“And here’s this.” I gasp at the sight of the box he hands me. It’s a model car kit. On the front is an old pink convertible. “I used some of my own money to buy it,” he says proudly. “Dad helped me with the rest.”
Hollis started doing chores for some of the neighbors for extra money. He says he wants to save enough to buy a truck when he turns sixteen and fix it up to look like those models he puts together.
“It’s a Chevy Bel Air. It’s the best pink car I could find for you.” My best friend shrugs like he hasn’t just given me the coolest gifts in my entire life. “I thought we could work on it together, if you want.”
I’m so surprised, I just nod with a huge smile. Then he holds out an envelope. “And this.”
“What’s this for?”
He gives me a crazy look and drags out the last word. “A card for your birthday.”
I frown. “But I thought you were comin’ over for my party on Sunday and…”
He gets a weird look on his face. “Sorry, but I have to, uh”—he stares down at the floor—“go somewhere with my mom.”
He’s lying. He never goes anywhere with his mom.
I’d never say it out loud, but I think Hollis’ mom is a witch. Not like a real one with creepy spells or anything, but with her dark hair and pale skin, the way she’s always scowling and in a bad mood, she could be one.
But, still. I reckon I know why he can’t spend my birthday with me.
“Hollis.” I wait for him to look at me. Dark eyes meet mine, and I hate the hurt I see in them. “My mother said somethin’.” It’s not a question. I know by now how my mother does things.
When he gives a little shrug, like it’s no big deal, I start to apologize. I need to tell him how sorry I am that my mother hurt his feelings, but he holds up a hand to stop me. He forces a smile, and I hate it.
“Open your card.”
I lift the flap, slide out the card, and when I open it, a photo slips out. Instantly, I smile wide. I know exactly when this was taken.
We’d finished building the treehouse and were super sweaty. After painting the outside, we had streaks of it on our clothes and our hair was messy, but when Mr. Jay took our picture, we stood in front of the treehouse and smiled proudly.
The looks on our faces, how happy we are, makes my eyes sting, and my throat gets tight.
“You’re not gonna get all girly on me, are you?”
I laugh without looking up. “Just give me a minute.”
It’s not just the photo that has me feeling a little weepy, but what he’s written inside the card at the top, too.
To my best friend, Magnolia
We’ve never actually come out and said the words to each other, but now that he’s written them, I feel proud. Suddenly good enough. He doesn’t care that I have a gap in my teeth or that my hair gets a little frizzy sometimes. He doesn’t care that I’m still learning how to climb trees or how to build those model cars he loves.
On top of that, he uses some of his money to buy me presents even when my mother tells him he’s not allowed to come to my birthday party.
I rush to my feet and throw my arms around him, hugging him so tight he grunts.
Hollis had a growth spurt, so now my cheek presses against his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me and I instantly feel safer.
It’s at this moment I know two things are absolute facts.
1. I officially have the best best friend in the world.
2. Hollis gives the greatest hugs. Ever.
We sit back, and while he opens the model car kit so we can start on it, I carefully open the packet of Pop Rocks and peer inside. They really do look like little pink rocks.
“Here.” Hollis holds out a palm, and I’m careful not to spill the candy when I hand him the packet. “Open your mouth.”
I open wide, and he shakes a bunch of the candy on my tongue. Immediately, the crackling sound and the odd tickling on my tongue starts up.
“Can you hear it too?” I ask excitedly. This is the coolest thing ever.
He nods and grins. “Cool, right?”
“It’s the coolest.” I listen to the crackling sounds until everything finally dies down.
“Want more?”
I think about it, then shake my head. “I’ll save it for another time.”
“You know they sell these for pretty cheap. Like three for a dollar or somethin’.”
He tips his head to the side, and some of his dark hair slides over his forehead. He’s let it grow longer and I like it. I think he has pretty hair for a boy, but I’d never tell him that.
“You should have ’em all. I mean, it’s your birthday, Magnolia.”
I frown at the packet. I’m torn between wanting to and keeping some for another time…or two. To savor it, like Mama always tells me when we’re out to dinner with some important people. She says, Savor the food, Magnolia. That way you won’t end up inhalin’ it like a pig from a trough. Ladies savor every morsel.
Hollis nudges my arm with his. “Come on. I promise I’ll hook you up with more.” He juts his chin, gesturing to the packet of Pop Rocks. “Go ahead.”
I peer at him, pressing my lips together, still not sure. “You don’t mind gettin’ more for me sometime?”
I hate being a bother, but my mother has eyes and ears all over the place. If I walked into the store and paid for candy, she’d hear about it long before I made my way back home. I swear, there’s a special phone tree for the ladies she’s friends with.
I’m not allowed to go to the dollar store, anyway. The Barton family doesn’t dare set foot inside a cheap store like that. Those were my mother’s words.
I sneaked in one time with Hollis. It had been a windy, chillier day last fall, and he’d loaned me a hooded sweatshirt. After hiding our bikes in the woods behind the store, he smuggled me inside with my hood up and I’d kept my face down. It had been kind of exciting to do that even though I’d felt guilty as all get-out. So, as awesome as it was, I’d told him I couldn’t do it again.
Plus, everyone who’s watched reruns of the old CSI shows knows repetition is dangerous.
That’s another thing my mother would lose her mind about. I’m not allowed to watch garbage television. The only way I get around that is to be quick enough to flip to the Food Network channel if I hear her coming down the hall.
“All right, Hollis Barnes. I’m fixin’ to hold you to that promise.” I grin and raise the packet to tip the rest of the candy in my mouth.
Then I crackle for the next minute or so while Hollis sorts out the pieces for the model car set.
It doesn’t matter what gifts I get at my party on Sunday, because they sure can’t measure up to this.
Just like Grandpa Joe said in last week’s sermon, a sweet friendship is good for the soul.
Hollis Barnes is definitely good for mine.
Hollis
ELEVEN YEARS OLD
“Fixin’ to see her again?”
I stiffen at my mom’s question. I hate the way she asks it, the nasty tone she uses, like her is a bad word.
Magnolia said she’d meet me in the treehouse at ten o’clock this morning, and I don’t want to make her wait, so I quickly pull two bottles of water from the fridge. Waters gripped in one hand, I turn and face my mom because she blocks the only way out of the kitchen.