Holly's Heart Collection One

by Beverly Lewis

  So I took my time fuming over my stupid cousin Stan. I was freaked out at the sudden interest the female population of Dressel Hills Junior High was showing in him. Andie, Kayla…and who knows who else? I didn’t dare tell him. He already had a mammoth ego.

  Downhill Court—my street—came into view as I turned away from the ski shops downtown. Dressel Hills was a blaze of gold, the only fall color we had here in the Rocky Mountains. Back in Pennsylvania, trees turned every imaginable hue. Here, people drove for miles to see the shimmering yellow of the quaking aspen trees nestled against the backdrop of dark evergreens.

  When I got home, Mom was in the kitchen putting a casserole into the oven. “How were tryouts?” she asked.

  “You’ll never guess in a zillion years.” I leaned my books against the sink, trying not to grin.

  She tossed the potholders aside and hugged me. “You made the team!”

  “I still can’t believe it.”

  “I can—after all the hours of practicing over at Danny’s. How is he, anyway?”

  “He’s really cool, Mom. He treats me great.”

  Mom’s eyes squinted half shut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know. He’s the coolest boyfriend ever.”

  She looked like she was gonna drop her teeth. “You’re dating him?”

  “Of course not. Didn’t I explain all that? Danny knows I can’t date till I’m fifteen—and even then only in a group setting. He just calls me his girlfriend because he likes me, and I like him. All we do is hang out at school and at youth group—you know, like good friends.”

  Mom set the oven timer. “Just so your friendship doesn’t become too exclusive. Do we understand each other?”

  I nodded that I did. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mom.” Then I remembered Mom’s upcoming date with Uncle Jack. “When’s your date picking you up?” I asked, moving my books to the long bar in the middle of the kitchen.

  “Six o’clock. That’s why I made chicken casserole. You’ll be feeding the whole crew, minus Stan. Think you can handle things?”

  “No problem. Except I do have lots of homework tonight.” I was thinking of the essay on responsibility I had to hand in to Mr.

  Ross first thing tomorrow.

  “I’m sure Uncle Jack will make it worth your while. He pays by the kid per hour,” Mom reminded me.

  I hoped my uncle would continue to date Mom. It was good for business. And by her smiles…good for Mom, too.

  “By the way, Holly, I’m planning a surprise birthday party for Carrie—a week from this Saturday.” Mom followed me upstairs to my room. Goofey padded up behind me.

  “Who did you invite?” I plopped down on my four-poster bed and snuggled with the cat.

  Mom closed the door, then sat on my lavender window seat. “I’ve invited Stephanie, Mark, and Phil, of course, and Carrie’s new friend, Brittany Lloyd, from school.”

  “What about Zachary Tate? I know Carrie would love to see him again.” I stroked Goofey’s neck, and his purring rose to a rumble. I wanted to hear what Mom would say about her former boyfriend’s kid coming to the party.

  She breathed deeply, slowly exhaling. “I don’t think it would be wise. Zachary had a rough time when his dad and I stopped seeing each other. I wouldn’t want to tamper with his feelings now for anything in the world.”

  I leaned back on the bed. “I never see Mr. Tate or Zachary at church anymore.”

  “I think they must attend a different church,” Mom said. “I really do miss having Zachary in my Sunday school class.”

  I bet she did. Mom had a strong maternal instinct I liked to call a mother heart. If she and Daddy had stayed married, there’d probably be a bunch of us kids by now.

  “What do you think about Carrie’s surprise party?” Mom asked. “Counting Carrie, there’ll be five kids.”

  “Sounds perfect for a nine-year-old.” I pulled out my assignment notebook. “I won’t be able to help you with the party much. There’s an ice-cream social at the Soda Straw with Pastor Rob and the youth group. Okay with you?”

  “Uncle Jack will be here to help.” Suspicious-looking twinkles gleamed from her eyes as she mentioned his name.

  I grinned. “You really like my uncle, I see.”

  “Is it obvious?” Mom said, fooling with her hair.

  “Does Uncle Jack know you’re in love with him?” The question I’ve been dying to ask.

