I snort at this, because if they think Maggie is being really stubborn now, they don’t know Maggie. Really stubborn for Maggie is taking all the ornaments off the Christmas tree every night because her parents bought a Scotch pine instead of a Douglas fir, and that was when she was only six years old. Wearing a ponytail on top of her head because everybody wants her in braids is nothing.
I text Maggie and she responds immediately.
on the wya
opps
way
oops
“She’s coming,” I tell them. “Probably just slept in.”
Lunch is almost over when Maggie finally shows up. She is striding through a sea of students. She is carrying a pile of books. She is smirking. She is already wearing braids, as required.
Except that they are neon-green braids.
CHAPTER 44
There is not a color in the spectrum that someone at Kennedy hasn’t tried in their hair, sometimes all at the same time, so the bright greenness of Maggie’s head isn’t what draws attention. It’s more the gasping of the musical kids that the rest of the lunch period responds to.
“Is she going to wear it like that for the play?” Jackson has appeared behind me. I’m too focused on watching Maggie move through the crowd—which looks evenly split between admirers and people who think she’s gone too far—to think about the fact that he is so close that if I leaned back five degrees my back would be pressed against his chest.
Okay, obviously I am still able to think about that at the same time I am watching Maggie.
“It doesn’t look like the kind that washes out,” I say. “To get hair that dark to turn into hair that green you have to bleach it first.”
Jackson lets out a low breath. “Maggie commits.”
I nod. “Yeah. She does.”
I don’t get a chance to talk to Maggie and tell her what I think, which is “Really, Mags? You know this is going to cause you more problems than it solves” because the bell rings and people start to drift.
“See you later,” I say, but Jackson stops me.
“Are you going to the play tonight?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Are you going with anyone?”
Technically, the answer is yes, I am going with my mom, Tyler, and the empty seat that is where my dad would be if he didn’t have to go to San Francisco at the last minute. “Well, with my family, but we’ve got an extra ticket. Do you want to go? I mean, if you’re not already meeting people or whatever. You probably are.”
I’ve seen the kid’s smile before. A hundred times in real life, a thousand times in dream life. But this time it is so easy and happy it’s like I’ve never seen it before. And it is beautiful. He must have had a top-notch orthodontist in Cleveland. Binder-worthy dentistry.
“I’d love to,” he says.
The butterfly is beaming, giving me a proud thumbs-up, but I tell her to chill out. She wants this to mean more than it does. It’s not a date—it’s just the school play and we have an extra ticket. She doesn’t believe me, though.
CHAPTER 45
I basically agree with Maggie on most of the things she takes a stand on, but I never think it’s worth the fight. She always does. It’s not that I avoid conflict—I fight with Tyler all the time—it’s more like I avoid being uncomfortable when I can. Socially, physically, mentally, whatever. I take the path that keeps me (and Maude and Mavis) under the radar.
So even though everyone is coming up to me to say things like “What’s going to happen now?” and “Why does your friend have to be such a bitch?” I am trying to stay out of it. It was probably overboard to dye her hair green to piss off the lead of the school musical, but it’s Maggie, and I love Maggie no matter what. But I also don’t want to get involved.
Right after school I’m on my way to practice when I see Mr. and Mrs. Barnes march through the front doors with Lizzie. Pat Moss, our principal, greets them with a look of solidarity and outrage. They all rush off together like they’re racing up the courthouse steps in a Law & Order episode.
Maggie is tough, but she is outnumbered.
I find her mother’s number in my cell.
“Mrs. Cleave? It’s Greer.”
“Hey, Greer. What’s up?”
“You know about Maggie’s hair, right?”
“The green? Oh yes. It was quite a process.”
“Well, I think she’s kind of in trouble for it.”
“Why else would she do it?” She sighs.
“People are saying they might kick her out of the play.”
“I’m sure Maggie can handle Mr. Coles.”
“Right, but it’s not just him. It’s Dr. Moss. And Lizzie Barnes’s parents.”
“The Barneses? At school?”
“Yeah. And they look pretty mad.”
“Those people are the worst.” She practically growls, and it sounds a lot like Maggie, both angry and excited. She runs an organization that protects rivers and lakes from environmental damage. She has to like to fight. She yells something to someone in her office and comes back to me. “I’m on my way. Thanks, Greer.”
She clicks off and Jessa speeds past me.
“Walsh! Let’s get moving! Practice starts in four minutes.”
I don’t move. I have to go to practice, but I don’t want to leave Maggie alone if the Kennedy High School PTA is coming for her.
Jessa stops. “Walsh? You coming?”
“Yeah, but something’s up with Maggie.”
“Like about the green-hair thing?”
“You heard?”
“Everybody heard.”
“I think they’re going to try to kick her out of the play.” I assume that Jessa will tell me to get to practice—after all, it’s not our problem; it’s just a musical, not VOLLEYBALL—but I’m wrong.
“They can’t do that. She’s been practicing all season.” I don’t think they call it a “season,” but she gets the point.
“Lizzie Barnes just showed up with her parents.”
Jessa cringes. “They go to my church. They are nasty.”
This does not make me feel better.
“Suprenant! SOOOOP!” she screams across the atrium. Sylvie bounces our way. “Tell Coach that me and Walsh will be there late. We’ve gotta do something.” Sylvie heads off to the gym and Jessa turns to me like she’s been waiting for me all day. “Well? Let’s go.”