Calling Maggie May Read Free

have lumpy hand-me-downs or jackets from thrift shops that don’t fit right. But Ada came to school yesterday in a perfectly fitted coat that swirls around whenever she turns, a deep blue scarf threaded with gold, and leather boots that click-clack on the pavement when she goes outside to smoke. No one else wears heels to school—not even the teachers.
    The other weird thing is that even though she doesn’t seem to have any friends at school, she’s on her phone all the time. (A superfancy top-of-the-line phone, obviously, in a shiny pink case.) I always see her at lunch or between classes, looking likea model in a fashion magazine spread as she lounges against some wall and talks or texts on her phone. But who could she be talking to? And who picks her up after school? She’s never on the bus. The other day I saw her get into the passenger side of a really nice car that I think was a Jaguar. I’m pretty sure no one at school drives a car like that. It must be her parents, and they must be loaded.
    Okay, maybe I am being a little creepy. It’s not like I spy on her. . . . I’m just curious, because she is so weird. I mean, interesting. And so different from me.

Fri, Oct 24
    I did something crazy today. I wore a scarf. Blue paisley. Silk. My dad gave it to Mom for her birthday a few years back, but she’s never worn it. When I was putting away laundry yesterday, I happened to see it, and before I even thought about what I was doing, I grabbed it. And I wore a dress today, too—my piano-recital dress. It’s not particularly elegant or flattering. Actually, it kind of makes me look like a dumpling. But I had to do something.
    This all probably doesn’t sound that crazy, but for me, it is. The geek table noticed right away. They asked if I had a recital that afternoon and gave me a strange look when I said I didn’t. But a strange look is better than no look at all, right? I’m not sure, but it seemed like it might be worth a try, anyway.
    I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been feeling a little nuts ever since I wrote that last entry. It’s like expressing all those thoughts awoke something strange in me. And I know I should be worrying about my upcoming history test, and I am trying to study, but somehow all my mind wants to think about is what I can do to make myself less me and more . . . someone else. More Ada.
    That’s hopeless, I know, but school stuff feels hopeless too these days. If I’m not going to be the brilliant scientist Mom dreams of, maybe I can be cool and exciting at least. Enough so Tyler might know my name. I’d be happy with that.
    I don’t know why he doesn’t just forget about her. She obviously has bigger things going on than him, though I can’t figure out what. Who is she always talking to on her phone?

Wed, Oct 29
    French: 84% on test
    Math team: Meet, but I didn’t place.
    I haven’t seen Ada and Tyler together in a while. Did they break up? Did he dump her? Did she dump him? A while ago I wouldn’t have believed it was even possible to say no to someone as gorgeous as Tyler Adams, but I guess if anyone isin a position to turn him down, it’s Ada Culver. She’s probably dating someone even better now.
    But who could be better than Tyler? It would have to be someone pretty amazing.
    A celebrity. A prince. An alien. Or maybe no one at all. Maybe a girl like Ada Culver is so cool she doesn’t even need boys.

Thurs, Oct 30
    I spoke to Ada today. And to Tyler. It was so weird! I almost can’t believe it really happened. Nothing this interesting has happened to me in . . . well, maybe my whole life. How can that be? How can a conversation with a couple of kids at school be the most exciting thing that ever happened to me? But Tyler is Tyler, and Ada’s not just any girl, as I’ve already made pretty clear.
    I want to get it all down now while