  A smile danced across her cheeks. “Who wants to know?”

  “Mom…tell me!” I jumped off the bed and raced to the door, blocking her exit with my body. “You’re stuck here till you tell me.”

  Mom giggled like a schoolgirl. “I better let you get to homework before the troops arrive.” She reached out and touched my hair. “I really appreciate you, Holly. You’re so responsible. I know I can always count on you.”

  “No fair changing the subject.” I moved aside to let her pass.

  She closed the door, leaving me alone with my pen poised to write an essay titled, “The R-Word: Responsibility.”

  I wanted to laugh out loud. Mom was right. Usually I was oozing with responsibility. But note-passing in science had been a big mistake. I wouldn’t let Mr. Ross know that I secretly enjoyed having an excuse to write an essay. Writing was my life. Books too. I mean, if I was going to be stuck on a deserted island, I would definitely take stacks of them, along with notebooks and sharpened pencils.

  By the time Uncle Jack and the cousins showed up, I’d finished my rough draft, fifty words over the five-hundred-word limit. In the living room, Stephie was riding piggyback on her dad. He wore tan dress pants and a herringbone sports coat. Mark reached up and tried to pull Stephie’s hair. When he saw me, Uncle Jack put Stephie down and straightened his striped tie. “The line forms to the right,” he said, turning to look outside.

  Good…room to revise, I thought as I raced downstairs.

  “What line?” asked Stephie.

  He leaned closer to the picture window, pushing the curtains aside. “Guys are flocking to Holly’s house. Look, can’t you see them?”

  Stephie ran over for a peek. I sneaked up behind him and tickled his ribs.

  “Oh-ho, there,” he said, whirling around. “Asking for a tickle session, are you?”

  Stephie hollered, “You’ll lose, Holly. You will!”

  I backed away, smiling. “No thanks, I’ll pass.”

  “Chicken!” Phil shouted, pulling on my arm. “Here, Holly, I’ll tell you where he’s ticklish.”

  Uncle Jack pulled out his wallet. “Looks like you’re in for a busy evening. Here’s payment in advance.”

  Forty bucks!

  “Uh, that’s too much,” I said, staring at the money.

  Uncle Jack acted surprised. “Four kids for four hours? Sounds just right to me.”

  Goofey wandered into the living room, and Uncle Jack started sneezing. “Stupid allergies,” he muttered, taking out a handkerchief to blow his nose. I stuffed the money into my jeans before he could change his mind.

  After supper I had all baby-sitting details under control. Carrie and Stephie were playing upstairs, and Mark and Phil were glazed over in front of the TV. I was cleaning the kitchen when the phone rang.

  “Hello?” I answered it.

  “Is Phil Patterson there?” a tiny voice asked.

  “Uh, yes, he is. Who’s calling?”

  “He knows who it is,” she said.

  I hurried downstairs to the family room. “Someone wants to talk to you.” I handed the phone to ten-year-old Phil.

  “Hello?” he said. Silence. Then he yelled, “Aa-agh! Get back, it’s Elaine Thomas!” He tossed the phone to me.

  I stared at Phil while his eyes did a roller-coaster number. Mark lay on the floor, laughing hysterically as I quickly pushed the off button.

  “What’s wrong with Elaine Thomas?” I asked. “She sounded okay to me.”

  “She’s a toidi!” yelled Phil.

  “Yeah,” s
houted Mark.

  “Toidi—toidi—toidi—toidi,” chanted the boys.

  “Sounds like I should flush your mouths out,” I said, watching as Phil and his younger brother acted weird. “Okay, okay. What’s a toidi?” I asked.

  “Idiot spelled backward,” said Phil, cackling.

  Never ask, I thought. Never ask. I headed back to the kitchen. How did Uncle Jack put up with all this grade-school nonsense? Aunt Marla was in heaven, but her kids needed her down here—learning about “toidi” and other major stuff. I missed her.

  Swishing the kitchen counter clean, I wondered how Daddy’s sister would feel if she knew Uncle Jack was dating my mother. Two times in one week!

