Holly's Heart Collection Three

by Beverly Lewis

  Ryan was either a junior or a senior; I didn’t know which. I hadn’t seen him around school until now. He had that know-it-all upperclassman attitude and a letter jacket that smacked of machismo.

  I’d first met Ryan last summer when Stan brought him home for supper after a swim meet at the Y. Now, however, it looked as though Ryan was linked up with Zye. “And I thought that opposites attract!” I said a bit too loudly.

  Paula and Kayla came rushing over. “What’s going on?” Paula asked as the twins peered at the gruesome twosome.

  Kayla clutched her throat. “Oh, say it isn’t so.”

  “I knew that Zye fellow reminded me of someone,” Paula interjected.

  “Right,” I agreed, hoping the thing between Zye and the freshman delegation had nothing to do with the color of Andie’s skin. Ryan had slung some disgusting racial slurs at Andie last summer.

  “This is so sick,” Andie said, staring at Ryan.

  “Don’t let it freak you out—about Ryan, I mean. We both know what he’s about.”

  “He’s prejudiced,” she persisted.

  I wanted to change the subject, to get Andie’s mind off what had happened between her and Ryan last summer. “Look, I’m proud of you.” I touched her shoulder. “You handled things really well just now.”

  “Thanks,” she said, sounding discouraged.

  “You did your best and that’s what counts,” Paula said, trying to cheer her up.

  After school, Billy Hill stopped by my locker. “Did you think up any clever sayings for my campaign?”

  “Yep.” I pulled out my notebook. “Here you go. Billy Hill’s No Hillbilly—Vote for a CLASS Act—Class Treasurer.”

  He grinned. “That’s cool. Thanks, Holly.”

  “Any time.” I closed my locker.

  “Man, we need some decent leadership around here,” he said. “After the way those seniors acted today at lunch . . .”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “So . . .” He seemed hesitant. “I thought maybe you could write up something about me in The Summit. You know, just a blip on an unknown freshman running for office.”

  “I’d love to, Billy. It’s just that I’m not officially on the paper staff yet.” I didn’t want to tell him about Marcia’s comments about having me write an occasional piece for the paper. Mainly because I was still wondering how complicated it would be to juggle everything. Grades came first.

  Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Oh well, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask.” He turned to leave.

  “Billy!” I grabbed his arm. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’ll gladly campaign for you. Hey, we want to see how many Christian kids we can get into office, right?”

  “Thanks.” He smiled broadly. “That’ll be cool.”

  “Want me to nominate you tomorrow?” I asked as he waited for me to get my books.

  “Actually, Paula already offered. Thanks anyway.”

  “Okay.”

  “Maybe you should be the one to nominate Andie, since she’s your best friend,” he suggested just as Paula came walking over.

  “Oh, I’m planning to,” I said, all smiles.

  Paula shook her head. “Too late. It’s already set.”

  “What is?” I asked.

  “Amy-Liz is nominating Andie at your class meeting tomorrow,’ she said rather haughtily.

  I frowned. “But she’s running for secretary, right?”

  Paula nodded confidently, like she was aware of other privileged information.

  “I don’t get it.” I tried to suppress the hurt.

  “Well, I’m sure you understand the saying ‘one good turn deserves another’?”

  I hadn’t the faintest clue what she was getting at. “What’s that got to do with this?”

  “Plenty. Andie’s nominating Amy-Liz.” And with that, she and Billy left to catch the bus.

  I stood there, gasping. Why did it seem that every time I turned my back, Andie had conducted some private meeting? Without me.

  FRESHMAN FRENZY

  Chapter 14

  Monday, September 9

  Dear Sean,

  I got your letter two days ago. It was interesting, especially the part about your wanting me to decide about your hair! Please feel free to do absolutely anything you want to. I’m thinking of doing something different with my newly permed hair, too. Something to get rid of all these curls!

