Calling Maggie May by Anonymous Page B

“She’s in her room. Doesn’t come out much.”
    â€œOh,” I said. “What does she do in there?”
    â€œMostly lies around in bed.” Ada hesitated. It was clear she wasn’t used to talking about this. “She’s not . . . healthy,” she said at last.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with her?”
    Ada got up and moved around the room, picking things up at random and putting them back down. She seemed agitated, and I kind of hated myself for bringing up the conversation. Itwas none of my business. Why had I insisted on prying like my mom would? I was just about to tell Ada that she didn’t have to say anything more when she spoke again.
    â€œI don’t know,” she said. “She wasn’t always like this, though she was never what most people would call a normal mom. She used to get . . . episodes, where she would take to her room and not talk and hardly move for days at a time. Then, after a couple of days, she’d snap out of it and put some clothes on and go to the store and get some groceries. Then, one time, she just . . . didn’t come out of it.”
    â€œShe’s been like this ever since?”
    â€œNot exactly. Sometimes she gets up and comes out and even tries to make some food. But it’s not like before. The truth is, it’s better for me when she keeps to herself,” she said in a rush of breath. “She’s easier to deal with that way.”
    I nodded as if I understood, though I didn’t really. But at least I realized I didn’t really want to know any more, and Ada didn’t seem to want to give me more details than she already had.
    It was getting late anyway, so I told her I had to catch the bus home and I got out of there.

Tues, Dec 23
    Now that I have some new clothes, Miss Irma has suggested (via Anne) that I expand my page on the website to includemore than just my old head shot from the day I started. It’s funny. I didn’t even realize Miss Irma had a website. I never thought before about what she did with that photo that Anne took. Now it seems obvious. Who doesn’t have a website these days?
    Immediately after I found out, I went to look for it online, but I couldn’t get into the site. You need a password. The front page is surprisingly discreet, though. It’s not like those porn sites that throw up a million pop-ups and start automatically playing a video of a girl and a horse (okay, maybe that was just one site I stumbled on to). You wouldn’t have any idea what it was promoting if you didn’t already know. There isn’t even anyplace for entering your credit-card number. Just a form requesting your username and password but no way to sign up. I wonder how the whole thing works.
    I’m honestly not sure about this, though. Do I really want seminaked pictures of myself on the Internet? That seems like the kind of thing people warn you about. Like, what if I want to become a Supreme Court justice or something at some point? Although maybe that ship has already sailed. Maybe once you start having sex for money, all regular ambitions are closed to you.
    Still, it does seem like crossing a line of some sort to let someone take pictures. Right now I could stop tomorrow andno one would really know. Miss Irma has my real name, but she seems pretty good at keeping secrets, or else her whole business would fall apart. The clients know me only as Justine, except for Damon. And then there’s Ada. As a group, that seems pretty safe. And even if Damon tried to tell someone at some point, he wouldn’t have any proof. Just his story. Maybe it’s better to keep it that way. . . .
    I don’t know. I’ll ask Ada.

Wed, Dec 24
    Last day of the semester today! Tomorrow we’ll all go get dim sum in the city, and I’m looking forward to it. We don’t really celebrate Christmas, but going into Chinatown is our tradition, since