Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(81)

Ella responded to her classmates with, “Little kids, little kids, sit beside me,” and Holly thought, Great. Now all of the other children are staring at Ella in those big glasses. What if Ella hates her new glasses? What if it’s a struggle to get her to wear them? What if she breaks them? Loses them?

“Relax, Holly Tree.” Greta rested a hand on Holly’s leg, presumably reading her mind. “Her eyeballs aren’t falling out. She just needs glasses.”

Ella stepped forward, her poster-board glasses cockeyed on her face. She pointed to each one of her classmates as she prepared to recite the final lines of the play—alone. All by herself. Holly’s Ella. Ella the Big Girl.

“It’s really long at the end,” Holly whispered to Greta. “Ella’s facing an impossible task. We haven’t practiced. I thought the play was Friday—they’re not going to make her say the whole thing—are they?”

“She’ll be fine, Holly. She’ll be fine.”

Greta’s eyes, they were smiling, supported by rows and rows of laugh lines. She was completely at ease. How was she completely at ease?

“Little kids, little kids, who is next to me? I see a little sheep, a little fish, a little dog . . .” Ella pointed to her classmates one by one.

Ella was on a roll. “I see a little cat, a little bear, a little horse . . .”

“Thank you, Mom,” Holly whispered, reaching over to squeeze Greta’s arm.

“A little bird.”

“I never say thank you,” Holly said to Greta. “And I should. I should say thank you more often.”

Greta lifted her arm to smell her armpit. Holly got it: Sidekick Sweaty.

Holly gazed at Ella. “A little duck . . .”

Can she do it?

“And a little frog. Sitting next to me.”

Whoo! She did it! Ella did it! Polite clapping from the parents as Holly sprang to her feet. Greta whistled. They clapped like wild women. Clapped like there was no tomorrow. Ella had recited the entire book, backward, and by herself. “That’s my baby girl!” Holly hollered. “That’s my baby girl! Whoo!”

When did she get to be so big? So calm? So poised? That girl of mine—so grown up. Next thing you know, she’ll be tossing her crayons and heading to college.

But not so fast. Because just as Holly was celebrating Ella’s achievement, Ella slipped that thumb of hers into her mouth—and started sucking.

“No, Ella!” Holly shook her head, signaling to Ella as the other kids bowed and the parents took pictures. “Take it out! Take it out!” Holly and Greta waved their arms above their heads, trying to get Ella’s attention. Holly snapped her fingers, trying to be heard above the clapping. “Take it out. Take it out!”

But Holly might as well have said, “---. ---!” because, beneath her ginormous poster-board glasses, Ella was ignoring Holly. Like Mary-Margaret often did. And right now, Holly supposed, that was okay. Because from time to time, you were not always heard, even when the person you were talking to knew exactly what you were saying.

Holly sensed this was it. Sensed her time in the Village of Primm, however short, was coming to an end before it began. How long was Dorothy in Oz? A week? A few days? The length of a dream?

Penelope Pratt

Feathered Nest Realty

—ENCLAVE ALERTS—

KABOOM!

Plume is dying.

Is death knocking at your door?

Reports from the Blythe and Peloton enclaves indicate a widespread bug infestation will likely sweep the Village of Primm overnight. Park officials recommend cremation to prevent further spread. There’s even talk of hiring a crop duster to rain chemicals from the sky over our beloved little village.

Though not yet identified by name, if you find what are described as tiny, flying yellow insects on the leaves of your topiary, KILL YOUR TOPIARY. Douse it with kerosene. And yes, kerosene is a flammable liquid, and yes, the vapors can explode and go KABOOM! But we have no choice. The final hour is nigh. The Apocalypse is upon us.

Incinerate those flying yellow suckers. We have no choice. We can rebuild society when the dust settles.

This is it. This is the end, villagers of Primm.

KABOOM!





32


Wednesday night



Jack arrived home at half past six.

“Well?” Holly rushed to the front door to greet him. “What happened?”

He exhaled slowly, setting his briefcase next to the coat tree. Before he answered, he loosened the clasp on his watch, set it in the mercury glass bowl Holly had placed on the hall table earlier that day. He looked tired. “Don’t know.”

“What does that mean? ‘Don’t know.’ Do you still have a job?”

“They didn’t say. They called a meeting to tell us a team will be coming down from corporate next week to announce the changes. Is that a new rug?” He pointed to the floor runner.

“Next week?” Holly laid her hand across her forehead. “That’s so far away.”

“Holly. Please.”

“Fine. Sorry.” Holly swung her gaze toward the wall to stare at a framed portrait taken on their wedding day. She’d hung it earlier without first finding the stud behind the drywall. Will the portrait hold? Of course it will hold. Of course it will. “I have a question to ask.” Holly held up a finger. “One question.”