Holly's Heart Collection Three

by Beverly Lewis

  I glanced around, embarrassed. “That’s none of your business.’ Whew, it sure seemed like I was saying or thinking those words a lot these days.

  Phil must’ve picked up on my aggravated state. He dropped the subject of my reveries and opened my algebra book. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

  “Oh, puh-leeze, can we just cut the intellectual jazz and talk like normal human beings?”

  “Normal? According to whom?”

  I shook my head. This was hopeless. “Just explain the stupid homework.”

  He explained it twice. Then a third time. “Do you get it now?”

  “I think so.”

  “Okay, do the problem,” he said. “I’ll watch.”

  I worked the problem, slowly . . . carefully.

  Then he checked it. “Almost,” he said.

  “Are you kidding? It’s still not right?”

  Patiently, he showed me that I’d added instead of multiplying one of the sets of numbers.

  I gripped my pencil. “Do you think I’ll ever get this stuff?”

  Again, Phil pushed up his glasses. This time, without commenting . . . and we started over on another problem.

  That’s how things went on Tuesday afternoon. Along about an hour into an exasperating tutoring session, Andie had the gall to show up all smiles. With Billy, no less.

  “Hey.” She came up and hugged me like she hadn’t seen me all day. “How are you?”

  “Okay.” No way was I going to elaborate. If she’d had any brights at all, she could’ve sniffed out the tension between Phil and me.

  Instead, Andie surveyed Phil, then the scraps of crumpled-up papers where I’d tried—and failed—to finish the problems. “Oh, I get it. You two are working here,” she remarked.

  “It’s a tutoring session,” Phil said.

  “I see . . .” Andie was carrying on like she’d had no idea we’d be here. Like this had been some chance meeting. I despised the charade.

  Phil spoke up. “We’re really very busy now, so if you’ll—”

  “Assertive little soul.” Andie grinned at Phil. “Spunky too.”

  For a second I thought she was going to rumple his hair. “Uh, Andie, can we talk later, maybe?” Truth was, I never wanted to talk to her again. Not the way she was pulling this ridiculous stunt. She knew Phil and I were going to be studying here. She knew. Why was she acting like this?

  Andie turned to Billy. “I guess they’re tied up,” she said. “But you could give her a call later. Okay with you, Holly?”

  A call? About what? About whatever it was that Billy wanted to talk to me about at the Soda Straw?

  I looked at Billy. “Was this your idea?”

  He shook his head back and forth. “Well, kinda . . . I guess.”

  “So in other words, no. Right?” I glared at Andie.

  “Shh!” a group of students shushed us. Then the librarian came stalking over.

  Phil sized up the situation. “Better beat it,” he said to Andie and Billy.

  “We’ll be quiet,” Andie whispered to the librarian when she motioned for her and Billy to skedaddle. Andie pulled out a chair and Billy followed suit. She pulled the algebra book her way, and when I grabbed it to intercept, she clutched it with all her might. “Let me just see it,” she demanded through clenched teeth. “Billy knows this stuff. He can help Holly understand . . .”

  Phil seized the book, too. “Excuse me? This is my responsibility.’

  Andie looked at Billy, as though giving him the cue to jump in. She waited, looking as if she might blow up. Billy, on the other hand, said nothing.

  Then it hit me. I knew why she’d come. Billy was just supposed to waltz in here with her and take charge—show me he could tutor me just as well as, if not better than, Phil. Andie, in her delusional state, hoped that Billy and I would hit it off as tutor and student . . . then discover we liked each other. Maybe a lot. Of course that’s what she’d planned. I would bet my cat on it!

  Andie held on to the book for dear life. “Philip Patterson, did anyone ever tell you you’re a nerdy kid?”

  Phil wasn’t going to let academic slurs stop him. “If the textbook splits, you’ll have to purchase a new one,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  “That’s the least of my worries,” she hissed.

  Suddenly Phil let go.

  The book—along with Andie—went flying, knocking down one of the chairs and a stack of library books behind her. “What a little brat,” she said, getting up.

