Holly's Heart Collection Three

by Beverly Lewis

  All that dumb stuff . . .

  Her words stung me. What Andie was saying fit right into what Mom had told me about extroverts. When they grew up, they required lots of friends. Not just one.

  I stuck my neck out and came close to confiding in her. “I’m trying to branch out, make new friends,” I managed to say. “But it’s not as easy for people like me.”

  “Are we talking about Tina now?” She sounded more hesitant than brash.

  “Blind isn’t bad, you know.”

  “Who said it was?”

  “Well, the way you and the Miller twins acted,” I said, not really wanting to bring it up. “I was actually glad Tina couldn’t see the three of you.”

  Andie sighed. “You probably won’t believe this, but I really felt lousy about it later. I mean, it hasn’t been so long ago— remember last summer and the lowdown comments Ryan Davis made about me? I know how it feels to be treated poorly when you’re . . . uh . . . different.”

  She was backpedaling. “Forgive me, Holly?” she said.

  “Always.” And I meant it.

  Suddenly Andie began to cry. Soft, whimpering sounds. “My hands feel really numb,” she said. “I’m scared we’re going to be stuck here all night.”

  “Maybe we should stop trying to loosen the cord. Maybe the guys made knots that get tighter when you struggle.” I wiggled my fingers. “I’m not sure, but I think my fingers are tingling. They feel really weird.”

  “Oh, Holly,” Andie cried, “what if the blood circulation goes out of our hands? What if our hands have to be amputated?”

  “There goes my writing career,” I moaned, joining her in the drama.

  “And what about me? I’m the accompanist for show choir this year.”

  “C’mon, Andie. Get a grip. We have to relax.” I felt overwhelmed. “Maybe if we yell, the janitor or the principal will hear us.”

  “Good idea.” And she started hollering at the top of her lungs. So did I.

  I’d never seen Andie so freaked. Usually she was the calm one under stress.

  When we were exhausted from yelling, I suggested that we pray. “I’ll start.”

  Andie agreed. “Why didn’t we think of this first?”

  “Dear Lord,” I began, “please send someone to help us so we won’t have to spend the night out here.”

  “Amen to someone finding us,” she prayed.

  We quieted down somewhat, although Andie was still moaning. At last I began to talk. “I’ve been holding out on you about something, Andie. I need to tell you the truth about Jeff Kinney.’

  “What truth?”

  There was no way out now. I had to tell her. Maybe this initiation was supposed to happen to us. Maybe we were supposed to get strung up to the flagpole.

  Together.

  FRESHMAN FRENZY

  Chapter 21

  “So are you going to tell me or not?” Andie demanded.

  I struggled with my fabulous secret.

  “Holly?”

  “All right, I’ll tell you,” I said. “Tina overheard something last week.” I paused, thinking how this moment could possibly change the course of the entire school year. Possibly the course of Andie’s and my future relationship. “Tina heard Mark Jones telling some girl about Jeff’s dad,” I continued.

  “Whoa! Slow down,” Andie insisted. “I don’t get what you’re saying.”

  I repeated the circumstances again. Slowly. Then I revealed the truth. “Jeff’s dad is not a soda-pop dealer.”

  “Huh?”

  “His dad is a doctor, for pete’s sake.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I mean, if he’s a doctor, he’s not a pop dealer.”

  She fidgeted. “What if he’s both?”

  I hadn’t thought of that. “I think we should call Mr. Kinney and check things out.”

  “Tonight?” she said, out of breath.

  “As soon as someone frees us from this flagpole nightmare.’

  She yelled some more. Louder this time.

  “Let’s yell ‘fire,’” I suggested. “People pay attention to that.”

  “Hey, you’re right.”

  So we yelled “Fire! Fire!” until we were hoarse.

  Finally Mr. Crane and two other teachers poked their heads out a window. “Where’s the fire?” the principal called to us. He was serious.

  “Right here,” Andie shouted. “I’ve got rope burns on my wrists.” Andie was in rare form.

