Enchantment (20 page)

Holly took a big bite of cereal so she wouldn't have to answer. She leaned against the counter, crunching. She didn't want to sit at the dining table with Dad. She could see his hands through the doorway into the dining room, cutting a bite of egg, stirring his coffee.

Suddenly she just wanted to be away. She dumped the rest of her cereal down the disposal, poured the coffee after it, and rinsed the dishes.

“Holly—“

Holly flipped the switch on the disposal as she shot Mom a glare. The grinding whine drowned out whatever Mom was about to say. It would just be the same old thing anyway, and Holly'd had enough.

She turned off the disposal, shouldered her pack, and headed for the garage. Dad's voice called after her.

“Straight home after school, Holly!”

She didn't quite slam the door into the garage. Slamming it wasn't allowed, but she shut it with a pretty sharp snap. Still seething, she wheeled her bike up the driveway and climbed on.

She was tempted, really tempted, to turn right at the stop sign and go up to the spring. She was afraid her parents might call the school, though, and if they found out she'd ditched, they'd know where to look for her. She didn't want Ohlan's first meeting with them to start out with an argument.

What
did
she want it to be? She needed to figure that out.

She spent all morning thinking about it. Maybe she hadn't ditched classes, but she wasn't really there, either.

Problem was, her folks were expecting Ohlan to be a normal boyfriend. The truth—as wonderful as it was—didn't fit into any normal pattern, and therefore they were assuming the worst.

At lunch, she sat alone, pretending she didn't see Debbie and Jen and the gang at one of the long tables. Didn't work; Jen came marching over and picked up Holly's tray.

“Come on, we're all sitting over here.”

Holly caught hold of her tray and pulled it back to the table. “Not today. I need some alone time.”

“But we're planning tonight! Half of us want to go to Sparky's and half to Philomena's. We need a tie-breaker.”

“Sorry. I can't go with you guys. I'm grounded.”

“Grounded? Holy crap!” Jen yielded the lunch tray and sat down across from Holly. “What happened?”

Holly put the tray down between them. “Long story. Sorry, I'm not in the mood to talk about it.”

“Oh, Holly! Shit, I'm sorry. It wasn't us, was it?”

Holly glanced up at her. For all her I-don't-care attitude, Jen was actually a softy who cared very much what other people thought of her, though she didn't let that dictate her wardrobe. She was wearing a black ripped-up t-shirt held together with a couple dozen safety pins. Holly couldn't help smiling, thinking how her father would have reacted to it.

“Nope. Unrelated.”

“When do you get out of the doghouse?”

“Don't know. Not this weekend.”

Jen stood up. “We'll skip the movie until next weekend.”

“No, you guys go. I'll catch up with you when I can.” Holly reached for her chocolate milk and opened it. “Tell the gang I'm sorry.”

Jen retreated, and Holly drank half her milk before stopping to breathe. She was starving after having only a couple of bites of breakfast, but when she looked at the lunch tray, she couldn't bring herself to eat.

A flourish of voices caught her attention. Debbie was out of her seat, edging between crowded benches. Holly grimaced. Dammit, she didn't want the whole gang to descend on her with awkward expressions of sympathy.

She stood up and grabbed her pack, abandoning the tray. It was her day to be a bad girl. She chugged the rest of her milk and tossed the carton into a trash can by the door as she made her escape.

Duck into A wing, jog down the hall to B wing, then outside again and across campus. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Debbie hadn't followed her. She sighed with relief, then headed for the school library, where she turned in the book she'd borrowed for Ohlan. Lunch period was only half over, so she cruised the aisles looking for another book to take to him.

Something she considered interesting, he'd said. Her heart started aching as she wandered between the shelves, looking for a book he'd like. She suspected he'd like them all.

She missed him, and she had failed miserably in the saving-the-spring department. If she couldn't get her folks to relent, there was a chance she'd never see Ohlan again.

No.

