Holly Hearts Headlines (Holly Hearts Hollywood Book 2) (2 page)

I turned to talk to Serena as they hobbled away. Lacey was whining and moaning like I had punched her in the face. When I looked at Serena, I noticed that everyone was staring at me. People started whispering, and I heard one person say, “Who is that girl?”

I left. I turned around and ran toward the bathroom with the exact same question running through my head:
Who am I?

TO DO LIST:

1.      Shop for books about self-discovery on Amazon.

2.      Figure out a way to apologize to Lacey.

THINGS FOUND:

1.      One box of unused paper umbrellas, the kind usually used in tropical drinks.

2.      One broken off six-inch Louboutin high heel.

April 3
^rd
, 9:00am—Home

Do you ever wish that the universe would give you a free pass? I’d love it if Jesus or Buddha or whatever would say, “Hey, Holly. We know yesterday sucked so we erased it from the history books. High five, bro.” Because I wish that would happen almost every damn day.

I woke up this morning, eyelash glue had sealed my eyes shut during the night, which made waking up unpleasant, and I turned my computer on only to be bombarded with footage of me dumping my drink on Lacey. There were tons of YouTube videos going viral. There were slow-motion effects, remixed sound effects, the whole nine yards. Luckily, my face wasn’t very visible from the camera angles and low lighting. So I remain “the unidentified assailant.” As if the footage wasn’t already embarrassing enough for Lacey, the pictures of her standing up are even worse. TMZ
had to censor out certain body parts in order to post them on their website.

Serena called me a little while later. “Did you see the article on
Entertainment Weekly’s
website?”

I groaned. “Oh no, what does it say?”

“To paraphrase, it says that a source ‘close to Lacey’ claims that she’s following in her biological father’s footsteps and has a drinking problem. According to the ‘source,’ Grayson is at his wits end with Lacey and that last night’s event occurred because Lacey was too drunk to remember her own name.”

I knew that the comparison to Lacey’s dad would hurt her deeply. Her father was an abusive alcoholic, and he’s haunted her for years.

“Why were they even there last night?” I asked.

“Dad must’ve invited them. You know how much he loves you,” Serena said sarcastically. I never thought I would have enemies, but so far the list includes Lacey, a chart topping country singer, and Manuel Salazar, my best friend’s dad and record company CEO. What full-grown man makes an enemy of a seventeen-year-old girl? Seriously, grow up.

I could hear a bunch of noise in the background, and I said, “Where are you anyway?”

“Oh, I’m backstage at the
Ellen DeGeneres Show,
” she said casually, like she was backstage about to go on national television all the time.

“You are? Why didn’t you tell me you were going on the show?”

She paused for a moment. “I did tell you. Like a hundred times. You got to work on your memory, Holly.”

Serena and I talked for a little while until Ellen’s producers came and dragged her away for her interview. “Make sure you record it!” Serena chirped before she hung up. I’m used to friends finishing phone conversations because they need to do their homework or because their mom wants them to come to the dinner table. Serena however has to do an interview with Ellen DeGeneres and that, so far, is the best excuse yet.

TO DO LIST:

1.      Work on memory so I stop forgetting important things like my best friend’s nationally televised interview.

2.      Stay out of the news, unless it is involving some kind of heroic act that I’m responsible for, not because I splashed my drink on someone like a cast member of
The Real Housewives of Atlanta
.

Later, 12:00pm—Home

I decided to treat myself to a good old-fashioned Netflix marathon. I was three episodes into
Orange is the New Black
when Grayson finally decided to grace me with a phone call, which is our version of an actual date these days.

“So, when you decided to douse Lacey with your drink were you channeling your inner 90’s teen movie heroine?” he asked. The boy knows me well, I’ll give him that.

“No,” I lied. No way will I admit to that, even if he knows deep down that it is true.

