Holly's Heart Collection Three (9 page)

The next morning in homeroom, after announcements, the freshman class was dismissed and we poured into the school auditorium. There were kids with posters and banners everywhere. And Andie came in carrying a large flag that read
Andie’s a Dandy!

Did she come up with the clever slogan on her own? I finally got Andie’s attention and squeezed past three kids to the empty seat next to her.

“This is going to be so cool.” She held the homemade flag on her lap, wriggling with anticipation. “See what we made?” she said, showing me the flag.

I glanced at the flag, guessing who “we” was and deciding not to comment. I wanted this moment to be special between us. Squelching the desire to probe, I settled back and waited for the assembly to begin.

Andie looked rather peachy—I mean her cheeks. I didn’t want to stare, but it seemed she was wearing more makeup than usual. And a sharp new outfit: designer jeans and a black sweater jacket over a white shirt.

“Hey, fabulous clothes,” I said, touching the sleeve of her new sweater.

“Dad finally broke down and let me buy something new just for today.” She was wired up. Even had on new perfume.

“Lucky you,” I said, smiling.

“I called you last night . . . to tell you about it.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I had tons of homework.”

“That’s what your mom said.” There was a ring of accusation in her voice.

Then two boys behind us started the clapping as the high-school principal, Mr. Crane, stood up to the podium. For a moment I felt a twinge of sadness for my old school. My junior-high days—the good old days—before algebra and homework to the hilt.

Mr. Crane got things rolling. And soon Amy-Liz was on her feet. “I would like to nominate Andrea Martinez for freshman class president.”

Explosive applause. And whistling.

Andie stood and waved to her fans with absolute style. She beamed her thanks, and I watched my dearest friend as she seemed to metamorphose before my eyes. Andie’s poise and confidence surprised me.

I pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, and then a girl three rows away stood up and made the nomination for Jeff Kinney. I turned my attention away from Andie, who was talking with kids behind us, pretty much ignoring me. The sights and sounds muddled together, and I noticed Amy-Liz standing up again, proudly nominating Jared for vice president.

Andie kept bumping into me, like she didn’t even know I was there. She was so caught up in the moment—bustling in and out of her seat, chatting with everyone around her. The worst part happened right on the heels of the assembly. I wanted to hug Andie and give her my support—tell her how thrilled I was at the response of the students. But she and I somehow became separated in the crush of students while exiting the auditorium.

To make matters worse, Paula and Kayla were waiting in the hallway. I could see them just ahead of me. A lump jammed in my throat as my best friend literally ran to the twins with the swell of the crowd at her back.

By the time I was able to forge through the flood, Andie and the Miller twins had vanished.

FRESHMAN FRENZY

Chapter 15

With tears threatening to spill over, I headed for the girls’ rest room and into one of the stalls. I dabbed some toilet paper at my eyes.

What right had Paula and Kayla to intercept Andie and snatch her away from me? We were all friends, for pete’s sake!

Frantic feelings, similar to the ones I’d had on the first day of high school, enveloped me. I stood inside the bathroom stall, clinging to my books, fighting back tears.

That’s when I heard Andie’s voice trickle into the rest room, followed by the laughter of Paula and Kayla. The three of them were having a fabulous time while I hid, my face all streaked with tears.

Andie began to replay the class meeting for the twins’ benefit. I could almost see them touching up their hair and makeup as Andie chattered on. “I couldn’t believe how everyone clapped when Amy-Liz nominated me.”

“Oh, I can believe it,” Paula said, pouring it on. “You’re going to make a wonderful class president.”

Kayla spoke up. “Why did you wait so long to call us last night? We were absolutely thrilled to drop everything and come help with your banners and flags.”

Paula continued. “It’s really unfortunate about Holly. After all, she was your first choice.”

“Right,” Andie said. “Before school ever started she promised to be my campaign manager, and now this.”

I frowned, feeling caged in. No one was making any sense! What did she mean—“now this”?

“Do you think Holly’s using her homework as an excuse?” Kayla said.

Andie was silent.

Paula cut in. “I don’t think she would do that. But then, Andie knows her better than we do.”

“Does
anyone
know what’s going on with Holly Meredith this year?” Kayla asked. “She’s certainly not herself, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Andie was finally talking. “I hate to say it, but I think she’s jealous about the election thing. To tell you the truth, I think she’s ticked because she isn’t running for student council herself.”

I despised what I was hearing and wanted to shout, “You’re wrong—all of you!” but I remained silent, hoping the three of them would leave. The sooner, the better.

Angrily I stared at the graffiti scribbled on the door in front of my eyes, wishing I could block the sound of senseless chatter from my friends.

When Andie and the twins finally left, I reached for the latch. It was jammed!

“Hey, let me out!” I called.

There were snickers, unrecognizable ones. Then a scurry to the door, and silence.

I leaped up on the toilet seat and looked out over the door. No one was around. A message in red lipstick danced across the mirror. Freshman Frenzy!

I groaned and had to crawl out of the stall on my hands and knees. Quickly, I brushed myself off and washed my hands. Checking my hair, I realized that the perm was weakening a bit—getting more manageable every day. In fact, I was sure that by tomorrow I could wear my hair down instead of covering it with a baseball cap. Thank goodness for small miracles!

