Crying, I began to pray. “Oh, Lord, what’s wrong with me? Is Mom right? Am I the one who made things go all wrong with Andie?” I sobbed into my pillow. “Please help me. I feel so sad. My best friend just turned her back on me. She didn’t even argue with me at the end. What does it mean, Lord?”
I fell asleep with Goofey beside me.
Around midnight, I realized Mom had come in and tried to tuck me in. There was only one problem with that, and it had nothing to do with falling asleep without my pajamas. Far worse—I hadn’t finished my homework.
Drowsy, but awake enough to know it was now or never, I dragged myself out of bed. Not being a morning person would spell disaster for a foggy thinker if I left it until 6:00 A.M.!
So I began, working my algebra problems and then conjugating French verbs till nearly one o’clock. The fact that I’d already slept for several hours actually helped expedite things mentally, and by the time I was satisfied with my work, I was more than wide awake.
Reaching for my Marty Leigh mystery book, I stayed up for another thirty minutes, once again relishing the idea of being awake while the entire household snoozed away.
A week ago I’d done the same thing. Stayed up till the wee hours. Thank goodness my hair disaster was nearly over. I could cross off the frizzies on my list of prayer requests. And maybe, just maybe, Mom would agree to let me get my hair cut professionally, with layers to frame my face. What a great look that would be. Besides, I was honestly tired of long hair—it is too immature-looking for a freshman in high school!
Just before I turned out the lights, I undid my French braid, surveying the situation. Yep. This weekend I would make an appointment at the beauty salon and see what could be done. Meanwhile, a good shampoo, a gentle blow-dry, and the hot styling brush was all I would need to create a glamorous high-school look for tomorrow. As glamorous as any freshman who’d ever darkened the halls of Dressel Hills High.
With that thought, I sprang into bed.
FRESHMAN FRENZY
Chapter 18
I couldn’t remember ever getting the kind of stares I got while walking to my locker the next day. Even Mr. Irving complimented me on my hair as I strolled into homeroom. Even so, I still wanted to get a shorter, layered cut.
Between classes, the halls buzzed with kids campaigning for each other. I, however, steered clear of Andie and her throng, which, surprisingly enough, now included Jared and Amy-Liz. I figured they’d be quite a clique if all of them got elected to student council.
To keep my mind off the sting in my heart, I busied myself with other things. Like taking good notes in all my classes and listening carefully to Jeff Kinney’s campaign promises.
He strolled up to me unexpectedly during lunch period. Actually, it was before I even went to lunch. I was rummaging around in my locker when he stopped by, more friendly than ever. “Hey, Holly. How’s it going?” His eyes scanned my hair.
“Okay.” I smiled, glad to have my hair down again and feeling like a zillion bucks—hair-wise. “Hey, sounds like you’ve got some great plans for the year.”
“Yeah, all the soda you can drink on Fridays.” His eyes held my gaze only for a moment, then awkwardly shifted away.
“That’s a lot,” I said, questioning him. “Who’s paying for it?”
He turned squirmy on me and said he had to meet someone for lunch. “Don’t forget—don’t be a ninny . . .”
And he was off. Voting for Jeff Kinney was probably the dumbest thing a freshman could ever do. I was convinced the kid had no substance. Probably no access to lots of soda, either. I don’t know why that occurred to me, but I had a strange feeling about his shifty eyes.
I decided to do some checking, starting with Mark Jones, Jeff’s main sidekick. I waited at his locker.
“Hey,” Mark said enthusiastically when he spotted me. “Your hair looks great.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re going to vote for Jeff, right?” He flicked through his combination and opened his locker.
“Haven’t decided,” I said.
He turned and looked at me. “Well, you’re not one of those bottled-water-only girls, are you?”
I laughed. “Not me, I love a good root beer.”
“So what’s the problem?” He folded his arms across his chest, moving closer. Uncomfortably close.
I realized then that he was flirting. I stepped back.
