Free Calling Maggie May by Anonymous Page A

certain that she would be angry or disappointed or resentful. Angry, maybe, that I was passing judgment on the life she is living, or disappointed to lose a friend who understood her life, or resentful that I have the option of quitting and maybe she feels like she doesn’t. But I didn’t hear any of that in her answer.
    â€œGood,” was what she said, and she breathed out a heavy sigh that sounded like relief. “When you told me you were interested, I wanted to kick myself. I never meant to draw you into this.”
    â€œYou’re not upset?”
    â€œHoney, no,” she said sweetly. “It happens a lot. Loads of girls quit after their first date. It’s fine.”
    I felt relieved too after that. I should have felt bad, giving up on this fantasy and going back to my normal life. Or embarrassed that I had given up so easily, after just one kind ofcrappy date that wasn’t even that bad. But I think I’m doing the right thing. Even debate tournaments and chemistry tests don’t sound so bad compared to the dead-eyed way that man looked at me.

Tues, Dec 2
    Ada reminded me today that I still need to pick up my payment for my date. I asked if she would just do it for me so I wouldn’t have to see Miss Irma again, but she said they don’t like to do that because of that thing where no one’s supposed to know what the others are earning, so I have to get it myself or just abandon it. I could do that, I guess. Wouldn’t that make it better? If I don’t take the money, I’m still not a whore.
    But the man already paid the money, so maybe it doesn’t matter. Besides, that feels almost worse in a way, if I did those things with that man for nothing. So I guess I’ll go, even though it means cutting class again so I can go with Ada. I definitely don’t want to go alone.
    Cutting all this class is becoming a problem, though. At lunch Eiko asked me why I wasn’t in French the other day. Awkward. I didn’t know what to say, so I just mumbled something about not feeling well.
    I really need to start putting more effort into school again. I’ve blown off so much lately, I think this semester may be a lostcause. But as long as I don’t flunk anything, maybe I can have a fresh start next semester? Stanford is off the table (not that it was ever a likely outcome), but that doesn’t mean all hope is lost. Right? I just need to buckle down.

Thurs, Dec 4
    Went to pick up my fee today. It wasn’t that bad. Well, the going wasn’t that bad. I didn’t even have to see Miss Irma, which was great. I don’t know why I’m scared of her, since she’s never been anything but kind to me. Maybe it’s because of the way she reminds me of my mother. I just have this irrational fear that if I tell her I’m quitting, she’ll look at me the way my mom did when I told her I wasn’t going to play violin anymore: as if I had simultaneously slapped her across the face and broken a family heirloom.
    But anyway, that part was fine because apparently Miss Irma does not hand out the money. I guess maybe I should have guessed that. We just went up to Anne’s desk and gave our names and she handed us each an envelope.
    But the not-so-good part was when I got outside and checked the envelope. First I thought there had to be some kind of mistake. I’m not exactly an expert in the going rates for call girls, but I wouldn’t be doing much worse at those minimum-wage jobs I was looking at.
    I freaked out a bit at Ada. Not that it was her fault, but it did feel like kind of a betrayal, that she and Irma had refused to give me any solid numbers but both let me believe the pay would make everything worth it. But Ada calmed me down. She said she forgot to warn me—the first envelope is always skimpy, because of all the setup costs. Like apparently I have to buy my own phone (even though I already had a perfectly good phone).