I’m hoping this’ll change her mind. Grandpa Joe’s been the preacher at Holy Cross Church for as far back as I can remember. Not only that, but he’s one of my favorite people in the world—aside from Hollis, of course. Grandpa Joe always sticks up for me when my mother starts going on about how I’m not “ladylike” enough, not “refined” enough, or whatever she’s in the mood to complain about.
Basically, I’m never enough of anything for her. Grandpa Joe always tells me, Be tough, Shortcake. It’s not you. Your mama’s always got a bee in her bonnet.
My mother tips her head to the side. “Why don’t you ever play with Lora Ann? She’s a lovely little girl.”
I work hard not to make a face. Just hearing that girl’s name makes my stomach churn so much I about toss my cookies.
Lora Ann is wretched. The Bible verse about the wolf in sheep’s clothing reminds me of her. She has perfect hair and teeth and always acts polite in front of adults, but when they’re out of sight or not paying attention, that all changes. She’s one of the kids who makes fun of my teeth.
As politely as possible, I tell my mother this.
She frowns. “Well, we’ll be gettin’ that gap fixed soon, so that shouldn’t be a problem much longer.” Her eyes drop to my shoulders. “And stop slouchin’.”
I straighten. “Too bad Lora Ann can’t get her attitude fixed,” I mutter without thinking.
“Magnolia Mae! You watch that mouth of yours, young lady.” Her stern expression has me lowering my eyes to the floor. “A lady never says such things.”
“Sorry, Mother.” But I’m not. Lora Ann is one of the last people I’d want to be friends with.
“So…” I hesitate. “May I please go over to Hollis’ and play?”
A long sigh. Then she stands, turning to look at me. I work hard not to fidget in front of her. She hates that.
“Are you sure Hollis is the type of friend you should be hangin’ around with?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer. “He’s really nice and mannerly. And he doesn’t let anyone make fun of my teeth.”
I stand taller, prouder, because he really is a good friend. The best friend I’ve ever had. I don’t even care that he’s a boy because he’ll play wedding with me as long as we’re inside the treehouse where no one can see. I make him practice oohing and aahing over me in my tiara and veil and fake bouquet. He’s tried to play the preacher instead of the groom, but I’ve told him that messes everything up.
Of course, he doesn’t do the whole kissing the bride part, which I’m totally okay with.
Other times, he lets me help him with a new model car he’s putting together. It’s fun to watch him when he’s concentrating hard, because he gets this little wrinkle between his eyebrows. I’d never tell him, but he looks cute when he does that.
Most of the time, though, we’re in the treehouse pretending to be the last two people on earth and on the lookout for zombies. Mother never lets me play with toy guns, but Hollis has a few that make sounds, and they’re really cool.
She walks over and bends her knees to look at me eye to eye. “Now, remember what I always tell you, Magnolia.”
It’s really hard not to roll my eyes. “Yes, ma’am, I know.” I raise my hand and tick off each thing with a finger. “Don’t eat too much sugar. If I dress like a lady, I need to act like one too.” I tick off more. “Hang around the right people. Go to college. Find a man who comes from a good family, has a good education and job, then marry him and live a wonderful life.”
My mother’s mouth lifts up into a faint smile. “I only want the best for you. For you to be happy.”
I know I’m only ten, but sometimes, I wonder why what she wants for me are things that other people can see.
“I’m happy when I’m with Hollis. He never makes fun of my teeth or anythin’.” I grin proudly. “He’s my best friend.”
My mother looks like she’s tasting something sour. “Go play and get it out of your system. But be sure to be home in time for dinner.” She turns away and mutters under her breath, “Hopefully you’ll grow tired of this Hollis boy.”
I frown at her back. Even though it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I hope I never get tired of Hollis, I don’t say a word. He’s waiting on me, and I don’t want to make him wait forever because he said he has a surprise for me.
So, I turn around and rush to my room to change clothes. After slipping on my sneakers, I head over to his backyard.
