Chapter 3
Thursday during choir I did my best to avoid eye contact with Mr. Barnett. He sat on Miss Hess’s desk, arms folded across his burgundy sweater, waiting for everyone to arrive.
Restless chatter filled the room as students, eager for tryouts, jostled and hooted back and forth. Today, auditions were being held for the abbey nuns, Sister Berthe and Sister Sophia, Franz the butler, and some of the older von Trapp children. I blocked out the noise, imagining my upcoming interview with Mr. Barnett. I, with my notebook and pen, poised to ask thoughtful, intelligent questions. Just the two of us.
“Earth to Holly,” Andie whispered.
I jumped. “Huh?”
“You look dazed, girl,” she said. “I think we better have a talk.”
My cheeks grew warm as the lingering vision slowly faded. “About what?”
Andie’s finger poked my enflamed cheek. “About that.”
The din of chatter subsided as Mr. Barnett stood, notebook in hand. He cleared his throat. “Okay, students. This is home stretch.” Here, he scanned the room with his eyes. Once again they found mine, if only for an instant.
Heart thudding, I wondered how I’d ever find the courage to arrange my interview with him. After all, I would have to speak to him to set it up.
I stared at Miss Hess sitting at the piano. She listened intently as Mr. Barnett made announcements. Was she grading him mentally? Isn’t that what supervising teachers had to do—grade their student teachers based on performance and progress? I couldn’t imagine Mr. Barnett getting less than straight A’s.
The pink floral pattern in Miss Hess’s below-the-knee skirt caught my attention. I stared at the shimmery oranges and swirling pinks. What was it like, spending each school day, every day, from now until the end of school with someone like Mr. Barnett? I envied Miss Hess.
After class, I took my sweet time gathering my things, hoping the classroom would clear out in a hurry. I didn’t want Paula or Andie to know about the interview I was planning. So far, at least, my secret was safe.
“Hurry, Holly,” Andie called over her shoulder, rushing for the door with Paula. “We’ll save you a seat at lunch.”
Lunch or not, I had to talk to Mr. Barnett about the interview. But now Danny was in my way—discussing props and stage management with him. Glancing over at the piano, I noticed that Miss Hess had already left for lunch, too. Fabulous timing! Now if only I could get Danny to disappear.
Eavesdropping on Danny’s conversation with Mr. Barnett made me jittery. I shuffled my feet and self-consciously watched the clock on the wall. Its second hand jerked rhythmically, reminding me of how little time I had left for lunch.
Shifting my books, I gave up and headed out the door.
Danny caught up to me in the hall. “Holly, I’m finished,” he said. “Thanks for waiting around.”
Oh no, I thought. He thinks I waited for him!
“Can we eat together?” He followed me down the hall to my locker.
“I, uh…Andie and Paula…I think…are saving me a place.”
“I don’t mind sitting with your friends. If it’s okay with you.”
Of course it wasn’t, but I nodded my consent anyway. It was the only decent thing to do after the way I’d treated him on the phone.
Andie’s eyes nearly popped when Danny and I showed up together at lunch. I shot her a warning with my eyes. She caught the secret message—every bit of it. Andie knew better than to make some dumb remark about Danny and me.
We spent most of lunch discussing Mr. Barnett. Danny got it going. “What do you think of our new student teacher?”
“He knows theater, that’s for sure,” Paula said. “Did you see how he marked off the floor in the music room when Billy auditioned for the butler? I tell you, he’s good.”
“He wants me to be stage manager,” Danny said.
“No fair. You know what you’re gonna be before us,” Andie teased, pretending to pout.
How childish, I thought, watching Andie mope. But deep inside, I was secretly relieved to know Danny was out of the running for the male lead.
“What do you think of Mr. Barnett?” Andie asked me. She leaned forward on the table, balancing herself on her elbows, her impish eyes flashing. She seemed to suspect something, and I resented her for asking me right in front of everyone. It was another one of her childish, more immature traits.
“Mr. Barnett?” I said casually, willing my pulse to slow. “I agree with Paula. He seems to know his stuff.”
