The towering pinnacles of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle loomed into view as our bus rumbled to a stop near the entrance to the Magic Kingdom. Mr. Keller gave some last-minute instructions. “Above all,” he warned, “remain in twos. Girls with girls, and boys with boys. Stay with your partner everywhere you go.”
Danny flashed a grin at me. I knew he was saying, Go for it, Holly. Forgive your friend. Most girls would have loved to have an attractive older-brother type like Danny Myers for a friend. He was perfect.
I leaned over the seat behind Andie. “Wanna be my partner?” I asked.
“Why not,” she grumbled. “Everyone else already has one.”
Inside the main gate, we raced to Splash Mountain first. The line was long, but just hearing the screams of delight (or was it terror?) as people came hurtling down the fifty-foot drop-off, doing forty miles an hour in those little log boats, told us it would be worth the wait.
So, here we were moving along the ramp, about to go on a must-do fabulous ride together, and we weren’t even talking. And Andie was being a real pain about it, too, keeping her back to me the whole time.
I opened my backpack. “Want some gum?” I asked.
“Is it cinnamon?” she asked.
“Spearmint.” I held it out.
“Never mind.” She wrinkled up her nose. “Save my place. I want to get something to eat.”
My heart sank. What more could I do? Was I trying too hard?
My journal was tucked away in one corner of my backpack. So while Andie ran off to get some food, I wrote Proverbs 17:17 in my secret notebook. “A friend loves at all times.”
Hmm, I thought, that means I should keep showing Andie I care about her, even though she’s being an impossible brat.
Soon, Andie was back with a hot dog, chips, and pop. She ignored me more than ever, talking to the girl ahead of us instead of me.
Forty-five minutes later, we staggered out of our log boat, having just flown down Chickapin Hill and survived.
“Wanna go again?” I asked, hoping Andie might respond.
“Maybe later” was all she said.
Undaunted, we backtracked to Astro Orbitor, a ride at the entrance to Tomorrowland. Tucked into small “rockets,” we circled around planets and other riders. Then we hit the Indiana Jones Adventure, trying to decode the markings along the wall as we moved along the ramp.
Next, Andie and I lined up for some spooky fun at the Haunted Mansion.
Then I spotted Jared. He was across from us, on the docks of the river rafts, sitting with his partner and sharing sodas with two sopranos. I watched as he worked his magic.
“Look over there,” I said, pointing at Andie’s two-timing friend.
“What?” Andie turned to look. She spotted Jared with the girls, and her face fell.
Silently, we watched as he teased one of them, a pretty soprano named Amy-Liz. One of the cutest girls on choir tour, Amy had curly blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. Jared’s foot, newly released from its cast, reached out under the table and touched hers. She giggled and pulled back a little—but not too much. Then his foot found hers again.
“They’re playing footsie!” Andie screeched. “I don’t believe this.”
She ducked under the roped ramp and marched over to Jared. Dying to hear what she would say, I followed.
“Jared!” she called to him.
He spun around, a guilty look on his face. But as soon as he saw Andie he grinned, bowing low. “Andie, my lady.”
“Cut the comedy act,” she said. “What do you think you’re doing?” Andie glared at Amy-Liz.
“Spreading Christian love,” he said as the girls giggled behind him.
“Wrong answer. Try this: You’re two-timing every girl, everywhere, all the time!”
“I kept telling you, Andie, we’re just friends, right?” He turned to Amy-Liz. “Like Amy-Liz and me.” Laughing, he took her hand and they left the table.
“You just wait,” Andie hollered after him. “Every girl in Dressel Hills is going to hear about you. I promise!”
He waved without turning around.
“He should apply for the Disney court jester, don’t you think?” I said.
There was disgust written all over her face. No tears, no jealousy, just plain old disgust. The light had dawned at last.
“Jared’s out. He and I are through,” she announced, studying me momentarily. “Holly, can you forgive me for everything? I mean, everything?”
