Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(87)

Penelope clapped. Winked. Gave Holly an enthusiastic two thumbs up.

Mary-Margaret: “If you’re fresh, fresh like fabric softener . . . if you’re wearing a sports bra, will you please sit down?”

“Excuse me?” Holly stretched to wave both arms above her head. “Mary-Margaret?”

But Mary-Margaret ignored her. So Holly walked over to stand next to Mary-Margaret on the bluestone patio that circled the North Gazebo. I won’t be ignored, thought Holly. I won’t be the “---” in the script any longer.

“Mary-Margaret. Listen to me.”

Holly was a foot away from Mary-Margaret, about to tap her on the shoulder to get her full attention, when suddenly—buuuuring—Mary-Margaret swung around and pointed Darth right in Holly’s face. Now, Holly hadn’t really paid attention in college when they went over the concept of phase and how different miking setups interacted with each other. Sine waves, stereo mics, mono compatibility, blah, blah, blah. But she did know the mic she was wearing disagreed with Darth—because another shrill buuuuring let out.

“Whoops!” Holly took a step back as the crowd of moms reacted, covering their ears.

“If you’re standing beside me. And you’re looking at me right now. Will you please sit down? If your eyes look like Muppet eyes. If you’ve been known to say, ‘Me eat cookie. Nom-nom-nom.’ Please sit down.”

That’s it. Those damn peckled peanut butt—Holly snatched at Darth, but Mary-Margaret pulled him away. So Holly lunged at Mary-Margaret, taking hold of Darth to wrestle him out of Mary-Margaret’s hands. Success! Oh, but so many buttons. How do you work this thing? Holly banged Darth against her hand. Pushed a button, squeezed a red bar.

“I didn’t drop the ball,” Holly announced into the back of Darth’s head. “I’m sorry Bree has chicken pox”—buuuuring—“but I never said I’d run the Crayons-to-College Symposium. And I didn’t sign up to be PTA secretary either.” Her voice was so loud Holly wondered if they could hear her down The Lawn on Pip’s Corner. “I’m not PTA material. I signed up for napkins.”

This felt so good. Having a voice gave you power. But WHOO! Ouch. With all that technology in close proximity, phase was out of whack, disrupting the two signals.

Mary-Margaret snatched at Darth as Darth let out another glaring, blaring, high-pitched ring. Zzzpt! Buuuuring! The moms gasped. Cried out. Covered their ears. But Holly had a good grip on Darth, so as Mary-Margaret and Holly wrestled, tugging Darth back and forth, Holly was able to keep talking. “I’m sorry that Plume is dying!” Holly said. “But I have information about Plume that might surprise you!”

Mary-Margaret’s eyes grew wide. “You wouldn’t,” she snarled.

Wouldn’t what?

Confess, Mary-Margaret, say something. Anything. Let me record it. Let me save Jack’s job, so we can live in the Village of Primm forever.

Mary-Margaret hauled off and whacked Holly in the shoulder with an open hand, probably hoping Holly would drop Darth, but she didn’t. So Mary-Margaret lunged for Darth, arms out like a flying bat, but Holly was too fast for her.

“I have to tell you all something very, very important!” Holly yelled into Darth’s bald black head. “Something you all need to know, Pie Moms. Listen up! It’s about Plume.”

More wrestling. Growing more desperate by the moment. A mom from the crowd yelled, “Girls! Stop that. Use your words.” And like an echo, another mom finished with, “That’s it. Go to your room!” Mary-Margaret pulled Holly’s hair. Stomped on Holly’s feet. Holly worried Mary-Margaret might haul off and bite her.

Holly squeezed the red bar on Darth’s neck. “I want you all to know!” she shouted, throwing an arm up to block Mary-Margaret. “That Plume . . .”

“Noooooo!” growled Mary-Margaret.

“Plume. Is a peahen.” There. She’d said it. “She’s not a peacock. I repeat! Plume is not—A PEACOCK.” Felt so good to get that off her chest.

The struggle for Darth ended when Mary-Margaret prevailed, ripping him violently from Holly’s hands—but Mary-Margaret fumbled, dropping Darth. He hit the bluestone patio facedown, smashing into a dozen pieces. Mary-Margaret’s mouthpiece, like Darth himself in Return of the Jedi, was destroyed.

“Hip! Hip!” Hooray! Holly clapped. “Hip! Hip!” Hooray!

“Sit down!” Mary-Margaret clapped her hands in Holly’s face. “Sit. Down!”

Holly folded her arms across her chest, staring at Mary-Margaret as if they were kids on a playground. You want me to sit down? Try and make me. I dare you. Hidden mic. I double-dog dare you. Hidden mic and hidden spy camera. I triple-dog dare you. They locked eyes and stared at one another.

Penelope stood. “I’ll run the Crayons-to-College Symposium—not Holly. My son is a junior at Primm Academy, so it wouldn’t hurt if I learned a few things while chairing the College Crayons Committee. I’ll run it if it gets postponed until spring.”

Mary-Margaret pulled herself from her stalemate with Holly to take control of the meeting. “All in favor, say aye. All opposed—you know what? Don’t even bother. Don’t anyone speak.”

And so no one did.

Until at last, “Fine! I’m done,” Mary-Margaret announced. “Penelope runs the Crayons-to-College Symposium in the spring. Emily? Pie announcements? Like maybe—don’t use store-bought pie filling in your pies?” Mary-Margaret glared at Holly as she marched to her seat.