  I’d had it. “You . . . you are despicable!” I’d never meant something so much in my life. “How dare you talk to my . . . my . . .” For a second I didn’t know what to call him.

  But I recovered quickly. “Phil’s not only my brousin; he’s my friend. Now go, before I kick you out.”

  Phil’s eyes nearly popped out. I’d defended him—to his face!

  Andie glared, and Billy seemed a little disoriented. He’d never heard such words fly from my sweet lips. In fact, if I could have, I would’ve dreamed up a far-flung future for myself right now. Away from Dressel Hills, Colorado. And Andie, too.

  MYSTERY LETTERS

  Chapter 16

  As if things weren’t already bad enough, they instantly got worse. Andie flew out of the library. Billy, however, stayed seated and calmly surveyed the stormy situation.

  Until . . . in walked Paula Miller. Talk about awkward. This was it.

  My hunch was she would ignore us, pretend she hadn’t seen Billy sitting across the study table from me.

  But I was wrong.

  She came right over, “Well, hello,” she said, taking Billy into consideration as she spoke.

  I was speechless. Billy wasn’t. For pretty much the first time since he’d walked into the library, he spoke. “Have a seat.”

  Paula pulled out a chair next to me. Her perfume was sweet, like she’d just sprayed it on. “What’s everyone studying?” she asked.

  Phil took the opportunity to take her small talk literally and began rehashing my algebra homework. He continued while I glanced nervously at Billy, who seemed to be taking the situation in stride.

  Paula, however, was sending me signals with her eyes, as well as poking me under the table. It seemed like she was tapping out a code of some kind on my knee. Something like: You promised. You promised. . . . Of course I couldn’t be sure, but it certainly seemed to fit the rhythm of the words.

  When Phil finished his spiel, Billy seemed convinced that my brousin was the best tutor for me. Paula, however, didn’t show any interest in that. She was seething, but her face never showed it.

  “I think it’s time we head home,” I said, making the first move to call this nightmare meeting adjourned. Phil started gathering up the papers. And while he went to dump the balls of wadded paper in the trash, I said good-bye to Billy, who was in an obvious rush to get going.

  Paula and I stood there for a moment, waiting until Billy disappeared down the stairs and out the front door. Then she cut loose. “I thought we had a, well, an understanding.”

  “We do, or rather . . . we did.”

  “Then why are you and Billy here—together?”

  “I’d hate for you to think I’m making this up as I go, but I had nothing to do with Billy showing up. Just ask Andie.”

  “Andie?”

  Phil came back and picked up the algebra book. “Ready?”

  “Almost,” I said. “Meet me out front.” I turned to Paula. “Andie’s having some trouble sorting out reality—”

  “Why is it,” Paula interrupted, “that you constantly blame Andie for your own errors?”

  I noticed the librarian creeping up, so we scurried to the door. Once outside, it wasn’t as easy to talk. Phil was waiting.

  “I’ll call you later, okay?” I offered.

  “That won’t change the fact that your word is definitely mud.” Paula walked away, holding her head high. I hadn’t seen her so perturbed since our earliest feuding days.

  “Well,”
I said to Phil, “I guess it’s time we catch the bus home.”

  We walked almost a whole block before he said anything.

  “You caught me off guard earlier.”

  “Oh?” I could sense what was coming.

  “You called me your friend. It was quite shocking.”

  I poked him in the ribs playfully. “Don’t let it go to your egghead, tutor-boy!”

  At home I got busy on my English assignment. I had the perfect idea. I wrote the title at the top of my paper: If Only I Could Know the Unknown Future. Wow, this sort of an essay would knock the socks off Mrs. Ross. Maybe I could weave some sci-fi lingo into it. Phil could help with that.

  My first draft was rougher than usual. It had something to do with thinking constantly about the weird scene in the library this afternoon. I couldn’t believe things had gotten so crazy. Made me wonder if Andie and I were through for good. The way I felt right now, she didn’t deserve a friend like me.