  How’s your calculus teacher, Mr. Fremont? I’m sorry to hear about his cancer. Does he have much pain? I always worry when I hear that someone has cancer. Dad’s sister died from it two years ago this coming February. My favorite aunt was too young to die—around my mom’s age. Anyway, I’ll be praying for your teacher.

  So much has happened since I wrote you last. Remember all those initiation questions I had? Well, this year it’s come down from the top (seniors, of course!) that there’s going to be fierce initiation. But, lowly freshmen that we are, we’ve decided that the sophomores are the ones who really deserve it.

  I went on to explain how the sophomores of Dressel Hills High had experienced last year what we were missing now—top of the heap. So in our minds, that meant we shouldn’t be punished twice. It made perfect sense!

  About the grading scale here, we have the same as you do. I can’t get used to a 94% being a high B—it’s six points away from 100, for pete’s sake!

  Andie’s running for president of the freshman class. She wants me to write her campaign speech, and I promised I would, but now . . .

  I read the last two sentences and decided not to tell Sean about Andie’s and my differences. I used white correction fluid to cover my words and rewrote the last sentence.

  She’s turning into a regular social bug. It was unbelievable how she handled herself today at lunch with some of the world’s worst egomaniacs ever! Stay tuned . . .

  I met an interesting girl today. Her name is Tina Frazer, blind from birth. She’s here for an experiment—mainstreaming a handicapped student—and I personally hope it’s going to be successful.

  Well, I have lots of homework tonight, so I’d better end this letter.

  I paused before I signed off, wondering if I should follow his lead. Sean always signed “Yours,” which could be taken several ways. Of course, he wasn’t really mine. That wasn’t what this was about.

  Sean and I had a very long, very interesting conversation last summer about the boy-girl thing. And I was pleased in the end how we managed to agree to be friends. Even though Sean had asked me out while I was in California, I think he realized that a long-distance relationship of that kind really wasn’t possible. Not at our age.

  So the way I signed my letters must not encourage him toward anything but continuing the correspondence the way we’d started. When it came right down to it, I was enjoying this sort of friendship with a guy. Sean had never been pushy, and I liked the fact that he seemed to want me to decide things, too.

  The age difference was a minor factor in all this. In five years it wouldn’t matter, though. I’d be nineteen going on twenty and he’d be twenty-one. For now, things were best the way they were.

  I slid Goofey, my cat, off my lap and settled him gently onto the window seat, where the two of us curled up together. Reading, writing, list making, and praying—all this was most readily carried out when I was cocooned away in my window-seat alcove. A world apart.

  I signed my letter “Your friend” and addressed the envelope. Then I ran all the way down to the mailbox, beating the late pickup by only a few seconds.

  Back at home, I gathered up two loads of my laundry and headed downstairs. Laundry was one of my weekday chores, so I’d designated Monday as my washday.

  I thought of Andie slaving over her washing machine as a future mother, churning out one load of wash after another. All those children . . .

  “Holly!” called Stan from the family room.

  I peeked my head around the corner. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out!”

  “G
row up,” he muttered.

  “What do you want?”

  “Uh . . . just wondered. What’s with Andie running for freshman class president?”

  “It’s a free country, you know.”

  “But isn’t it a little out of character for her?” He looked like a toad, all scrunched up on the floor in front of the sofa behind the coffee table, cracking pecans.

  I stared. “What are you doing?”

  “Mom’s baking, and I’m helping out.”

  “Oh.” This was a first.

  “So . . . what’s up with Andie?” He was holding the nutcracker in midair.

  “Is there an echo in here?” I looked around. “For your information, Andie’s emerging from her junior-high shell.”

  He sighed. “Then what’s she doing talking to a bunch of upperclassmen?”

  “She has an important agenda, that’s what.” I disappeared behind the laundry room door. It would be only a few seconds before Stan burst in here, making demands.

  “Well,” Stan said, barging right in, “your friend’s making herself way too visible.”

