Holly's Heart Collection One

by Beverly Lewis

  I mustered up enough courage to spell out my plan. “Okay, here’s the deal,” I said, taking the tablet back. “I make a list of do’s and don’ts…”

  I needed a name for my outrageous plan—fast. So I chose the same name I’d used in my story. “Uh, we’ll call it the Scrutiny Test to Analyze Nascence. You sign on the dotted line, and I watch and wait.”

  “Nascence?” he said, coming around and sitting in the grass in front of me. “That’s a word?”

  “Nascence is birth or growth…maturity. Like when a Christian reads the Bible and talks to God every day. Change happens—like a metamorphosis.”

  “Sounds like Danny-speak,” he said.

  I gasped. “Oh no. Really?”

  He shook his head. “Just kidding.” Then he said, “Where do you get these words, anyway, Holly?”

  “I read a lot. Sometimes even the dictionary.”

  “The dictionary?” His eyes grew wide.

  “Well, just when I’m bored.”

  Stretching his arms over his head, he studied me. At least he wasn’t laughing. Not yet. “And what if I pass this Scrutiny Test to Analyze the Nascence of Jared Wilkins. What then?”

  “What do you mean?” I said, knowing exactly what he was getting at.

  “Will you be my girlfriend then?”

  I laughed. “There’s no way you’ll pass.”

  He leaned forward, looking more thoughtful than ever. “But what if I do?”

  “I can’t promise anything.” It sounded heartless, but this boy had a reputation for flirting that didn’t quit. No way would it disappear in two months…or at all.

  He reached over and picked up the French fry dish. “Guess I better return this to the Soda Straw.” Standing up, he brushed the grass from his faded jeans. “So when do we start this test of yours?”

  “Tomorrow.” I stood up quickly. “And to keep it secret, let’s use the code word STAN—for Scrutiny Test to Analyze Nascence—get it? It’ll be perfect at school. Kids will think we’re talking about my cousin.”

  I thought it might even drive Stan Patterson crazy if he overheard us talking about STAN. Who knows, it might irritate that stupid whistle off his neck. It was the perfect code word. I was a genius, after all!

  “Whatever the writer says,” Jared replied.

  “I’ll get to work on it.” Then I remembered the rewrite on “Love Times Two.” “Wait. I can’t have STAN ready by tomorrow.”

  “Why not?” He looked positively crushed as he fell into step with me, heading for the street.

  I told him about the new teen magazine Sealed With a Kiss. “The first issue comes out next month. Short stories for girls only.”

  “Who’s the editor?”

  “Marty Leigh, the best mystery writer of all time.”

  “I’ve heard of her. Where’s her magazine published?”

  I told him, wondering why he was so interested.

  “I have to read your story when it comes out,” he said. “Now, how soon can we start STAN?”

  “Monday,” I said. “That’ll give me the rest of the weekend to plan it.”

  We were coming up on the Soda Straw. I hung back when Paula and Kayla—the orange-dress wonders—slinked down the steps waiting for Amy-Liz and her friends. Then I spotted Danny and Billy leaving the restaurant together.

  “Guess you’d better go in without me,” I said.

  “Yeah, I see what you mean,” Jared said, slowing his pace.

  “Besides,” I added, “this could be your last chance to flirt before STAN starts.”

  Jared smiled the dearest smile ever. “Test or no test, those days are over now, Holly. You’ll see.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. His words sounded like something straight out of my story assignment for Miss W’s composition class!

  My heart sank as Jared ran across the street to the Soda Straw.

  I missed him already. Too bad. There was no chance this side of the continental divide that the two-timer could ever truly reform deep down.

  I ran to catch the city bus, slipping into a seat on the side facing the Soda Straw—hoping for one last glance of Jared.

  He dashed up the walkway and toward the door without so much as a fleeting look at Paula Miller or any of the other girls.

  Amazing. But was this too good to be true?

  THE TROUBLE WITH WEDDINGS

  Chapter 11

  I hopped off the bus a block away from Explore Bookstore. Carrie’s birthday party was probably going strong about now. I could almost hear the kids singing “Happy Birthday.”