“That’s it?” Andie said.
Danny stopped eating his spaghetti, which featured chunks of yellow-green mystery meat mixed with off-white worms, er, noodles.
I forced my gaze away from the worms of the week and focused on Danny’s eyes, which were so close I could see gold flecks in them. It was as though he—and Paula and Andie—were waiting to pounce on my secret.
“What’s there to say?” I responded. “I think Miss Hess should have a student teacher every year for the spring musical.” I reached for my napkin.
If my friends only knew…
Danny excused himself from the table. “Nice having lunch with you, Holly.” He turned beet red, no doubt realizing he’d eaten with all three of us.
“Any time at all,” Andie piped up.
“See you, Danny,” Paula said, smiling and waving.
It was a strained moment, all right. But the second Danny was out of sight, we burst out laughing. It wasn’t fair to make fun of him, but Danny had it coming. He’d literally set himself up by acting like a love-sick toad.
I hurried off to the girls’ rest room to wash my hands and check my hair. My plan was to intercept Mr. Barnett somehow. I needed to set up the interview with him. Not because I had a pressing editorial deadline, but because it was part of my plan. Besides, I was dying to talk to him. One mature soul to another.
I dried my hands, glancing at my watch. Time was running out! Hurrying into the hall, I scoped out the area for signs of Andie or Paula. Danny too. No way did I want them spying on me.
All clear. I dashed upstairs, heading for the music room. Tiptoeing up to the door, I peeked in the window.
Yes! He was there. Taking a deep breath, I knocked.
“Come in,” he called.
Trembling, I turned the doorknob and let myself in.
“Oh, hello there, Holly,” he said, looking up from his desk. He remembered my name! I nearly hyperventilated on the spot.
“Is something wrong?” A slight frown played across his brow.
“Oh, nothing’s wrong,” I said, trying to regain my composure. “I just wanted to talk to you about—”
Suddenly Miss Hess breezed into the room. “Andrew,” she called. “I need to see you in the teacher’s lounge.” A flirtatious smile played across her lips as she turned and left as quickly as she’d come.
Andrew?
“I’m very sorry, Holly,” he apologized, standing up. “Can we talk later?”
I wanted to ask when but only nodded, standing there in a daze, watching the most wonderful guy in the world disappear through the choir room door.
I sighed. “His name is Andrew,” I whispered reverently. In a fog, I stared at his cluttered desk, piled with papers and the open notebook. Suddenly the image of Mr. Barnett’s precious notebook leaped out at me. There were students’ names listed beside names of characters.
I froze, trying not to entertain the thought of snooping. Yet I was tempted. Tempted with one of my greatest weaknesses.
Think how easy it would be to take one quick look. One secret look. No one will ever have to know….
It was the Garden of Eden all over again—Eve listening to the voice of the tempter. And just like Eve, I inched forward and reached for the forbidden fruit.
STRAIGHT-A TEACHER
Chapter 4
I scanned the list. There was Danny Myers as stage manager, Stan Patterson, my stepbrother, as Rolf Gruber. Andie was listed beside Mother Abbess. I could almost hear her singin
g “Climb Every Mountain. I couldn’t picture her, however, as the Reverend Mother of Nonnberg Abbey!
Laughing out loud, I ran my finger halfway down the list, searching for my name.
Br-ring! Br-ring! The fire alarm rang out. Startled, I ran out of the choir room. I couldn’t see or smell any evidence of fire or smoke. Quickly, I headed for the nearest exit, slipping in line with other students. I was disappointed about not finding my name. Now I’d have to wait, like everyone else, till tomorrow morning.
Andie fell in line with me outside. “Probably just another silly drill,” she said. “We’ve had twenty-five of them already this year.”
“Not even close,” I said, wondering why she had to exaggerate like that. Another sign of her lack of maturity.
Suddenly I spotted Mr. Barnett. He was hurrying out of the building with Miss Hess and several other teachers. I watched the way he walked, the way he interacted with them. I watched Miss Hess, too. She seemed quite attentive to Mr. Barnett. Was it her way of being a good supervisory teacher, or was there more to it?