I had been waiting for this moment. “Hallelujah! The loathsome nightmare is past, and I’ve regained my long-lost best friend.”
“Speak English, would ya?” she said, giggling. This was it. The old Andie was back.
“Look up there,” I said, pointing. “Let’s celebrate our renewed friendship at the Hungry Bear Restaurant.”
At once we raced up the wooden walkway. Waiting in line to order hamburgers, Andie turned me around and began to braid my hair. When we finally sat down at a table on the banks of the Rivers of America, I noticed a lumpy bump in my backpack.
“What’s this?” I investigated inside.
Andie opened her bag of chips, ignoring me.
There, under my jacket and all smashed up, was Andie’s droopyeyed teddy bear.
“Pals forever?” she said, wearing a sheepish grin.
“ ‘Until the final end of us,’ ” I quoted from our now-defunct Loyalty Papers, hugging Bearie-O close.
“He’s missed you, you know,” she said softly. “And so have I.”
My emotions soared. “I missed you, too, Andie.”
She took a bite of hamburger, her eyes shining. “You’re really all heart, Holly. Honest. No one else would’ve stuck with me this long.” She leaned over and sprinkled salt on my fries.
“Believe me, I had major help,” I said, glancing heavenward.
To Jane B. Jones,
my dear mother and friend,
who blessed me with her understanding heart.
And
to her namesake, my Janie…
dreamer of heart-dreams,
secret and not so secret.
SECRET SUMMER DREAMS
Chapter 1
“Holly Meredith!”
I awakened with a start. Andie Martinez, my best friend, was standing in the aisle of our chartered tour bus, her brown eyes wide as she stared down at me.
Jared Wilkins and three other boys from the choir were leaning over the seats, getting in on the action. They were laughing as Andie, speechless, pointed at my hair.
Then I felt something. A horrible tickling sensation, as if a giant spider were crawling step by hideous step through my hair. I froze. “Andie, what is it?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“I…I’m not sure,” she said, her eyes fixed on my head.
The creepy crawling continued. “Get it off me, Andie!”
Jared grinned. “Someone get a tissue. I’ll handle this.”
“Not you, Jared,” I squealed. “Don’t you touch me.”
“Where’s a scissor?” one of the boys joked. “Maybe we could get the thing to crawl down her hair, and just cut it out.”
“No—Andie!” I shrieked. “Please, no cutting.” I wasn’t sure which would be worse, losing my nearly waist-length hair or enduring this thing nesting in it.
“What’s going on back there?” Mr. Keller, our youth choir director, called from the front of the bus.
“Holly has something in her hair and she’s freaking out,” Jared said loudly.
By now the thingamabug had moved to the top of my head. I could feel it moving around up there.
“Look, she’s turning white,” Andie said. “Someone help!”
“Quick, grab my camera,” Jared yelled as I sat there, trembling.
A flash of light blinded me. Seconds later a box of tissues came flying. Jared caught it and tossed several to Andie. “Here, if you stuff enough of these in your hand, you’ll never have to touch it,” he said.
Just the
n Danny Myers walked down the bus aisle. Unlike most boys in junior high, his head nearly touched the ceiling of the bus. “What’s going on with Holly?”
He stopped talking, probably when he spied it—the whatever-it-was—having a holiday in my hair. Before I could move, Danny reached over, and with a flick of his fingers, a velvety green beetle flew off my head and toward an open window.
“It’s just a June bug,” Danny said. “Are you okay, Holly?”
“A what bug?” I said, beginning to relax, feeling comfortable as usual around this boy. I shook my hair out, running my fingers all through it.
“Looks like you could use a handful of snickerdoodles,” he said, smiling.
“My all-time favorite cookie.” I was pleased he’d remembered. Danny was a walking memory chip. “How do you remember details like that?” I asked.
His gray-green eyes turned serious. “I make it a point to recall crucial information—such as the names of important snack foods.” He smirked, then we broke into laughter.