It’s funny how much lighter I feel when I cross into Hollis’ yard. I race up the ladder to the treehouse and push open the door, popping my head inside.
“’Bout time.” Hollis is sitting on one of the nice cushions his dad found at the secondhand store. He’s reading some magazine with a shiny car on the front. Without looking up, he says, “Thought I’d get your surprise all to myself.”
I climb inside with a huff, pulling myself to my feet, and put my hands on my hips. “Now, Hollis Barnes, that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly.”
His dark brown eyes lift to mine and I can’t see anything below them because of the magazine. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes make me think he’s trying hard not to smile. “You sound like one of them old biddies at church ’bout to clutch their pearls.” He drops the magazine to his lap and his grin is a mile wide. It’s so not fair how he has perfect teeth.
I drop down beside him with a sigh and lie back to stare up at the ceiling.
“Your mom givin’ you a hard time again?”
I love that I don’t have to say anything. That he just knows me. And he never makes me feel like a whiny baby or a drama queen.
I close my eyes and let out another sigh. “She wants me to hang out with Lora Ann and for my teeth to be perfect.” My words are snippy, but I don’t have to hide that with Hollis.
My eyes spring open when he brushes my hair back from my forehead. His eyes look sad and I hate it. He has such pretty eyes for a boy, and I don’t ever want him to be sad because of me.
“You’re perfect the way you are.” He says it like it’s a fact. Like he’s ready to punch anyone in the face who disagrees.
I really wish I could believe him.
I tear my eyes away and shrug. He shifts to his side and props his head in his hand. I feel him staring, and it makes me antsy.
“Stop starin’ at me.”
“Not until you give me that smile with the gap that makes you, you.”
I glare at him. He just grins.
“Come on. Let me see it.”
I bare my teeth, and he laughs. “I reckon that’d be good if you wanted to scare off those stray cats that hang around the dumpster behind the gas station.”
I huff out a breath, and he pokes my side, knowing how ticklish I am. I squeal and shove at him.
“Come on. Give me a good smile and you can have your surprise.”
“Fine.” I smile. He squints like he’s trying to figure out if it’s good enough. I roll my eyes and laugh.
“That’s it!” He grins and shoves off the cushion, grabbing something off the top of one of the small shelves. That’s where we store some board games, a few of his magazines, some toys, and a few juice boxes.
I sit up and wait for him to slide back in his spot beside me. He turns to face me.
“Okay, so this has to be a secret because your mom would tan my hide if she found out.”
I give him a duh kind of look. I never tell her anything we do. I’d never hear the end of it if she knew I’d hammered nails in the treehouse boards a few years back when I helped Hollis and his dad. Because she’s told me time and again that “ladies don’t get dirty or do hard labor.”
Hollis smiles wider. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”
I squint at him dangerously. “You’re not fixin’ to put a slimy toad in it, are you?”
He rolls his eyes. “No. Now, just do what I said.”
“Fine.” I close them. “Bossypants.”
“You kiss your mama with th
at mouth, young lady?” I laugh at how he tries to make his voice sound like my mother’s.
He puts something in my hand that feels like a small packet.
“Okay, now look.”
I glance down, and my jaw drops. “Hollis!” Lunging for him, I hug him tight. “Thank you!”
“Welcome.”
I back away and look down at the packet of Pop Rocks candy. I’ve been wanting to try this for what seems like forever, especially since my mother doesn’t let me have candy.
“And here’s this.” I gasp at the sight of the box he hands me. It’s a model car kit. On the front is an old pink convertible. “I used some of my own money to buy it,” he says proudly. “Dad helped me with the rest.”
Hollis started doing chores for some of the neighbors for extra money. He says he wants to save enough to buy a truck when he turns sixteen and fix it up to look like those models he puts together.
“It’s a Chevy Bel Air. It’s the best pink car I could find for you.” My best friend shrugs like he hasn’t just given me the coolest gifts in my entire life. “I thought we could work on it together, if you want.”
