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8:19 P.M.

I call Dr. Fuentes as soon as I get home. She can see Maggie after school tomorrow. Is et up the appointment.

Right away I call Maggie. She’s very quiet. One word answers.

OK, I’m not expecting her to gush, but still, I can’t tell how she’s feeling. Is she mad at me? Is she changing her mind?

“It’s the right thing,” I say.

“Okay.”

“You’ll be glad you did it.”

“I guess.”

“You still want to, right?”

“Sure, sure. Look, I cant really talk now. There are people around. Plus, I have to finish the social studies report and clean the mess in my room. And my dad needs me to fax him some papers. So we’ll talk later, OK?”

“OK. See you.”

“’Bye.”

She’s incredible, Nbook. So hard-working. And so good at everything—piano, singing, poetry, schoolwork, song writing. She’s a good person. A good friend. A good daughter and sister.

But you know what the problem is? She’s not perfect. And that bothers her.

I’ve been trying to tell her she’s great just the way she is. So has Dawn.

But she’s so lost on her own feelings. I don’t thinks she really hears.

Which is exactly why she needs a pro. Someone who’s trained to listen and say the right thing.

I hope Dr. Fuentes is all she’s cracked up to be.

Wed. 9/30

Homeroom

Way cool.

I am totally blown away.

The Homecoming Bash posters are up. Already.

When did Christina do this? After school yesterday, I geuss.

The girl does NOT let grass grow under her feet.

Nbook, they’re gorgeous. And Vanish’s name is splashed across the bottom, in HUGE letters like this:

022

This morning, in the lobby, everyone’s gathering around it. Rico is going nuts.

Bruce and Patti are trying to be cool about it, but I can tell they’re thrilled. Even Maggie had a smile on her face.

I am so PROUD.

I mean, just yesterday we’re this garage band, Nbook. Playing music for fun.

Hanging out. Nobody to hear us bu ourselves.

Then comes the battle fo the Bands. And now we’re this. We’re pros!

What next? THE SKY’S THE LIMIT!

023

Soc. Stud.

I visit the poster again after homeroom.

Maggie’s there too. We gush. Kids are passing by, saying they’re happy that Vanish is playing. All very good for the ego.

Ten Maggie’s mile goes a slow fade.

From behind me, I hear Justin’s voice saying, “Hey, cool” or something.

He’s nodding.

I nod.

Maggie nods.

We look like strange tropical birds in the zoo.

After some small talk, we all go off the class.

I have a hunch, Nbook.

He still likes her. She still likes him.

But something’s off. They need to work it out.

Maybe Dr. Fuentes does couples therapy.

Math

Today at lunch Maggie’s even more usual than usual.

She’s having second thoughts. About Dr. Fuentes.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asks.

I repeat what Mami has said about Dr. Fuentes.

“But what if it’s not that big a problem?” Maggie asks. “What if I can solve it myself? If I go to the therapist, I might be making the whole thing bigger than it is. And then it would take longer to get over it.”

“Well, uh...” What can I say, Nbook? I know she needs this. But I don’t want to force her to do something she’s not ready for.

“I’m sure you’ll make the right decision,” Dawn says.

Thank you, Dawn.

She’s absolutely right.

Maggie needs to decide, not me.

She better decide right.

If she cancel, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Science

After math, just outside of class, Cece pulls me aside and asks what’s the matter.

She says I’m looking depressed.

We started walking. I began to tell her what’s happening—without mentioning Maggie’s name.

Then she elbows me in the ribs. Just because Brendan s heading toward us.

He says hi. I say hi,

He falls into step with us.

I reach into my pocket. I pull out the copy of the Vanish rehearsal tape I made last night, and give it to him.

He lights up. “Cool. I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

“It’s yours,” I say.

“Thanks.”

He’s genuinely excited.

Cece’s raising her eyebrows. “A gift,” she said meaningfully.

Brendan and I politely ignored her. We walk music.

Then I see HIM.

James the unruly.

He’s standing against the wall. Giving me the eye.

Guess he’s decided to remember who I am after all. Funny how he only does that whenever I’m with another guy.

He’s jealous. It’s obvious.

If it weren’t James, I might be flattered.

I mean, jealousy means someone cares about you, right?