I shivered, still feeling that creepy-crawly June bug on my head. Danny must have noticed my concern. “Don’t worry, it’s definitely gone.” He raked his hand through his own auburn hair. “Next time, scream or something. Don’t hold it in or you could pass out.”
Passing out, otherwise known as fainting, was not an option for me. Not this time. During the seventh-grade musical last winter I’d fainted off the next-to-top riser. Thanks to Andie, I survived the whole embarrassing scene.
Now my best friend was sitting across the aisle from me. “I’m real sorry I freaked over that bug, Holly. I wasn’t much help, was I?”
“Forget it.” I was still rubbing my head, trying to get rid of the tickly feeling.
“You were so cool about it,” Andie said. “Me? I would’ve behaved like a mad woman. Shouting…hysteria, you name it.”
I giggled. “I can just imagine.”
“Can you believe it? Jared took your picture with that nasty bug in your hair.” Andie got up and squeezed her chubby legs past mine and sat down at the window seat next to me.
“Let’s not talk about him,” I whispered. Our former crush, Jared Wilkins, had almost destroyed Andie’s and my ten-year friendship. Before he moved to Dressel Hills, Colorado, things had always been perfectly cool between Andie and me. But soon we weren’t speaking to each other. Worse, our close friendship ripped apart, and fast, the way Grandma’s seam ripper zaps threads. Before we knew it, Andie and I were helplessly caught in an angry tug-of-war over the same guy.
Jared was a charmer, all right. Brown hair and blue eyes with lashes long enough to curl. But looks and charm were all he had. Now we knew he was nothing but a two-timing, heartbreaking flirt. Thankfully, Andie and I had come to our senses in time to save our friendship.
Things were fabulous between us now. Yesterday, we’d spent a full day at Disneyland, and now we were racing through the dusty Arizona desert on our way to the Grand Canyon, heading home from the best choir tour ever.
“Daydreaming again?” Andie asked.
“Sort of,” I said.
She leaned over, whispering in my ear. “You know what I think?”
I grinned back at her. “What?”
“I think Danny Myers likes you.”
“Shh, he’ll hear you,” I whispered, glancing up toward the front of the bus.
“Well?” she said.
“Well, what?”
Andie curled a strand of dark hair around her finger. “I bet you two skate together at the youth group skating party next week.”
I rolled my eyes. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“Just wait and see,” she said. “I’ve noticed him watching you, Holly. Ever since we sang at the chapel in L.A.”
I stared out the window. Danny Myers wasn’t like the eighthgrade boys I knew. At fourteen and a half, he was much more grown-up. More sensitive, too. He’d reached out to me when Andie and I weren’t getting along. He probably thought of me as a little sister. That’s all.
Andie poked me. “You’re avoiding my question.”
I pulled on my hair. “I forgot the question.”
“Nice try.” She inched closer. “Hmm, I think I see Danny Myers in your eyes,” she teased.
“Get outta my face.” I playfully pushed her away.
She giggled, pulling a brochure from her jeans pocket.
“What’s that?”
“Info on the Grand Canyon,” she said, smoothing the folds. “I picked it up at our last rest stop.”
Just then Jared came down the aisle, pausing at our seats. “Hi again, girls.” He leaned on the back of my seat and smiled. Andie and I exchanged a quick look.
“Now what?” Andie asked him.
“It’s lonely up front,” he said.
Andie stood up. Cupping her hands around her eyes, she scanned the front of the bus. Then, with a huge sigh, she sat down. “Looks crowded to me. Plenty of people up there.”
I muttered under my breath, “Just no girls.”
Jared ignored my comment and pointed to Andie’s brochure. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Could be,” Andie said. “Depends on what you’re thinking.”
“Looks like there are some great places to hike,” he said, studying the brochure. Then, saying no more, he headed to the rest room in the back of the bus.
Andie peered at the information on her brochure. “This says the gorge is two hundred miles long. Wow! Who can see that far?”
“Daddy says he goes to the Grand Canyon when he feels like life is caving in on him,” I said softly.
