Holly's Heart Collection Two

by Beverly Lewis

  I giggled. Now, this was the Andie I knew and loved. High drama at its best.

  “Okay, okay, I get the picture. But don’t forget our choir tour to California, and there was the Grand Canyon, and—”

  She grabbed the chain on my swing. “So you’ll take me along?” she begged, her face inches from mine. I could smell the lemon on her breath.

  “It’s not up to me to decide,” I said more seriously. “Even if it’s okay with your folks, I’ll still have to clear it with my dad and stepmom.” Then I remembered Jon and Chris. “Who’s going to help with your brothers while you’re gone?”

  “Two weeks?” She waved her hand like she was swatting flies. “No problem.”

  “So you think your mom can manage?”

  “I guess we’ll just have to ask.” She motioned for me to go with her into the house.

  “Wait.” I stopped at the back door. “Maybe we should talk this over with my dad first, uh, you know, since he hasn’t seen you for a while.”

  Andie’s countenance dimmed. “Oh yeah. Maybe he won’t want his daughter bringing home her Hispanic friend.”

  I stared at her, shocked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “He doesn’t care that I’m His-panic, does he?”

  “Look, Andie, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but Daddy’s not prejudiced. Not even close. Besides, he’s a Christian now.”

  Her voice quivered. “I know. But I’ve heard how it is in some places for different ethnic groups—even worse than in a small town like Dressel Hills.”

  I reached for Andie and gave her a hug. “You’re my friend. Nothing will ever change that.”

  Andie started to tremble.

  “Andie?”

  Quickly, she wiped her eyes, pulling away.

  “What’s wrong?” I whispered. “Are you all right?”

  She shook her head, eyes filling with tears.

  “Has someone said something?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she managed to say. “Maybe we should just forget the whole dumb idea.” She turned away quickly so I couldn’t see her cry. “I’ll see you later, Holly.”

  “No, wait,” I called to her. But it was too late. Andie had gone inside. She closed the door without even the slightest glance back.

  Tears stung my eyes as I imagined someone, anyone, insulting my friend. How rotten!

  It was obvious Andie wanted to be left alone. As much as I hated leaving her like this, I knew it would do absolutely no good to ring the doorbell, hoping she’d answer. Andie was too hurt to talk.

  She and I were opposites in that way. If I was hurting, I wanted someone around. Someone who would talk to me and help me through my tunnel of pain. Andie and my mom were both good about pursuing me at times like that. Even when I might insist that I wanted to be alone, they knew deep down I really didn’t.

  Feelings of concern pricked at me as I got on my bike. Andie had actually become hostile, and all it took was a single comment about Daddy not having seen her lately. She’d mistaken my words completely—jumped to conclusions.

  Something, or someone, was bugging her. Why, I didn’t know. But I was determined to find out.

  LITTLE WHITE LIES

  Chapter 2

  When I arrived home, supper was almost ready to be served.

  I sniffed the air as I came into the kitchen. Oven-baked chicken, yum. “Smells like the Fourth of July all over again,” I said.

  “Oh, there you are, Holly-Heart.” Mom gave me a quick hug. “Hungry?”

  “Starved.”

  “Well, good,” she said, turning around to check on the oven. “I didn’t make thirty pieces of chicken for nothing, did I?”

  “Thirty?”

  Some quick math told me that with six kids, plus Mom and Uncle Jack, there were eight of us. Divided into thirty, that’s about four pieces each. “Why so many?” I asked, even more puzzled when I spied two huge steaming bowls of mashed potatoes.

  “Well,” she said, a twinkle in her eye, “we’re having company.

  “We are?”

  “Stan has a new friend.” She reached for two potholders and opened the oven door. Tantalizing smells escaped and wafted their way through the kitchen.

  “A girl?” I asked, hoping not—for Andie’s sake.

  “No girl,” Mom said. She carried a huge oven tray over to the island bar and began to place pieces of chicken on a large platter.

  “Who, then?” I checked to see if the dining room table was set. It was.