  After the principal left the window, I said to Andie, “Looks like we survived part of freshman initiation, or whatever Zye Greene called it.”

  “Freshman frenzy,” Andie grunted.

  “Well, if this is all there is to it—”

  “Don’t be too sure,” Andie scoffed. “Knowing Zye and Ryan, there’s probably more to come.”

  “I hope not. I’ve had my share.”

  Mr. Crane came with a scissors and cut us free. “Are you girls all right?” He looked concerned. “Who did this to you?”

  “We’d better not say,” Andie spoke up. “Seniors hate freshmen, you know.”

  “Thanks for rescuing us,” I said. “We were getting worried there for a while.”

  “I can see that,” he said, eyeing Andie’s wrists. “You’d better soak your wrists in Epsom salts when you get home.”

  She nodded. “We need to make a phone call first.”

  “That’s fine. Follow me.” And the two of us hurried into the building and gathered up Andie’s books and things, which were still strewn around the hallway.

  I borrowed the office phone book and located the number for Jeff Kinney’s father. Sure enough—Edward Kinney, MD.

  Andie was still rubbing her wrists when I dialed the phone. “What’re you going to say?” she whispered.

  “Just listen to the pro.”

  The receptionist sounded pleasant enough. “Doctor Kinney’s office.”

  “Hello, I’m a friend of Jeff Kinney,” I said. “Is this his father’s office?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I was wondering if I could check on something.”

  “Certainly. How may I help you?”

  I took a deep breath, hoping this wouldn’t sound too ridiculous. “Jeff’s telling everyone at school that his dad’s a soda dealer, but you just said this is a doctor’s office.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then are you saying Dr. Kinney won’t be bringing free soft drinks to school every Friday for the rest of the school year?”

  The receptionist began to laugh. “Well, I think I’d be one of the first to know about it, since I’m Dr. Kinney’s wife—Jeff’s mom.”

  I explained about the campaign promises. “I guess Jeff really wants to be class president this year.”

  “Class president?” she echoed.

  “Didn’t you know?”

  She wasn’t laughing now. “I will definitely talk to Jeff tonight. And what did you say your name was, hon?”

  “I didn’t say.” And I hung up.

  Andie was about to burst. “You’re too cool, Holly. Wait’ll I tell everyone about this.”

  “Hey, you’ll win tomorrow—no problem.” Part of me still missed the old Andie. The old us. But most of all, I missed the secret. The secret that might’ve saved us—kept Andie all for myself. Kept her from being linked up with the student council clique.

  Andie beamed. “How can I ever thank you?” I thought she was going to hug me, but she didn’t. Her smile said it all. “Well, we better get going. It’s a long walk home.”

  We walked together for three blocks. Andie did most of the talking. She was wired about the prospect of her position on the student council.

  Me? I was having a hard time not dwelling on the past. Our past—Andie’s and mine. But Mom’s words echoed in my brain. “Sometimes people drift apart during high school . . .”

  “So, where do you see yourself in ten years?” I asked.

  She didn’t waste a s
econd responding. “Hopefully, married to a terrific Christian guy. Someone who wants a big family.”

  I should’ve known. “And what about all the experience you’ll get on the student council? How will that fit into your life?”

  “Hey, I didn’t agree to an interview yet. Wait till I get voted in.” She giggled gleefully. “Oh . . . about student council. I’ll definitely use my experience later in life. I want lots of kids, remember? And right here in Dressel Hills.”

  I nodded.

  Andie continued. “Being class president means you have to learn to delegate power—you know, assign jobs. My high-school experience will fit right in with my future; you can bet on that.”

  I smiled. Andie was so sure of herself. I liked that.

  “What about friends? When you get super popular, will you remember who your first friends were?”

  Andie grabbed my arm. “I’ll never forget you, Holly. Never.”

  I grinned. “Just remember who got you elected freshman class president.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said as we headed in different directions. I hoped it was just a short parting of the ways. Maybe, in time, we’d have our close bond again. Maybe not. Either way, I had fabulous memories . . . and hope for the future. And a widening circle of friends. Sort of.

