Chapter 7
Holly’s eyes were red from crying so much. She could not sleep, and her stomach ached from eating too much pizza. Normally, she would have had two or three slices, but this evening, she had eaten six slices while her father read her the riot act.
“You will bring that B minus up to an A next semester, or you will be grounded until the school year ends. Is this clear?” he’d ordered.
So stunned by his words, she simply nodded and continued to stuff herself with pizza until she thought she was going to be sick. She had drunk too much soda, and now she was suffering. She had cried her eyes out when her father dismissed her from the table, and she was not even sure why. He had not found out about her trip to Miss Carol’s that afternoon. If he had, she felt sure he would have said so. She had not failed any tests, she had cleaned her room, done her homework when she was told, and never talked back to him. Why the sudden, renewed meanness? She did not know. She only knew she could not wait until morning, so she could leave this house. It was so depressing. Holly wished she had relatives she could live with. By the time she was old enough to move out, she feared she would be as hateful as her father was now. Though in all fairness, he had not really been hateful when he spoke to her. He’d just been very adamant. She had learned that word last week in her spelling class. Her dad was adamant about everything he said to her; there was no wiggle room. Everything was really cut-and-dried with him. She rolled over in bed and saw that she still had hours before it was time to get up and get ready for school. She wished she had an iPad or a laptop. She could watch a movie, or read a book, listen to music, anything to occupy her mind while she waited for morning to come. She was not even allowed a small bedside light to read by. But again, it all came down to what her dad allowed her to do. Other than school, homework, and the occasional sleepover with Roxie and Kayla, this was it. She knew she was only eleven, but she also knew she was smart and acted older than a lot of kids her age. Minus Roxie and Kayla. They all could easily pass for eighth graders, or at least that’s what they’d concluded during their last sleepover. A lot of girls her age were allowed to go to the mall on weekends, go to the movies, and engage in tons of other activities that her father refused to allow her to do. She could stand that, but the one activity she really wanted his support in was her singing. But he flat out refused to talk about music or anything remotely connected to the subject. She wanted to find out why. She would ask Miss Carol tomorrow, and if she did not have any answers, then she would ask Roxie’s mom. She wondered why Mrs. Pellegrino had never mentioned that she had known Holly’s mother. Holly would have liked to ask her father about it, but she was afraid he would just get upset like he always did when Holly tried to talk about her mother. She eyed the clock again and saw that only an hour had passed since the last time she had looked at it. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on happy things.
Songs. Music. Miss Carol. Roxie. Kayla.
She lay there and had finally dozed off, when the blare of her alarm clock jolted her out of a state of semisleep. She sat up in bed, regretting that she had spent most of the night wishing for the sun to come up. Now she wished she had just slept and worried about her problems later.
“Holly,” her father called, then banged loudly on her door. “Are you up?”
They went through this every morning. She always set her alarm clock, no matter what; yet he still felt he had to knock on her door to wake her, like she was a little kid.
“I’m up, Dad. Be out as soon as I’m dressed.” She rolled her eyes, stuck out her tongue, and smiled. If he ever saw her doing these things, she would be in more trouble than she was already in, even though she hadn’t really done anything wrong. Well, actually, she had, but she had not been caught. Not yet. She would have to cancel her trip to Miss Carol’s today. She would call her and explain about her math grade.
Holly made her bed, then dressed in a pair of jeans and a pink sweatshirt that read MUSIC ROCKS ME TO SLEEP AT NIGHT, a birthday gift from Roxie last year. It was her favorite thing to wear when it was chilly outdoors. She brushed her teeth, twisted her long hair into a French braid, then grabbed her backpack and jeans jacket and headed to the kitchen. Her dad’s back faced the entrance; normally, she would have added her jacket so he would not see her wearing this shirt, which she knew he disapproved of, but today she was feeling gutsy. The worst he could do was ask her to change into something else. She tied her jacket around her waist.
“Morning, Dad,” she said as she took a box of cereal from the cupboard. She took her bowl and a spoon from the dish drainer, the same bowl and spoon she had used yesterday and every day before that. Removing the milk from the refrigerator, she fixed her cereal in silence. Just as she did almost every morning.
“You make sure you come directly home from school today. I want you spending at least three hours on your math. No questions. Understood?”
Holly’s heart raced. Did he know about her trip to Miss Carol’s yesterday? She swallowed, and the puffed rice got caught in her throat. She nodded.
“Did you hear me?”
Again she nodded, but this time she raced over to the sink for a glass of water. She took a drink and continued to cough and gasp.
A hard slap on her back caused her to lose her breath. Her eyes watered as she tried to take in air. She coughed until the cereal dislodged itself from her throat; then she turned to her dad. She could barely speak, but she managed. “I was choking!” She spit the words out, her voice low and hoarse.