  “Oh, just a guy he met down at the Y,” Mom said. “I’m sure you’ll find him interesting.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re not setting me up with…”

  “Oh, Holly, you know how I feel about girl-boy stuff at your age.” She untied her apron and flung it over the drainboard near the sink. “Can’t I say something nice about a boy without you getting defensive?”

  “Sorry, Mom, I just—”

  “Just what?” It was Carrie. My little sister had materialized out of thin air.

  “Carrie,” Mom reprimanded. “How many times have I told you not to do that?”

  I sighed. “Oh, give or take two thousand.”

  “That’s not true!” Carrie shouted, shooting daggers at me with her beady eyes.

  “You mean you haven’t been getting A-pluses in sneaking up on people? Tell me it isn’t so,” I sneered.

  “Girls, girls,” Mom said, wagging her finger in front of our faces. “Be sweet to each other. You only have a few more days together before Holly leaves for California.”

  “Yes,” Carrie whispered, flicking her long ponytail.

  I didn’t say what I was thinking. It wouldn’t have pleased the Lord. Mom either.

  “So,” Carrie inquired, “who’s coming for dinner?”

  “Never mind,” I said, turning her around and giving her a gentle shove.

  Mom smiled. “You’ll both find out soon enough.”

  Carrie turned around and wrinkled her nose at me.

  “Holly, will you pour the iced tea, please?” Mom asked.

  Gladly. Anything to get away from my pesky sister.

  When everything was in its place on the table, Mom rang her dainty white dinner bell. Mark, Phil, and Stephie came running up the family room steps. Stan and his friend came barreling up next. I wondered why Stan avoided my eyes as he walked through the kitchen.

  Funny. Just when things were perking along on an even keel with my fairly snooty stepbrother, a thing like bringing a friend home for supper threw everything out of whack. How could that be?

  I studied Stan’s friend discreetly. Medium frame…not quite as tall as Stan. Average brown hair, sort of mousy, actually. And horror of horrors—a ripe pimple. Right next to his nose!

  Uncle Jack waited for us to get situated at the table before he offered the blessing. Afterward, he turned to Stan, who sat across from me, and asked him to introduce his friend.

  “Sure, Dad,” Stan began. “Everyone,” and here he made eye contact with each of us at the table, even me, “this is Ryan Davis, one of the guys on the swim team at the Y.”

  Stan introduced each of us individually, starting with Stephie, the youngest. When he came to me, he said, “Ryan’s into creative writing…like you, Holly.” He paused. “Maybe you could show him that story you got published last year.” He smiled like he was actually proud of my accomplishment.

  “Really?” Ryan said, his hazel eyes lighting up. “Published?” He said it like it was a sacred act or something. “What magazine?”

  “I’ll show you after supper,” I said, not really caring about this little charade Stan was playing, using me to impress his pimple-faced friend.

  “Okay,” Ryan said, smiling too broadly for my taste.

  Mom and Uncle Jack carried the conversation with Ryan and Stan clear through dessert. Now and then I caught snatches of Carrie and Stephie whispering next to me. Sounded like they were making
plans for the two weeks I’d be gone. I grinned. What a fabulous break from these two—escaping to Daddy’s wonderful beach house overlooking the ocean, relaxing in the sun, sipping iced tea. Ah, what a way to spend fourteen carefree days. No time pressure. No stress. I could scarcely wait.

  I was daydreaming, blocking out Stan and Ryan’s jibber-jabber, when suddenly I heard Andie’s name mentioned. I spooned up some of Mom’s apple crisp and a scoop of ice cream on the side, trying to act disinterested. Staring at my plate, I chewed in silence, but I was all ears.

  Stan was saying he and Ryan had bumped into Andie at the Y yesterday. “We were going in and she was ready to leave,” he said nonchalantly.

  I waited for him to mention that Andie was his former girlfriend and that they still spent time together off and on. But he was silent about that.

  Strange.

  Mom wiped her mouth with a napkin, then reached over and touched my left hand. “I think Holly and Andie must have the longest-running friendship around Dressel Hills,” she said. “Right, honey?”

