Free Holly's Heart Collection Three by Beverly Lewis Page A

were running everything. Andie’s campaign included.
    So . . . I guess the bottom line was that I just felt left out. But there was someone for me—a girl with a laugh and a sparkle who had a way of brightening up the world around her. Tina.

    The bus ride home was not only lonely, it was tiresome. Noisy too. With so many high-school students taking the city bus, it seemed as though we’d never get to Downhill Court. And try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Andie wasn’t there.
    I thought back to the morning assembly. Andie, in all her glory, had accepted the rousing applause gracefully yet eagerly. My heavyhearted feelings returned as I remembered Amy-Liz standing and nominating my closest friend. Not a pretty picture. I should’ve been the one standing up, proudly nominating Andie Martinez. Sure, I was probably blowing things out of proportion, but I couldn’t do things any other way.
    When I arrived home, Mom had a plate of snickerdoodles waiting in the kitchen. “How was your day, Holly-Heart?”
    “The worst.”
    She glanced at me. “Want to talk about it?”
    “Not now.” I reached for two cookies. “Probably never.”
    She frowned, going back to the sink, where she washed the cookie sheets and the mixing bowl. I went to the refrigerator and poured a tall glass of milk. Nothing in the world goes better with snickerdoodles than a cold glass of milk. Nothing, except maybe your friends hanging out with you, sharing your favorite snack.
    I knocked that thought out of my consciousness. “Mom,” I asked, “did you have lots of friends in school . . . or only one?”
    She turned to look at me for a second, then dried her hands. “I was always one for having a few close friends, I guess.” Mom stayed near the sink, leaning against the counter. “I can count on one hand the best friends I had in school.”
    I took a long drink of milk.
    “Why do you ask?” I figured that was coming. Mom knew me well. She and I could pretty much predict each other’s moods, as well as thoughts.
    “Just wondered,” I muttered into my milk.
    She wouldn’t let it go at that; I was sure of it. And she didn’t. “It’s not easy moving into a new era of your life, honey.” With those gentle words, she got me talking.
    “But it’s so cruel out there,” I said. “I think I’ve been spoiled, you know?” I hated it when squeaks came instead of my normal voice. A dead giveaway to loss of emotional control.
    But Mom was cool. She acted like I was totally together. “Some people have many good, close friends—they’d probably refer to a casual acquaintance as a very dear friend. Your stepdad is like that. He’s an extrovert—has oodles of friends.”
    I smiled, thinking of Uncle Jack’s charming ways. “I know what you mean. But what about my personality? Why’d I have to get stuck being an introvert?”
    Mom’s eyebrows arched slightly. “I wouldn’t call you an introvert, exactly. None of us is simply one thing or another. There are many combinations and blends of personality traits.”
    “Then what about Uncle Jack? You just said he—”
    “Your stepdad seems to be rather gregarious out in public,” she explained, “and also when interacting with you kids. But there are times when he likes to be quiet and relax with absolutely no one around.”
    “Not even you?” This was a surprise.
    She smiled. “Not even me.”
    I sighed. “So, then, what am I?”
    Mom came over to the bar and sat on a stool. Her timing was perfect. I wasn’t threatened by her being close now. In fact, I needed her near. She began again softly. “Years ago, when you were a toddler, I read a book about this very thing. I wasn’t a Christian back then, but I understood in some small way that God had created each of us with a myriad of characteristics which, together, make up our personalities.”
    I listened, fascinated. Never had I heard Mom talk about this.
    “You have a high-spirited temperament,