Holly's Heart Collection One (8 page)

At Andie’s house, the smell of brownies lured us into the kitchen. Mrs. Martinez looked similar to Andie, with dark curly hair and sparkling eyes. “Brownies, girls?” she asked.

We plopped down at the bar while Mrs. Martinez cut two large pieces.

“Mom, there’s been an emergency at school,” Andie blurted out. “Can you take us to the hospital?”

“What’s wrong?” her mother asked, pouring a glass of milk. I spoke up. “We want to go see Jared Wilkins. He’s been hurt.”

“What happened?”

We explained what we knew of the accident, and Mrs. Martinez listened sympathetically. But at the end she shook her head. “I think the two of you should stay put and pray for him instead. I doubt you could see him now anyway,” she said.

Andie’s curly-haired twin brothers bounced into the kitchen. Seeing the treats, they tripped over each other to get to us.

“Me get tweet?” one of the two-year-olds asked.

“Yes, Chris. You get treat,” Andie said, pulling the pan of brownies closer. She cut a small piece for each of them. Chris and Jon jammed the brownies into their mouths and went running around the kitchen. Mrs. Martinez followed them to make sure they wouldn’t make a mess of things.

“Still want to get together tomorrow?” Andie asked.

“What for?” I’d completely spaced out.

“The Loyalty Papers, remember?” Andie said. “We’re going to revise them. And now that I see how much we both care for Jared, I think it’s urgent.”

Andie’s comment confused me. I thought things were actually improving between us.

Just then I remembered something else. “I forgot to call Mom.”

I hurried to the wall phone and punched in the number for her office. She answered almost immediately.

“Mom? I’m at Andie’s. I didn’t go right home because there’s been an accident…. A friend of mine was hurt at school.”

There was a pause. Then Mom, sounding quite displeased, said, “Holly, your sister’s been home alone all this time. Usually you’re more responsible than this.”

“But I
had
to come straight to Andie’s house,” I said, defending myself.

She didn’t buy it. “You should’ve called. I’ll phone Carrie to let her know you’re on your way.”

She hadn’t even asked about the accident. All she cared about was Carrie, who was perfectly able to take care of herself. Frustrated,

I said, “I don’t need a lecture about this, Mom. I really don’t.” I hung up without saying good-bye.

When I arrived home, Carrie was watching cartoons. “How was your test today?” she asked.

“Probably flunked it,” I told her. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s home now, and boy, are you in trouble.”

“Why?” I slouched into the arms of my favorite sofa.

“Something about your disrespectful back talk.” Carrie was sounding like a grown-up. Too big for her britches.

“Guess I should go up and apologize,” I complained. I stood and trudged up the stairs. Mom’s bedroom door was closed. I knocked and waited.

“Come in,” she said.

Not daring to look at her, I plodded over to the bed and sat down. The first few seconds were tense. Then she put her arm around me. “I love you, Holly-Heart, you know that.”

“Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“It’s getting harder to be…” I didn’t know how to tell her that I was feeling more and more rebellious—at least sometimes. “To be obedient.”

She smiled knowingly. “There are hundreds of changes occuring in your body right now. Your emotions will fluctuate, swing up and down. And most of the time, you won’t understand why you’re feeling the way you are.”

“So this will happen more and more?”

“It’s part of becoming a woman,” she said.

I picked up the rose-colored sachet pillow on her bed. Hugging it against my flat chest, I breathed in its sweet fragrance. “I was very sassy on the phone. I’m sorry, Mom.”

“I forgive you, honey. We all have moments like that. Try harder next time.”

I sighed, feeling exhausted. “You won’t believe what happened at school today.” From then on it was like opening a can of soda. My words poured out. I could always talk to Mom. The fiery rebellion was gone.

After supper we got a call from the church prayer chain. The actual facts: Jared was stable, but he was suffering some momentary amnesia from having struck his head on the hard gym floor. As for his leg, it would be in traction until they operated. Then he’d be in a cast for six weeks or so.

So much for basketball this season,
I thought. I was disappointed for him. And I was dying to see him.

“When can I visit him?” I asked Mom while I washed the pans. Carrie was drying, and Mom was putting away the leftovers.

“We’ll have to call the hospital and see about visiting,” Mom said.

Carrie teased, “Maybe his amnesia wiped
you
out of his memory forever.”

“No chance,” I said, flicking her with soapsuds. “I’m unforgettable.” When the phone rang, Mom answered it. We could tell by Mom’s responses that the call was from Grandma Meredith. Carrie and I looked at each other, then watched Mom anxiously. Her smile faded, and the lines in her forehead deepened as she listened. Finally she said, “I can’t leave the girls, but I wish I could help in some way.” She sat down slowly.