  I nodded.

  Uncle Jack nodded, too. “I’d say they’re nearly sisters.”

  A smirk swept across Ryan’s face. “Well, they sure don’t look it.” He snickered.

  “Very funny,” I replied.

  “Well…you know,” Ryan muttered.

  “No, I don’t,” I said. “And I think you’d better spell it out.”

  Stan frowned, casting at stern look at me. “Just drop it,” he said.

  “Look,” I said, directing my comment to Stan, “Andie’s fabulous and you, of all people, should know that.”

  He didn’t comment, and it infuriated me. Why wasn’t he sticking up for Andie? I didn’t get it.

  I slid my chair away from the table, remembering the way Andie had cried earlier. “Excuse me, please.”

  “Holly!” Mom said stiffly.

  Ignoring her, I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the portable phone.

  “What’s your problem?” Stan said as I flew through the dining room.

  Turning around, I stared him down. “Think about it,” I said in my coldest voice. “Andie was perfectly fine for you”—I forced my gaze away from him and looked at Ryan—“until now.”

  The entire family was staring at me. I could almost hear the wheels in Mom’s brain turning. What’s gotten into her? she was probably thinking.

  Sure as shootin’, Uncle Jack was thinking something along the same lines, except his face was less revealing. He leaned back, scratched his chin, and winked in a fatherly fashion—to let me know he’d have a talk with Stan later, no doubt. It was just what I needed from my stepdad—the best around.

  Ryan’s voice rose out of the silence. “Very nice meeting you, Holly.”

  I wanted to say “Go pop your pimple,” but I turned and fled to my room. I choked back the horrible thought, only to have it rise up like a flood: Had Stan’s friend ridiculed Andie to her face?

  I closed my bedroom door behind me. My hand shook as I gripped the portable phone. It was time to get to the bottom of things.

  LITTLE WHITE LIES

  Chapter 3

  The phone rang a zillion times. C’mon, Andie, pick up, I thought.

  Two more rings.

  Where is she? I wondered.

  Frazzled, I let the phone continue to ring.

  At long last, someone answered. It was Andie’s father. “Martinez residence,” he said.

  “Is Andie there?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Oh, hello, Holly.” He paused. “Uh, I believe she is, but I think she’s in her room. May I take a message?”

  I switched the phone to my left ear. “Is…is Andie all right?”

  “Well, I don’t know that she’s ill if that’s what you mean.” He cleared his throat.

  I figured he didn’t know what I was talking about.

  “Okay, well, just tell her I called, and she can call me back whenever.”

  “I will certainly tell her.”

  We said good-bye and hung up.

  This wasn’t working. I had to talk to Andie!

  I figured I’d better wait awhile before leaving to go visit her. The way I felt right now, it wouldn’t be smart to go dashing downstairs. I didn’t trust my feelings toward Stan or his disgusting friend.

  Why did they talk that way about Andie, anyway?

  My cat leaped up onto my window seat, as though he were inviting me to join him. So I did. There, on the padded pillows, I snuggled with Goofey, letting the rumble of his purring comfort me. More than anything, I wished I could talk to Andie. Maybe she didn’t need me to help her through whatever was bugging her, but I needed her—to find out if what I suspected was true.

  To keep from freaking out, I began to pray. “Dear Lord, I don’t know what’s going on between Stan and Andie, but you do.” I paused, hesitating to pray about Ryan Davis. What a jerk!

  I took a deep breath, then continued my prayer. “Uh…Stan’s friend, you know him, his name’s Ryan. Well, I don’t think he’s the best kind of friend for Stan, but then, you know all things, so I’ll let it go with that, Lord. Amen.”

  It was the most pathetic prayer I’d ever prayed.

  I glanced at my watch. Almost seven o’clock. I got up and gently laid Goofey down on my window seat. Then I opened my bedroom door and leaned my head out, listening. Stan and Mom were talking in the kitchen. Closing my eyes, I tried to visualize the kitchen cleanup schedule.

