Holly's Heart Collection Three (39 page)

As it turned out, I did go straight home after school. Not to help Stan, though. I wanted to send an email to Sean Hamilton, my friend in California.

I’d met Sean, who was now a high-school junior, two Christmases ago, while visiting my dad and stepmom. During the course of many months of correspondence, he had become quite a close friend. In fact, if I dared to admit it to myself, I really liked Sean. Even more than Jared Wilkins, who had been my very first major crush. Actually, I liked him more than any boy I’d ever known.

Sean had a sensible way about him that most younger guys seemed to lack. He was a reliable, true friend and a strong Christian who had agreed to pray with me long-distance on several occasions. And he loved kids—maybe because he was already an uncle.

But there was more between us than just friendship, I was beginning to discover. For instance, when he signed off that he missed me or asked when I was coming again to visit my father—those sorts of words made my heart flip-flop. And two weeks ago, when Sean called and we’d talked for nearly twenty minutes, I found myself floundering a bit, almost at a loss for words, which never, ever happens!

Mom was okay with his phoning me; she figured we had a good, firm friendship through our letters and email. She’d even had the chance to meet him once herself. Besides, I was fifteen now—fifteen years old as of Valentine’s Day. The reason for my unique nickname, Holly-Heart.

Anyway, I couldn’t wait to write Sean about our choir winning at districts.

Hey, Sean!

I’m so excited. Remember I told you about some of the choral music we were practicing, trying to memorize and polish the songs in time for the district competition? Well, guess what? We’ll be going to Denver this Friday afternoon for state competitions. That’s right—we took first place at districts. Can you believe it? (I hardly can myself!) If we make it at state, Mrs. Duncan thinks we have a good chance at regionals, which will be held in Topeka, Kansas. Ever been there?

I went on to tell him about some of the baby-related plans my family had been making. Mom was getting more and more eager as the weeks rolled by, and quite uncomfortable, as well. Baby April—we knew it was a girl because of the ultrasound— was due April 25.

The crib and chest of drawers fit perfectly in my bedroom, which is a large room to begin with. I don’t know when I’ve been so excited about something, unless maybe show choir and the competitions coming up. Of course, that’ll only last a short time. Little April will be my sister forever!

I’ll write the second I know if we place this time. Okay?

Sorry this is so short, but I have gobs of government homework—mostly reading and answering essay-type questions. How about you? Is second semester going well? I hope so.

Write soon.
Your friend,
Holly

PS: How’s your calculus teacher doing now that his chemotherapy is finished? Is his hair growing back yet? Is yours?

Last September, Sean and a bunch of the guys in his class had joined ranks to offer support for their teacher, who had cancer. They’d actually shaved their heads!

As far as I was concerned, it was a noble thing to do. But that was the kind of guy Sean Hamilton was. Maybe that’s why I liked him.

I clicked Send, and my message flew into cyberspace to Sean’s laptop in California. Fabulous!

By the time Stan got home, I’d almost forgotten how bossy he’d been at school. Besides, this was one of the quieter afternoons in the Meredith-Patterson household. Carrie and Stephie hung out in their shared bedroom, listening to their favorite songs while Phil and Mark did homework on the dining room table. Surprisingly enough, everything was under control.

Mom, however, would want an explanation from Stan as to why he’d transferred sibling power to me while she was away from the house.

“You better tell her,” I said later. “If she finds out, you’ll be in big trouble.”

Stan swaggered around the kitchen, searching the cupboards for snack food. “I’ll handle it,” he muttered.

I figured Stan would probably forget about it, hoping Mom wouldn’t find out. He was like that sometimes, irresponsible about the truth.

“I think you had better get used to hanging out here after school,” I told him. “Our baby sister’s gonna need lots of attention.’

He snorted. “Don’t look at me. I’m not changing diapers— none of that stuff.”

What a macho guy he thought he was. “Having a baby around might do you some good,” I replied.

“It’s a girl thing,” he shot back. “And don’t you forget it!”

“Well, I can see you’ll make a fabulous father someday.” It was a retaliatory remark, and I could tell by his face that he recognized it as such. Fuel for the fire.

Stan snatched up a large box of pretzels, wearing a determined frown. He marched to the door leading to the family room downstairs. This was not to be the end of round one. Not even close.

IT’S A GIRL THING

Chapter 3

After supper Mom was settling into her comfortable Boston rocker when Stan sauntered into the living room. He glanced at me, his head giving a jerk toward the kitchen—my cue to get lost.

As I left the room, I heard him telling Mom about an unexpected intramural game that had come up after school. I was curious to know if he’d get in trouble, so I hung around the area between the dining room and the kitchen, listening.

Uncle Jack came downstairs then, headed to the living room, and sat on the couch near Mom. I could see the three of them from my vantage point and was about to indulge myself in a bit of delicious eavesdropping when Carrie caught me.

“What’s going on?” she whispered.

“Nothing.”

She scowled. “C’mon, I’m old enough to know things.”

“You’re only ten,” I replied.

“I’m a preteen!” Her eyes flashed impertinence. “So . . . what’s Stan in trouble for?”

I wasn’t going to let my mouthy little sister blow her top at me. Turning away, I headed downstairs to the family room, where Stephie and the younger boys were channel surfing in front of the TV.

Carrie followed. “It’s about you coming home and baby-sitting us instead of Stan, isn’t it?”

My lips were sealed. How did she always seem to know?

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” she demanded.

I turned and looked at my one-and-only birth sibling. “You don’t get it, do you? I just told you it’s none of your business. You’re acting like a spoiled brat.”

“I’m not a brat—I’m nearly a teenager! Start showing some respect.”

I shook my head. “You’re hopeless.”

“She sure is!” Mark hollered.

