Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(42)

“THE WHAT!”

“Congratulations, Lavender! You’re the new secretary of the Primm Academy PTA!”

“Nooo!” Holly yelled, sounding as if she were standing at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, opening her anguished soul to the universe. “Not the PTA!”

“There’s a meeting tomorrow. Can you bring cupcakes?”

“No, I can’t bring cupcakes!” Holly snarled. “I don’t want to be on the PTA. I want to be a wolf. So I can dress in Grandma’s clothes and eat you. Face first. Why did you sign me up?” Holly howled. “I just got here. I’m not unpacked.” She counted on her fingers. “I don’t know a soul. Ella’s only in kindergarten. What do I know about the PTA? I don’t want to be on the PTA.”

“But—why are you overreacting?” Mary-Margaret whined. “I thought you’d be happy.” Mary-Margaret leaned backward. “Whoa. Lavender, what big eyes you have. Why are your eyes popping out? I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’re not a scary wolf. You look like a Muppet.”

A what? A freaking Muppet?

“You’re Cookie Monster with big bulging eyes.” Mary-Margaret thought a moment. “No, wait. Ha! Ha! You’re not the Cookie Monster.” She pointed to Holly’s legs. “You’re Miss Piggy!”

Holly snatched another cookie, ripping it with her teeth. She’d probably eaten six already. Intended to eat a lot more. Planned to binge eat her way through this horrible day. Secretary? No way. I’m not serving as anything for anyone. I’m not.

“Think of it, Lavender. You’re stepping onto the Primm Academy stage—as a newcomer—welcomed by me with a nickname and a title!” Mary-Margaret winked. Nudged Holly with her elbow. “Very strategic!”

Hmm. Holly would like to meet other mothers . . . maybe make a few friends.

“Think of all the time we’ll spend together,” Mary-Margaret said. “We’ll become great friends. Best friends!”

Whoa! No, thank you. And yet . . . is she right? Is a position on the PTA strategic? Would it give me status? Clout with other moms? Clout with Ella’s teachers? Do I want this? Do I want a little celebrity? It would be a great way to meet other moms. Become more involved; become one of them. Holly knew this: her own mother would never serve on a PTA. Holly should take the position for that reason alone.

But then she moved quickly to her initial gut reaction, which was no, definitely not. She wasn’t good at these things. She’d make a fool of herself somehow. She’d forget the PTA pledge, something. Was there a PTA pledge? Holly didn’t know.

“I’m very sorry, Mary-Margaret. And I thank you for the kind offer, but I can’t do it. I won’t do it.”

“Too late. I suggested it to Principal Hayes as community service for hitting the school bus,” Mary-Margaret informed Holly. “He thought it was a great idea.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of. Community service? On the PTA? There’s no such thing.” Holly shoved another cookie in her mouth, spitting a little when she said, “And besides, if you sign me up, I’ll just quit.”

“If you quit, I’ll tell everyone in town you’re a quitter. Slow down with those cookies. You’re eating like . . . Cookie Monster—unchained.”

Holly took a few bites of cookie and then swallowed. Cookie, cookie, cookie. Nom, nom, nom.

“Slow down, Lavender. You’re chewing so fast.”

Cookie, cookie, cookie. Nom, nom, nom.

“Actually, you’re sort of spitting at me right now. Will you please stop?” Mary-Margaret jumped up, brushing cookie crumbs from her pink skirt. “You’re spitting. Really spitting. That’s so gross.” Mary-Margaret’s expression showed her disgust.

Holly had seen that look of disgust. Had seen it on her friends’ faces when her mom stuffed bananas down her shirt at the grocery store. Greta made Holly’s friends look like that. When she was drunk. When she did things. That night she drove across town to catch Holly’s dad with another woman. That night she was arrested. That thing she did. Back then. When it was bad. Even now, Jack got that look when Greta called asking for money.

“Swallow, please,” Mary-Margaret told Holly, eyebrows pinched above her nose. Was Mary-Margaret mad? Or just shocked by Holly? “You really should swallow,” she said, hands on hips as if scolding a child. “Lavender, please.”

She better freaking stop calling me freaking Lavender.

“Slow down, Lavender. You’re getting crumbs all over your time-out chair. Meeting is tomorrow.” Mary-Margaret tidied up, getting ready to make her departure. “Cupcakes?”

Holly said no with a shake of her head.

“Great.” Mary-Margaret smiled. “Then it’s settled. Bring three dozen.”

Holly shook her head again. “No cupcakes. I won’t do it.” Holly felt savage, crushed another cookie into her mouth as Mary-Margaret hitched the thin strap of her school tote bag onto her shoulder.

“Nut-free, gluten-free, and egg-free, please.”

“No!” Holly mustered, her mouth full of cookie. Does this woman ever listen? Must I bully the bully? Pursue the aggressor? Do I have to overexaggerate everything in this town just to get my point across? Holly found herself standing in front of Mary-Margaret, arranging clumps of cookie inside her mouth like bullets inside a NERF N-Strike Elite Retaliator Blaster gun. The way Holly saw it, they were alone in the annex—so no one knew she was doing this, except Mary-Margaret. And besides, Mary-Margaret got to act bat-flipping crazy all the time; why couldn’t Holly? Holly would never actually spit cookie crumbs at Mary-Margaret . . . would she?