Her father did not say a single word. Instead, he filled his thermos with coffee, grabbed a package of turkey from the refrigerator, and proceeded to make sandwiches. Holly watched in stunned silence, waiting for him to comment. When he did not, she grabbed her bowl of cereal and tossed it in the sink without bothering to wash it and place it in the dish drainer, as she did every single day. She grabbed her backpack and, without another word, walked out of the kitchen to the front door and purposely slammed it as hard as she could. Before her dad could race out the door and tell her what a horrible daughter she was, she ran as fast as she could to the bus stop.
Kayla and Roxie were not there when she arrived. It was still early, but she did not care. A bit of alone time was what she needed. She sniffed, wiped her tears on her shirtsleeve, then dug through her backpack for a tissue. She blew her nose, then wished she had some eyedrops because her eyes were red from last night’s crying jag, and they were worse now that she had cried all the way to the bus stop. She was totally ticked off at her dad. He was really a mean man. She did not care if her thoughts were hateful. Maybe if her father had a dose of his own medicine, he might realize that she was not his enemy. She was his daughter, and Holly could not remember the last time he’d hugged her or said a truly kind, encouraging word to her. He acted like she was just there, someone he had to tolerate. Was that a type of abuse? Ms. Anderson had talked about abuse in class and said that it came in many forms. Maybe she should talk to her today? Explain what really went on behind the closed doors of the house she lived in. Maybe a phone call or a visit from the school counselor might nudge her dad in the right direction.
She disliked these thoughts. Maybe it would only cause her father to distance himself even more if she called in a third party. Wishing there were someone other than Roxie and Kayla she could talk to, she reconsidered sneaking by Miss Carol’s house this afternoon. Maybe she could advise her. It was all so very confusing. If her mother had lived, she knew her life would have been so much better. She would talk to Roxie’s mom the next time they had a sleepover at Roxie’s. She had barely caught her breath when her two BFFs rounded the corner, both waving excitedly when they saw her, as she was usually the last to arrive.
Kayla immediately spoke when she saw Holly. “What’s wrong, Holly? You’ve been crying,” she said, stating the obvious.
Holly gave a halfhearted smile and swiped her eyes again with her shirtsleeve. “Just the same old stuff. Dad. Griping about every single thing I do.”
“What’s new?” Roxie asked. “What’s he griping about this time?”
They dropped their book bags on the concrete and sat on top of them. Crouching on the bags was serious business, as they usually had their lunches in them. But a smashed peanut butter and jelly sandwich was a small price to pay in the name of friendship.
“He said I have to study math three hours every day, and if I do not bring my math grade up to an A, he’s going to ground me for the rest of the school year.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “He’s such an . . . ass.” She said the last word in a whisper. She did not normally use swear words, but she felt that her situation called for one because it made her feel better for some weird reason. She would ask for forgiveness tonight when she said her prayers.
“No, he’s not an ass. He’s a bastard,” Roxie joined in, putting a great deal of emphasis on her last word.
“We shouldn’t swear,” Kayla said.
“No one is here to tattle on us,” Roxie informed her.
Kayla, chastised, just nodded.
“So what are you going to do about it?” Roxie asked Holly.
Holly scrunched up her shoulders and shook her head. “I don’t know yet. I have to practice with Miss Carol, but if he finds out that I am sneaking over there every chance I get, who knows what he will do? I can’t miss the Christmas musical this year.” She wanted to add that her future depended on it, but she had promised to keep Maxine’s secret, and she rarely, if ever, broke a promise. “I guess I’m going to have to study hard, but I can’t do it for three hours a day. I’d go bonkers. I hate math.” And she sort of hated her dad, too, but she would not say that, either.
“I’ll help you,” Kayla offered. Of the three, she was the most gifted math student. “I can ask my mom if I can come over after school and tutor you. I’m sure she’ll say yes.”
“Thanks, but what about going to Miss Carol’s? I absolutely have to practice. I have a lot riding on this.” She knew she sounded like a drama queen, like she was a famous singer already, but one day, she hoped to be. Roxie and Kayla knew how important her singing was to her. It was part of her, like words were to a writer or colors to an artist. She had to sing, and Miss Carol had promised to teach her to play the piano this summer. She had such a bright future, but her dad could not seem to accept this. He was a total downer.
“Kayla, do her homework. Let her look at your paper when we have a test. We can switch seats in class—that way, for sure, she’ll get an A,” Roxie said.
“No! I can’t add cheating to the list. I already feel bad enough about lying to my dad about going to Miss Carol’s. I do not want Kayla to get in trouble, too. I’ll figure something out.”
Kayla spoke up. “I’ll tutor you if you want. Really, it’s okay.”
“Thanks. I just need to get through this day. I have to . . . contemplate.” Another spelling word she had learned last week. Ms. Anderson was a great teacher, but Holly could not seem to grasp math as well as she did her other subjects.
“Finals are coming up, you know? You’re gonna have to decide which is more important. If your dad forces you to study three hours a night, you won’t have time to practice. Just sayin’,” Roxie said with the wisdom of a girl twice her age.
Thankfully, the bus arrived then, with the usual grinding gears and squeaky brakes, and prevented Holly from answering. They got on, found their seats in the rear of the bus, and all were silent, each deeply immersed in thought.