  Soft music greeted me as I opened the door to my favorite bookstore. Busy as usual. I headed to the stationery section. A diary was the perfect birthday gift for my sister. Now that she was nine, she could start to record the events of her life.

  An array of diaries and journals of all styles, colors, and sizes were lined up on the shelf. Clothbound ones with pink polka-dot hearts and others wearing funky leopard print. There were fiveyear diaries with teeny-tiny locks and keys no bigger than a fat toothpick, and flowery ones with famous sayings inside. I stepped closer, opening the one with the tiny lock and key.

  Behind me, I heard familiar voices. Turning, I noticed the Miller twins coming into the store. They saw me, too. I waved but secretly wished they’d leave me alone.

  My wish didn’t work. Here they came, all smiles—those sugary ones. Kayla spoke first. “Hey, Holly. Buying a diary?”

  “For my little sister,” I said, half ignoring her.

  “I need to talk to you.” She moved closer. “Is Stan interested in Andie?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “They sat together at the Soda Straw, playing with Andie’s baby brothers for the longest time,” she said, prying for answers.

  “I honestly don’t know, Kayla,” I said, inspecting a red fiveyear diary.

  Paula spoke up. “What about Danny Myers?”

  “What about him?” I kept my eyes on the row of journals.

  “Are you still together?”

  “What do you think?” I turned to see two sets of made-up brown eyes. Exactly alike.

  “Andie said you and Danny had a fight,” Paula continued. “And you called it quits, and Jared ran off after you.”

  “People come and people go,” I said flippantly. How nosy can you get?

  It was Kayla’s turn. “Paula likes Jared, you know.” She glanced at her twin, smiling.

  “Really?” I said coolly, wondering why Paula couldn’t speak for herself. It made me feel weird seeing her all batty-eyed over Jared while I planned a scrutiny test to prove he was still a jerk.

  Wait a minute! A brilliant idea struck just then. Paula Miller could be prime Jared-bait. She was the perfect person to assist me with the STAN test.

  “Jared’s lonely these days. Maybe you could help cheer him up, Paula,” I said.

  She perked up her ears. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s gotten some lousy press from the girls in this town. A rumor’s been going around about him being a smooth-talker, or…something like that.”

  Paula’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, I know. Last spring when we first came to Dressel Hills, Andie warned us about him. She said he was rotten.” She batted her mascara-laden lashes. “But he seems nice enough to me.”

  “Why don’t you give him a call sometime soon?” I picked up the pink polka-dot diary.

  “Are you and Jared friends?” Paula asked.

  “Sure. We go back to seventh grade.” I pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote down his phone number. “Here, call him tonight.”

  Her eyes sparkled, and the famous smile emerged. “Thanks, I will.”

  I ought to be the one thanking her! I thought, giddy all over.

  Then Kayla stepped forward like she wanted to corner me. “What about Stan? Can you find out if he likes Andie?”

  “Me?” I said, taking a step backward.

  “You’re his cousin. Please?” She was whining again.
This was too much. Were my eyes playing tricks on me or what? The orange dresses were closing in—making me dizzy.

  “All right, all right,” I said, inching back. “I’ll find out for you, Kayla, but right now I have to pick out a birthday present. See you two later.” I charged between them, heading for the cash register with the five-year diary and the polka-dot heart diary in my hand.

  “Two diaries today?” the cashier asked.

  “Yes, please,” I said. “One’s for my little sis, and one’s for my little STAN.”

  She rang up the bill, looking positively puzzled.

  Back home, I helped Mom clean up Carrie’s party mess. Actually, Uncle Jack had done most of it. Carrie wanted the streamers to stay up over the weekend, and Mom didn’t mind.

  “Happy birthday,” I said, giving Carrie the bookstore bag.

  “Another present?” Stephie glared at Carrie. “She’s so lucky.”

  Uncle Jack stroked Stephie’s curls. “It’s her birthday, honey.”

