Holly and Ivy by Fern Michaels (19)

The phone had been ringing off the hook all morning long, and her father refused to answer it. Holly was about to go cuckoo from listening to it ring and staring at her math book, which Mrs. Pellegrino had brought over this morning.

It was the twenty-first century, and they did not even have a computer or the Internet. She would be able to search online for math help if they did, but her dad insisted they could get by just fine without having a computer or the Internet. He was so incredibly mean. In high school, she knew for a fact that the students used computers and the Internet. What would be his excuse then? He’d probably have her homeschooled when it was time for high school. He treated her just like she was a baby, and there was no one she could talk to about it. Miss Carol would listen, but she did not want to ruin her friendship if Miss Carol decided to talk to her father. She knew him well. He would stop all contact with her if she thought Holly was telling family stuff to her.

Her dad was the most private person. She did not get him. He did not have any friends that she knew of. He never went out on dates or anything. Maybe her dad was a criminal hiding from his past? But that could not be true because he worked at The Upside, and he’d gone to college, too. And he had married her mom.

Maybe he was responsible for her mom’s death. He had never told her exactly how she had died, other than it was very sudden and tragic. When she tried to talk to him about her mother, he always got angry and said the topic was not open for discussion.

She really needed to talk to Jen Pellegrino. She wondered if Mrs. Pellegrino knew how her mother had really died? First thing Monday morning, she was going to write a note for Roxie to take home to her mom, and she hoped her mom would answer her back, so Roxie could bring the note to school on Tuesday. Since she was grounded, she was not allowed to talk on the phone. But she was listening for her father’s truck to pull out of the driveway, just in case he decided to leave. He was holed up in his den, as usual, only coming out to get something to drink. He already had a bathroom in there. Holly figured he should add one of those minirefrigerators and a microwave oven. Then he’d only have to come out when he went to work.

If he did decide to leave, for whatever reason, she planned to call Roxie’s house and ask to speak to Mrs. Pellegrino. Then she wouldn’t have to send a note to her. Roxie was probably grounded, too, at least that is what her dad said. She was sorry her friends were in trouble. Holly would bet her allowance he did not even know if Roxie and Kayla were in trouble, that he probably told her that so she would feel bad. They did not force her to go to Miss Carol’s house in the sneaky way that she did. It was her father who did. If he weren’t such a . . . an ass, he would let her have a little more freedom.

And what would he do if Ms. Anderson invited them to her house for Thanksgiving dinner? He would say no; of that, she was sure. They would do the same old thing they did every year on Thanksgiving.

He would serve that stinky pressed turkey with instant mashed potatoes, bottled gravy, canned green beans, and that nasty jellied cranberry stuff. She considered herself lucky if he bought a frozen pumpkin pie. Then he would tell her to wash the dishes, and he would spend the rest of the day watching football games. She tried watching them with him, but every time she said something, he would tell her to be quiet so he could hear what the announcer was saying.

The man was so totally mean to her. Sometimes she wondered if maybe he was not her real dad, but only her stepdad, and he had gotten stuck with her after her mother died. She planned to find out about her mother, and she was going to tell Ms. Anderson that her dad was an abuser. He was, really. He’d never hit her, or anything, but he ignored her. She knew for a fact that Kayla’s and Roxie’s fathers took them places. Once, Roxie’s dad, Joseph Pellegrino, had taken all of them to the movies in Asheville, and they’d gone to a supercool restaurant called the Mellow Mushroom after the movie. He was fun, and he acted like he truly cared if they were having a good time.

And what did her dad do? Her dad took her to Ollie’s for pizza, and that was it. More often than not, he would bring the pizza home. He was totally cruel to her.

She heard a noise from the back of the house and quickly acted like she was studying her math. He had made her study at the kitchen table so he could “keep an eye on her,” he’d said. If he allowed her to study in her bedroom, he knew that she would not. At least he knew that much about her, which she guessed was something. She was reading Deathly Hallows, the last book in the Harry Potter series, and it was due back at the library this week. If she had to study every waking hour, she would not be able to finish the book before returning it. She had already checked the book out four times. Five times was the limit on popular books, and the school library didn’t have any of the Harry Potter books. So, most likely, she would not get to read the ending. What kind of dad denied his children a final Harry Potter ending? A mean dad, just like hers.

“Holly, I’m going to the grocery store. Would you like to go with me?” Her father stood in the doorway. He was a big man, she thought. A big mean man.

“No, I’ll just stay here and study,” she said, suddenly thrilled that he was leaving her alone. She could call Roxie and ask to speak to her mother.

“All right, I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Have fun,” she called out. She hoped he slipped on a banana peel and broke a leg or an arm. Then he would be at her mercy. No, she really did not mean that. Kind of, sort of. She crossed her fingers and took it back.