“No, she’s not!” loyal Stephie shouted back.

And before I could stop it, a full-blown shouting match was under way.

Uncle Jack called down the steps, and when the noise continued, he showed up, looking peeved. “Your mother and I are trying to have a quiet conversation upstairs,” he said calmly. “Do you think it might be possible to watch TV without raising the roof?” He smiled unexpectedly. “Very soon, there’s going to be a baby in this house, and the five of you”—and here he included me—“may need to rethink your interactive skills.”

“It’s not my fault,” I spoke up.

“You’re the oldest in the room, Holly.” That’s all he said before turning to leave, as though my age made me in charge.

Carrie moved her lips at me, mimicking our stepdad’s words, and I charged at her.

“Help!” she yelled. “Holly’s gonna—”

I mashed my hand over her mouth. And then I felt it. Her tongue, warm and wet, pushed through her lips into my hand.

“Eew!” I yelled, jumping away. “Don’t do that!” Which brought Uncle Jack right back downstairs.

This time he wasn’t as cordial. He was tired. The wrinkle lines around his eyes were more evident than usual. He was working hard these days. His consulting firm had become so busy that he and the Miller twins’ dad were hiring on several more employees for the Dressel Hills-based company, as well as the Denver branch. With a new baby on the way, Uncle Jack was even more stressed, especially because Mom had experienced some problems early in her pregnancy.

“Must you be yelling tonight?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, making no excuses as I wiped Carrie’s tongue print off my palm.

“And the rest of you?” He looked at Carrie now, and Phil and Mark.

“I was quiet,” Stephie piped up.

He nodded. “Let’s try and keep it to a dull roar, okay?”

“This is the last time you’ll have to tell us, Daddy,” Stephie volunteered. “We promise.”

Uncle Jack laughed softly, rumpling her chestnut hair. “It better be.”

I decided to remove myself from the room. Being the oldest sibling in the lower level of the house was dangerous. Besides, homework was a good excuse to leave.

Phil and Mark had located a reality show now, and Carrie was inching her way over to investigate it.

Stephie, however, carried Goofey, our cat, upstairs behind me. She followed me all the way to my room. “Here’s your Goofey boy,” she said, putting him down gently.

“Thanks.” I hoped she wouldn’t want to hang around and talk.

But she did. She closed my door behind her and plopped down on my window seat. “I wish you’d come home and babysit us every day after school,” she began.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” She played with Goofey’s tail.

“Why?”

“Because Stan’s way too bossy.”

I smiled. Nothing new.

“Well, we’re all going to have to work together from now on—and especially once our new baby sister comes.”

Stephie rolled her eyes. “It’ll be tough.”

“I know.” I went over and sat beside her. “You won’t be the baby of the family anymore. Right?”

“I’m being bumped.”

“You sure are, but won’t it be fun to have a real live baby-doll around?” I was groping for the right words. What did I know about this? Shoot, I had been four when my little sister came along—not eight, like Stephie. By the time a kid reached her age, she had every right to assume that her spot on the birth-order ladder was fixed.

“Do you think Mommy will let me hold her baby?” she asked, her round face full of anticipation.

“I’m sure Mommy will show you how. But you might have to sit down the first couple of times . . . you know, to get the feel of a squirmy bundle.”

She giggled about that, and when she was satisfied that Goofey was snuggled down for the night, she left the room.

I set to work reading my chapter for government, hoping I’d remember all the facts when it came time to write the long end-of-unit answers. It was a struggle but not as hard as algebra had been last semester.

Later, I went downstairs for a bowl of strawberry ice cream— my reward for finishing homework in less than two hours.

Stan, however, was snootier than ever. He dished up his own ice cream and made a big deal about taking it into the dining room, probably hoping to make me think he was abandoning me on purpose.

I, on the other hand, greeted his abandonment with sheer delight.
Fine,
I thought as I sat at the kitchen bar alone.
Act like the jerk you are.

And he did. Right up to the moment I said good-night. “Mom wants both of us to come home right away tomorrow after school,” he stated snidely.

“Whatever.” The word slipped out a bit sarcastically, but I didn’t care. Stan had wormed his way out of parental discipline once again.

How he managed to pull this one off, I’d never know!

IT’S A GIRL THING

Chapter 4

Friday, when Jared asked me to sit with him on the bus ride to Denver, I agreed.

Andie, the Miller twins, and Amy-Liz took my decision in stride and sat across from us. Anyone could see that Jared was not the flirt he once was. Actually, the guy was metamorphosing, like most of the other freshmen in our class.

I found it easy to talk to him, the way it had always been with Sean in California. And we had a lot in common, too. Both of us were still waiting to hear back about the manuscripts we’d sent to a small publisher—Jared’s entrepreneur uncle, who was eager to work with young authors like us.

“Heard anything yet?” I asked, feeling completely comfortable now about sitting beside Jared Wilkins.

He ran his hand through a shock of thick brown hair. “Only that they’ve narrowed down the manuscripts to be considered to seven or eight.”

“Really?” This was amazing. “Betcha don’t know which ones made the cut.”

“My uncle won’t tell me anything. I guess it wouldn’t be fair, you know, since I’m related . . . and since you’re my friend.” Jared smiled his glorious grin, making his blue eyes dance. “You
are
my friend, aren’t you?”

I glanced over at Andie and Paula. They were playing a card game, wrapped up in their own little world. Good! I wasn’t wild about someone listening in right now. Not with Jared starting to talk personal stuff.

Nodding, I said that I was. “And you know what?”

He turned toward me, and for a moment I thought the old, flirtatious Jared might return. But I was wrong. After all, I’d opened the door wide for whatever smooth-talking reply he might want to offer.

I took a deep breath. “It’s a fabulous feeling . . . you and me, uh, the way we are now.”