“I’m thinking of having a party next weekend and wondered if Jeff might be able to get me a deal on some soda.” This wasn’t a lie at all; I had seriously thought of throwing a party. A two-person party. For Tina and me.
Mark shook his head. “Out of the question. Jeff’s dad is on company business.”
“Oh,” I said, picking up on something else. Something quite strange. Not only was Jeff Kinney unable to make eye contact and keep it, his best friend seemed to be having the same problem.
“Well, catch you later,” he said.
I hurried to the cafeteria and got in the hot-lunch line. While waiting for a patty melt, I spotted Tina sitting back near the windows—the section designated by the seniors as their turf. I wondered if Tina knew she was trespassing. But then I remembered Taffy accompanied her everywhere. No way would Zye Greene or any other senior mess with a guide dog.
I paid for my lunch and headed toward Tina, passing right by Andie, who sat chattering at a table with the Miller twins, Jared, and Amy-Liz. None of them seemed to notice. And I refused to care.
Cautiously, I approached the blind girl’s table. “Hey, Tina,” I said, holding my tray. “Mind if I join you?”
“Oh, Holly, it’s you.” She slid over. “Of course, have a seat.”
I glanced down at Taffy, who was snoozing. “Your dog’s having a nice nap.”
“I could use one myself,” she said. There was that charming laughter again. “Of course, no one would ever have to know, right? If I didn’t close my eyes, I mean.”
“That’s an advantage to being blind, I suppose.” I hoped my comment didn’t sound too ridiculous.
Leaning back against the chair, I enjoyed the sun on my back. I was trying too hard—needed to be myself. But more than anything, I needed a friend.
“There are many benefits to being blind,” Tina said, catching me off guard. “Most people wouldn’t believe it, but I can actually hear better than a sighted person.”
“Really? I thought your keen sense of hearing must have come from having to compensate for not seeing.” I’d read that somewhere.
“Well, it definitely came in handy today.” She leaned toward me. “I can give you some handy information. That is, if you’re interested in not voting for Jeff Kinney.”
Now I was curious. “Like what?”
Tina’s face burst into an enormous grin. “Jeff’s father is not a soda dealer, not even close.”
“You’re kidding!”
“He’s a doctor,” she stated.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” She was still smiling. “Like I said, my hearing is one of my keenest senses.”
I couldn’t help myself. I danced in my seat. “This is too good to be true.”
“So . . . who’s going to start spreading the truth about him?” she asked.
“I, for one.” Then I caught myself. Why was I so happy? Andie’s election could possibly rest on whether or not I spread the word. If I really wanted to hurt her—get back at her—I’d keep Tina’s secret to myself. Let Jeff win the vote.
Silence sliced the air.
“Something wrong, Holly?”
This girl was amazing. “Do you have a sixth sense or something?’ I stared at her.
“Some people say that, but . . .” She paused for a moment. “Well, it’s a long story. I wrote about it once. You’re a writer, too, aren’t you?”
“Marcia told you?”
She nodded. “But there’s something she didn’t tell me,” Tina said.
Even though I knew Tina couldn’t see me with
her eyes, I felt as though she could see into my heart somehow. “What?” I managed to say. “What didn’t Marcia tell you?”
Her words came softly. “That you need a friend.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “That’s not all,” I said, feeling more confident. “I’ve decided to be your student aide. Part-time, full-time . . . whatever. I’ll be at your beck and call.”
“Who needs an aide?” Tina joked. “But if you want to hang with me, that’ll be cool.”
She was the cool one!
FRESHMAN FRENZY
Chapter 19
On the way to the principal’s office, Andie and the Miller twins bumped into us. Well, not really collided or anything, but they noticed me walking with Tina. And they were scowling!
Andie and company were polite enough not to say anything rude, but if looks are the unspoken expression of the soul, I knew exactly what they were thinking.
“Hey, everyone,” I said, remembering how Andie had hung up on me last night. Her eyes grew bigger with each step Tina and I took together. She was staring at Tina!
