Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(31)

Knock. Knock. Knock. Mary-Margaret rapped her knuckles on Holly’s driver’s side window, and all Holly could think was, Spit cakes! I haven’t showered. Why would she? She was just driving Ella to school. She was planning to return home, take a shower, and begin her day. She couldn’t deal with Mary-Margaret right now. Not like this.

Knock. Knock. Knock. “Roll down your window. It’s me: Mary-Margaret St. James.”

Mary-Margaret peered down a thin nose. Bright-white teeth with a wedge of pink bubble gum in the way back. Her hair was smooth, styled, fixed with a golden grosgrain ribbon. Holly’s mousy brown hair needed a root touch-up to cover sprigs of early gray and was also fixed—beneath a baseball hat. Why? Because she’d stayed up late last night stalking Collette’s boards on Pinterest while emailing a psychic named Betty. Holly couldn’t deal with this right now. She wasn’t prepared. Wasn’t fully awake. Wasn’t interested in reality but couldn’t harness the power of her imagination to escape into film.

“It’s me, Mary-Margaret St. James. Open up! Roll down your window.” Knock, knock, knock. Thin fingers. Bony knuckles. “You can’t park here.” What do you mean I can’t park here? Holly gestured to all the buses. This is the drop-off lane, right? And then it hit her: “Used car park thar.” Mary-Margaret had been saying “You can’t park there.”

“You’re in the bus lane,” Mary-Margaret scolded, arms folded. “Cars aren’t allowed. Only buses. Roll down your window, Fruit Roll-Up.” Mary-Margaret spoke through Holly’s closed window, overenunciating every word. “What. Is. Your. Naaaaaame?” Wait. Did she just call me a Fruit Roll-Up? Holly rolled her window down. Immediately, Mary-Margaret was in Holly’s face. “You look familiar,” Mary-Margaret said, hands on hips. “Oh yes! I remember you—at the meeting the other night—you left early.”

Holly told her, “My name is Holly Banks.” And Holly knew Mary-Margaret heard her, but Mary-Margaret was such a narcissist she ignored Holly. Talked right over her. Like she wasn’t even there because Mary-Margaret was the only one that mattered in the conversation.

“What’s your name?”

“---.”

“Polly Banks. That’s right,” Mary-Margaret said. “I remember now.”

Mary-Margaret was so close Holly smelled her perfume. Gardenia. Tuberose. Something.

“Sorry, Polly, you can’t park here.”

Mary-Margaret shook her head at Holly as Holly decided she smelled of gardenia. Tuberose was sharp, almost bitter. Gardenia was sweeter, creamier.

“No cars in the bus lane. Didn’t you read the back-to-school handbook? You’re mucking up drop-off on the first day of school.” Mary-Margaret exhaled as if Holly were the lamest mom in the world. “That happens, I guess.” Another pause. “You don’t know how things work around here. Do you?” She twitched an eyebrow.

Holly opened her mouth to reply, but—

“You need a back-to-school handbook. Can’t live without one. Lemme guess. You left before I handed them out. I’ll try to find one for you—in my free time. It is the first day of school, and I am the president of the Primm Academy PTA. I’m really busy, you know.”

Holly looked out her windshield, hoping the buses in front of her would pull forward and bring a natural end to their conversation. No such luck. The apple brigade was still in full swing, indicating the first bus in line hadn’t finished unloading yet. Mary-Margaret kept tabs on the apple brigade too; the sight of moms working like a machine appeared to bring her much pleasure.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Mary-Margaret said. “The children—they grow up so fast.” Mary-Margaret used Holly’s mirror to check her hair. “But not us. We stay young. Well, at least, I do.”

“---.”

“Crossing guards. I agree.” Mary-Margaret nodded. “We need crossing guards so drivers like you, my little cupcake, don’t cross the line.”

Cupcake?

“Wow. This is a big red sports utility vehicle!” Mary-Margaret’s eyes scanned the length and girth of Holly’s car. “Looks like you’re driving Clifford the Big Red Dog. What kind is it? A Suburban Godzilla something?”

“---.”

“Okay, Emily Elizabeth—take your big red dog and run along. Ha!” Big smile.

Speaking of smiles, the bus in front of Holly looked like a bright-yellow face emoji with no expression. Just blinking red eyes and a straight black bumper mouth. Bus 13. The bus Ella would have taken if they hadn’t missed it.

“Try squeaking past it on the left. Because you can’t stay here. You’re ruining morning drop-off on the first day of school. That bus in front of you is packed with children, all hopeful and happy, ready for the first day of school at Primm Academy. Hip! Hip!”

“---?”

“Hip. Hip. That’s what we say at Primm Academy.” Mary-Margaret placed her delicate hand over her heart, covering the gilded school emblem. “The ‘hooray’ is implied. It’s something we feel in our heart.”

Ha!

“What’s so funny?” Mary-Margaret whined. “Now let’s go! Let’s move this thing.” Snap, snap, snap. Through Holly’s window, Mary-Margaret’s bracelets jingled in Holly’s face.