  Fairly certain that it wasn’t my turn, I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe, just maybe, I could slip out of the house without encountering Stan. Or Ryan. It was worth a try. Besides, my curiosity was propelling me over to Andie’s. I had to know what was going on. She would easily clear things up for me if I could just get her to talk. One thing was sure—with Ryan hanging around over here, it would be next to impossible to get a straight answer out of Stan.

  Quietly, I closed my door and tiptoed down the hall to the stairs. I made my way cautiously to the landing.

  Carrie came racing through, nearly slamming into me. “Holly,” she said much too loudly, “I need your help.”

  “Not now,” I whispered, looking around, hoping Stan and company weren’t nearby.

  Just then Stephie came in from the living room. “Ple-ease help Carrie and me,” she begged. “It won’t take long.”

  I glanced over my shoulder toward the kitchen. Too late. Stan had spotted me.

  “Can’t now.” I pushed past the girls. “Maybe later.” Heart pounding, I hurried toward the front door.

  “Wait up!” Stan called after me.

  I ignored him and kept going.

  “Holly, would you wait?”

  There was no looking back now. I hopped on my bike and sped away. When I was out of reach, I glanced back, surprised to see Stan sitting on the front steps, staring at the ground. Had he sensed where I was headed? And if so, what didn’t he want me to find out?

  Now I was really curious. If I could just get Andie to talk.

  Three blocks away, still on Downhill Court—my street—I saw the Miller twins riding their bikes, heading west toward the main drag through our ski village resort.

  “Hey, Holly,” the girls called in unison. Funny how that worked with twins. Not only did they look alike, they thought alike, too.

  “Hey,” I said, riding up to them. “Where’re you two headed?”

  Kayla spoke up. “Footloose and Fancy Things is having a giant sale on their summer stock. Why don’t you join us?”

  “I’m almost broke,” I said, which was true. I’d spent nearly all my summer baby-sitting money on a year’s sponsorship for an overseas child.

  “I’ll be glad to loan you some money,” Paula offered, smiling brightly.

  “Thanks, anyway,” I said. “I’m pretty well set with clothes for summer.”

  Paula moved her bike out of the street and onto the sidewalk. Kayla did, too. I stayed put, eager to get going. Unfortunately, it looked like the twins wanted to engage in sm
all talk.

  “I’m in a hurry,” I said apologetically.

  “Headed to Andie’s?” Paula asked.

  “Uh-huh.” I said it casually, like it was no big deal.

  Kayla flipped her shoulder-length brown hair. “How’s she doing today?”

  Before I could answer, Paula added, “We were really concerned about her emotional state yesterday at the Y.”

  The Y?

  Quickly, I moved my bike out of the street and up onto the sidewalk beside Kayla’s. “What happened at the Y?”

  Kayla’s eyes widened and her thick, mascara-laden lashes fluttered. “Andie didn’t tell you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Paula put the kickstand down on her bike and came over to me. Kayla too. Something was up. We were actually huddled.

  Paula started filling in some important details. “Kayla and I had just arrived at the Y yesterday afternoon when we ran into Andie. She was crying as she came out.”

  I swallowed hard. “Crying?”

  Kayla sighed. “It looked like she and Stan had gotten into it, or worse.”

  “Stan?” I echoed.

  “He and some guy were standing inside the lobby,” Kayla explained. “And Stan looked upset.”

  “Who was the other guy?” I asked.

  Paula glanced at Kayla. “We’d never seen him around here before,” she said.

  “Not at church or school,” Kayla added.

  “It’s possible that he’s a high school student,” Paula suggested. “He seemed a little older than Stan.”

  “What did he look like?” I asked.

  Paula glanced up, like she was trying to pull a description out of the air. “I don’t remember.”

  “I remember something,” Kayla said with a giggle. “He had a very large pimple near his nose.”

  Paula nodded, laughing, too.

  My pulse raced. “You’re saying the guy with Stan had a pimple?

  Paula and Kayla stared at me. “Why?” Paula asked. “Do you know him?”