I’m so surprised, I just nod with a huge smile. Then he holds out an envelope. “And this.”
“What’s this for?”
He gives me a crazy look and drags out the last word. “A card for your birthday.”
I frown. “But I thought you were comin’ over for my party on Sunday and…”
He gets a weird look on his face. “Sorry, but I have to, uh”—he stares down at the floor—“go somewhere with my mom.”
He’s lying. He never goes anywhere with his mom.
I’d never say it out loud, but I think Hollis’ mom is a witch. Not like a real one with creepy spells or anything, but with her dark hair and pale skin, the way she’s always scowling and in a bad mood, she could be one.
But, still. I reckon I know why he can’t spend my birthday with me.
“Hollis.” I wait for him to look at me. Dark eyes meet mine, and I hate the hurt I see in them. “My mother said somethin’.” It’s not a question. I know by now how my mother does things.
When he gives a little shrug, like it’s no big deal, I start to apologize. I need to tell him how sorry I am that my mother hurt his feelings, but he holds up a hand to stop me. He forces a smile, and I hate it.
“Open your card.”
I lift the flap, slide out the card, and when I open it, a photo slips out. Instantly, I smile wide. I know exactly when this was taken.
We’d finished building the treehouse and were super sweaty. After painting the outside, we had streaks of it on our clothes and our hair was messy, but when Mr. Jay took our picture, we stood in front of the treehouse and smiled proudly.
The looks on our faces, how happy we are, makes my eyes sting, and my throat gets tight.
“You’re not gonna get all girly on me, are you?”
I laugh without looking up. “Just give me a minute.”
It’s not just the photo that has me feeling a little weepy, but what he’s written inside the card at the top, too.
To my best friend, Magnolia
We’ve never actually come out and said the words to each other, but now that he’s written them, I feel proud. Suddenly good enough. He doesn’t care that I have a gap in my teeth or that my hair gets a little frizzy sometimes. He doesn’t care that I’m still learning how to climb trees or how to build those model cars he loves.
On top of that, he uses some of his money to buy me presents even when my mother tells him he’s not allowed to come to my birthday party.
I rush to my feet and throw my arms around him, hugging him so tight he grunts.
Hollis had a growth spurt, so now my cheek presses against his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me and I instantly feel safer.
It’s at this moment I know two things are absolute facts.
1. I officially have the best best friend in the world.
2. Hollis gives the greatest hugs. Ever.
We sit back, and while he opens the model car kit so we can start on it, I carefully open the packet of Pop Rocks and peer inside. They really do look like little pink rocks.
“Here.” Hollis holds out a palm, and I’m careful not to spill the candy when I hand him the packet. “Open your mouth.”
I open wide, and he shakes a bunch of the candy on my tongue. Immediately, the crackling sound and the odd tickling on my tongue starts up.
“Can you hear it too?” I ask excitedly. This is the coolest thing ever.
He nods and grins. “Cool, right?”
“It’s the coolest.” I listen to the crackling sounds until everything finally dies down.
“Want more?”
I think about it, then shake my head. “I’ll save it for another time.”
“You know they sell these for pretty cheap. Like three for a dollar or somethin’.”
He tips his head to the side, and some of his dark hair slides over his forehead. He’s let it grow longer and I like it. I think he has pretty hair for a boy, but I’d never tell him that.
“You should have ’em all. I mean, it’s your birthday, Magnolia.”
I frown at the packet. I’m torn between wanting to and keeping some for another time…or two. To savor it, like Mama always tells me when we’re out to dinner with some important people. She says, Savor the food, Magnolia. That way you won’t end up inhalin’ it like a pig from a trough. Ladies savor every morsel.
Hollis nudges my arm with his. “Come on. I promise I’ll hook you up with more.” He juts his chin, gesturing to the packet of Pop Rocks. “Go ahead.”
I peer at him, pressing my lips together, still not sure. “You don’t mind gettin’ more for me sometime?”