  THE TROUBLE WITH WEDDINGS

  Chapter 6

  The next morning I beat Andie to Mr. Ross’s classroom. “Good morning,” I said, standing beside his long desk. “Here’s my essay.”

  Mr. Ross pushed his drooping glasses up his shiny nose.

  Without saying a word, he read the entire essay as I stood like a statue, waiting. Slowly, he placed the paper on his desk and removed his glasses. “This essay is unusually well written, Miss Meredith.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I hope you are taking one of Miss Wannamaker’s creative writing classes this semester. She impresses me as a teacher who might assist a talented young person such as yourself.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I enjoy her classes very much.”

  “Very well,” he said, putting his glasses back on. “Have you had breakfast today?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “I had a fabulous breakfast.” Then I added, “My mom’s a great cook,” in case he had any more notions of contacting a social worker.

  Andie arrived, bringing the bustling sounds of the congested hallway in with her. She flashed a smile when she saw me and headed for Mr. Ross. He adjusted his tie, the same boring one he’d worn the whole first month of school.

  Andie didn’t wait for Mr. Ross to read her essay; she laid it on his desk and left. “What’s your rush?” I asked as she zipped past me.

  “Gotta do a little spying. On Stan.”

  “What’ll Billy say if he finds out?”

  She stopped in the middle of the hall. “Will he even notice?”

  “Are you kidding?” I pulled her away from the crush of the crowd. “Billy really likes you, Andie.”

  “Not half as much as I like Stan.”

  I wanted to slap some sense into her. “You’re wacko if you hurt Billy’s feelings for a schizoid.”

  “What’s that mean?” she asked, leaning against the wall.

  “Schizoid?” I laughed. “You know, split personality. Sometimes cool, sometimes a total jerk.”

  “No way, not Stan. He’s so together.” She cracked her gum.

  “Oh please,” I said. “I oughta know, don’t you think? The guy’s a jerk.”

  “He can’t be that bad.”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Worse than Jared?”

  “Almost.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said and scurried off.

  I trotted down the hall. Then I spotted the number-one jerk of all time—Jared Wilkins—waiting at my locker.

  “What do you want?” I said, reaching for my combination.

  “Nothin’ much.” He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “Just wondering what you’re doing.”

  “What’s it look like?” I stared at him, annoyed.

  “You seem upset. Everything okay?”

  “Till you showed up, everything was perfect.”

  “Holly, listen, I’m not here to cause trouble for you and Danny. It’s my own fault the two of you are so, well…happy together.” His dancing blue eyes looked surprisingly serious for a change. “I miss you, Holly-Heart.”

  I could hardly find the numbers on my combination lock. Where is Danny, anyway? If he was here, like he always was before school, this conversation wouldn’t be happening. I looked up to tell Jared to get lost, but he was gone.

  At lunch Danny was waiting for me inside the cafeteria doors. “Ready for volleyball practice?”

  “I can hardly wait.” I grabbed a tray and got in line. “What’s for hot lunch?”

  “Some pasta dish.” He reached for a tray.

  “I’m starved.” I saw Mr. Ross peek into the cafeteria. “Guess I better not say that too loud. Mr. Ross might have me hauled off to a foster home.”

  “That’s not funny,” Danny said as we moved through the cafeteria line. He reached for a tuna sandwich and an apple. Healthy foods.

  “What did you mean about a foster home?” Danny asked, frowning at my choice of pasta and soda.

  “Just forget it.” I walked to a table and sat down.

  Danny set his tray down beside me. “Is something wrong?” he whispered.

  “Not really,” I said, but it wasn’t true. I could still hear Jared’s words from this morning. “I miss you, Holly-Heart.” And he’d said it so seriously. Not playfully like always before.

  “You’re upset,” Danny said before we bowed our heads and he prayed over our lunches. I said amen at the end.

  Salting my pasta, I asked where he was this morning before school. “You always show up at my locker first thing.”

  “You shouldn’t salt your food before tasting it,” he said, criticizing me instead of listening to what I said.

  “Where were you?” I repeated.

  “Billy and I shot baskets over at the gym.” He bit into his tuna sandwich, lettuce and all.

