The Meaning of Maggie: Chapters 10–13

"Anyone other than Maggie?”
I meekly lowered my hand and Mrs. Nicol called on Mary Winter (the class airhead).

Am I the only one who did her homework even when we didn’t have homework? I was just about to redeem my generation by yelling "Rosa Parks” when the bell rang.

"How do you know? Have you been conspiring with the enemy?”

I held out my hand for her to shake in solidarity but she refused it and went back to layering on lip gloss.

It sounded exciting. But it also sounded fiscally irresponsible. "I dunno, Mom. Sounds expensive.”

I crawled into bed with Tiffany, who promptly rolled over and scared the BEEGEEZUS out of me.

"Why can’t I join a weirdo band of gypsies and travel from seedy town to seedy town with a muscle man and bearded lady?!"

Why did they keep this from me?! Why did they blatantly LIE to me?!

When I pulled on his arm, he winced and I saw that on the opposite side of his elbow his arm was the most purple purple I’d ever seen.

Would I ever be able to trust any of them again? I sulked and pondered and wondered and ignored my family for days and days.

Mom tried to make amends with chocolate.
"I made a batch of Toll House cookies just for you. Want one?”

Tiffany didn’t even try to talk to me, which wasn’t a surprise. We were in a war long before this. It was a lot like the Cold War only it wasn’t really cold because Dad always kept the thermostat at a balmy seventy-eight degrees.

I was sure I would never talk to any of them again. I was prepared to secede from our family and start my own across the masking tape border in my room.

She nodded yes and I stood like all great orators stand and I clasped my hands behind my back like all great orators do and I paced because great orators pace.

Atticus Finch was a man of great integrity. He wasn’t afraid to do something he believed in even if it meant putting everything on the line. Not only did he have integrity, he believed that every man should.

Abraham Lincoln and Dad both had unruly heads of hair but the comparison stopped there.

First the flower and then the cafeteria ran out of chocolate milk and then I got a 94 on my French test instead of my anticipated 98 and then the hand dryer in the bathroom was broken and I had to dry my hands on my pants which left behind an embarrassing wet spot that I didn’t want to talk about and then TO TOP IT ALL OFF at the end of the day, that stupid flower was stuck in my locker with a note from Mary that read, "From me to you, Happy Valentine’s Day Girl!”

Was he intimidated by my intelligence? Blinded by my ambition?

After she left, I pulled up my bootstraps and reminded myself of my mantra: "Career first. Love second.”

I just needed to move on and stop being so crazy. Especially since there were crazy genes lurking in my bloodstream. I didn’t want to activate them.

"Want to go to Dairy Queen?”
"Yes,” I said with even more absolute conviction.

Mom excused me from my chores for a couple weeks so I could immerse myself in research and Werther’s Originals.

I’d walked away with my head held high triumphantly and I’d even gotten my picture in the paper, which was fun, but ironic because the local paper is probably printed on paper made from rain forest trees.

I started with the basics: the elusive M encyclopedia.

I had never seen all seventeen letters of Dad’s disease in print before:
M-u-l-t-i-p-l-e S-c-l-e-r-o-s-i-s.

I sounded the words out phonetically under my breath so I could understand them fully.

Dad’s disease was "an inflammatory disease in which the fatty myelin sheaths around the axons of the brain and spinal cord are damaged, leading to demyelization and scarring as well as a broad spectrum of signs and symptoms.”

Dad’s disease was "an inflammatory disease in which the fatty myelin sheaths around the axons of the brain and spinal cord are damaged, leading to demyelization and scarring as well as a broad spectrum of signs and symptoms.”

Symptoms included: tingling, prickling, or numbness in the extremities, muscle weakness or difficulty moving, difficulties with coordination and balance, problems in speech or swallowing, visual problems, fatigue, loss of bladder control, cognitive impairment, intermittent tremors, sensitivity to heat, unstable mood, depression, and paralysis either partial or complete.

Symptoms included: tingling, prickling, or numbness in the extremities, muscle weakness or difficulty moving, difficulties with coordination and balance, problems in speech or swallowing, visual problems, fatigue, loss of bladder control, cognitive impairment, intermittent tremors, sensitivity to heat, unstable mood, depression, and paralysis either partial or complete.

Symptoms included: tingling, prickling, or numbness in the extremities, muscle weakness or difficulty moving, difficulties with coordination and balance, problems in speech or swallowing, visual problems, fatigue, loss of bladder control, cognitive impairment, intermittent tremors, sensitivity to heat, unstable mood, depression, and paralysis either partial or complete.

The disease evolved over decades and there were two types of it. One kind went away and came back. Another type never went away and only got worse. There were varying degrees of severity with both.

And how could these scientists and doctors be perfectly okay with calling things "unknown” or "inconclusive”?

Most kids only use encyclopedias for their science projects but I’ve discovered they only give very top-line information. If you sleuth out more specific references, the information gets better and better and you look smarter and smarter.

"Now, you know you can’t check out reference materials.”
I was mortified. "Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, it was an accident.”

Since it was my first offense, she let me off without giving me a book felony or sending me to book jail.

"Not necessarily. Your dad’s really strong. Sure, we’ve had our setbacks, but what do we always do, Maggie?”
Ugh, the family motto? Now? "We pull up our bootstraps.”

The oblong one keeps me from getting the shakes. The purple and white one keeps my spirits up.

But on day three, when I got my project back, it was a B. I was DEVASTATED.

At first I had the fight in me, but then I had to concede, because Mrs. Hanebury was right.