  I tossed the whites into the washing machine and started the water. “Yeah, well, none of us would be normal if we didn’t change a little as we mature. Isn’t that what Mom’s always saying—your dad, too—that we have to be flexible in order to grow up?”

  He glared at me. It was obvious he didn’t want solid answers. “Andie’s getting way too popular for her own good.”

  “You’re just jealous.”

  He cocked his blond head. “Jealous of what?”

  “You know . . .”

  He blew air through his lips in disgust. “Hey, guess what Zye Greene thinks?” he said, surprising me with his sudden reference to Marcia’s brother.

  “Who cares what Zye-in-your-eye thinks? Don’t waste your breath!”

  Stan frowned and ran his fingers through his hair. “He liked her,” he said in a half whisper. “He—”

  “That’s hard to believe. If he liked her so much, why was he such a jerk today?” I interrupted and poured the liquid detergent over the laundry and shut the lid. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have homework coming out of my ears.”

  I shoved past him.

  “Holly, wait!” He grabbed my shirttail. “Do you think she’s . . . uh, getting in a little over her head?”

  I had no idea what this brousin of mine was mumbling. “Look, if you want to catch all the latest on your ex-girlfriend, why don’t you just give her a call?”

  He actually slumped against the furnace. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “You’re right, I don’t.” And with that I headed upstairs.

  Later, while I was eyebrow-deep in algebra, Andie called. Only I didn’t talk to her. I asked Mom to tell her I’d see her tomorrow at school. Hopefully she’d understand. This homework thing was unreal.

  The next morning in homeroom, after announcements, the freshman class was dismissed and we poured into the school auditorium. There were kids with posters and banners everywhere. And Andie came in carrying a large flag that read Andie’s a Dandy!

  Did she come up with the clever slogan on her own? I finally got Andie’s attention and squeezed past three kids to the empty seat next to her.

  “This is going to be so cool.” She held the homemade flag on her lap, wriggling with anticipation. “See what we made?” she said, showing me the flag.

  I glanced at the flag, guessing who “we” was and deciding not to comment. I wanted this moment to be special between us. Squelching the desire to probe, I settled back and waited for the assembly to begin.

  Andie looked rather peachy—I mean her cheeks. I didn’t want to stare, but it seemed she was wearing more makeup than usual. And a sharp new outfit: designer jeans and a black sweater jacket over a white shirt.

  “Hey, fabulous clothes,” I said, touching the sleeve of her new sweater.

  “Dad finally broke down and let me buy something new just for today.” She was wired up. Even had on new perfume.

  “Lucky you,” I said, smiling.

  “I called you last night . . . to tell you about it.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I had tons of homework.”

  “That’s what your mom said.” There was a ring of accusation in her voice.

  Then two boys behind us started the clapping as the high-school principal, Mr. Crane, stood up to the podium. For a moment I felt a twinge of sadness for my old school. My junior-high days—the good old days—before algebra and homework to the hilt.

  Mr. Crane got things rolling. And soon Amy-Liz was on her feet. “I would like to nominate Andrea Martinez for freshman class president.”

  Explosive applause. And whistling.

  Andie stood and waved to her fans with absolute style. She beamed her thanks, and I watched my dearest friend as she seemed to metamorphose before my eyes. Andie’s poise and confidence surprised me.

  I pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, and then a girl three rows away stood up and made the nomination for Jeff Kinney. I turned my attention away from Andie, who was talking with kids behind us, pretty much ignoring me. The sights and sounds muddled together, and I noticed Amy-Liz standing up again, proudly nominating Jared for vice president.

  Andie kept bumping into me, like she didn’t even know I was there. She was so caught up in the moment—bustling in and out of her seat, chatting with everyone around her. The worst part happened right on the heels of the assembly. I wanted to hug Andie and give her my support—tell her how thrilled I was at the response of the students. But she and I somehow became separated in the crush of students while exiting the auditorium.

  To make matters worse, Paula and Kayla were waiting in the hallway. I could see them just ahead of me. A lump jammed in my throat as my best friend literally ran to the twins with the swell of the crowd at her back.