I hate being a bother, but my mother has eyes and ears all over the place. If I walked into the store and paid for candy, she’d hear about it long before I made my way back home. I swear, there’s a special phone tree for the ladies she’s friends with.
I’m not allowed to go to the dollar store, anyway. The Barton family doesn’t dare set foot inside a cheap store like that. Those were my mother’s words.
I sneaked in one time with Hollis. It had been a windy, chillier day last fall, and he’d loaned me a hooded sweatshirt. After hiding our bikes in the woods behind the store, he smuggled me inside with my hood up and I’d kept my face down. It had been kind of exciting to do that even though I’d felt guilty as all get-out. So, as awesome as it was, I’d told him I couldn’t do it again.
Plus, everyone who’s watched reruns of the old CSI shows knows repetition is dangerous.
That’s another thing my mother would lose her mind about. I’m not allowed to watch garbage television. The only way I get around that is to be quick enough to flip to the Food Network channel if I hear her coming down the hall.
“All right, Hollis Barnes. I’m fixin’ to hold you to that promise.” I grin and raise the packet to tip the rest of the candy in my mouth.
Then I crackle for the next minute or so while Hollis sorts out the pieces for the model car set.
It doesn’t matter what gifts I get at my party on Sunday, because they sure can’t measure up to this.
Just like Grandpa Joe said in last week’s sermon, a sweet friendship is good for the soul.
Hollis Barnes is definitely good for mine.
Hollis
ELEVEN YEARS OLD
“Fixin’ to see her again?”
I stiffen at my mom’s question. I hate the way she asks it, the nasty tone she uses, like her is a bad word.
Magnolia said she’d meet me in the treehouse at ten o’clock this morning, and I don’t want to make her wait, so I quickly pull two bottles of water from the fridge. Waters gripped in one hand, I turn and face my mom because she blocks the only way out of the kitchen.
Her eyes are squinty. “Don’t know why you even bother. She’s too good for you.”
Gritting my teeth, I try to stay calm even though
it’s hard to when she comes at me like this.
I used to wonder what I did to make her hate me. I used to tiptoe around her and try to do everything I could think of to get her to smile at me—to act like she liked me—but nothing ever worked. I reckon I’ll never know what I did to make her treat me like this.
She steps closer and jabs a finger at the center of my chest. “You’re no good for her.” Another angry jab. “You’re just too stupid to see it.” More jabbing, and each time her finger pokes me, it makes me feel worse.
Unwanted. Like the trash she always tells me I am.
“She’s usin’ you. The boy who wears hand-me-downs. You’re her project.”
She’s ready to jab me again, but without thinking or realizing what I’m doing, I grab her wrist, stopping her.
“Don’t.” I drop her hand and am about to turn around when she catches me off guard.
She rears back and slaps me so hard across my face, my cheek throbs painfully.
I stare back at her in shock. She’s never gone this far before. Ever.
When I raise my fingertips to my cheek, it’s hot to the touch.
She smiles, and it’s so far from sweet or kind that it sends chills straight to my bones. For a second, I hate that I’ve never seen her really smile at me.
I quickly shove away that thought.
“You think you’re different, but you’re not. You’re trash. You just need to get it through your head.” Her smile is pure evil now. “Maybe this’ll help.” She pulls her hand back, ready to slap me again.
“Paula!”
My dad’s loud voice interrupts suddenly. We hadn’t heard him come in from work. He rushes forward and grabs her wrist, holding her back. His eyes meet mine, and he tips his chin, gesturing for me to leave the room. He steps aside, guiding her out of the way, and mutters to me, “I’ll take care of this.”
My cheek still burns as I pass through the house and speed through the back door to the yard. Every step I take toward the treehouse happens in a blur.
I don’t breathe easy until I drag myself up and inside. Until I see Magnolia sitting cross-legged on a cushion, flipping through one of my car magazines.
Love Me Like I Love You Page 139
