Read Online Holly in Love by Caroline B. Cooney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Caroline B. Cooney
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parents at all. They attended church approximately once every two years, and Mr. Winter frowned steadily for the occasion, but whether he frowned at all things or just church, I didn’t know.
“They’d probably like it even less than they did when I got a steam tractor. My tractor’s a little on the decrepit side. Every time I plow the garden, my mother’s terrified the boiler’s going to blow up in my face and leave me blind and scarred for life.” He said this nonchalantly, as if discussing a hangnail. “What will your father say?” I asked.
Jamie looked away from me and his face tightened. “Nothing very nice,” he said after a bit. His sweet, buoyant voice sounded almost dead. I saw Mr. Winter frowning, frowning about everything, never saying anything nice, and I shivered slightly. “What will you do with the threshing machine after you get it? Thresh?” I said lightly. “I mean, you don’t have a farm.”
He paused for another second, and I could almost see him placing his father on a shelf. “I’ll just fix it up. I like steam engines. It’s a nice, simple, sensible form of energy, and it makes such a satisfying rhythmic noise, too.” We discussed collecting. I had a thimble collector in the family (my grandmother) and a Coca-Cola collector living next door, but I had not known there were also old tool, old machine, old farm implement, and even old computer collectors. Jamie himself preferred steam engine collecting. “What’s your hobby?” he said, implying that all interesting people had fascinating hobbies and therefore he knew that I would, too.
We were already in the Pew, seated and ordering, and I had hardly noticed the college boys littering the place. With Jonathan I had been so embarrassed I could hardly move my lips, but with Jamie I was just enjoying myself tremendously. Of course, Jamie wasn’t a date. And he was also just a junior who didn’t matter particularly. That helped.
I had one sick moment when I imagined I saw Jonathan in the back booth of the Pew, but it wasn’t Jonathan, just some middle-aged man with the same color jacket, and I breathed easier. I told Jamie about my dollhouse and the furniture I’d made for it and the almost-finished Christmas tree I was painting and the gazebo I was still sketching out on graph paper.
Jamie quizzed me a bit, to be sure I really did know what a lathe was for and when to use a jigsaw, and his eyes stopped blinking and for a moment he stared at me narrowly, as if rethinking his position on me.
I buttered another blueberry muffin and savored my hot chocolate. I could see how a person could develop an affection for the Pew food.
“Oh, no!” I said. “Oh, Jamie, I’m grounded! For going to see that movie I told you about! I’m not supposed to be here. Dad was so upset with me for betraying his trust, as he put it. I’ve got to fly home.”
Jamie just smiled. “I’ll go home with you and make excuses. Your father and I are old friends. I really don’t think he’d mind that we had a muffin together at the Pew for half an hour.”
“You and Dad are old friends?”
“Sure. He’s good to talk to.”
I stared at Jamie. “About what?”
“Oh, you know. Life. Truth. That kind of thing. How about it? Want me to walk you home?”
It was one thing to meet by coincidence at the Psych building. One thing to celebrate Jamie’s win at the Pew. It was something else again to walk home together as the dusk darkened the streets and the chill went into the bone and you naturally walked closer. Christopher didn’t even like Jamie, for some reason, and would jump to conclusions and be ready and willing to tease us forever. And there was Hope, who would have it in for me already after the Jonathan fiasco and would love to get her teeth into a “Dating a junior, Holly? Really, how immature you are!” scene.
“That’s okay, Jamie,” I said nervously. “It’s getting late and your house is in the opposite direction. Thanks for
“They’d probably like it even less than they did when I got a steam tractor. My tractor’s a little on the decrepit side. Every time I plow the garden, my mother’s terrified the boiler’s going to blow up in my face and leave me blind and scarred for life.” He said this nonchalantly, as if discussing a hangnail. “What will your father say?” I asked.
Jamie looked away from me and his face tightened. “Nothing very nice,” he said after a bit. His sweet, buoyant voice sounded almost dead. I saw Mr. Winter frowning, frowning about everything, never saying anything nice, and I shivered slightly. “What will you do with the threshing machine after you get it? Thresh?” I said lightly. “I mean, you don’t have a farm.”
He paused for another second, and I could almost see him placing his father on a shelf. “I’ll just fix it up. I like steam engines. It’s a nice, simple, sensible form of energy, and it makes such a satisfying rhythmic noise, too.” We discussed collecting. I had a thimble collector in the family (my grandmother) and a Coca-Cola collector living next door, but I had not known there were also old tool, old machine, old farm implement, and even old computer collectors. Jamie himself preferred steam engine collecting. “What’s your hobby?” he said, implying that all interesting people had fascinating hobbies and therefore he knew that I would, too.
We were already in the Pew, seated and ordering, and I had hardly noticed the college boys littering the place. With Jonathan I had been so embarrassed I could hardly move my lips, but with Jamie I was just enjoying myself tremendously. Of course, Jamie wasn’t a date. And he was also just a junior who didn’t matter particularly. That helped.
I had one sick moment when I imagined I saw Jonathan in the back booth of the Pew, but it wasn’t Jonathan, just some middle-aged man with the same color jacket, and I breathed easier. I told Jamie about my dollhouse and the furniture I’d made for it and the almost-finished Christmas tree I was painting and the gazebo I was still sketching out on graph paper.
Jamie quizzed me a bit, to be sure I really did know what a lathe was for and when to use a jigsaw, and his eyes stopped blinking and for a moment he stared at me narrowly, as if rethinking his position on me.
I buttered another blueberry muffin and savored my hot chocolate. I could see how a person could develop an affection for the Pew food.
“Oh, no!” I said. “Oh, Jamie, I’m grounded! For going to see that movie I told you about! I’m not supposed to be here. Dad was so upset with me for betraying his trust, as he put it. I’ve got to fly home.”
Jamie just smiled. “I’ll go home with you and make excuses. Your father and I are old friends. I really don’t think he’d mind that we had a muffin together at the Pew for half an hour.”
“You and Dad are old friends?”
“Sure. He’s good to talk to.”
I stared at Jamie. “About what?”
“Oh, you know. Life. Truth. That kind of thing. How about it? Want me to walk you home?”
It was one thing to meet by coincidence at the Psych building. One thing to celebrate Jamie’s win at the Pew. It was something else again to walk home together as the dusk darkened the streets and the chill went into the bone and you naturally walked closer. Christopher didn’t even like Jamie, for some reason, and would jump to conclusions and be ready and willing to tease us forever. And there was Hope, who would have it in for me already after the Jonathan fiasco and would love to get her teeth into a “Dating a junior, Holly? Really, how immature you are!” scene.
“That’s okay, Jamie,” I said nervously. “It’s getting late and your house is in the opposite direction. Thanks for
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