  By the time I was able to forge through the flood, Andie and the Miller twins had vanished.

  FRESHMAN FRENZY

  Chapter 15

  With tears threatening to spill over, I headed for the girls’ rest room and into one of the stalls. I dabbed some toilet paper at my eyes.

  What right had Paula and Kayla to intercept Andie and snatch her away from me? We were all friends, for pete’s sake!

  Frantic feelings, similar to the ones I’d had on the first day of high school, enveloped me. I stood inside the bathroom stall, clinging to my books, fighting back tears.

  That’s when I heard Andie’s voice trickle into the rest room, followed by the laughter of Paula and Kayla. The three of them were having a fabulous time while I hid, my face all streaked with tears.

  Andie began to replay the class meeting for the twins’ benefit. I could almost see them touching up their hair and makeup as Andie chattered on. “I couldn’t believe how everyone clapped when Amy-Liz nominated me.”

  “Oh, I can believe it,” Paula said, pouring it on. “You’re going to make a wonderful class president.”

  Kayla spoke up. “Why did you wait so long to call us last night? We were absolutely thrilled to drop everything and come help with your banners and flags.”

  Paula continued. “It’s really unfortunate about Holly. After all, she was your first choice.”

  “Right,” Andie said. “Before school ever started she promised to be my campaign manager, and now this.”

  I frowned, feeling caged in. No one was making any sense! What did she mean—“now this”?

  “Do you think Holly’s using her homework as an excuse?” Kayla said.

  Andie was silent.

  Paula cut in. “I don’t think she would do that. But then, Andie knows her better than we do.”

  “Does anyone know what’s going on with Holly Meredith this year?” Kayla asked. “She’s certainly not herself, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah,” Andie was finally talking. “I hate to say it, but I think she’s jealous about the election thing. To tell you the truth, I think she’s ticked beca
use she isn’t running for student council herself.”

  I despised what I was hearing and wanted to shout, “You’re wrong—all of you!” but I remained silent, hoping the three of them would leave. The sooner, the better.

  Angrily I stared at the graffiti scribbled on the door in front of my eyes, wishing I could block the sound of senseless chatter from my friends.

  When Andie and the twins finally left, I reached for the latch. It was jammed!

  “Hey, let me out!” I called.

  There were snickers, unrecognizable ones. Then a scurry to the door, and silence.

  I leaped up on the toilet seat and looked out over the door. No one was around. A message in red lipstick danced across the mirror. Freshman Frenzy!

  I groaned and had to crawl out of the stall on my hands and knees. Quickly, I brushed myself off and washed my hands. Checking my hair, I realized that the perm was weakening a bit—getting more manageable every day. In fact, I was sure that by tomorrow I could wear my hair down instead of covering it with a baseball cap. Thank goodness for small miracles!

  I knew the bell for second hour was about to ring, so I hurried to get myself together emotionally. Could I manage my second-period class—choir—without breaking down again? I cleared my throat and tried to hum as I pushed the door open and raced to my locker. Who could sing at a time like this?

  I ran all the way up the stairs to the choir room, and just as I was rounding the corner, I spied Marcia Greene walking alongside Tina Frazer and her dog, Taffy.

  “Marcia, Tina . . . hey!” I called.

  “It’s Holly,” Tina said, smiling.

  “How’d you know?” I said.

  Tina laughed. “I depend on my hearing to identify people. That . . . and smells.”

  “Well, then, it’s a good thing I showered this morning,” I teased.

  Marcia seemed happy to see me. But Tina was the one doing the talking. “Are you headed for choir?” Tina asked.

  “Sure am.” Glancing at Marcia, I volunteered to take Tina to choir.

  Marcia smiled pleasantly. “That’d be great, Holly. Thanks.” I held my right arm out for Tina, the way I’d seen Marcia do. Tina wove her left arm into mine and we headed down the hall. “How’s school so far?” I asked.