Not with James. He thinks that once I’ve been his girlfriend, I couldn’t possibly be attracted to anyone else.

Like I care about Brendan, anyway.

Like I care at all.

Study hall

Maggie the yo-yo.

Just now, in the hallway, she tells me she’s been thinking about the session all day.

“Are you going?” I ask.

She gives me a funny look. “I never said I wasn’t.”

Yes.

“So...I’ll met you after school?” I ask.

“Yeah. See you.”

She looks so sad as she walks off, Nbook. As if I’m taking her to a funeral.

Have I forced her into this?

Now even I’m starting to have doubts.

024

9:14 P.M.

I’m exhausted.

But I have to write this down, Nbook. Even if it takes me all night.

OK. I’m in the hallway after school. Waiting for Maggie. I see Ducky. He offers me a ride home.

I don’t want to tell him where I’m going, which would lead to why. So I say no.

Then Maggie shows up. She’s looking all glum and tortured. I can tell she’s afraid. Still second-guessing.

“Girl, what’s with you?” Ducky asks.

“Nothing,” Maggie mumbles.

Please, please, please don’t pry, I’m thinking.

Next thing you know, we’re all in his car. Me in the back, them in the front.

“Maggie first,” I say. I call out Dr. Fuentes address.

Ducky, of course. Is Ducky. He knows that’s not where Maggie lives, but he can’t stop asking questions. Who are you visiting? Anyone I know?

Maggie’s giving him shirt answers. Changing the subject.

Ducky’s saying, A doctor? A dentist? A spiritual healer? A boyfriend?

I’m cringing.

Finally Maggie says, “A therapist, all right? I’m going to see a therapist but that’s between us three and Dawn.”

“Oh,” Ducky nods. “Cool beans.”

Nobody says anything for awhile. Good old Ducky has sized up the situation. He knows he needs to back off.

Finally he said, “It would be great to know about a new therapist.”

Maggie looks concerned. “Are you having problems too?”

“No,” Ducky says. “I’m fine. It’s for Alex. For future reference. He’s been playing musical therapists. One of these days he’ll find someone who works. So I’m collecting names.”

I’m thinking, Hey, I should be a referral service.

We pull up to Dr. Fuentes’s house. It’s medium-sized. Nice. the office is in a small wing off to the side.

Maggie steps out. Ducky and I wish her good luck.

“We’ll pick you up,” Ducky volunteers. “How long’s the session?”

“Forty-five minutes,” I say.

Maggie’s staring at me she looks scared. “You’re not leaving.”

A statement. Not a question.

“I’m not?”

“No way, Amalia. I need you.”

I know I should drive off with Ducky. For Maggie’s own good. This is her life, her session. She’ll be stronger if she faces her problem on her own. She may want to admit things to Dr. Fuentes that she wouldn’t admit to me.

But panic is shooting across her face. Panic and fear and surprise. As if I’m betraying her. Abandoning her.

I can’t bear to leave her like tat.

So I stay,

We wave to Ducky as he drives off.

We walk up the path, through the office door, and into a small waiting room.

No one else is there. Just a stack of magazines on a coffee table. Off to the side, behind a closed door, we hear muffled voices. A white-noise machine is hissing on the floor, but it doesn’t block out the sound.

Maggie paces.

I sit and pretend to read magazines.

Soon Dr. Fuentes’s patient leaves. Few minutes later, Dr, Fuentes leans out of her office door in a rust-and-gold silk patterned skirt and a billowy white blouse. Her eyes are big and still and brown, her smile warm and brown.

She asks Maggie in, making sure to say hi to me. Then she begins to close the door.

“Uh, can she come in too?” Maggie asks.

“Perhaps you’d feel freer if you were alone,” Dr. Fuentes says.

“No,” Maggie answers. “I won’t. I now it.”

Dr. Fuentes looks at me.

I’m standing there, duh.

“Well, it’s not my usual procedure,” Dr. Fuentes says. “Bu if Amalia has the time...”

“OK,” I squeak.

Maggie smiles. I walk in. there are to seats and a kind of bed/sofa thing, no back cushions, just a big headrest and pillow at one end.

Dr. Fuentes sits on one of the seats. Maggie on the other.

The only one who’s relaxed is Dr. Fuentes.

Now what? I’m supposed to los on the bed?

