Holly's Heart Collection Two (17 page)

She ignored my comment. “Hey. What happened to our blizzard, anyway?”

“Beats me.” I piled my books into my backpack.

“Ladies, ladies” came a familiar voice.

I turned to see Jared. “Hey,” I said, grinning.

“Today’s our moment of truth,” he said, referring to Uncle Jack’s phone call. “You doing okay, Holly?” He leaned a little too close. Then he reminded me of Matthew 18:19.

“Thanks, Jared,” I said, backing away slightly. “I remembered.” In fact, I was banking on that Scripture.

Jared smiled. “I’ll walk you to science.”

I felt uneasy as he took my hand.

Andie shot me a strange look. It was a concerned, almost parental look. She wasn’t kidding. Jared was getting more possessive by the minute, and I was glad it wasn’t too far to my first class.

Whew, this is getting heavy,
I thought, finding my assigned seat and pondering my situation with Jared.

Slowly, I took out my notebook and pen. Glancing up, I noticed Mr. Ross erasing the board. He turned momentarily to answer a student’s question. His thinning hair was brushed back from a broad but low forehead. He looked snazzier than usual. As he turned to greet the class, I saw it. A hint of pink on his chin. Squinting, I peered at his face. It was unmistakable. There was a smudge of pale lipstick on Mr. Ross’s right cheek!

I wondered if Andie had spotted it, too. I kept watching her, tuning out Mr. Ross’s words. Then I saw her shake her head slowly, back and forth, back and forth. It was a secret signal. She’d seen the lipstick, all right. I could almost hear her bursting inside:
Check it out, Holly-Heart,
she was thinking. Mr. Ross got smooched in the teachers’ lounge!

Like I always said, love does strange things to people. Instantly I thought of Jared. His strong feelings for me were more and more obvious. Sure, I cared for him, too, but it wasn’t like we were grown-up and twenty-two.

Funny, twenty-two was the magic number for me, the perfect age to meet someone, fall in love, and get married. Guess it was all Mom’s fault. That’s how old she had been when Daddy walked into her life. She’d told me so after Daddy left, when we sorted through old files. There were letters—tons of them—from Daddy after he and Mom had their first few dates. I was only eight, but I remembered helping her pack them away in a box. It wasn’t a day I’d ever forget.

Mr. Ross and
his
love interest, our English teacher, Miss Wannamaker, had passed up that magic number long ago. Closer to fifty-two, Mr. Ross was a widower. Miss Wannamaker was an unclaimed treasure—or so Uncle Jack called women who’d never married. I preferred my label—ladies in waiting. It had such a regal grandness to it.

Around fourth period, it began to snow again. I studied the line of menacing black clouds from my vantage point in the alto section during choir. By sixth hour, things grew dark. The north wind struck, blending the ground and sky together. Whiteout! The air was thick with furious flakes of snow.

“Students, please remain in your classes” came the principal’s voice over the intercom. “A severe blizzard warning has been issued for the areas surrounding and including Dressel Hills.”

“No kidding,” whispered Andie, glancing at the windows.

“It’s a little late for warnings, don’t you think?” joked Billy Hill, seated in the desk across from me.

I nodded, mesmerized by the swirling whiteness. I’d seen blizzards before, but this…

“It’s frightening,” Andie said, coming over to watch with me.

“How will we get home?” I worried.

“You could get lost in this mess just by heading for the bus stop,” she said.

Which was true. I’d read about people trying to walk even a few feet, like to the neighbor’s or across the street, who were so blinded by the power of the wind and snow that they lost their way and froze to death. I shivered just thinking about it.

The principal’s voice came over the intercom again. “Teachers, please report to the office immediately.”

Our math teacher excused himself. Most of the kids had piled up against the windows by now, staring out at the roaring white beast.

“What if we have to spend the night at school?” Andie wailed.

“Are you crazy?” Billy said.

“This is the last place I want to spend the night,” Andie announced.

