The Worry Web Site Read Free

Dad, mopping at Miss Morgan with his paper napkin. He just let me drip. “You're behaving like a total idiot.”
    “You're the total idiot,” I muttered. Not softly enough.
    “I've just about had enough of you, showing me up and behaving so badly,” Dad hissed.
    “Here, Holly, let's go to the ladies' room and get some paper towels,” said Miss Morgan in a friendly but very firm teacher's voice, so I couldn't quite manage to say no. When we were in the ladies' room she didn't mess around with the milk-shake stains. She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eyes.
    “It's OK, Holly. I understand the way you feel.”
    “No, you don't,” I said sulkily.
    I didn't see how she could understand when
I
didn't have a clue why I felt so bad and was acting bad into the bargain.
    “I like your dad—and he seems to like me,” said Miss Morgan.
    “Yuck!” I said.
    “Yes, OK, it seems very yucky to you. It probably would to me too if I was in the same situation.”
    The
really
yucky thing was she was being so niceynicey-nice to me,
sooooo
soft and sweet. It made me feel fiercer than ever.
    “I promise you, I'm not trying to take the place of your mum. I know just how much she means to you. She'll always stay your mum—and Hannah's— forever and ever, even though you don't see her anymore.”
    “We do
so
see her!” I shouted. “We see her lots and lots and lots, so you can just shut up and stay away from me and my family.”
    I rushed into a cubicle and locked the door and wouldn't come out for ages. In fact
Dad
had to come into the ladies' room to get me out and it was dead embarrassing and everyone was staring.
    I managed to hold things in until I was in bed that night and then I cried and cried and cried. I tried to cry quietly but I woke Hannah.
    “Are you crying because you've been so bad?”she whispered. She had been awestruck by my behavior.
    “I'm
not
crying. I've just got a cold,” I snuffled, blowing my nose.
    I really did get a cold the next day and I made such a fuss that Dad let me stay off school. Auntie Evie up the road came to keep an eye on me. When she dozed off watching a soap opera after lunch I crept into the hall and made a phone call—to my mum.
    Mum didn't know who I was at first.
    Well, she
did
. She just didn't recognize my voice and said, “Who?” suspiciously as if it was someone playing a joke on her.
    “It's
me
, Mum.” I paused. I wondered if I was going to have to add, “
You
know. Holly. Your
daughter
.”
    “What do you want, Holly? Is something wrong?”
    “No. Yes. It's Dad.”
    “Well, what about him? He's not ill, is he? Because I can't really have you girls to stay at the moment as I'm not too great myself and I'm having all sorts of dramas with Mike and—”
    She went on and on and on. Then she remembered.
    “Anyway. What about your dad?”
    “He's got a
girlfriend
!”
    “Has he?” She sounded so casual, as if I'd just announced he'd got a new tie.
    “She's a teacher at our school.”
    “Oh well. That figures. It's the only way your dad would ever meet anyone.”
    I hated the way Mum always sounded so sniffy about Dad, like he was the most boring man on earth.
    “Don't you mind, Mum?”
    “Well, what's it got to do with me?”
    “It's serious. She might end up our stepmother.”
    “Oh! Isn't she very nice to you, then?”
    “She's —” I couldn't quite tell an outright lie. “She's OK.”
    “Then what are you worried about, eh?”
    “Well, she
could
turn out horrid. Most stepmothers are. Like in ‘Snow White.’”
    “Ah. ‘Snow White.’ I had that fairy-tale book when I was a little girl.”
    “I
know
. You gave it to me.”
    I can't stand it when Mum forgets things. Sometimes it feels as if she's forgotten all about me. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and missed her but the words wouldn't sort themselves out and while I was still wondering how to say it Mum said, “Well, I've got to go now, Holly. See you.