Page 3 of Wrapped Up in Holly

But somehow, I had let her forget it.

Holly

Itugged at my hair, tossing it away from the collar of my coat. It was a hand-me-down. Not that my clothes usually weren’t, but this coat was big and ugly, and I felt like an idiot standing out here in the cold, next to a giant plastic snowman, trying to psych myself up to ring the doorbell. My aunt had already left. Dropped me off with barely a wave. So, I didn’t have many choices.

Either walk all the way home or find the guts to walk in the house, where music and laughter rang out. My stomach fluttered with butterflies.

Last year, I had moved here to Akron, Ohio right in the middle of the year, and the teacher had sat me next to Evan. He was nice and mostly quiet, chubby with dark hair and a nice smile. He didn’t seem to care what other people thought about him. Something I wished I could do, but when you were the tallest girl in class, it was hard not to stick out.

I hadn’t talked to anyone. I still didn’t. Except Evan. All because that one day he had started telling me about his family, the farm they lived on, and the pig they had as a pet. Ever since then, we were friends.

Best friends.

I’d been here at his house before, but this was the first time I was so nervous. Because I was going to tell him I liked him.

Likedliked him.

With a pat to my pocket, to make sure his gift was still there, I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

Mrs. Hart answered with her usual big smile and held her arm out to me. “Holly!” She peered behind me. “Is your aunt or uncle here?” When I shook my head, her smile dropped only momentarily before her eyes brightened. “Well, come on in. You’re probably freezing.”

She ushered me inside, and I saw Evan standing not too far behind her. He grinned, in his usual black T-shirt and jeans. I always teased him about his “uniform,” and he always teased me about my obsession with fashion. Not that I was able to be very fashionable here. I wore whatever was given to me by my aunt. Before, my mom had always made my clothes. We’d used to spend hours shopping for fabric and looking at patterns. Then she would have me walk the length of the kitchen and living room in our apartment, and I’d pose for polaroids that she’dhang up all over. I loved it. Hearing her laugh. Wearing the clothing she’d made for me. Being with her.

Here, there wasn’t anyone to set up a mini fashion show. No one to share my appreciation of outfits, but at least I had Evan’s sister, who often shared her magazines with me.

“Holly!” Rosie shouted. The telltale clomping of her crutches sounded before she rounded the corner. Rosie had Spina Bifida and needed help to walk, but she also loved readingTeen VogueandCosmo, so even though she was two years younger than me and Evan, I spent a lot of time with her. Rosie grinned at me, the same smile as Mrs. Hart’s. The same one as Evan’s. “I saw this new way to paint our nails to make it look like tie dye. We gotta try it.”

Evan huffed. “No, Ro, Mom said we could have the TV.”

“Mommy!” someone shouted from the kitchen. I think it was Julie. “The twins spilled the sprinkles!”

Mrs. Hart pointed to the coat rack with too many coats hanging on it already as she smiled at me. “You know where everything goes.” Then she spun around, calling out, “Piglet! Come eat the sprinkles!”

I took off my coat and attempted to hang it up, but it slid off. Rosie snickered as Evan grabbed it from the floor and tossed it to the top of the rack. Then he nodded toward the back of the house. “I made popcorn.”

“But I want to show you how to do the nail polish,” Rosie whined as I started to follow Evan.

Looking between the siblings, I said, “How about we paint our nails while we watch TV?”

I caught Evan’s eye roll, but Rosie seemed satisfied. “Okay! I’ll be right there.”

She made her way to the staircase and sat in her electric chair, which would take her upstairs, where I supposed she’d get her magazines and nail polish.

“Now she’ll never leave us alone,” Evan grumbled, and I tried not to be too excited about why he might want to be alone with me.

Those butterflies from before were feeling more like dragons now.

He tipped his head for me to follow him into the chaotic kitchen. Evan was the oldest of seven kids, and, at first, I’d had a hard time keeping everyone straight, but now that I knew them, it was easy. Julie was at the table, studiously decorating sugar cookies, while the two-year-old twins, Ryan and Tristan, made a mess. Piglet, the pig, was snorting around the floor for crumbs.

“Holly!” Julie screeched. “You want to decorate with me?”

“Not right now,” I said as Evan stole one of the cookies.

“But we will eat them.”

Julie fumed at him with clenched teeth. “That was my favorite!”

Ryan imitated her with a screech, and Evan patted her head, avoiding her swinging fist.

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