Calling Maggie May by Anonymous Page A

don’t see her. I mean, we’re still friends, and sometimes I run into her in the halls and bathrooms at school. But I get flustered and don’t know what to say. Her life is just so much more interesting than mine.
    The other day she suggested we go shopping or something, and that sounded amazing. She always looks so glamorous and stylish. Maybe she could help me figure out how to do that too. But it’s not like I have any money. It’s kind of ironic, actually. Ada’s family doesn’t seem to have much money, but she personally has a lot of cash to spend, thanks to her work. Whereas my family is a lot more well-off, but that makes no difference in my life. I’m not like those rich kids with Daddy’s credit card. I have to ask my parents to buy me things if I want them, and then they get to decide whether what I want is worthspending money on or not. Usually not. It’s just another way they control me.
    I can just imagine asking my parents for money to buy sexy boots or a gorgeous camel coat like Ada’s. They’d think I was joking.
    So in the meantime, Ada and I have less and less in common, and she has less and less reason to waste any time on a loser like me. And pretty soon the one bright spot in my life will disappear and it will all be nothing but drab and gray.
    Maybe if I got a job? Then at least I’d have some cash I could call my own.

Sun, Nov 23, later
    Well, forget the job idea. First of all, Mom totally did not go for it. I tried to use the angle that college applications ask about work experience, and it would show a sense of responsibility and hard work, but she wasn’t having it. She said the last thing I needed was another thing taking my time and focus away from my schoolwork and my activities. She said maybe if I brought my grades up, she might think about it, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Because the truth is, my grades lately are even worse than my mom realizes, and I’m just waiting for report-card day, when the whole truth comes out.
    Not that I care that much. I mean, what can she really do? She can yell and complain and berate me all she wants. It can’tbe much worse than what I’m putting up with now.
    And then the other thing is, even if I could talk my parents into it, I don’t know if it would even be worth it. The only job I could possibly get would be part-time at minimum wage, and it would take me forever to save up any serious money. By the time I could afford a shopping trip with Ada, she would have forgotten all about me. Plus, they seem like kind of a drag. I mean, do I really want to spend hours every day mopping floors and scrubbing toilets? That sounds even worse than the stuff I currently have to do.
    It all just feels so hopeless right now. Everything in my life is dull and pointless, and I can’t even think of anything to look forward to. It’s just a vast expanse of nothing, from here until forever.

Mon, Nov 24
    It’s the middle of the night, but I can’t sleep. My brain won’t shut down because there’s this thought buzzing around in it—a totally crazy thought. But maybe if I write it out on paper I’ll see just how ridiculous it is and my brain will finally leave it alone.
    What if I did what Ada does? No, that’s not good enough. I have to be able to say it. Okay. What if I became a prostitute? What if I were a whore?
    Okay, see? Ridiculous! Crazy. I could never do that. That life isn’t for girls like me.
    Ada does it. But Ada’s not like me. But could I ever be like Ada? I used to think no, definitely not. I remember when Ada seemed like she belonged to a different species. But it’s not like that anymore, is it? We’re friends. We share clothes. I look good in her clothes. And she herself said that I could be like her, if I wanted. I wonder if she was serious.
    Back then I was a virgin and she was not. And that seemed like an