Jared joined us, his voice interrupting my thoughts. “This is some cool way to spend a lunch hour.”
“Yeah,” Andie said, eyeballing me. “What happened to you? One minute you were primping in the rest room, next thing, you were gone.” Her eyes twinkled with a zillion questions.
Jared grinned, elbowing my arm. “Sounds like you’ve got a second mother here.”
“I’m her guardian angel,” Andie retorted. “She’s sneaking around, up to something.” She twisted a curl around her finger.
I tried to visualize Andie draped in the robes of the Mother Abbess. I couldn’t help myself; I snickered.
“Now what?” she demanded.
“Oh, nothing.” I waved my hand, flipping my long ponytail.
“You’re hopeless,” she said. “But I’ll get to the bottom of this sooner or later.” She probably would, too.
Several more minutes passed before the all-clear bell rang and we filed inside. Fifth hour was pending, so we headed like a herd of cattle to the rows of lockers.
After school, I dropped in to see Marcia Green about the interview stuff. I held my breath as she thumbed through her notebook. “Let’s see,” she muttered to herself. “I know it’s here somewhere.”
Pulling up a chair, I waited impatiently for Marcia to find my new assignment. I twisted my hair and bit on the ends. Crazy as it seemed, I was actually going to interview Mr. Andrew Barnett!
“Here it is.” Marcia held up the file at last. “I’ll need good copy by next week.” She looked at the calendar. “Next Thursday, a week from today. Think you can squeeze it into your schedule?”
“No problem,” I said, taking the file. The name in black marker leaped off the file at me.
Andrew Barnett.
His name alone made my heart jump. Could I still it long enough to conduct a reasonably intelligent interview? The thought flamed my cheeks. I dashed down the hall, hoping to create a breeze strong enough to fan my flushed face. Had to before Andie saw me and pumped me with questions.
“Holly, wait up!”
It was Andie. But I kept going, blowing air out my lips. Another couple of seconds and maybe, just maybe, the red would drain from my cheeks….
“Listen, girl, if you don’t slow down, you’ll attract Coach Tucker’s attention for sure,” Andie hollered.
She had me.
I turned around. “Miss Tucker better not nab me for track tryouts, I muttered. “I despise running.”
“But it’s that time of year,” Andie sang, “track and field.” Then she searched my face. “You’re blushing again. Now what’s going on?”
We’d had this conversation before. “It’s nothing, really.” No way could I tell her. I shoved Mr. Barnett’s file down, out of sight.
We pushed through the crowded hallway. “Holly, you’re avoiding me,” she said.
“Right.” I laughed. “That’s impossible.”
The sound of slamming lockers and the bustle of scurrying students interrupted my thoughts. When we stopped at Andie’s locker, she flicked through her combination and pulled on the door. I hurried to my locker, opened it, and stuffed the file safely behind another notebook just as Andie came over.
Although I was usually perfectly content to be in Andie’s company and was comfortable with our ongoing friendship, I was discovering more and more that I didn’t want to expose my heart for examination with her like I used to. Andie was developing a high-and-mighty way about her. Evolving, my mother had said. Well, whatever it was, Andie was establishing a know-it-all attitude that made me uneasy.
Stan showed up and Andie beamed at him. Andie turned to me with that all-too-familiar glint in her eye. “We’re off to the Soda Straw, Holly. But I guarantee you’ll tell me your little secret, sooner or later.” She accented her words with a bang of her locker and a rambunctious wave.
Overconfident. That described Andie, all right. It seemed she was forever rehearsing the part of an outspoken, self-assured woman. Hopefully, by the time she grew up, Andie would learn not to fire shots that pierced the soul of her friends. Maybe she would learn something from the role of Mother Abbess.
I began sorting my books as I analyzed my relationship with Andie. It had never been easy keeping secrets from her. She was absolutely right; I always poured out my heart to her…eventually. Came from years of growing up together in Dressel Hills, Colorado. In a tiny ski village like this, it was easier to opt for one or two best friends over gobs of casual ones. At least for me.