She swallowed the sudden tightness in her throat. She was not going to give him up.

Not going to give up on him, either. There were still things she could do. Less law-abiding, goody-two-shoes Holly type of things.

Her gaze caught on a title and she pulled the book from the shelf:
America's Narrow Gauge Railroads.
In spite of her worries, she smiled. Ohlan would like this one.

Of course, who knew when she'd be able to get it to him?

She gritted her teeth and moved on. Stlll fifteen minutes to kill before her next class.

Wandering through the science section, she found a small group of books about forestry. She chose the one that looked most interesting and carried it to the checkout desk along with the train book.

Afternoon classes were pretty much a repeat of the morning. Big fail in the note-taking, paying-attention department. Holly brooded, trying to puzzle out how to explain Ohlan to her folks so they wouldn't freak out. By the end of the day, she still hadn't come up with anything.

The sun was hot on her shoulders as she rode slowly home up the long slope of Mountain Drive. Indian Summer, last gasp before the cold weather started settling in. Already there were clusters of yellow leaves peeking through the green of the cottonwoods.

She wanted to keep going, up to the spring and into Ohlan's arms, to sit with him in the dappled cool of the glen. Swallowing bitterness, she turned down her street and coasted home.

Mom was in the front yard, wearing her big floppy gardening hat, digging in the flower beds. She turned her head as Holly came down the driveway. Holly looked away, pressing her lips together in annoyance, and went inside without saying “hi.”

The smell of pot roast set her mouth watering as she entered the kitchen. Gee, Mom had decided to make one of her favorite dinners. What a coincidence.

It felt like a big bait-and-switch. Holly knew Mom didn't mean it like that, but to her it seemed hypocritical to try to butter her up after grounding her.

She put her pack in her room and started in on her chores. Mom came in from the garden while she was sweeping the dining room. Holly put away the broom and went to clean the front bathroom. She wasn't in the mood for conversation.

She had almost finished her chores by the time Dad came home. Hearing his voice in the entryway calling out a cheery greeting, her first instinct was to lock herself in her room. She didn't want to see Dad, didn't want to talk to him.

She'd have to, though. She had only the weekend to convince him to relent. Mom would probably go along with whatever he decided.

A plan started shaping itself in her head as she went around the house emptying wastebaskets. She'd thought a lot during the day about how to introduce Ohlan to her folks, what to say. She wouldn't mention Madison or the way they'd all made fun of her when she talked about him before. One thing that damn photo had done was convince them he was real.

Now all she had to do was convince them he was good. She couldn't think of a better way than to get them all in the same place and let her parents see for themselves. If they didn't see how completely wonderful he was, she'd be very surprised.

Since Ohlan couldn't leave the spring, she had to get them to go up there with her. She needed to choose just the right moment to ask—and she'd have to keep her temper.

That would be the hard part. She still felt mad every time she thought about being grounded.

“Hey, kiddo!” Dad's voice sounded a bit too cheerful as he caught up with her in the kitchen. “How was school today?”

“OK.”

Holly lifted the bag out of the kitchen trash can, set it on the floor, and shook out a fresh bag, fitting it into the can. She carried the old bag out to the garage and put it in the big trash bin, then rolled the bin out to the curb for the next morning's pickup.

When she came back into the kitchen, Dad was still standing there. Holly washed her hands, then opened the silverware drawer and made as much noise as possible getting out utensils for dinner.

Dad gave up and went into the living room. As Holly was setting the table, she heard the TV come on. She finished the table and quietly slipped back through the kitchen to her room.

She closed the door and sighed. Her haven, for a little while, anyway. Glancing at her bedside clock, she saw she had a quarter of an hour before dinner. She flopped onto her bed and hugged a pillow, closing her eyes and thinking about Ohlan.

Tap, tap. “Holly?” Mom called softly.

Holly rolled over on her stomach, ready to feign sleep. She held still, listening to the heavy silence. Finally Mom's footsteps went down the hall.