“Uh . . . hey yourself,” Andie answered, and I noticed her braces. She must have gotten them yesterday and never told me. Andie fumbled in her backpack, probably an excuse so she wouldn’t have to look at me.
Paula started to come over, but Kayla grabbed her arm and pulled her back, and the group abruptly turned and walked away. Instantly, I felt sad for Tina. Glad too. Glad that Tina hadn’t seen what I’d just witnessed. She was right; there were advantages to being blind.
Tina whispered, “Aren’t you going to tell your friends about Jeff’s dad being a doctor . . . not a soda-pop guy? How about that false campaign promise?”
“Later,” I said. But in my heart, I wasn’t so sure.
Not anymore.
After my visit with the principal, I got Tina and Taffy settled into pre-algebra class. Then, with a note in hand signed by the principal to inform my teachers of my new status as student aide, I hurried off to fifth period.
Mr. Irving stood behind his desk and greeted me in French as I came in. Quickly, I gave an appropriate response, thankful that I’d conjugated those verbs late last night.
He scanned the note I handed to him from the principal. “What a terrific thing to do, Holly,” he said. I knew by the tone of his voice he meant it.
Unfortunately, my former friends, namely Andie, Paula, and Kayla, didn’t seem to think my becoming an aide for a blind student was so terrific. I mean, as close as Andie and I had been for all our growing-up years, I never dreamed she’d behave this way. Oh, it wasn’t an overt sort of thing. She wasn’t coming up and saying nasty things to my face. No, Andie was more subtle about prejudice.
Prejudice?
I froze. Was that what this was about?
After class I stuffed my school books, as well as my library books on personality types, into my locker while Tina waited patiently for me. Being Hispanic, Andie knew full well the pain of prejudice. It had been fresh on her mind two days ago—the day we watched Ryan Davis, the biggest racist jerk around—from the cafeteria window. Had she forgotten so soon?
My brain clicked off the events of the day. On the one hand, I was leaning toward telling Andie—all the freshmen— the truth about Jeff’s father. Jeff Kinney’s campaign promise was bogus—there would never be any free soda. It was Jeff’s attempt to bribe his way onto student council.
Was it fair to let him get by with lying? Besides, what kind of class president would Jeff make if he based his votes on deceit?
On the other hand, the truth could set Andie on the winning track, sail her right through to the victory she longed for. Still, part of me insisted on holding back the secret.
Justice!
FRESHMAN FRENZY
Chapter 20
I kept the news about Jeff’s lie quiet through Saturday, which was the fabulous day I finally got the kind of haircut I now really wanted. And at an upscale salon this time!
I kept the secret about Jeff and his “soda promise” through most of the whole next week, too.
Things went fairly smoothly. Class quizzes, homework—stuff like that. Tina, however, was the one bump in the road. She kept bringing it up—the “pop” secret. Had I told anyone yet?
Every day she asked me, until I finally set her straight. We were sitting on the school steps waiting for her ride the following Wednesday, the day before campaign speeches were scheduled.
“Why haven’t you told anyone?” Tina asked. She sounded fed up. With me. “Andie deserves to know the truth.”
“I’m not having this conversation,” I said.
Tina’s eyelids fluttered. “Why not? What are you waiting for?”
“I have my reasons.”
She gasped. “I can’t believe you’d let revenge get in the way, Holly. What kind of friend are you?”
I felt like she’d punched me in the stomach. “What?” I whispered.
“You’re a Christian, right?”
I wasn’t dumb enough to ask how she knew. Christians are supposed to be obvious—stick out in the world. I groaned. “Guess I’m not a very good one.”
She was silent. “Well, it’s never easy.”
I jerked my head to look at her. How did she know, unless . . . “You’re a Christian, too.”
She smiled. “Since I was nine.”
“Wow.” I leaned my elbows on my books, thrilled with this news. “So that makes us sisters—in the family of God.”
“You’re right.” Tina seemed pleased to hear me describe the two of us as family.