  After supper I made at least twenty phone calls, getting the word out about Jeff Kinney—and no free soda! Everyone I talked to promised to vote for Andie.

  Later, I called Tina. “Got any plans this weekend?”

  “Not really. Why?”

  “How would you like to have supper at my house Friday?”

  “I’d love to,” she said. “But let me ask Mom first.”

  When she came back, she said it was fine.

  “Great. Maybe we can write some poetry together,” I suggested.

  “Or we could read some of our stories to each other,” she said, referring to her Braille machine.

  “Good idea.” Tina didn’t know I had zillions of notebooks full of stories and poems and things. Thoughts about life, generally and specifically. Shoot, this girl probably didn’t know what she was getting herself into.

  “I heard you got initiated today,” she said.

  “So did Andie. We were tied to the flagpole.”

  “Together?”

  “It was bizarre at first, but then she and I started talking. We talked a lot. And I told her about Jeff.”

  “It’s about time.”

  “I know.” I felt ashamed again.

  “Glad you did, Holly. I was praying for you.”

  I wasn’t used to hearing that a friend was praying. Well, except for Danny Myers.

  “I’d better get going,” Tina said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “No, you won’t,” I teased. “You’ll smell me tomorrow. Better watch out—I might be wearing different perfume.”

  “Hey, you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” With that, we burst into giggles and hung up.

  After my homework was done, I made two very cool posters to wave during tomorrow’s assembly. One for Tina, and one for me.

  FRESHMAN FRENZY

  Chapter 22

  The next morning while I waited for Carrie to get out of the bathroom—she was taking longer than ever these days—I wrote in my journal.

  Thursday, September 19: Today Andie gives her campaign speech. She’s first, then Jeff Kinney. I can’t wait to see what he does when I hold up my poster. It says: No Friday Pop—Jeff’s Pop’s a Doc!

  Everyone knows by now that Jeff lied about having free soda at school. Thanks to all the phone calls Andie and I made last night. The way I see it, she’s destined for class president. Jared and Amy-Liz will probably make it, too. They’ve been campaigning like crazy. And Billy’s going to be a great class treasurer if he gets elected.

  Sometimes I wish I had run for office. But then I think about Tina. When it comes right down to it, I know I’d rather be helping her than getting frazzled over school politics and stuff. Besides, I really like her.

  After “losing” Andie to the student council thing, I never dreamed my heart could accept someone new as a close friend . . . and so fast. Yesterday Andie said she’d never forget me. Well, I won’t hold her to it, because I can see her changing. And with change comes the growing apart process—the toughest part of all. Maybe I shouldn’t blame it on Andie. Maybe I’m changing, too. . . .

  After a bunch of homeroom preliminaries, we headed to the assembly. I sat with Tina, one row behind Billy Hill and his fans. Tina got her guide dog situated directly under her seat for the half-hour session.

  “I’ll tell you when to hold up your poster,” I said.

  Her face shone. “This is so exciting!”

  “I know.” But I had a fleeting thought—a lonely, sentimental feeling—floating around in my brain. And when I scanned the audience for Andie, I noticed she was sitting in the front row with Amy-Liz and Jared. Any other time I would’ve been there beside her. Encouraging her. Saying all the right words.

  I refused to think about what used to be and turned my attention to Tina. Something intrigued me about her. Maybe it was her positive, upbeat approach to life. She was blind, yet she seemed so happy.

  Just then Mr. Crane was onstage, standing at the podium. The students got quiet. Anticipation, like electricity, crackled in the air. “We have student business to conduct today.” The crowd broke into wild applause.

  When things settled down again, the principal continued with his introductions.

  At last Andie stood in front of us. She wore her new outfit. I listened intently to her opening remarks. Honestly, I couldn’t remember ever seeing her in a position of leadership like this. I wracked my brain trying to recall a time . . .

