Calling Maggie May by Anonymous Page B

unbridgeable gulf. But I’m not a virgin anymore—already I’m more like her. Damon wanted me, thought I was pretty. Thought I was sexy. A couple months ago, I couldn’t even dream that. If Damon wanted me, other men probably would too. So I could do it. In principle.
    But it’s still nuts. I mean, what about my parents? Just imagining the look on Mom’s face if she found out . . . She wouldn’t believe it. She would never think me capable of such a thing. Because I’m not. Right? My mom should know.
    But then, what does Mom know about me, really? I spend my whole life doing the things she expects of me, but is that who I am? I guess it is, in a way. I mean, you are what you do, right? But I’m not exactly happy with who I am right now. If I decided to do something different, something really crazy, would that make me a different person? Would I like that person better?
    If she were more like Ada, then yes—I would like her better. Like me better.
    And then there’s the money. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? I don’t know. My family’s not poor, like Ada’s, so why should money be so important to me? It’s not like there’s a ton of fancy things I want to buy. But money isn’t just about getting stuff. Having my own source of income would feel like . . . freedom. Independence. Right now I have to do whatever my parents want because I’d basically die without them. But if I had my own money, I could make my own choices.
    Wow. Am I really considering this?
    I’m sure in the morning I’ll see what a terrible idea this is and drop it completely. But it’s a nice fantasy for right now.

Tues, Nov 25
    I’m excited. I shouldn’t be, but I am. This is a bad idea, but honestly, who cares? I’m nervous and scared, but at least I’m feeling something. My whole body is buzzing, and it’s partly fear and surprise at myself, but it feels better than all that dead nothingness before.
    I didn’t mean to say anything. I didn’t think I was seriously considering it. But at lunch today I was sitting alone, eating a sandwich, thinking over the whole concept, not quite ready to let it go yet. But then Ada slid onto the bench across from me and asked me what I was thinking about. And I just blurted it out!
    â€œI want to do it,” I said, as if she’d been listening in on my thoughts for the past twenty-four hours.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI want to be a . . .” I hesitated over the rest of the sentence. Not because I wasn’t sure, but because I didn’t know the right word to use. I didn’t want to accidentally give offense. “Do you think that I could do what you do?” I said.
    Ada raised her eyebrows.
    â€œHave sex,” I clarified. “For money.”
    Ada blew out a long breath. “Shit,” she said.
    â€œYou don’t think I could do it? You think people wouldn’t want—”
    â€œIt’s not that.” She pulled her coat tight around her, a dark expression on her face. “I shouldn’t have told you. I was afraid at first that this might happen, but then I thought, no way, not her. She would never be interested in—”
    â€œWhy not? Why shouldn’t I be? You think I want to be an invisible geek my whole life?”
    Ada shook her head. “It’s not what you think. Damon . . . they’re not all like that. They’re not at all like that. Damon was the worst possible introduction I could have given you to this business.”
    â€œI know that,” I said, smiling a little. “I’m not an idiot, Ada. I have actually thought about this. I know it’s not all dinners at the Space Needle.”
    She frowned. “You don’t understand.”
    But I do! I mean, maybe not completely. Of course not completely—how can I understand something I’ve never experienced? But how can I