A Ford minivan pulled up to the curb. “I’ll call you later, okay?” I held out my arm.
Tina held on to me as we walked down the steps. Before she got in the van, she introduced me to her mother. “Mom, this is Holly Meredith, my new friend. And Holly,” Tina continued, turning to me, “this is my mother, Judith Frazer.”
“Hello, Holly.” The well-groomed, middle-aged woman smiled. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Nice meeting you, too,” I said.
I observed the gentle way Tina’s mom treated Tina and Taffy. “Well, are we ready to go?” she asked.
I closed the van door, lingering for a moment. Tina’s window slid down. “Don’t study too hard,” she said.
“Look who’s talking.”
“Bye, Holly,” she called as the van pulled away.
I stood there for the longest time, staring after them. Tina had somehow known that I was getting even with Andie by keeping Jeff’s secret about the soda. But how? This baffled me totally.
I headed back inside to get my books out of my locker, dragging my feet as I went. The past few days had been rough—I’d stayed up too late doing homework. The lack of sleep was catching up with me.
As I rounded the corner to go to my locker, I stumbled into someone. Looking up, I saw that it was Andie. She was alone— without her usual twin attendants.
“Oh, sorry.” I stepped back. “Didn’t see you.”
“No, it’s my fault,” she insisted. The light from outside flashed off her new braces.
I turned to go just as I saw Ryan Davis coming toward us. His hands were behind his back and there was a peculiar glint in his eye. “Hey, girls,” he called to us.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I sensed something. Impending danger?
Instinct, my mom called it. “Always pay attention to that sensation,” she’d warned.
I should’ve run for it when I had the chance.
Ryan whistled, and out of nowhere came three other guys, all upperclassmen, including Zye Greene. They grabbed me by the arms.
Zye picked up Andie and swung her over his shoulder. “Freshman frenzy!” he hollered gleefully.
“No! No!” Andie yelled. “Put me down!”
“Let me go!” I screamed as they pulled me out the front doors and down the long cement steps toward the flagpole.
“Cute freshmen don’t get by without initiation as long as
I’m around,” Ryan Davis said in my ear.
I wanted to slap him. I pushed and shoved, trying to get free. But I was powerless against the two guys who began tying me to the flagpole.
I could feel them tying Andie up, too.
“You’ll be sorry!” she yelled as the boys worked the knots and made them tight. Too tight.
When the deed was done, the despicable upperclassmen fled. I groaned. Here we were, stuck in front of the high school, our arms tied behind a flagpole with clothesline. Holly and Andie—former best friends—tied up together in the worst initiation stunt so far.
“Can you wiggle your hands?” I strained my neck, trying to see Andie behind me.
“Barely,” she muttered.
“They must’ve learned some super-holding boy-scout knots or something,” I wailed.
“You’re right.” She was kicking and thrashing around as though her life depended on it.
I heard the city bus blow out puffs of exhaust as it made the turn away from the school. “There goes my ride!”
Andie moaned. “Mine too. That’s why I was rushing and nearly ran into you before.” Her voice cracked with desperation. “This is humiliating . . . and disgusting.”
“And the worst of it is, tomorrow’s the day we cast our votes for student council.”
“What?” She began to laugh. That mid-range laugh with an eerie staccato bounce. “Here we are, tied to a flagpole, and you’re talking about ballot boxes? C’mon, Holly, you’ve got to be kidding.”
I thought about what she’d just said. About other things, too. The way she’d booted me out of her cozy campaign hoopla. The frivolous phone comments she’d made over the past week—and hanging up on me.
“We’re not very good friends anymore, are we?” I said.
“Well, it’s not my fault.”
“Look, Andie. I’m not pointing fingers. It’s just that . . . well, we used to share our secrets. All of them.”
“Secrets are childish,” she said. “Face it, we’re growing up, past the stage of Loyalty Papers and best friends and all that dumb stuff. It’s better to have lots of friends; at least for me it is.”
Holly's Heart Collection Three Page 8