Holly's Heart Collection Two (2 page)

Oblivious to Goofey, Uncle Jack munched on popcorn. Then, reaching for an icy glass of root beer, he took his first drink. Meanwhile, Goofey—whose slightly torn ear flopped, reminiscent of his tomcat fight days—padded straight across the top of the sectional.

Then it happened! Goofey did the unthinkable. He curled him-self around Uncle Jack’s neck.

My stepdad jumped up. “What on—ah-ah-aw-
choo
!” He sneezed once, then twice, then three times! Before I could grab Goofey, he leaped from Uncle Jack’s shoulders and darted out of the family room and through the furnace room door.

Mom spun around. “Goofey!” she yelled, casting accusing eyes at me. “Where is he, Holly?”

“Honest, Mom, I didn’t let him out,” I said.

I fled to the furnace room to look for Goofey. There I found him crouched on top of a heat duct.

“Please, Goofey,” I pleaded, “come down here. You’ve caused enough trouble already.”

He refused to budge. His whiskers twitched as if to say, “I’m not bothering anyone up here, am I?”

Stan came in just then and saw my predicament. “Here, I’ll get him for you.” He pulled out a stepladder and climbed up, but when he reached for Goofey, the cat slithered away. “Your cat’s wreaking havoc with our family night, little sister,” he said—John Wayne style, of course.

“You can say that again,” Mom said, peering through the door-way with Carrie at her side.

“Your cat’s wreaking havoc with—” Stan began again, but stopped when Mom looked at him cross-eyed.

“Carrie,” I said. “Bring Goofey’s dish down here with some of his favorite food in it.”

“Okay!” She bounded away, giggling.

Mom sent me a stern look, then left to see how Uncle Jack was doing. Meanwhile, Stephie, followed by Mark and Phil, squeezed into the furnace room to watch the excitement.

“I know what’ll get him to come down,” Phil said. He rolled his eyes and howled like a hound dog. “Ah-whooo! Rowf! Rowf! Rowf!”

“Oh,
that’s
really gonna help,” Carrie said as she brought in a dish of tuna-flavored cat food.

Stan took the dish from Carrie and held it up. Sniffing his favorite meal, Goofey inched out, away from the wall, step by kitty step. Slowly, Stan slid the dish down the heat duct as I steadied the ladder.

Stan grunted as he leaned forward. Mark made alien faces, Phil whined softly like a puppy, and Stephie made weird kissy sounds with her lips.

Closer…closer…Goofey crept toward the dish.

In a flash, Stan grabbed my cat with his free hand. Frightened, Goofey spit and hissed. I snatched up the cat dish just as Stan lost his balance, toppling into a pile of laundry.

And Goofey? He ran for his life!

I chased him upstairs and into my room. And Mom was close behind. She closed the bedroom door firmly behind her.

I was expecting a full-blown lecture, and she didn’t disappoint me. “Holly-Heart,” she started in, “this is serious business.” She stood across the room as I sat huddled with Goofey on my window seat. Her soft blue eyes squinted slightly. “I think it’s time you found another home for your cat.”

I looked up at her, shocked. “But he’s part of our family!”

Mom wasn’t listening. “The pills make Jack listless. He’s not himself, and I’m really tired of it.”

I took a deep breath, thinking of Goofey. And of myself. The purring on my legs rose to a gentle rumble as he relaxed into my lap. I kissed the top of his head.

Mom sat opposite me on the window seat. “Listen, honey, I don’t want to make things difficult,” she said. “I know how much this cat means to you.”

This cat? What a way to refer to the precious bundle of fur who’d seen me through Daddy’s leaving and the divorce. Who’d been with me ever since I’d learned to walk…and so much more.

“I’m sorry, Holly-Heart.” She touched his drowsy head. “My decision has nothing to do with how I feel about Goofey.”

“Please, Mom!” I begged. “I’ll do anything to keep him here. I’ll even make a place in my closet for him when I’m at school. He could eat and drink and sleep in my room, even on weekdays. I promise he’ll never go out unless I carry him.”

Mom made a sad little sighing sound. My speech had tugged on her heart strings. Perfect!

She stood up to leave. But I could see by her face that I had lost the argument. “Please don’t do this, Holly,” she said. “I think it’s best that Goofey leave. I’m sure you can find a home for him by the end of the weekend.”

“But, Mom—”

“I’m sorry,” she said and headed down the stairs.