  Carrie peeked inside the plastic bag. “Two diaries?”

  “The fat one with the lock and key is for you,” I said, pulling the polka-dot heart one out.

  “Thanks, Holly.” She played with the little key dangling from a red string.

  “It’s time you start writing down your secrets,” I suggested.

  Mom and Uncle Jack went to sit in the living room, holding hands as they sat on the sofa. I could hear computer game music floating up from the family room. “Phil and Mark must be downstairs,” I said.

  Uncle Jack nodded as I came into the room. “They’re turning into game wizards.” He chuckled his soft, comfortable laugh.

  Carrie and Stephie knelt in the middle of the living room floor, checking out the diary’s lock and key. Then Carrie eyed the diary in my hand. “Who’s that one for?”

  I flopped down on a corner of the sofa. “Oh, this is just for a little project of mine.”

  Carrie looked at me funny. “A secret project?”

  “Well, sorta.”

  “You have too many secrets, Holly-Heart.”

  “But secrets are such fun,” Mom said. Uncle Jack put his arm around her, and she snuggled next to him.

  It was then I noticed the gold heart locket around Mom’s neck. “Is this a secret?” I leaned over to touch it.

  Mom looked at Uncle Jack, and a silly smile crept across her face. “It’s our anniversary. Five weeks ago we had our first date.”

  Uncle Jack nodded, winking at me.

  Counting weeks? This was serious!

  “What’s for supper?” I asked, unzipping my jacket and hanging it in the closet.

  “How’s Guiseppe’s sound?” said Uncle Jack.

  “Fabulous.” I shut the closet door. “How soon?”

  “Around six-thirty,” Mom said.

  “Perfect.” There was plenty of time to work on the rewrite of my story for Sealed With a Kiss.

  “How was the ice-cream social?” Mom asked.

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Just okay?” Mom quizzed me.

  I wasn’t going to recap the private—and disgusting—details of the Soda Straw scene. Not now.

  “Did Stan show up?” Uncle Jack asked.

  “Yeah, and he actually helped Andie baby-sit her brothers.”

  Mom’s eyebrows arched. “Andie took Chris and Jon along?”

  “She had her reasons.”

  “That seems odd,” Mom said.

  It was odd only if you didn’t know how Andie’s mind worked. She was a master manipulator, and right now she would do most anything to get Stan’s attention.

  Uncle Jack smiled knowingly as I headed for the stairs. He could explain Andie’s reasoning to Mom.

  In my room, I sat curled up on my window seat. Goofey came and snuggled with me. Mom had stuck him away in my room during Carrie’s party. That way Uncle Jack’s allergies wouldn’t act up so much.

  I began work on my rewrite of “Love Times Two.” Marty Leigh was not only a terrific mystery writer, she was also a wonderful editor. The only editor I knew. Still, I was impressed with her suggestions for making my story better.

  The doorbell rang, and I heard Stan’s voice as he came in. Soon, loud shrieks floated up from the family room in the lower level. Phil and Mark were probably protesting having to switch off the computer game so Stan could watch sports on ESPN. That’s how seniority worked around here. Stan, being the oldest, had final say. Just like with Carrie and me. Thank goodness my cousins only came over here a couple of times each week.

  At Guiseppe’s, all of us started out on our best behavior. Phil and Mark sat on either side of Stan. Uncle Jack sat next to Mom, and Stephie squeezed in on the other side. Carrie and I waited as the waitress moved another table over, making room for us.

  After we ordered, I studied Stephie’s face. She looked like a seven-year-old version of Aunt Marla. Having your mother die had to be the worst thing in the world. Worse than divorce. I couldn’t imagine growing up without Mom. She was fabulous.

  The waitress brought our soda around. “Special night?” she asked, smiling at Mom and Uncle Jack, who looked positively in love.

  Uncle Jack pointed to Carrie. “This young lady is celebrating her birthday.”

  “Well, happy birthday, missy. Let’s see what we can do about that,” the waitress said, scurrying off.

  Eight-year-old Mark blew bubbles in his soda.