I knew the bell for second hour was about to ring, so I hurried to get myself together emotionally. Could I manage my second-period class—choir—without breaking down again? I cleared my throat and tried to hum as I pushed the door open and raced to my locker. Who could sing at a time like this?

I ran all the way up the stairs to the choir room, and just as I was rounding the corner, I spied Marcia Greene walking alongside Tina Frazer and her dog, Taffy.

“Marcia, Tina . . . hey!” I called.

“It’s Holly,” Tina said, smiling.

“How’d you know?” I said.

Tina laughed. “I depend on my hearing to identify people. That . . . and smells.”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing I showered this morning,” I teased.

Marcia seemed happy to see me. But Tina was the one doing the talking. “Are you headed for choir?” Tina asked.

“Sure am.” Glancing at Marcia, I volunteered to take Tina to choir.

Marcia smiled pleasantly. “That’d be great, Holly. Thanks.” I held my right arm out for Tina, the way I’d seen Marcia do. Tina wove her left arm into mine and we headed down the hall. “How’s school so far?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s the best,” she said. “And I love choir.”

“Me too. Especially four-part harmony,” I commented. “Just wait’ll we get into Christmas music.”

“I can’t wait.” Tina’s face shone with joy. “May I sit with you?”

“That’d be great.” I thought about the prospect of having a blind choral partner.

“I promise not to sing off-key. I really do have a good ear.” She laughed softly, and I opened the door to the music room.

The bell rang just as we found two seats together in the alto section. Two rows away, Andie was accompanied on either side by Paula and Kayla. It was obvious to me she didn’t want me to join them. Not a single chair in sight.

I focused my attention on the director and the new a cappella madrigal in our folders. And on Tina Frazer—a girl with a spirit of peace. Blindness was not a hindrance to her well-being. I sensed it in the way she spoke to me. The way she carried herself. The way she sat tall in her choir chair. Confidence was her middle name.

Once again, I felt ashamed.

After school there were posters popping up everywhere. Zillions of them. The
Andie’s a Dandy
slogan showed up on bright red banners mounted high on the walls. Above the row of freshman lockers. High on the arched doors leading to the gymnasium. In the girls’ locker room downstairs. I’d even noticed one in the shower during seventh-hour PE.

Andie and the Miller twins had probably posted them during lunch. I was sure they would use the excuse that I was nowhere to be found, which was true. Evidently they hadn’t waited for me.

Feeling deserted, I’d run off to the Soda Straw three blocks away for a burger and a strawberry shake. A place to think, to get lost in the crowd. While there, I’d made a list of pros and cons, deciding whether or not I actually had time to be assigned to Tina. An intriguing person—and a magnetic personality. Even if I had wanted to resist, my curiosity drew me to her.

Yet, interesting as Tina was, she made no demands on me. Which was perfectly refreshing in contrast to the way things were turning out between Andie and me. I couldn’t even do my homework—and refuse to answer the phone for once in my life—without Andie jumping to all sorts of conclusions. And the Miller-twin thing was really getting out of hand. Why, they were running everything. Andie’s campaign included.

So . . . I guess the bottom line was that I just felt left out. But there was someone for me—a girl with a laugh and a sparkle who had a way of brightening up the world around her. Tina.

The bus ride home was not only lonely, it was tiresome. Noisy too. With so many high-school students taking the city bus, it seemed as though we’d never get to Downhill Court. And try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Andie wasn’t there.

I thought back to the morning assembly. Andie, in all her glory, had accepted the rousing applause gracefully yet eagerly. My heavyhearted feelings returned as I remembered Amy-Liz standing and nominating my closest friend. Not a pretty picture. I should’ve been the one standing up, proudly nominating Andie Martinez. Sure, I was probably blowing things out of proportion, but I couldn’t do things any other way.

When I arrived home, Mom had a plate of snickerdoodles waiting in the kitchen. “How was your day, Holly-Heart?”

“The worst.”

She glanced at me. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not now.” I reached for two cookies. “Probably never.”

She frowned, going back to the sink, where she washed the cookie sheets and the mixing bowl. I went to the refrigerator and poured a tall glass of milk. Nothing in the world goes better with snickerdoodles than a cold glass of milk. Nothing, except maybe your friends hanging out with you, sharing your favorite snack.

I knocked that thought out of my consciousness. “Mom,” I asked, “did you have lots of friends in school . . . or only one?”

She turned to look at me for a second, then dried her hands. “I was always one for having a few close friends, I guess.” Mom stayed near the sink, leaning against the counter. “I can count on one hand the best friends I had in school.”

I took a long drink of milk.

“Why do you ask?” I figured that was coming. Mom knew me well. She and I could pretty much predict each other’s moods, as well as thoughts.

“Just wondered,” I muttered into my milk.

She wouldn’t let it go at that; I was sure of it. And she didn’t. “It’s not easy moving into a new era of your life, honey.” With those gentle words, she got me talking.

“But it’s so cruel out there,” I said. “I think I’ve been spoiled, you know?” I hated it when squeaks came instead of my normal voice. A dead giveaway to loss of emotional control.

But Mom was cool. She acted like I was totally together. “Some people have many good, close friends—they’d probably refer to a casual acquaintance as a very dear friend. Your stepdad is like that. He’s an extrovert—has oodles of friends.”