Andie turned toward me. “You must’ve had a good talk with him after the concert the other night,” she said, prying in a roundabout way.
“It was weird seeing him again, you know. He’s totally missed out on the last four plus years of my life. Says he wants to catch up.”
Andie’s dark eyebrows shot up. “How can he, when he lives in California with his new wife, and you and your mom and Carrie live in Colorado?”
I took a deep breath. “This summer, probably.”
Andie gasped. “You’re going to California this summer?”
I nodded.
“Your mother will never let you,” Andie said. “And neither will I.”
“You won’t?”
“Have you forgotten that we always go camping together? Every summer since second grade? You don’t want to mess things up, do you?” she demanded.
“I have to do this,” I said. “For me.”
Andie folded her arms in a huff.
But I stared her down. “Please, don’t do this. It’ll be hard enough getting Mom to let me go, without you putting me on a guilt trip about it.”
“Boring…boring.” She put on her best pout. “It’ll be boring for you out there. You’ll see.”
“Andie, listen,” I said. “Your father lives with you and your family. Mine left when I was in third grade. I know you’d be curious, too, if you were me.”
“So it’s curiosity, then?”
“That and other stuff,” I said, reluctant to share more.
“Oh, Holly, don’t be stubborn. Just tell me, okay?”
“Not now.” I noticed Jared coming back from the rest room. No way was he going to overhear this conversation.
Andie ignored me, continuing her guilt campaign. “It’ll be the lousiest summer of my life!”
“Shh!” Privacy was impossible on a bus, especially now that Jared had plopped himself down behind us, eavesdropping. I gave Andie a don’t-you-dare-say-anything look. She smoothed out her brochure of Grand Canyon National Park while I flipped through the pages of my devotional book.
“What’s the verse for today?” Jared asked, peeking around my seat.
I had already tried the polite approach, so I ignored him and kept reading. Why couldn’t he just evaporate?
“Come on, Holly-Heart, give a guy a chance,” he crooned. “We can still be friends. Can’t we?”
Without looking up, I said, “Holly-Heart is the nickname my mother gave me. It’s reserved for relatives and close friends only. Remember?”
Andie glanced over and stifled a giggle.
“Hmm,” Jared said. “I don’t want to be your relative. But a close friend? Now, that’s an idea.”
I slammed my book shut, whirling around. “Listen up, Jared.
I liked you once, but that’s over. Why? Because I don’t trust you. Besides, you made big trouble for Andie and me.”
Andie started to cheer for me. She forgot that it was quiet time on the bus. Some of the altos turned around and shushed her, and she got as red as the illustrated cliffs on her brochure.
Jared slunk back to his seat like a wounded puppy. Some act.
“Will he ever give up?” I whispered to Andie.
“Persistence is his game,” she said. “Now you’re a big challenge to him. Maybe if you act a teeny bit interested, he’ll leave you alone.”
“I can’t do that,” I said. “I don’t want to show any interest in a jerk.”
Andie refolded the brochure. “Let’s talk summer, Holly.”
I sighed and looked away. She was persistent, too.
“Please, just think about it. You’re throwing our entire summer away,” she whined. Andie sounded selfish. She was acting like she hadn’t heard a thing I’d said before.
“Can we talk about something else, maybe?” I leaned against the headrest and closed my eyes.
“No fair sleeping. June, July, and August are coming faster than you think.”
“Okay,” I said, giving in. “Besides the family camping trip, what else do you want to do?”
“A raft trip,” she said, sitting on the edge of her seat. “A wild and crazy white-water raft trip down the Arkansas River. I hear it’s outrageous. Imagine the breathtaking thrill of Zoom Flume, Screaming Right, and get this…the Widow Maker!”
“Which means girls have to be pretty tough if the guys don’t survive,” I concluded.
“And,” she said, her voice growing louder and more excited, “the minimum age is twelve, so you know it’s gotta be very wild.”
More annoyed looks were cast our way by choir members observing Mr. Keller’s stipulated quiet time. I put my finger to my lips.
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