“You are a terrible liar,” he laughed. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t have a chance to warn you that we were coming, and I’m sure Lacey must’ve said something awful if you snapped like that. You’re never like that.” I was relieved to hear that he was on my side. When your boyfriend has to pretend to be in love with the most beautiful girl in America, you’re never really sure where you stand.

“It’s fine. When am I going to see you?” I was hoping that after almost a month of having my first boyfriend I would’ve at
least
made it to second base by now, but we don’t see each other enough to have gotten to that point. My nights have pretty much been dominated by Netflix and my beloved shower head.

“I’m not sure,” Grayson answered. “I’m so swamped with rehearsals for the tour.”

“The tour hasn’t even begun yet, and I already hate it,” I mumbled.

“I know it sucks. I wish we could spend all of our time together. But the summer will be over before you know it, and then it is just you and me, babe.”

I didn’t say it, but the word “college” hung in the air between us. It’s not as simple as getting through the summer. In just a few weeks I’ll get letters from colleges and my whole life could change based on a few simple words on some paper with college letterhead.

“Just try to get a night off so I can actually
see
my boyfriend. I’m starting to forget what you look like.”

I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Just turn on
Entertainment Tonight
when you start to miss me.”

I know that I’m a lucky girl and that I have a hot boyfriend, but sometimes it feels like I’ve been given an awesome gift only to have it re-wrapped and placed under the tree for Christmas day.

Later, 1:45pm—Home

My hands are shaking so much that I’m sure I won’t be able to read my own writing. Which is probably for the better. A few years from now, I’ll pull out my old journals to take a trip down memory lane. I’ll come to these pages and be unable to read my chicken scratch writing. I will skip ahead until I find something legible and thus my repressed memories of this day will
stay
repressed.

After talking to Grayson, I went to the kitchen to stock up on snacks before returning to my Netflix marathon, only to find my grandparents sitting at the table. Grandpa Hart was wearing his overalls, which is a piece of clothing I haven’t seen in forever, and Grandma Hart was patting him on the back.

“Mom,” I said, my throat was as dry as the Sahara Desert after a forty-year drought. “Am I hallucinating?”

Mom walked into the kitchen from the next room and hugged me tight. She smelled like she always does: like wet soil and vanilla.

“Holly, Grandma and Grandpa lost the farm,” she whispered in my ear. “They’re moving in with us.”

I think I need to lie down.

Later, 2:15pm—Home

Okay, I think I’ve sufficiently recovered from the initial shock to finish writing down the story. But, I’ll probably spill nail polish on these pages or something “accidentally” so that future me can’t read this and be re-traumatized.

“What do you mean they’ve lost the farm?” I replied dumbly, my face pressed against Mom’s shoulder in her vice-like hug. Some of my mom’s curls got into my mouth, and I spat them out. “You mean lost as in misplaced, right? That’s understandable, they are old and their memory isn’t what it used to be,” I babbled.

Mom glared at me in that way that said, “Don’t be an idiot.” It is a look she has perfected over many years. Through his tears and thick accent my grandpa told us that they’ve been struggling for awhile, but pride had kept him from calling my mom for help.

Mom was furious. “Ian grew up on that farm!” she shouted, referring to my father. “That was my husband’s childhood home, and you let it go?”

“Daisy, this isn’t easy for us,” Grandma Hart said quietly.

“And do you think it’s easy for me?” Mom fired back. “You’ve never been kind to me, but now you show up at my house, luggage in hand, thinking I will take you in!”

Grandpa Hart’s face was ashen. “You mean you won’t let us stay here?”

You could’ve cut the tension with a chainsaw, it was so thick. You could’ve fried up a slice of that tension for breakfast and had the leftovers for a late night snack. Ivy and I were staring at each other from across the room in wide-eyed desperation. Each of us wordlessly asked each other, “What should we do?” in that silent communication only sisters can use.

“No,” Mom finally said. “You can stay here. Because, unlike you, I don’t hold grudges.” Mom left the kitchen dramatically, leaving the smell of flowers in her wake like she always does. The drama was ruined when Sloane walked in a few seconds later with a cartoonishly large teddy bear in his arms and asked where Mom was. Poor Sloane, he has no idea what he’s getting himself into.