  “Cut it out, fish lips,” Stan said, frowning.

  “Leave me alone,” Mark shot back.

  “That can be arranged,” Stan said, acting sophisticated as he turned to eye two cute girls at another table.

  Phil dumped red pepper flakes into his hand, then licked them off his palm.

  “Ew!” I said. “How can you eat that stuff?”

  “It’s good,” replied the ten-year-old with the iron tongue.

  “Let me try,” Mark said, reaching for the shaker.

  “Let’s try our manners on for size tonight,” Uncle Jack said, taking the shaker away and casting a disapproving glance at the boys. “Remember, we’re out with the ladies.”

  Mom giggled, leaning against him.

  Oh puh-leeze, I thought. This was getting out of hand. Mom was acting like a schoolgirl.

  Halfway through pizza munching, the manager and all the waitresses gathered at our table. Our waitress asked Carrie her name, then the group clicked their fingers six times before singing their birthday song. Carrie soaked up the attention. Stephie looked a little jealous as she leaned on Uncle Jack’s arm.

  Later, after the birthday hoopla had died down, Stan raised the red flag at our table. Before you could count to ten, our waitress appeared to refill his soda glass.

  Carrie gasped. “Oh no, that reminds me….” She stared at the flag. “I forgot about my Columbus report.”

  “When’s it due?” I asked.

  “Tuesday. I’ll never get it done in time.” She touched the flag at our table. “This reminded me.”

  Mom looked confused. “Why the flag?”

  “When Columbus got to San Salvador, he put a flag in the ground to…”

  “…stake his claim for Spain,” I finished. “You have nothing to worry about, Carrie. I remember all that stuff from grade school. I’ll help you with your report.”

  “Goodie!” she said, and with that, reached for another slice of pizza.

  A very loud bu-u-rp came from Phil’s direction. He burst into hysterical laughter. So did Mark.

  “Philip Patterson,” Uncle Jack said sternly. We all stared, embarrassed. “What do you say for yourself?”

  Phil turned redder than the little flag. “Excuse me, please,” he mumbled.

  I wanted to hide under the table. These boys needed a mother…like now. Then it dawned on me: My mother was the only candidate. I shuddered. It was fine for her to have fun on dates with Uncle Jack, but all of a sudden I realized we were sitting at Guiseppe’s eating pizza like a regular family. And certain members of the f
amily were behaving badly.

  I glared at Phil and little Mark. And at Stan, who sat between them doing absolutely nothing but stuff his face with pizza. Carrie’s birthday had turned into a horrible event. Was this a sneak preview of coming attractions?

  THE TROUBLE WITH WEDDINGS

  Chapter 12

  Later that night, I helped Carrie with her Columbus project. Thank goodness we had encyclopedia software for the computer. This way we could get the actual dates and details an eighth grader forgets after five years. Even after Carrie finished with her information, I continued to sit at the computer and read.

  “Thanks for helping me,” Carrie said, then left my room.

  “Be sure to write your best,” I called after her.

  “Do I have to?”

  “You want a good grade, don’t you?” I closed my bedroom door and opened the bottom drawer of my dresser. The new pink polka-dotted journal was waiting to be filled with do’s and don’ts for Jared. I reached for it, anxious to launch STAN.

  An hour later the phone rang.

  “It’s for you, Holly,” Carrie called to me.

  I raced to the hall phone. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Holly. It’s Paula Miller.”

  “Hey.”

  “Something very weird just happened,” she said.

  I couldn’t imagine what she was talking about. “What?”

  “I called Jared, you know, like you told me to.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “He said he couldn’t talk to me and please not to call back.” She sighed. “It was just horrible.”

  I was stunned. “Maybe he was sick or something.”

  “Well, he seemed all right at the ice-cream social.”

  “You’re right, he did,” I said.

  “What do you think’s going on?” she asked breathlessly.

  I didn’t dare tell her. “Look, Paula, maybe he was just busy or something. Why don’t you try talking to him at church tomorrow?”

  “Okay. Good idea,” she said. “Bye.”