  Then I heard my name!

  “At this time, I would like to thank Holly Meredith for her support and encouragement. Tina Frazer was a great help, too. Several sophomore friends of mine, including Paula and Kayla Miller, were responsible for running my campaign. . . .”

  The fact that she’d mentioned my name—and first, before the twins—soothed my sore heart.

  “I will not make promises that I cannot keep,” Andie was saying. “The thing I will do, however, is lead my class to the best of my ability. And with your help—each of you in this room—I will represent your needs, listen to your problems, and do my best to come up with solutions. Thank you for your vote of confidence—I’ll see you at the polls!”

  Wow, I was impressed. Andie’s speech didn’t sound anything like what the Miller twins might’ve written. And the more I thought about it, I knew Andie hadn’t written it, either.

  “Great speech,” I said to Tina, who was also on her feet clapping.

  “Not bad for a first timer?” she said, a strange smile on her face.

  I had no idea what she meant. “First timer?”

  “Your friend called me last night and offered me ten bucks to write her speech,” Tina said. “It was easier than I thought.”

  “Andie hired you to write it?” I shouldn’t have been surprised. Andie was unpredictable. That part of her hadn’t changed one bit.

  Andie walked down the steps, heading confidently toward her seat. Just once, I wished she’d glance up and see me clapping for her, cheering for her. . . .

  We took our seats and waited to hear Jeff Kinney’s speech. I couldn’t imagine that he hadn’t heard what we’d been spreading around about him. Bottom line: He was not an honest guy.

  “Hold up your poster,” I whispered to Tina.

  Lots of other students were waving gimmicky posters as Jeff Kinney approached the stage, shuffling his papers.

  The auditorium was still. Jeff stood at the podium and coughed. I felt embarrassed for him, wondering what he could possibly say to save face. “Fellow classmates, teachers, and Mr. Crane,” he began.

  Oh, brother, he’s pouring it on, I thought.

  “Today I stand before you to stand behind you, to tell you something I know nothing about.”
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  Snickering rippled through the audience.

  “Now . . . to get things straight right from here on out,” he continued, “my dad’s not going to be able to supply free soda on Fridays as previously promised. He will, however, offer free flu shots to any student this winter. Thanks for your support.”

  By now, Jeff’s face had turned a bright red. And as he made his way off the stage, only a few of his close friends applauded. It was an awkward moment for everyone, and I touched Tina’s elbow and told her to put her poster away.

  We listened to the other candidates’ speeches, and at the end I decided that Andie’s was best. “It was perfect,” I told Tina. “You wrote a fabulous campaign speech.”

  “Thanks,” she said, leaning over to whisper to her guide dog. I carried both the posters as we headed up the aisle, toward the hallway doors.

  During lunch, Tina and I went to study hall, where the ballot boxes were set up. I helped her find the square she wanted to check. When she was finished, I waited for her to fold her ballot. Carefully, she felt for the opening on the ballot box and dropped the paper in.

  I had an email message from Sean when I arrived home. I couldn’t wait to read it.

  Hey, Holly,

  Well, how do you feel about writing to a bald guy?

  Seriously, I did it. I shaved my head! Most all the guys in Mr. Fremont’s class did, too. It’s weird what some people will do to encourage a friend.

  I thought about Sean’s words. And I thought about Andie. I hadn’t shaved my head or anything drastic, but I had done something. Something to assure her a desired goal.

  Mom had said flexibility was a big part of growing up. Was that happening? Was I growing up?

  I stared at the computer screen. Sean was a perfect example of true maturity. I couldn’t wait to write him back, so I clicked on Reply and began typing away.

  FRESHMAN FRENZY

  Chapter 23

  The next morning Mr. Crane’s voice came over the intercom with election results. “Andrea Martinez has been voted in as president of the freshman class, Jared Wilkins was elected vice president, Amy-Liz Thompson will be the new secretary for the class, and Billy Hill is the treasurer. Congratulations to each of these fine students.”