“I
have
to get home,” I whispered to no one in particular. Had to. My future was hanging by the single thread of a phone call.

GOOD-BYE, DRESSEL HILLS

Chapter 7

In a few minutes, big decisions were made. “No one is to leave the building,” the principal announced. It was a semi-state of emergency. Students without cell phones could make one phone call. Two minutes per call.

I waited in one of the phone lines, dying to talk to Mom. Four phone booths were near the entrance, and several office phones were being used to accommodate students. Standing between Andie and Paula, whose cell phone reception was nonexistent, I agonized over the state of things.

“It’s a perfect nightmare,” I said, shifting my backpack to my other shoulder.

“Could be worse,” Paula said.

“Oh yeah? Like how?” I said.

Andie began reciting a list of horrible things off the top of her head. “We could be buried in an avalanche, or stuck eating leftovers for a week, or…”

I stopped her just as Danny Myers came by. “Time to count our blessings, girls,” he said, grinning. Yep, he’d overheard our conversation. “It’s just a Colorado blizzard—probably won’t last past supper.”

“Past supper?” I wailed, thinking of Uncle Jack’s life-altering phone call.

“My dad has a snowmobile,” Paula said, grinning. “He’ll come bail us out after the storm.”

“Good idea,” Danny said. “After you, I get first dibs on a ride.”

We all laughed. Paula had gotten our minds off the worst-case scenario: an all-school sleepover.

The line for the phones inched forward. Suddenly Mr. Ross, our science teacher, made an announcement from the front of the line. “Sorry, kids, we’ll have to try later. Phones are out. This storm is a big one.”

Kids groaned as they broke up and headed for the corridor of lockers.

“Maybe that explains why my cell’s not working,” Paula said. “Doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere, at least not for a while.”

“Yeah,” Andie said. “We’re stuck at school. What a kick.”

“Trapped is more like it,” I muttered.

As we strolled to our lockers, another voice came over the speakers. It was Miss Wannamaker, our beloved English teacher. “Students of Dressel Hills Junior High, meet me in the auditorium for an assembly in five minutes,” she said. There was a strange, almost gleeful sound to her voice.

I got rid of my books and trooped off to the girls’ rest room with Paula and Andie. “Sounds like Miss W’s got something planned,” I said.

“Leave it to her,” Andie moaned. “I wanna go home.”

“Me too.” I yanked a brush out of my purse.

Paula stepped up to the mirror, primping.

“You look so good,” I complimented her. And she did, now that she was minus the cat eyes from heavy black eyeliner.

“Guess who’s experimenting with the natural look?” Paula said.

“I noticed,” I said, referring to her twin, Kayla.

“Where is she today, by the way?”

“Sore throat,” Paula said.

“At least she’s home. Lucky for her,” I muttered. “C’mon, let’s see what Miss W’s up to.” I led my friends out of the rest room and into the deserted hallway.

Andie, Paula, and I shuffled into the auditorium, claiming three seats together. The period bell rang—end of sixth hour. School was as good as over. Now, what about getting home?

“Dear students,” Miss W began the assembly. Her trademark. She started each class the same way, like a spoken letter. “It is an unusual situation we find ourselves in this afternoon. And we may as well make the best of it.” She stood tall and plump, smiling at the audience. “You shouldn’t worry. I will not be assigning essays titled, ‘The Day I Stayed at School for Supper.’ ”

The kids cheered. Some applauded.

“Nor will I discuss the great blizzards of ancient literature,” she joked.

I chuckled at her approach. She was really something. By now she had each of us in the palm of her hand.

“I will, however, propose an interesting activity,” she said. “But first I need five volunteers.”

Hands shot up around the auditorium. Miss W was an obvious favorite with students.

Andie was one of the kids chosen to go up on the stage.

“Now, then,” Miss W addressed the audience as five students paraded toward her, “we will play a game involving the entire school.”