I held my beloved cat close. “It’s obvious no one loves you the way I do,” I whispered in his tattered ear. “We have to find you a home. One where we can still spend lots of time together.”

Pushing my shoe rack aside in my closet, I arranged a soft bed of blankets. “You’ll be safe and warm here,” I told him.

“Show time,” Stan called to me from downstairs.

“Coming,” I answered. I didn’t feel like watching a silly DVD about pets. But I clumped down the steps anyway, thinking only of Goofey’s future.

SECOND-BEST FRIEND

Chapter 2

Saturday morning after breakfast, I pulled on my ski jacket, mittens, and scarf.

“Where are you going?” Mom called to me from the kitchen.

“To find a home for an outcast,” I announced, running upstairs to get Goofey. I wrapped him in an afghan, and as we came down the steps, I held him up, giving him one last look at his home. “Say bye-bye to the lamp. Remember, you knocked it over the first Christmas you lived here?”

I glanced toward the kitchen. Could Mom hear my going-away speech?

Going-away parties, after all, were never much fun. Especially if the person…er, pet was a close friend like Goofey. He’d shared my window seat, curling up next to me as I wrote in my journal each day. He’d been my companion all through the crazy days of grade school. Not to mention the trials of last year—seventh grade. And Goofey had snuggled near me through every prayer I’d ever prayed, except for the ones prayed in California, where Daddy and his new wife lived.

Staring down at his furry face, I whispered, “How can I say good-bye to you?” A lump sprang up in my throat as I lowered my face to cuddle him.

Just then the front door swung wide. Stephie, Mark, and Phil burst in, followed by Uncle Jack. “It’s gonna be a big one,” said Uncle Jack, grabbing my shoulders and guiding me to the living room window, Goofey and all. “Look up there. Storm clouds are dying to dump.” He pointed to the snow clouds hanging over the mountains. Uncle Jack looked down at the bundle in my arms. “Whatcha got in there?”

Faster than lightning, Goofey hissed and swatted his paw at Uncle Jack’s nose. I pulled the cat away.

“Sorry,” I said, amazed at the sudden increase in Goofey’s intellect. My cat had recognized his own mortal enemy! Not bad for a lazy feline.

Uncle Jack sneezed three times, which brought Mom running. “Holly!” she said as she came into the living room. “I thought you’d already left.”

“I’m leaving now.” I spun out the front door.

A quick jog down the street brought me to the city bus stop. In a ski village like Dressel Hills, the transportation system was free. Hop on, hop off, anytime—day or night. I pushed my fat friend into the afghan, hiding him. It would be easy to conceal him. Old and pampered, Goofey had slept through longer things than bus rides to my best friend’s house.

Soon we were on Andie’s street. I pulled the cord and waited for the bus to come to a complete stop before standing up.

Outside, I hurried to the Martinez residence. The wind was picking up, and I kept Goofey covered. “You remember Andie Martinez, don’t you, little guy?” I said to the puff of gray nestled in my arms. “She’s my best friend ever. If everything goes as planned, she’ll be taking very good care of you from now on.” I pushed the doorbell with the thumb of my mitten.

Andie’s mother opened the door, eyeing my afghan-wrapped bundle. “Quick, come inside, it’s whipping up a storm.” She hurried through the living room and called up the steps for Andie.

“Be down in a sec,” Andie hollered down.

I waited silently, even though Andie’s mother cast curious glances at the quiet lump in my arms.

“My toy…mine!” a husky shout came from the kitchen. One of Andie’s twin brothers, no doubt. The three-year-olds weren’t identical in looks, but their vocal chords definitely had matching decibel levels.

Mrs. Martinez excused herself to investigate the battle, leaving me alone with my precious Goofey. It was sweet having these last few minutes together. Just the two of us. For all too soon, Andie and her family would be the proud new owners of a weird-looking cat named Goofey Meredith.

Meredith’s my last name. But Mom traded it to marry Jack Patterson at Thanksgiving, two and a half months ago.

I figured as long as the honeymoon lasted, Goofey was safe. A kind-hearted man like Jack Patterson could take allergy pills off and on, no problem, no complaints. But I’d guessed wrong. Mom was completely bummed out by the medication’s side effects. And who could blame her? Uncle Jack was flat-out droopy.

“Hey, Holly.” Andie appeared wearing dark blue jeans and a black sweater. Her dark curly hair framed her chubby cheeks. She eyed the afghan suspiciously. “What’s that?”

