The Meaning of Maggie Read Online Free Page A

time would be just for pleasure.
    Second-period Advanced History got my blood pumping as Mrs. Nicol assigned an eight-page paper due at the end of the semester, which was going to be my greatest paper writing feat yet. And I already knew what my subject was going to be: the first woman Supreme Court justice, Sandra Day O’Connor. I loved Sandra Day O’Connor mostly because she was super smart and partly because she wore a robe all the time and that seemed both regal and comfy.
    In third-period Advanced Science, we picked out our goggles for the year and I chose a pair with an extra-long strap to accommodate my brain getting bigger and bigger. Fourth-period Advanced Math was all about percentages and I 100% loved it. And lunch was the best ever because I got a whole table all to myself so I spread out my notebooks and went to town on a stack of syllabi. By the time I finished my PB&J, zebra cakes, and fruit snacks, I’d also finished writing down every important due date in my datebook and highlighting them in their correlating subject colors.
    French was
très magnifique
. We picked our Frenchnames for the year and I chose Marie after Marie Antoinette because she let people eat cake. And study hall was productive and perfect. I sharpened all my pencils and assigned all my notebook dividers and OH MY GOODNESS WHO IS THAT.
    The most beautiful boy I’d ever seen sat down in front of me. Or maybe he wasn’t beautiful but he was definitely cute. You know, cute for a boy who wasn’t a dignitary or royalty or something.
    My palms started to sweat, which usually only happened during Quiz Bowl lightning rounds. I wasn’t really sure what was happening. But I liked it and hated it in equal parts.
    I peered over his shoulder and saw the name Clyde scribbled on his notebook. I didn’t know this kid. Sure, I didn’t know a lot of kids on the first day of middle school. But it didn’t seem like he was from another elementary school. It seemed like he was from another planet. Another galaxy. Another universe. Maybe he was an alien? Impossible. Aliens weren’t that good looking.
    I locked eyes with his feet and tried not to stare even though my eyeballs really wanted to. He wore black-and-white Converse sneakers filthy with grass stains and in black marker he’d written “Neil Young” on the bottom of his right sole. Weird. His mismatched socks led to skinny legs that led to cutoff corduroy shorts that led to a skeleton T-shirt that led to his hazel eyes looking right at me. Oh dear.
    He leaned in. “Hey, do you know today’s date?”
    I fumbled a couple “ums” and then Idiot 13 Oswald said something that ruined my life.
    â€œHey Maggie. You better answer him because that’s the only time you’ll ever get asked for a date.”
    The class snickered and I died. Seriously, if someone were writing a book about me, my last words on earth would’ve been “September sixth, 1988.”
    I shrank into my seat but Clyde defended my honor—my honor!—which no one had ever defended before.
    â€œHey, I wasn’t talking to you.” He smiled RIGHT AT ME. “I was talking to Maggie.”
    HOW DID HE KNOW MY NAME? I died again. Seriously, I died twice in one day.
    After school I ran home from the bus stop as fast as I could which wasn’t very fast because my book bag weighed as much as a baby rhinoceros. The wheels in my head were moving way faster than my feet. Why did Jeff Oswald have to ruin the most perfect of perfect days? Why didn’t Jeff Oswald’s mother swallow him at birth? Why did the cute boy ask me for the date when he could have asked anyone? And why did looking at him make me want to lose my lunch when I love lunch more than anything?
    Could it be? Was I in love with Clyde? Did I even have time for love? I just had so many other things going onlike school and homework and I had big plans to start a Model UN club and