Still, I needed to share my secret with someone. It was so warm and fabulous. Such a beautiful secret should be shared with some-one like Andie. I knew she’d be straight with me. I’d never known her to hold back if she felt strongly enough about something. And that’s what I needed now, someone who could think clearly about this—whatever it was—that I was feeling for Mr. Barnett.
Danny met me on the stairs as I took two at a time, still hoping to catch Mr. Barnett. His eyes lit up when he saw me. “Are you coming to youth service tonight?” he asked.
I stopped and leaned against the wall, catching my breath. “I think so, why?” Then I remembered his note and my phone call to him. It irritated me. I thought this matter had been settled between us.
Danny hesitated. “We’re grouping up for Bible Quiz Team. And…I hoped you’d be my partner.”
“Me?” I shrieked. “Danny, you’ve got to be kidding. You can memorize whole chapters of the Bible in one shot. There’s no way I can keep up with you.”
“I’ll help you,” he said softly.
That’s what I was afraid of. He wanted to tutor me—one on one. Much too cozy. Besides, if I were in the musical, I’d need tons of extra time to memorize my lines. “I’m sorry, Danny. I really can’t.” I thought of suggesting Paula’s twin sister, Kayla, or someone else for him to team up with at church, but I didn’t.
Slowly, Danny nodded. “Well, see you around,” he said and left.
I was determined not to let his reaction get to me. After all, it was only quiz team.
Thankful the Danny encounter was over, I raced upstairs, hoping to find Mr. Barnett. I thought about casually wandering into the choir room, pretending to sort music or something. Maybe he’d notice and strike up a conversation. But as I approached the door, I knew the mature thing to do was simply knock.
“Come in,” he called. His voice sounded much lower than Danny’s. Or any other guy’s at school, for that matter.
I hesitated, then took a breath for courage and walked in.
“Hi again.” He was seated behind the keyboard, and something about the way he looked up to greet me startled me. Shafts of light from the late afternoon sun streamed through the long, vertical windows behind the choir risers.
I peered round the room. Empty. At last, a chance to talk. The hustle-bustle of the school day seemed distant somehow as I returned his smile. With all my heart, I wanted to hold this moment close—memoriz
e it for always.
Still seated behind his keyboard, he motioned to a chair. “Please, sit down.” I noticed nut shells strewn on top of his keyboard. “I’m a pistachio nut junkie. Here, have one.”
The sheer joy of being here might have left me wordless and clumsy, but like the time of my audition, I felt a strange openness and sense of ease with him. “Thanks,” I said, surprised at the way the words spilled out so easily. I took a few nuts and cracked them open.
“So…how are things?” he asked. Cool and easy.
“Fine, thanks,” I said. Would it shock him to know I think of him nearly every waking minute?
“I’m working on a new song,” he remarked. “Tell me what you think.” And he began to play. The minor melody drifted down like a mountain brook in June. And when it found a resting place in a gentle broken chord, it took my breath away.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, longing for more. “It reminds me of a bittersweet book I read once.”
“This song is in memory of my grandmother,” he said.
I was surprised and pleased that he was sharing such personal information.
“I wish she could hear it.” I paused, wondering when I should ask about the interview.
He glanced up at the skylight, neck tilted back slightly. “Sometimes I think she does.”
I nodded, smiling. “For me, music paints word pictures. I listen to it when I write.”
“My sister’s a writer,” he said.
“Creativity must run in your family,” I said without thinking. “It shows up in the way you teach.”
His hands slid off the keyboard and into his lap, and he leaned back. “You are a very perceptive young woman, Holly.”
I felt my cheeks do their usual cherry number, but he looked so pleased with my statement, I didn’t let it embarrass me. I pulled out my tablet and pen and asked if he had time for a quick interview. “It’s for the school paper. I’m one of the reporters.”
“Absolutely,” he said. At that moment, I couldn’t have been happier.
STRAIGHT-A TEACHER
Holly's Heart Collection Two Page 19