Holly's Heart Collection Three (10 page)

I smiled, thinking of Uncle Jack’s charming ways. “I know what you mean. But what about my personality? Why’d I have to get stuck being an introvert?”

Mom’s eyebrows arched slightly. “I wouldn’t call you an introvert, exactly. None of us is simply one thing or another. There are many combinations and blends of personality traits.”

“Then what about Uncle Jack? You just said he—”

“Your stepdad seems to be rather gregarious out in public,” she explained, “and also when interacting with you kids. But there are times when he likes to be quiet and relax with absolutely no one around.”

“Not even you?” This was a surprise.

She smiled. “Not even me.”

I sighed. “So, then, what am I?”

Mom came over to the bar and sat on a stool. Her timing was perfect. I wasn’t threatened by her being close now. In fact, I needed her near. She began again softly. “Years ago, when you were a toddler, I read a book about this very thing. I wasn’t a Christian back then, but I understood in some small way that God had created each of us with a myriad of characteristics which, together, make up our personalities.”

I listened, fascinated. Never had I heard Mom talk about this.

“You have a high-spirited temperament, Holly,” she continued. “But you are also loyal and patient. Often you suffer in silence instead of lashing out.”

“Unless it involves my family,” I said, remembering how I fought to visit Daddy the summer before last.

Mom agreed. “Ever notice how you enjoy spending time in your room, writing in your journal . . . contemplating life?”

I nodded. “It feels good being alone sometimes.”

“Well, some people derive energy from being alone. Others need to be around people in order to feel charged up—alive.”

I was starting to get the picture. “I think Andie’s one of those people types,” I said without thinking.

“So is your father.”

“Carrie too?” I asked.

She nodded. “And Stephie, although I haven’t completely figured her out yet.” Mom chuckled.

“What happens when two friends have opposite personalities?” I figured Mom knew what I was really getting at.

“I think that’s probably a good sign. Some of the best friendships of history came out of personality contrasts.”

“Give me an example.” I was dying to know.

“Well, one comes to mind without trying too hard—David and Jonathan,” she said. “David was an outgoing, gregarious warrior, and Jonathan was a loyal, behind-the-scenes kind of guy.”

I was beginning to see that maybe Andie and I just needed some time apart. Maybe if she hung around the Miller twins long enough, she’d get tired and come home. To me.

Mom continued, “Sometimes, though—and you may already know this—people drift apart during the high-school years. It has much to do with growing up—finding who you are. That’s not to say that your closest friends won’t always be special to you; they will, but many times your circle of friends begins to widen from mid- and late-teens on. It’s a normal outgrowth of maturity.”

What a blow! Mom had just implied that if I were mature enough, I’d be moving ahead with my life, with or without Andie. How could she say such a thing? I mulled things over in silence.

“Holly?” She leaned over and touched my hair.

I didn’t want to hurt her. My negative reaction would have to stay well hidden. “I think it’s time to write in my journal,” I said, carrying my glass over to the sink. “My energy is fading, if you know what I mean.”

She nodded, catching on.

I ran up the stairs and exploded into my bedroom. So much for suffering in silence!

FRESHMAN FRENZY

Chapter 16

After supper, when my homework was finished and Mom had signed all my paper work for school, I made campaign buttons for Billy. An athletic student from way back in grade school, Billy was excited to include student politics in his life. Being the freshman class treasurer would be a nice addition to his high-school resumé.

Stan sauntered through the kitchen at one point, stopped, and peered over my shoulder at the campaign buttons. “Who in the world would wear those?” he said, then left.

I ignored his snide remark, wondering how I’d survive if he started dishing out freshman initiation. Initiation had been referred to as many things, some names worse than others, but the word was out—there would never be another year like this one. Already it was beginning. I knew they’d never be satisfied with merely locking
one
freshman in a bathroom stall. No way.

Mark, Phil, Carrie, and Stephie emerged from the family room and hung around to watch me work. When the boys finally wandered off to do homework at Uncle Jack’s nudging, I waited for Carrie and Stephie to do the same.

“Don’t you two have something to do?” I asked.

“We never get homework,” Carrie said.

“Wish I were back in grade school,” I muttered.

The girls were eager to help. I could tell by the anguished looks on their little faces. And being the wise big sister, I knew they’d never stop pleading until I gave them each a pair of scissors. “Make sure you cut perfect circles so the labels will fit into the plastic button holders.”

“We will—we know how to cut,” Carrie insisted.

“Yeah, we’re pros,” Stephie said.

Mom, observing the situation, grinned at me. “How are things going with Andie’s campaign?”

I really didn’t want to talk about that. “She’s doing okay, I guess. The students went wild at our class meeting this morning.’

“Oh?” Mom raised her eyebrows, showing definite interest. “Is that because my Holly-Heart has been busy pulling things together for her?”

“If you mean have I been out there organizing Andie’s election, the answer is no.”

Carrie and Stephie stared at me. “Ew, she’s mad,” I heard Stephie whisper.

“You bet I am!”

Stephie inched away from the bar and blinked her long eyelashes.

Mom frowned. “Holly, please.”

I looked at the youngest of our blended family. “Sorry,” I whispered. Then, turning to Mom, I cut loose. “Honestly? Andie’s making me crazy. She starts out literally begging me to help her, appoints me as her campaign chairman and all that, and pleads with me to write her speech.”

Mom looked puzzled. “Then what?”

“She gets all bent out of shape because I didn’t talk to her last night. Remember when she called? I was doing my algebra.”

Mom nodded, watching me intently.

“Then today, she has the nerve to act like I don’t exist.” I paused, catching my breath. “You should’ve heard Andie and the Miller twins going off about me.”

