Holly Hearts Headlines (Holly Hearts Hollywood Book 2) by Kenley Conrad Page A
Authors: Kenley Conrad
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the morning. I thought that my mom would be sitting in the living room shrouded in darkness ready to scold me. I was prepared to be scolded. She’s my mom, that’s what moms do. But she wasn’t there when I got home. And when I woke up late the next morning, she was cooking pancakes in the kitchen.
“Morning!” I said cheerfully, hoping that it would distract her from wanting to yell at me.
“Morning, Holly,” she replied. “Do you want chocolate chips in your pancakes?”
I raised my eyebrows, surprised that she hadn’t sunk her talons into me yet. “Sure!” Ivy was frantically flipping through the pages of fashion magazines and cutting out pictures of outfits that she liked.
After my mom put a huge pile of chocolate chip pancakes in front of me, she casually asked to see my journal. “Sure,” I said around a mouthful of cake and syrup. I had it with me, as I always do, and handed it over to her. “Just don’t read anything, okay?”
“Oh, I won’t read any of it,” Mom said flatly. Suddenly, before I could blink, she threw it into a kitchen drawer and locked it shut.
My mouth fell open and a bit of pancake escaped. “Mom! What the heck?”
“You were two and a half hours late last night, and you didn’t even bother to call. You are grounded from your journal for a week.”
My heart exploded in my chest. I know that it is probably really unhealthy to have attachment issues to a journal, but writing in here makes me feel a little more grounded. It is so important for me to be able to vocalize my feelings and thoughts without having anyone judge me. “Mom, no! You can’t!” I protested.
“Oh yes I can. Also, have you forgotten that you have final exams to study for? Just because you are about to graduate doesn’t mean you can completely slack off. Your journal distracts you. I think a week away from it will do you some good.” Mom turned back to the stove and said over her shoulder, “And don’t even think about starting a new journal because I will throw it away.”
She knows me too well. This last week without my journal has been so boring. All I’ve done is work out every day, study for finals, attempt to learn to drive, stare at the dumb egg, hang out with my family, and talk to Grayson on the phone every night. See? It was totally unproductive and uneventful.
Later, 1:00pm—Shoulder of I-110 SB Highway
I’ve always considered hitchhiking to be a dangerous thing for a girl to do. It is way too easy to get picked up by a semi-truck driver with dreams of becoming a serial killer. I can’t sincerely gamble my actual life . But I’m so humiliated I’m considering sticking my thumb out and rolling the dice between life and death.
Why am I willing to get chopped into tiny bits and cooked into a cannibal’s chili dinner? Why you ask? Because I’m the reason I’m on the side of the busiest freeway with my drivers education class with a flat tire and a crushed front and rear bumper. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m a new driver for the love of God and I’ve already caused a four-car pile up.
Sierra and Akbar are both on the phone with their parents right now complaining about their idiot classmate who got us into this mess. I mean cars are whizzing by us at eighty miles an hour. If just one of them swerves a little bit, we’re totally dead.
I mean how are you supposed to gauge the speed of other drivers on the freeway? I could tell the guy in front of me was slowing down but how could I know that he was going to come to a complete and total STOP in the middle of the road?
Mom is going to ground me all over again. Oh my God, I think I’m bleeding. Yup, I’m definitely bleeding. Oh my God, am I going to die?
Later, 1:45pm—Waiting Room at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center
You would think that a young girl with a gushing head wound would be rushed into the hospital immediately and treated by the finest doctors in the LA area, but instead
“Morning!” I said cheerfully, hoping that it would distract her from wanting to yell at me.
“Morning, Holly,” she replied. “Do you want chocolate chips in your pancakes?”
I raised my eyebrows, surprised that she hadn’t sunk her talons into me yet. “Sure!” Ivy was frantically flipping through the pages of fashion magazines and cutting out pictures of outfits that she liked.
After my mom put a huge pile of chocolate chip pancakes in front of me, she casually asked to see my journal. “Sure,” I said around a mouthful of cake and syrup. I had it with me, as I always do, and handed it over to her. “Just don’t read anything, okay?”
“Oh, I won’t read any of it,” Mom said flatly. Suddenly, before I could blink, she threw it into a kitchen drawer and locked it shut.
My mouth fell open and a bit of pancake escaped. “Mom! What the heck?”
“You were two and a half hours late last night, and you didn’t even bother to call. You are grounded from your journal for a week.”
My heart exploded in my chest. I know that it is probably really unhealthy to have attachment issues to a journal, but writing in here makes me feel a little more grounded. It is so important for me to be able to vocalize my feelings and thoughts without having anyone judge me. “Mom, no! You can’t!” I protested.
“Oh yes I can. Also, have you forgotten that you have final exams to study for? Just because you are about to graduate doesn’t mean you can completely slack off. Your journal distracts you. I think a week away from it will do you some good.” Mom turned back to the stove and said over her shoulder, “And don’t even think about starting a new journal because I will throw it away.”
She knows me too well. This last week without my journal has been so boring. All I’ve done is work out every day, study for finals, attempt to learn to drive, stare at the dumb egg, hang out with my family, and talk to Grayson on the phone every night. See? It was totally unproductive and uneventful.
Later, 1:00pm—Shoulder of I-110 SB Highway
I’ve always considered hitchhiking to be a dangerous thing for a girl to do. It is way too easy to get picked up by a semi-truck driver with dreams of becoming a serial killer. I can’t sincerely gamble my actual life . But I’m so humiliated I’m considering sticking my thumb out and rolling the dice between life and death.
Why am I willing to get chopped into tiny bits and cooked into a cannibal’s chili dinner? Why you ask? Because I’m the reason I’m on the side of the busiest freeway with my drivers education class with a flat tire and a crushed front and rear bumper. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m a new driver for the love of God and I’ve already caused a four-car pile up.
Sierra and Akbar are both on the phone with their parents right now complaining about their idiot classmate who got us into this mess. I mean cars are whizzing by us at eighty miles an hour. If just one of them swerves a little bit, we’re totally dead.
I mean how are you supposed to gauge the speed of other drivers on the freeway? I could tell the guy in front of me was slowing down but how could I know that he was going to come to a complete and total STOP in the middle of the road?
Mom is going to ground me all over again. Oh my God, I think I’m bleeding. Yup, I’m definitely bleeding. Oh my God, am I going to die?
Later, 1:45pm—Waiting Room at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center
You would think that a young girl with a gushing head wound would be rushed into the hospital immediately and treated by the finest doctors in the LA area, but instead
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