  Paula Miller didn’t, either. She hadn’t given me the benefit of the doubt, the way I would have if the tables were turned. Paula had behaved true to form—pounding away at my knee and maintaining a calm, cool face, though her searing eyes made it clear she was rattled.

  And Billy? He’d acted really strange around Andie. Totally unlike himself. I felt sorry for him. Andie had obviously railroaded him into going to the library with her. Whether or not he knew I’d be there was another story.

  One thing was sure: Phil and I had experienced a moment of truth. Straight out of nowhere, I’d stuck up for him. Now I knew firsthand what the saying meant—“blood is thicker than water.”

  Coming to this conclusion—and actually experiencing such a thing—would’ve been enough for one day. But, as it turned out, the phone rang after supper, and Billy was on the line.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Hey, Holly. Thought I’d give you a quick call.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Getting right to the point . . .”

  Whatever that is.

  “Paula called me earlier,” he said. “She told me you were asking around about my handwriting. What it looks like, to be exact. So . . . what’s this about?”

  What had Paula said to him?

  In a flash, I knew. This was her way of getting back. I’d messed up the deal with her, so she’d broken her promise to me about not telling Billy about the weird letter I’d shown her today. Some friend she was.

  “Uh, Holly? You still there?”

  “What did Paula tell you?”

  He mumbled like he wasn’t really sure what she’d said or why she’d called. I could relate to his feelings about it. After all, some people I knew could come across rather fuzzy on occasion, especially when they were upset.

  “I really think it’s probably just a big misunderstanding,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  I almost let myself think, Poor Billy, stuck in the middle. But I wasn’t going to do that. Billy, after all, was as cool a guy as there was in Dressel Hills. Probably one of the coolest. But, of course, he was no match for Sean. And even as I talked to Billy, trying to smooth over the ridiculous situation at hand, I was thinking of Sean Hamilton . . . out in California. Where I really wanted to be.

  “Holly? Did you hear what I said?” Billy asked.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. Probably nothing important, anyway.’ I agreed.

  “Well, I’ll see ya.”

  “Okay,” I said, forgetting that he’d wanted to meet me at the Soda Straw “to talk” a few hours earlier. After we’d hung up, I remembered.

  Just now, our conversation had been a total flop. My fault. Maybe Phil was right—I did daydream too much.

  Funny how a person could go from one extreme to the other about a brainy brousin. All in a single day.

  MYSTERY LETTERS

  Chapter 17

  After a warm bath, I sorted through the latest stack of letters to “Dear Holly” and found Paula’s letter. I had stopped to check my personal editorial cubbyhole before heading off to the library. Now it was time to catch up on some correspondence.

  I opened the envelope and read Paula’s cleverly written note. But she had used such big words, and I really couldn’t see the point of her letter. She was congratulating me on acquiring assistant editor status at The Summit.

  Thinking back to what had transpired between us earlier, I wondered if Paula might now be wishing she hadn’t written this at all. Fact was, I’d solved one major problem—the strained relationship between Phil and me—rather spontaneously. But in doing so, I’d created two more problems. How could things get so complicated this quickly?

  I patted my bed and Goofey jumped up, purring as he found a warm spot next to me. Opening my devotional book, I discovered that the Scripture for October 22—today—was 2 Corinthians 12:9—“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” It was the second time this verse had come to my attention this week. So . . . was God trying to tell me something?

  For a moment I wondered if Uncle Jack had borrowed my teen devotional book for the family’s time together the other night. But, no, I knew better. He would’ve asked permission.

  I read the “Think It Through” section, contemplating my weakness—my anger and big mouth, in this case. I thought, too, of how God’s grace could make me strong. But there was a catch. I needed to ask. Plain and simple.

  I had been waiting for grace to rain down on me. As I read more of the devotional, I realized that God’s grace was with me, in me—because I belonged to Jesus. What I hadn’t realized before was that I needed to ask the Lord for help with my impulsive nature.