“How’d that happen?” Mom leaned on the kitchen bar.

“Well, they sauntered into the rest room and started shooting off all these theories they had about me. It was so bizarre.”

“And where were you?” asked Mom.

“Locked in one of the stalls,” I said, explaining that some hotsy-totsy upperclassmen had chosen that moment to crank up the wheels of initiation.

“You’re angry, Holly.”

Mom was right, but I couldn’t speak. Not now.

She sighed. “Is that why you’re helping Billy and not Andie?”

Tears welled up and I fought them back.

Carrie and Stephie were hard at work making perfect circles. They seemed disinterested, which was a relief. Mom, however, motioned me out of the kitchen. “Little squeakers have big ears,” she whispered as we headed for the living room.

On the way, I glanced back at the girls. “You asked about Andie. Well, that’s what’s happening.”

Mom sat on the sofa. She seemed eager to talk to me in private. “I wonder,” she said, “have you thought about all of this from Andie’s perspective?”

I leaned forward on the rocker. “I’ve tried. Maybe not very hard, though.”

“Is it possible that you’ve been acting a bit selfishly in all of this?”

I leaned against the rocker, thinking back over the past few days. I’d been possessive of Andie, disagreeable, too. No wonder Andie felt the way she did. Still, I couldn’t relinquish my anger.

The rocker creaked rhythmically as Mom stared at me.

“Why don’t you pray about this?” she suggested at last.

I could feel my heels digging in. Stubbornly, I shrugged. “Maybe later.”

Mom picked up a magazine, concern still imprinted on her face. I headed for the kitchen to finish up Billy’s campaign buttons. Later, when everything was cleaned up, I went to my room.

I knew if I wrote in my journal before calling Andie, it would take some of the fire out of my words. Something an introvert would probably do.

I located my journal in the bottom drawer of my dresser. Then, since it was almost dark outside, I sat at my desk.

Tuesday, September 10: I wish I knew what was happening between Andie and me. She’s so strange these days—which is something she said about me earlier today as I innocently eavesdropped on her.

All this talk about Paula and Kayla promoting Andie is really bugging me. They’re sophomores! I still can see Andie rushing to them after the class meeting this morning. It was actually cruel! I mean, there I was, sitting right beside her, and she didn’t even have the courtesy to turn around and share her exhilaration. How could she do this to me?

I stopped and scanned the page, rereading my entry. Was I overreacting?

I continued to write.

Mom and I had a talk today after school. She gave me some insight into my own personality. I’ve been enlightened. (Ha!) But I’m going to check out some library books and thoroughly analyze myself anyway.

Mom says I should be praying about my disagreeable self. That hurts.

I closed my journal and set it aside. Leaning back in my chair, I stared at my lavender bedroom. Things were starting to look a bit dusty.

Funny. When you’ve spent practically your whole life in the same room, everything around you feels solid. The same way the most comfortable relationships feel. I thought of Andie. Paula too. Was I ready to let them go—move forward—to broaden my circle of friends?

Life without my two best friends . . . Sure sounded like a good title for a sad book. Maybe I’d write something like that someday. And when I was all grown-up, and the pain of this week had long since dimmed—when I needed a point of reference—I would return to this journal and reread the trauma of the first horrible week of my freshman year.

The entries concerning Andie and me, the way I felt wounded over being left out, all of it, would refresh my memory. Maybe the book would be for teen girls. Yeah, that’s what I would do. Someday . . .

I got up and put my journal away. Then I went to the hall and leaned over the long banister. The house was quiet. Maybe, just maybe, the portable phone was free. It was time for a heart-to-heart talk with Andie.

FRESHMAN FRENZY

Chapter 17

Andie picked up on the third ring.

“Hey,” I said, hesitantly. “Guess who?”

“I’m busy,” she said.

“Homework?”

“You could say that.” There were giggles in the background.

My heart was in my throat. “You’re working on your campaign, right?”

“Kinda.”

I waited, hoping she’d invite me over. When she didn’t, I felt dizzy, like I was going to black out.

“You still there, Holly?”

“Uh . . . I guess so.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked amidst a backdrop of fun and friends.

“I just called to tell you how happy I am about today.”

“Well, if I win, it’s no thanks to you. You haven’t done much of anything.”

The anger rose in me. Mom had said that I often simmered in silence. But right now I felt like a volcano about to erupt.

“You don’t have time for me anymore.” Her words were like ice. “Your homework and other things, like making campaign buttons for Billy Hill, are much more important these days, right?”

How does she know about the buttons for Billy?
I wondered.

She kept going, and finally I couldn’t take it any longer. “Just stop, Andie. Stop right now,” I hollered into the phone. “I’ve had it with you and those secret meetings you never invite me to. If you want to do everything on your own without help from me, then fine. And while you’re at it, go ahead and write your own campaign speech!” There, I’d said it.

And then it happened. Without a single word of protest, without Andie pleading with me to rethink things, I heard the sound that echoed in my memory for days to come.

Click.
She’d hung up the phone!

I beeped off the cordless phone and curled up on my bed. Goofey must’ve sensed my sadness. He came padding over and jumped onto the bed. Gently, I put my head against his soft body and let his purring soothe me.

Crying, I began to pray. “Oh, Lord, what’s wrong with me? Is Mom right? Am I the one who made things go all wrong with Andie?” I sobbed into my pillow. “Please help me. I feel so sad. My best friend just turned her back on me. She didn’t even argue with me at the end. What does it mean, Lord?”

I fell asleep with Goofey beside me.

Around midnight, I realized Mom had come in and tried to tuck me in. There was only one problem with that, and it had nothing to do with falling asleep without my pajamas. Far worse—I hadn’t finished my homework.