He went out the back door. She listened for his truck to back down the drive. As soon as she heard him pull onto the street, she raced down the hall to where the phone was. They only had one phone, and it was not even portable. When she saw that the little alcove where the phone was located was empty, she wanted to scream! The phone book was there, the scratch pad and pencil, and the chair, but no phone.

He had taken the phone with him! He truly was an abuser and the meanest man who ever lived. What if she needed to call 911? What if he was in a wreck and the police tried to call her?

She could not believe he would stoop so low. It was more than obvious he didn’t trust her, but to take the phone out of the house? But wait, she thought, she hadn’t actually seen the phone in his hands. It was probably hidden around here somewhere. All she had to do was find it.

Before she changed her mind, she opened the door to his bedroom. He did not like for her to go into his room. He said she must respect his privacy. Well, since he did not respect hers, she did not feel the least bit guilty when she opened the closet and began her search. She opened a couple of shoe boxes, which were filled with important-looking papers. No phone. She moved a stack of sweaters on a shelf, thinking the phone would fit perfectly behind the clothes. No luck there.

She opened his dresser drawers, lifted up his white T-shirts, looked under his perfectly folded rows of socks. Who folded socks like this, anyway? She was lucky if she found a matching pair in her drawers. Of course, she did her own laundry and rarely bothered folding socks. More and more, she realized just how much her dad was a true weirdo. Men do not fold socks unless they’re . . . weird. There was a name for superneat people like him, but she could not remember what it was. She would have to ask Roxie. If she didn’t know, she would make a point to find out for her.

She had gone through all the drawers and still no phone. She got down on all fours and looked beneath the bed. Nothing. Not even a dust bunny. More evidence her father was a weirdo. Who didn’t cram stuff under their bed?

She would have to search the den and be quick about it. He’d already been gone twenty minutes, so she did not have a lot of time left. His den was as neat as the rest of the house, excluding her room. Her room was clean, but not nearly as clean as the rest of the house. She opened the large filing cabinet against the wall behind his desk. Nothing in there. She moved to his desk, sitting in his chair, which was super comfy. No wonder he spent so much time in here. It was cozy, with the fireplace and all. She tried the bottom right drawer, but it was locked. Then the left, and it, too, was locked. The long middle drawer was not deep enough for their old-fashioned phone, so she scanned the bookshelves and saw nothing but his old yard-work books.

Maybe he’d hidden it in the garage? He probably took it out through the back door, hid it, then came in to tell her he was leaving. She looked at the clock on her father’s desk. It was old-fashioned, too. She had twenty-three minutes left. Before she could overthink the situation, she raced out the back door to the garage.

“Crap,” she said to herself. If the phone was here, no way would she have enough time to search all the possible hiding places. And if she found it, by the time she brought it back inside, plugged it in, and called Roxie, her dad would be home.

Defeated, she went back inside and had no more than sat back down at the table than she heard her father’s truck pulling into the garage. She had barely made it and decided she would have to settle for writing Mrs. Pellegrino a note. She would start now, before she forgot all the things she wanted to ask her.

In her big loopy handwriting she began:

Quickly she folded the note and stuffed it in her back pocket. Her dad would kill her if he found it. She heard the back door open and took a breath. Her heart was beating very fast. She focused on the fractions.

“Holly, come and help carry this stuff inside!” he called.

She should add slavery to her long list of complaints, too.

“Be right there,” she said. She turned her math book over on its spine so that he would not be able to see that she was still on the same page. In fact, it would be a good thing if he did, because she would tell him how hard it was and it would take her years to get through the book. She changed her mind, then, and flipped it back over.

She stepped out the back door. Her dad had three grocery bags in one hand and the telephone in the other.

Ass, she thought. “Why do you have the phone out here?” She would act like she was surprised. He knew she would have used the phone the second he left, that was obvious, but she wanted to call his bluff, so she acted surprised. She took one of the large paper bags from him.

“Guess,” he said as he opened the back door. He stood to the side so she could enter first. She looked over her shoulder. She did not trust him at all. He could have a hatchet or something, ready to smash her skull in.

Inside, she hurried to the kitchen and placed the heavy bag on the counter. He placed his bags next to hers. “Want to help me put this stuff away?”

Like I have a choice. “Sure.” She began to empty the bag. Just the usual stuff. Frozen dinners. A bagged premade salad. Some apples. Milk. Cereal. Nothing worth eating.

“I thought we could go out for lunch today,” he said, surprising her.

Holly almost fell to the floor. “Why?”

He had never taken her out to lunch, at least not that she could remember. “Because I know what it’s like being grounded, and having your parent forcing you to study when you’d rather be talking on the phone.” He glanced at the phone he’d placed on the counter. “Or reading. I thought you might enjoy getting out of the house, but if you’d rather not, I can make us a sandwich.”

“No, I mean, yes, that would be fun. I’ll put my math book away and go brush my teeth.”

“Be ready in ten minutes,” her dad called out.

Maybe he wasn’t such a mean ass, after all.