’t even have the pill back then.”
“Maybe it would be better if they didn’t now.”
“Maggie, what are you saying? You don’t want to have a baby at eighteen. Babies are a huge pain. All they do is eat and poop. You want to be changing diapers while everyone you know is out having fun? And what about Peter? It could ruin his life. That doesn’t seem very nice, does it?”
“I don’t care,” she says. And then she starts crying.
I put my face close to hers. “You’re not pregnant now, are you?”
“No!” she says fiercely.
“Come on, Mags. You don’t even like dolls.”
“I know,” she says, wiping her eyes.
“And Peter is crazy about you. He may be going to Harvard, but it doesn’t mean he’s going anywhere.”
“I didn’t get into Boston University,” she says suddenly. “That’s right. I got a rejection letter from them yesterday when Peter got his acceptance to Harvard.”
“Oh, Mags.”
“And pretty soon, everyone will be leaving. You, The Mouse, Walt—”
“You’ll get in someplace else,” I say encouragingly.
“What if I don’t?”
Good question. And one I haven’t faced squarely until now. What if nothing works out the way it’s supposed to? On the other hand, if it doesn’t, what are you supposed to do? You can’t just sit there.
“I miss Walt,” she says.
“I do too,” I say, hugging my knees to my chest. “Where is Walt anyway?”
“Don’t ask me. I’ve hardly seen him for three weeks. That’s not like Walt.”
“No, it isn’t,” I agree, thinking about how cynical Walt’s been lately. “Come on. Let’s call him.”
Back in the house, the party is in full swing. Sebastian is dancing with Lali, which annoys me slightly, but I have more important things to worry about than my best friend and my boyfriend. I pick up the phone and dial Walt’s number.
“Hello?” his mother answers.
“Is Walt there?” I ask, yelling over the noise of the party.
“Who is this?” she asks suspiciously.
“Carrie Bradshaw.”
“He’s out, Carrie.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“He said he was meeting up with you,” she snaps, and hangs up the phone.
Weird, I think, shaking my head. Definitely weird.
Meanwhile, Maggie has commandeered the party by standing on the couch and doing a striptease. Everyone is hooting and clapping, save for Peter, who is trying to appear as if he’s enjoying it, but is actually mortified. I can’t let Mags go down alone, not in the state she’s in.
I kick off my shoes and jump onto the couch next to her.
Yes, I’m aware that nobody really wants to see me doing a striptease, but people are used to me making a fool of myself. I’m wearing white cotton tights under a cheap sequined skirt that I bought at a discount store, and I begin pulling them off at the toe. Within seconds, Lali has joined us on the couch, running her hands up and down her body while elbowing Maggie and me to the side. I’m standing on one foot, and I fall over the back of the couch, taking Maggie with me.
Maggie and I are lying on the ground, laughing hysterically. “Are you okay?” Peter asks, bending over Maggie.
“I’m fine,” she giggles. And she is. Now that Peter is paying attention to her, everything