There was a long pause.

Mom leaned her blond head against her hand. When she spoke, it was barely a whisper. “Please tell Jack and the children we’re praying.” Hesitantly, she beeped off the cordless phone.

Carrie and I stood like statues as Mom searched for a tissue in her pocket. Neither of us dared speak.

“Darlings,” Mom began slowly, “Aunt Marla’s not doing well. The docs think she has only a few weeks left….” Her voice broke.

We knew.

Later that evening, when we’d rehashed the news of Aunt Marla’s cancer, Mom and I made a feeble attempt to rehearse my audition piece for the youth choir. Mom made tons of errors, and it was obvious her heart wasn’t in it.

Afterward, I read out loud to Bearie-O in my bed. Having him close reminded me of the special friendship Andie and I had shared all these years. But lately things were so up and down between us. Like a yo-yo, or worse.

I continued reading, but my concentration was messed up. Uncle Jack and my cousins kept creeping into the mystery novel I struggled to read. What would they do if Aunt Marla died? My worries wandered in and out of the story.

Daddy strolled across chapter three. What about a response to the spring break question?

Jared called to me from chapter five. His leg had to be amputated. In chapter six, Andie demanded a major overhaul of our Loyalty Papers.

Halfway through chapter eight, Carrie threatened to whack off her long hair. She was sick of my sarcastic remarks and didn’t want to look like her big sister anymore.

It was close to midnight when all of them finally faded away. And I fell into a restless sleep.

BEST FRIEND, WORST ENEMY

Chapter 9

The next morning I slept till nearly nine o’clock. Mom was relaxing with the paper when I wandered downstairs. “Good morning, Holly-Heart,” she said, glancing up from the sofa. “Ready for breakfast?”

“Definitely.” I was starving as usual. So Mom fixed a platter full of pancakes with scrambled eggs on the side, then sat down with me to chat.

“Can I make snickerdoodle cookies after lunch?” I asked. “Andie’s coming over later. She wants to revise our Loyalty Papers, and I want to make sure she’s in a good mood, you know.”

“Sounds like you’re going to bribe her.” Mom’s eyes twinkled. “Not really.” Quickly, I changed the subject before too many questions were asked. “Where’s Carrie?” I asked, finishing off my last bite of eggs.

“Watching TV,” Mom said. She sipped her peppermint tea, her hands wrapped around the mug to warm them.

“Did Carrie say anything to you about cutting her hair?”

A shocked expression crossed Mom’s face. “No…this is the first I’ve heard of such a thing. Why do you ask?”

“Just checking,” I said, recalling the parade of problems dancing across the pages of my book last night. But the problem I cared about most was Jared Wilkins.

Thankfully, Mom didn’t probe any further about Carrie chopping off her hair. After we finished cleaning up the kitchen—and Mom was safely out of the room—I dashed for the phone and called Andie.

“Hi.” She sounded alert and ready for action.

“Whatcha’ doing?”

“This is so cool, Holly. Listen—I just found out Jared’s parents have agreed to let me bring my keyboard to his hospital room.”

“What for?” I asked but guessed what she was up to.

“The youth choir director wants to audition him at the hospital.”

There was a long silence while I groped for something to say. Andie had one-upped me, and I knew it.

“Sounds…well, interesting,” I said at last. The old green-eyed monster was poking its nose into my business again. “He must really want Jared in the choir.”

“Good tenors are hard to find,” she said.

“What about Jared’s amnesia?”

“It’s simple. He doesn’t remember anything that happened yesterday.”

“Nothing?” I thought about the phone call he’d promised to me. “What about the fall off the tramp?”

“Nope, not even that.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” I asked.

“My mom and his mom talked.”

Real sweet,
I thought.

“When are you going to practice the song with him?” I was dying for her to ask me to go along.

“Tomorrow afternoon. He’s supposed to rest during the morning. Which is probably a good idea. He’s in traction, you know.”

Her know-it-all attitude irritated me, but I said, “Still coming over today?”

“Yep. We’ve got major work to do on the Loyalty Papers, remember?”

Of course I remembered, but I secretly hoped
she
had forgotten. “Are you sure you want to revise them?” I asked.

“Sure do! Got ’em ready?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, giving in. “The Loyalty Papers await. And I’m making snickerdoodles after lunch. Wanna help?”

Andie laughed. “I’ll help by making them disappear.”

“Fabulous,” I said, and we hung up.

But I was worried about revising the Loyalty Papers. Really worried. I felt sure that the restructuring of our original documents—made between friends—might cause another major argument, especially since Andie and I were both crushing on Jared.