Later, 8:00pm—Home

Am I a bad person? I don’t think I am, but the people in my life lately are giving off strong “You suck, Holly” vibes and it’s really starting to get me down. Every time I turn around, I feel like I’m disappointing someone. Whether I’m stealing my best friend’s boyfriend, being a completely absent sister, or becoming totally emotionally unavailable.

In the whirlwind of my grandparent’s drama, I had forgotten that Serena was coming over to stay the night, something we haven’t gotten to do in weeks because of her latest album. I didn’t even remember she was supposed to be coming over until she strolled right through my bedroom door and said, “A weeping old man in overalls let me in. What’s going on?”

“That was Grandpa Hart,” I mumbled. I had been lying face first into my pillow for about forty minutes now, and I didn’t feel like breaking the streak.

“Really?” Serena said. The mattress shook as she plopped down beside me. “I thought you guys were estranged, or whatever.”

I quickly filled her in. Or at least, tried to. I had to keep repeating myself because I was talking into the pillow, and I didn’t have the energy to lift my head up. At the end of my tale of woe, Serena patted me on my head sympathetically. “Holls, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

I rolled over onto my back to look at her. My eyes were all blurry from spending so much time squeezed shut, and for a moment it looked like there were three of her. “Thanks, I’ll get over it. I’m just in shock. Plus Grayson called right beforehand and pretty much just said the same usual nonsense. ‘Wait until the tour is over’ and ‘I got to keep pretending to be in love with Lacey.’”

“It’s all temporary, Holly. Don’t worry,” Serena said. “Besides, I have good news,” she chirped excitedly. And then I spontaneously turned into Lindsey Lohan from
Mean Girls
. The word vomit came. I interrupted Serena and started to just prattle on about Grayson and my issues and my grandparents, and probably after a solid ten minutes of non-stop yapping, Serena stood up and started to get her bags.

“God, Holly, would you get over yourself?” she interrupted me mid-sentence as I was telling her about a nightmare I had about Lacey wearing a cow suit.

I blinked, suddenly pulled from my rant-like trance. “What?” I asked dumbly.

“I’ve been trying to tell you something that’s important to me, but all you’ve done is talk about yourself. In fact, that’s
all
you do lately is talk about yourself. I think I just need to go home, okay?”

My stomach sank lower and lower into my lower intestines until I was certain I was going to crap out a major organ. “Okay,” I whispered. I’ve been sitting in the exact same spot since she left an hour ago. I think I might be about to have a
very
early midlife crisis.

TO DO LIST:

1.      Finish calculus worksheet!

2.      Buy deodorant.

3.      Transform into a fully developed adult with no self-confidence issues.

April 4
^th
, 2:30am—Home

I woke up in the middle of the night with a thought that hit me like that freight train in
Inception
. Seriously, I had a cold sweat and everything. Speaking of
Inception,
maybe someone hired Leonardo DiCaprio to come plant this thought in my head because this is an idea unlike any I’ve ever had before. The idea is really simple: if people don’t like me, then I need to change myself.

I’ve been up for an hour reading every article I could find on the internet about fitness, diet, fashion, and how to handle “modern relationships.” First thing tomorrow, I’m joining a gym, and I’m going to change so much that people won’t even recognize me when I walk into the room. They’ll be all like, “Who is that confident and self-assured girl? Surely it can’t be Holly as she is weak with self-pity and doubt.” I’ll be a powerful and influential woman like Ruth Bader Ginsburg or Kim Kardashian.

Holly Hart’s List of Most Influential Women

Ruth Bader Ginsburg

Ruth, also known affectionately as RBG, is the second female Supreme Court justice in American history. She’s a huge advocate for women’s rights, and she’s better than anybody at throwing some sly shade at lesser people who would trample upon the rights of women. Also, she wears those judge’s robes so magnificently.