This would get old. She should figure out what to say to them whenever they decided to insist that she talk. She knew they would do it—only question was when.

Homework. Books. If she got desperate, she could say she wanted to look through the college brochures.

What if they asked about Ohlan?

She'd say they should talk to him themselves. That might work to get them up to the spring.

The muted murmur of the television went silent. Holly glanced at the clock.

One minute to six. Time to face the parental anxiety squad.

She slid off the bed and straightened her clothes, then headed for the kitchen. Salad bowl waiting on the counter; Holly picked it up and carried it out to the dining table.

Dad was already at his place. Mom looked up from setting a platter of pot roast and vegetables in the middle of the table.

“Thanks, Holly. Could you bring in the bread basket?”

Holly went back to the kitchen and returned with the bread and the butter dish. Mom was in her chair. Holly took her own place, not looking forward to the next half hour.

“How was school?” Dad asked as he served up the roast.

Holly reached for the iced tea pitcher and filled her glass. “Fine. Got some homework.”

There. She'd spoken. Proof that she wasn't sulking.

She stirred sugar into her tea and helped herself to bread, then she couldn't resist the smell of the pot roast any more. She dug in, wishing she'd managed to eat lunch so she could play it cool now. The roast tasted too good, though. She had to work not to gobble it.

Mom asked Dad about his day. Holly ate in silence, not really listening. It was the same conversation they always had. Their evening ritual. Dad talked about whatever project he was working on, and Mom talked about the errands and stuff she'd done. Never varied much.

Holly finished her first serving and dished up some salad before going for seconds. Mom was watching her with a warm look in her eyes. Mother hen glad to see the chick eating.

After the salad Holly slowed down. She took one more small slice of roast, a carrot and half a potato.

She wondered what Ohlan would think of this meal. Since he didn't need to eat, did he care at all about how food tasted? He seemed to enjoy the cookies and the sandwich she'd brought him.

Thinking of him, she felt the wonder of it all over again. What was it like to be him?

“
Some good movies on tonight,” Dad said. “Anybody interested in
Firebrand
?”

Holly clenched her teeth. More kissing up. She despised it.

Firebrand
was a movie her parents had nixed when she'd wanted to go see it in the theater. It had a lot of sex and violence in it. She'd watched it at Jen's house on a sleepover, but her folks didn't know that. The TV version would be toned down, no doubt.

“We could make some popcorn,” Dad added. “What do you say, Holly?”

“I think I'd rather get started on my homework.”

Silence. She kept her eyes on her plate, though she knew the folks were exchanging one of their looks.

She wasn't hungry any more. She cut up her food into miniscule pieces and stirred them around, waiting for her folks to finish.

“Apple cobbler for dessert,” Mom said.

Holly pushed her plate away. “Guess I took too much. Can I have mine later?”

“Sure, honey.”

She carried her dishes out to the kitchen and refilled her water glass, then escaped to her bedroom. Just because she'd said it, she did one of her homework assignments. Then she checked her email.

Message from Mad. She almost deleted it unread. Just seeing Mad's email address brought back all the anger.

She clicked on the email. It was chatty about school, and included hellos passed along from Mad's roommates. No mention of the photo.

Holly deleted the message without answering. She replied to a couple of text messages from her friends, who were probably at the movie theater by now. Too bad she couldn't text Ohlan. That would have made life a lot simpler.

Was he missing her? Wondering what had kept her away this time? She swallowed her loneliness and dug out the book about trains.

The weekend was all more of the same. Holly stayed out of the living room, a self-imposed ban on sitting in front of the TV. Her room was safer; her parents were less likely to demand conversation. She finished her chores, then her homework, then read the forestry book after finishing the train book. By Saturday evening she was down to online games to pass the time.

“I was thinking we could do a picnic tomorrow for lunch,” Mom said at supper.

Holly looked at her, a tingle of hope washing through her. Mom didn't seem to realize the chance she'd just offered.