  I got out of bed and knelt down. Goofey stayed put, listening in on my prayer. “Dear Lord,” I began, “I’m grateful that your power is strongest when I’m weak. I know you know how weak I was today. Please forgive me for mouthing off to Andie and Paula and for losing my cool, too. I’ll try harder next time. Your grace is enough, and I thank you for it. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Getting up, I knew I’d settled some important things spiritually. I just wished I didn’t have to learn things the hard way. Now . . . how to get Andie and Paula to believe me when I apologized?

  Two days passed, and neither Andie nor Paula would let me get close enough to atone for my sins. Oh, I tried, all right. But they were ticked. Could I blame them?

  Billy offered a solution when he and I ran into each other at lunch. “Tomorrow, first thing, Andie has student council. Why don’t you try to talk to her then?” His face didn’t flush red while we talked this time. Something was different.

  “Did Andie say anything to you . . . about, you know, the thing at the library?” I asked.

  “She only said she couldn’t believe you’d thrown a fit like that.” He blinked twice, looking at me. “By the way, about that talk we were going to have. When do you want to meet me?”

  “Maybe we’d better skip it. If that’s okay with you.”

  “Cool.” He leaned against the locker next to mine. Like he was beginning to relax around me. Like the old days before this bizarre infatuation started.

  “To tell you the truth, I’m a little confused. I still get the feeling that Paula likes you. Did you two actually split up?”

  He rolled his eyes. “That’s another subject.”

  “Really?” I was dying to hear it from Billy’s lips.

  “I better not try to explain now.” He looked me straight in the eye. “And I hope you and I won’t become enemies over this.”

  “Over what?”

  He blushed then. “Well, you know . . .”

  So I was right. Billy still liked Paula a lot, even though he seemed to be struggling with some sort of feelings for me. Yet I was sure everything would work out for the best in the end.

  Friday, before school, I planted myself in front of the student council office door and waited for Andie. I wanted to make amends. Desperately. />
  Five long minutes had come and gone when Ryan Davis showed up. “Hey,” he said, smiling.

  “Looking for someone?” I asked, although I figured it was Zye Greene.

  He stuck his hands into his pockets. “Waiting for the man. You?”

  “Andie.”

  “Cool.”

  Then Jared came over, all smiles. I hoped he wouldn’t mistake my cheery reaction to his being there. Actually, he was the “out” I needed. Truth was, Ryan totally bugged me. In the past, his obvious prejudice toward Andie—toward all dark-skinned people—had made me furious. A sort of righteous anger. Of course, I didn’t hate him or anything. But I certainly couldn’t stand his half flirty, half-witted comments here lately.

  Jared stood so close I could feel his shirtsleeve against my arm. “How’s the most popular editor in the school?”

  “Guess again.”

  “C’mon, Holly-Heart, you’ll be terrific,” Jared gushed.

  “We’ll see.” I was thinking about that ridiculous reply I’d written to “Who Am I?”

  “When’s the paper coming out?” Ryan asked.

  “Monday.”

  Ryan’s face lit up like the Fourth of July. “Great!”

  “What are you so excited about?” Jared asked Ryan, who was still hovering near me.

  “I think I’m going to be published—at last,” Ryan said.

  Jared shrugged like it was no big deal. “Wouldn’t be the first time Mrs. Ross twisted someone’s arm to write an article for the paper.”

  I could see these two guys weren’t crazy about sharing the same turf with me. And I was relieved when the office door opened and Andie walked out. “Hey, Andie,” I said, scurrying down the hall after her. “I need to talk to you.”

  She kept walking, not talking.

  “Look, I’m trying to apologize.”

  Andie huffed. “I saw fire in your eyes, Meredith.” She was referring to Tuesday afternoon. The day she and Phil were fighting over my algebra book.

  “You looked absolutely hateful.” She scowled. “Do you really dislike me so much? You caused a major scene!” She headed for the girls’ room and darted in. Before I could get to her, she disappeared into one of the stalls.