  “Andie’s making a big mistake if she chooses to like another guy more than Billy. He’s so good to her.” I twirled noodles around my fork.

  Danny looked surprised. “This is news. Is Andie thinking about someone other than Billy?”

  “Yeah,” I grumbled. “Didn’t I tell you? She’s got her eyes on my cousin Stan, but he couldn’t care less. He has a girlfriend back East.

  Besides that, Stan’s nothing like he used to be. Maybe it’s Aunt Marla’s death, I don’t know. But he’s turned into a splitzo schizoid.”

  “A what?”

  “A split personality.”

  “Hey, nobody’s perfect,” Danny said, chuckling.

  His attitude was starting to bug me. I would have thought he’d stick up for Billy—and for me!

  “Whose side are you on, anyway?” I said.

  Danny frowned. “What’s this side stuff? Holly, are you feeling okay?”

  I spun around. “Can we just not talk about Stan anymore?”

  Danny raised his eyebrows. “If he’s the reason you’re upset, why don’t you talk to him about it? Proverbs says, ‘An offended brother is more unyielding than a fortified city—’ ”

  “Stan’s not my brother.” I jumped to my feet. “And why do you have to preach to me? I’m a Christian just like you. First you lecture me about what I eat, and now you tell me what to do with Stan. It’s starting to bug me.”

  Danny stretched his hand toward me. “I didn’t intend to hurt you. I only want to help.”

  I waved him away. “That’s not how it sounds. You’re trying to run my life.” Turning away, I hurried to the girls’ rest room. There, I scowled at the mirror, then fished for the brush in my backpack.

  I started rearranging my hair, beginning with the part. I cringed with every stroke of the brush. How dare Danny Myers treat me like I was a spiritual baby. I bet he didn’t have a secret prayer list or write in the margins of his devotional. Just because we were hanging out together didn’t give him the right to act like this.

  I marched off to my composition class in a huff.

  Jared was waiting by the door as I hurried to snag my favorite seat…beside the window. He followed me into Miss Wannamaker’s room. “May I sit here?” he asked, pointing to the desk beside mine. He actually waited until I nodded before sitting down.

  “Thanks,” he said, like it was a great privilege. His eyes lit up like, uh…ki
nd of like Mom’s had yesterday when we talked about Uncle Jack.

  I swallowed hard. Could Jared Wilkins really and truly care for me? I pushed the ridiculous thought from my mind as I reached for my three-ring binder.

  “Dear class,” Miss Wannamaker said as if beginning a letter. It was her way every day. “Today we shall discuss the proper outlining procedure for research papers.”

  I found the yellow tab marking the “Comp I” section in my binder and set out to take the best notes ever. After her lecture, Miss W gave us twenty minutes to begin the assignment—an eight-hundred-word essay or short story about any aspect of a metamorphosis, human or otherwise. It was due in two weeks.

  First I looked up metamorphosis in Webster’s Dictionary. It meant “A complete change of a substance, structure, or shape.”

  Hmm, what to write about? Staring out the window, I watched as golden aspen leaves shimmered in the autumn breeze. A transformation of color. My eyes wandered to the top of Copper Mountain. Years before, men had sliced a path through the tree-covered slopes, transforming the mountain into a skier’s paradise. Nope, I wouldn’t write a nature essay. Not this time.

  I let my eyes wander slightly to my left. There sat Jared, his pen racing across the blank page. What if? I thought. What if I let my imagination run wild? What if I transformed Jared Wilkins into a polite, trustworthy, true friend? A magical metamorphosis, but on paper only.

  Delighted with my idea, I set to work, using Jared’s name just to help me relate more closely to the final fictitious character. I would change all names to fictitious ones later, of course.

  Finishing the first paragraph, I set my pen down and sneaked a glance at Jared. I grinned at the thought of transforming him. The idea excited me more than I cared to admit.

  THE TROUBLE WITH WEDDINGS

  Chapter 7

  One week later—two days before Carrie’s birthday party—I arrived at school a bit late. Andie stood waiting for me in the main hall, near the front doors. “Where’ve you been?” she said, biting her nails. “I thought you were sick or something. I even looked in your locker and—”