Charades. The entire student body divided into five large groups. Not so difficult, because lots of kids were at home with sore throats and flu.

Miss W met with each of the five students. She told them to pick a favorite food and act it out.

Paula and I joined the group that had to guess Andie’s imitation. For starters, she got down on the floor and slithered like a snake.

Someone called out, “Noodles!”

Next, Andie rolled into a ball and tumbled across the stage.

I called out, “Spaghetti and meatballs!”

Andie grinned. “That’s right.”

One by one, the other kids did their food routines. Soon Miss W asked for a new batch of charades contestants. I raised my hand, and Miss W motioned me onstage.

“This time, I will ask you to act out your
least
favorite food.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Jared, Danny, and my other friends. Surely I could act out the charade so that
my
group would guess my ikiest food.

For some bizarre reason, the thought of honey stuck in my brain. It was one of the foods Joshua’s spies had discovered in the Promised Land. I guess I paralleled their trip to Canaan with our possible move to Denver. Right now, for me, honey was the most hideous food I could think of. But how to act it out?

I started by lumbering across the stage like an old mama bear. Sniffing, I reared up on my hind legs, as if I’d found honey high in a tree. I scooped the sticky stuff from the tree with one paw, stretching it out like a rubber band. Then,
plop,
I dropped the wad of imaginary honey into my hungry jaws.

Jared called out, “Taffy!”

Miss W shook her head.

“Chocolate syrup,” Andie guessed.

“Foods we
hate,
” Miss W reminded my group.

Danny Myers’ voice was strong and clear. “It’s honey,” he said. “Holly is honey.”

Our group clapped and cheered. Some of the guys whistled. And when I got back to my seat, Andie whispered, “I think Danny said, ‘Holly is
a
honey.’ ”

I gasped, dropping my jaw.

She grinned at me. There was a mischievous light in her brown eyes. “He’s stuck on you, Holly. Get it? Stuck?”

“No, he’s
sweet
on her,” Paula insisted, laughing.

I’d almost forgotten our dilemma. Here we were laughing, playing charades, while prisoners in our own school.

I checked my watch. Almost three o’clock. Four and a half hours before Uncle Jack would have some word on whether we were moving.

“Holly,” Andie said, pulling on my sleeve. “Listen to this!”

Miss W was saying something about spaghetti. She and Mr. Ross were going to cook up a supper the kids would never forget. Right here at school.

“Don’t forget,” I said, poking Andie and Paula, “Miss W and Mr. Ross catered my mom’s wedding reception. They’re excellent cooks.”

Just then Mr. Ross strolled onto the stage. He took Miss W by the hand—in front of the whole school. At first, I thought he was going to kneel down and propose marriage.

He began by saying, “All of you will be hearing about this sooner or later.”

“What’s he gonna say?” Andie whispered.

“Just watch,” I said, eager to know.

“Your lovely English teacher is soon to become the bride of this old man,” Mr. Ross boldly announced.

Most of us jumped to our feet, cheering. It was the announcement I’d been waiting for. Amid wild applause, Mr. Ross displayed the sparkling diamond on Miss W’s plump white hand.

More cheers of delight filled the auditorium. But a wave of sadness swept over me. How could I ever say good-bye to this school? To these dear people?

Without a word to Andie, I slipped into the aisle, heading for the hallway. The school secretary was locking up the principal’s office.

“Are the phones working yet?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

Disappointed, I glanced toward the main entrance. Wind rattled the doors. Whistling through the cracks, it created an eerie sound. And outside the snow continued to fall, wrapping our town in its layers of white fury.

GOOD-BYE, DRESSEL HILLS

Chapter 8

While Mr. Ross and Miss W did their culinary thing in the school cafeteria, the rest of the student body, about a hundred and fifty or so of us, were assigned to various places in the building. Like the music room and the library.

Andie chose the choir room to practice the piano, while Paula and I headed for the library. Paula worked on homework. I started writing a short story titled, “Good-Bye Whispers.”