I sit on it. At the end.

I feel like I’m the one in therapy.

025

A minute or two of small talk, then Dr. Fuentes opens a notebook and takes a pen in hand.

Maggie starts talking.

And talking.

I’m waiting for the Tale of Gloom & Blume, and she’s yakking away as if life is great.

She’s telling Dr. Fuentes about the good stuff. The adventures of her brother, Zeke. Her pets. Her school projects. Her song writing. Inner Vistas, the school literary magazine she edits.

Dr. Fuentes seems totally entertained.

Me too. I feel like I’m beginning to know her more.

Maggie moves n to the details of her life. Her piano lessons, her singing, Vanish, the battle of the Bands.

And I’m beginning to realise something.

She’s stalling.

She’s here to talk about a problem, and she hasn’t even touched the subject.

I look at the clock. 37 minutes have gone by. The session is supposed to last only 45.

Dr. Fuentes hasn’t said much at all. Just “Mm-hm” and “Well!” and “How does that make you feel?”

Finally, when Maggie runs out of breath, Dr. Fuentes puts down her notebook.

“Maggie, it sounds to me like a wonderful life.”

Maggie nods.

“I mean, what 13-year-old girl wouldn’t trade with you in a minute?”

Maggie nods again.

“The glamour. The parties. The music. I’d say you were a lucky kid.

No.

this can’t be happening.

My stomach is sinking.

This is her therapy?

Telling Maggie that her life is perfect? Things aren’t as bad as they seem?

They are bad. That’s the point.

LOOK AT HER BODY! I want to scream out.

It’s dawning on me that Dr. Fuentes is just like everyone else. She sees a rich girl and assumes nothing could possibly be the matter.

And I’m thinking Mami was wrong. Going to Dr. Fuentes is a big, big mistake.

I’m not done yet.

But I’m beat. More tomorrow, Nbook.

Thurs 10/1

Morning

Way, way early

Back again.

Where was I?

Dr. Fuentes’s office.

Maggie has just been told things are great.

She doesn’t like this at all. Her smile vanishes.

026

027

She says it’s just like that. Gently. Not a question, not a ridicule. Just a word.

“That’s how I feel,” Maggie explains. “I...have this problem with eating. It’s like torture to me. I hate the sight of food. I hate the sight of myself. When I was 110, I wanted to be 105. When I was 105, I wanted to be 100. I feel like nothing comes easy to me—not weight, not school, not friends...”

“Maggie,” Dr. Fuentes says, “what does come easily to you? What do you really enjoy?”

Maggie thinks a moment. “Writing. My poems. My songs. I mean, I’m not that good at it, but I love it. I get lost in myself. Like I’m in a private little room where everything’s perfect.” She sighs. “Sometimes I wish I could stay there.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I can’t be lazy all the time. I have work to do. You can’t be the best if you’re locked away from reality.”

“And you have to be the best.”

“I try.”

“And what happens if you’re not the best?”

Maggie’s looking annoyed. “I don’t think about that.”

“The world would end?”

“No. But things would...I don’t know, fall apart.”

“Your grades?”

“Yes.”

“Your lessons?”

“Yes.”

“Your band?”

“Yes.”

“Your family?”

“Yes.”

“Your body too?”

Maggie opens her mouth to day yes. But nothing comes out.

I can tell the comment has hit home.

Her eyes have become red.

“You don’t get it,” Maggie says. “You don’t have my family. You don’t have the pressure of—”

“Of what? Of having to fix things? Of having to make it all better? Being the shining star? The one who makes everyone smile? ‘We Blumes may be falling apart, but Maggie’s acing her exams and laying a recital and singing in a band and winning awards and looking thin and beautiful.’ is that it?”

Maggie’s shoulders heave a bit. She shudders.

Don’t cry, I’m thinking.

Maggie is a rock. She never lets her anger or sadness or frustration show. Seeing her like this is scary.

Then I realise something, Nbook. Now I’m being like everyone else. I’m

expecting her to be perfect.

“You don’t like to cry, do you?” Dr. Fuentes asks softly.

Maggie shakes her head.

“You hate when everything feels out of control. Especially your emotions.”

Maggie nods.

Then, finally, she breaks down into sobs. Kind of pent up and squeaky at first, then louder until she’s practically gasping for air.