“We have to talk,” I whispered.

She came over and peeked under the afghan. “Oh, it’s Goofey,” she said. “What’s he doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” I said. “But here’s the deal. Goofey’s up for adoption, and I’m giving you first chance to—”

“Wait a minute,” she interrupted. “I don’t want your cat.” A look of horror spread across her face. “He’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“His looks never bothered you before,” I snapped. “All those times at my house—shoot, you even slept with him.”

“That’s different than claiming him.
You
keep him.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Uncle Jack’s allergic, and Mom’s sick of the pills.”

She tried to keep from laughing, but a giggle escaped. “That was so funny at their wedding when your uncle sneezed all over the place. Remember?”

How can I forget?

“Look, I didn’t come here to discuss that,” I said. “I’m here because I thought you might consider helping me out.”

She motioned me up the stairs. Once in her room, she closed the door. Clothes were strewn everywhere. The pink floral comforter had slid halfway off her bed.

“Honestly, Holly,” she said, “I’d consider taking your cat for you if I could. It’s just that I’m in the middle of real important stuff right now.”

I studied her. What was she trying to say?

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Andie sat on the floor cross-legged, leaning her back against the bed. Goofey jumped out of the afghan.

“Tell me what?” I asked.

“Well, it’s just that…” She stopped.

I sat down. “You can tell me anything, Andie,” I reassured her. “We’ve been best friends forever. What is it?”

“Your fourteenth birthday,” she said, twisting a dark curl around her finger. “I can’t come to your party. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that we’re going to Denver Friday evening, and we won’t be back in time.”

I glared at her. “Why are you telling me this now? The party’s a week from today.”

“We—my family and I—have been waiting for some paper work,” she admitted.

I fumed. “What paper work…and what’s going on in Denver?

“ Christiana’s coming.”

“Who?” The way Andie sounded, Christiana might have been the Queen of England or something.

“My pen pal from Austria. Christiana’s coming to stay with us for five weeks. It’s a private exchange program her parents set up with us.” Andie was silent, like she was waiting for me to respond.

I jumped on it. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“We didn’t know if it was going to work out or not.”

I felt totally left out. “When were you going to tell me?”

She shrugged. “Soon enough.”

“So you’re saying you can’t adopt Goofey because of some overseas pen pal? And you’re skipping my birthday to pick her up?” I stared at Andie.

“It’s just one of those things,” she said apologetically. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to take your cat. I hope so, Holly, for your sake.”

“C’mon, Goofey,” I said, rewrapping him in Mom’s afghan. “We have to go.”

“Sorry. I really am.” Andie’s face drooped, and she played with her leather watchband.

I headed into the blustery February afternoon without even saying good-bye.

SECOND-BEST FRIEND

Chapter 3

By the time the city bus arrived, I felt like a human icicle. Sliding into the first available seat, I cuddled Goofey close. Feelings of frustration swept over me. I couldn’t decide which was worse, losing my precious cat, or not having Andie at my birthday party this year.

Without Andie, there was no need for a party. Who wants to celebrate turning fabulous fourteen without your best friend?

I stared out the window. Snowflakes were beginning to fall. Uncle Jack was right; it looked like we were going to get dumped on.

Downtown, the bus stopped to take on more passengers. Paula and Kayla Miller got on, loaded down with shopping bags, probably filled with designer clothes. They wore their brown hair down, matching as always.

“Hey,” I said when they saw me.

They sat in the seat behind me. Paula stared at the afghan in my arms. “Did I hear a cat crying?” she asked, flashing her sickening-sweet smile.

Glancing around, I slowly revealed my cat. “This is my homeless pet, Goofey.”

Paula’s eyes blinked, a week’s worth of mascara weighing them down. “He doesn’t look homeless to me.”

Kayla spoke up. “We heard about Mr. Patterson’s allergies. Our father told us.”

Paula and Kayla’s dad worked with my stepdad in a consulting firm. I wasn’t surprised that they’d heard about the problems with Goofey.

“What a shame,” Paula cooed over my shoulder, nearly in Goofey’s face. “He’s so sweet.” Then she got up and slid into the seat beside me. “Mind if I pet him?”

“Okay,” I lied through my teeth. I didn’t want her talking to me, let alone cuddling my cat! This girl had caused me enough trouble to last a lifetime.