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Sudden horror twisted its way through Holly’s intestines and squeezed. She grabbed at her stomach.
Diane wrapped an arm around her back and patted her side. “It’s okay, Holly. We’ll answer the door whenever someone comes.”
“But,” Aimee said with a warning voice, “if you happen to open the door, you have to promise to kiss whoever’s on the other side. At least on the cheek.”
“Fine,” Holly said through clenched teeth. Festive mood was gone. Before she could escape to her room, Diane grabbed her by the arm and shoved a mug of hot cider into her hand. “Don’t let it bother you. Everyone who comes here already knows you. And if you see someone you don’t know, wave through the window and tell them you have the chicken pox.”
Holly laughed, feeling the tension in her shoulders release. By the time her mug was empty, her spirits were high again, and she knew that her earlier mood had not been because of Aimee, but because of her hesitancy to open up to someone, much less kiss them, even on the cheek. She’d have to deal with it one day, she knew.
Her counselor would be thrilled with her working through her mental processes in such a way. For weeks, the woman had tried to get Holly to at least walk outside of her schedule, meaning, Walk to a new building you have no classes in. Say hi to a person you don’t usually bump into on your way. Do an unscheduled activity that will get you out of your comfort zone. Kissing someone was definitely out of her comfort zone. Not something she hadn’t done before, but it had been years.
When she had gotten ready for the day, she headed back to the front room. “Should we go sledding?” she asked, gathering her bravery.
“This early?” Diane asked, checking her watch. “It’s Saturday morning.”
“Well, you woke me up to open a box. I think doing something fun is in order. Tell the guys I’m making pancakes.”
“That’ll do it,” Aimee said, her cheeks glowing. “I’ll call Eric.”
Holly hummed while the girls got ready, and she started making the batter. When she was four, she’d known how to crack an egg, scramble it, and put it in the microwave. By the time she was six, she knew how to fry an egg on the stove and make macaroni and any other easy meal with simple steps. In elementary school, she started making casseroles and full-blown meals.
Her dad was gone most of the time, thankfully, and her mom worked long hours. If she wanted to eat, she had to cook the food herself. Most of the time, while her dad was in the military, there was always something to eat. But after he retired to Las Vegas and stayed home, a lot of the time with a drink in his hand, she was only allowed to cook when her dad wasn’t sleeping.
She smiled as she made the first pancake, glad the girls had bought a variety of fruits that she could make a smiley face with. Food had brought her joy, most of the time. The one time it hadn’t, it had scarred her for life.
Halfway through high school, she’d been cooking Navajo tacos. The only bad thing about cooking when he was awake was that he was always there to interfere. A shove toward the vat of oil, and her skin hadn’t stood a chance. If her mom hadn’t come home from work right as her skin caught fire, she was sure her father would have let her burn. It was the one time her mom jumped to her aid, and for that, Holly would always be grateful.
“You’re amazing,” Diane said, coming up behind her and placing her chin on Holly’s shoulder as she swiftly cut strawberries into small pieces. “It smells yummy. What can I do?”
Diane had already done enough for Holly. They’d been friends in high school, but had become even closer after the accident. When Diane had caught wind of the ordeal, she showed up to Holly’s empty hospital room with her parents. With Holly’s mom’s permission and blessing, Diane’s family had taken over. They’d paid for medical Herberts her parents would never have been able to afford; they’d converted their library into a room for Holly, and they’d never brought up her parents, not even once. It had really been Diane to whom Holly owed a debt of gratitude.
“Mmm,” she said, finally answering Diane’s question, “maybe set the table. Are the boys coming?”
“Yep, they’ll be here any minute.”
Holly looked down at herself. She was too experienced to splatter herself with batter, but the powdered sugar had slipped out of her hands, and she’d caught it with her chest, causing some to fly up into her face. She’d wiped most of it away, but there was powder on her T-shirt and apron, so there was probably still some on her face.
“Aimee,” she called, keeping her eyes on the pancakes as she flipped them over. “Can you come get the pancakes in a minute so I can clean myself up?” She turned the heat down just in case Aimee forgot and then pulled back her hair into a ponytail.
“I can help.”
She turned, almost slapping her spatula into Eric’s chest. Cameron was a step behind him.
“We both can help,” Cameron said.
Eric stared hard at her and blinked a few times. She looked down at herself again and then froze. She’d worn a tank top to bed, one that showed off her scarred chest and neck.
She immediately grabbed at her skin and backed away, almost tripping over a chair. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all—”
“I’ll be right back.” Holly didn’t allow herself to cry until she’d backed into the bathroom where she could close the door. Other than her roommates and Diane’s parents, she’d refused to show her skin to anyone. It was humiliating, even more humiliating that her dad had been the reason behind it. Diane’s parents had guessed abuse was happening at the house and reported the incident right away. They received custody as quickly as possible while the law took care of her parents. Her adoption took a little longer, but since both parents were eager to sever ties, it made the process much smoother. According to her therapist, being adopted later in life had taken a toll on her confidence, probably why she couldn’t accept help from others. She was working on it. The details of her family life were hazy at best, and Holly didn’t allow herself to dwell on the memories too long unless a medical professional was present.
Holly sat on the toilet and closed her eyes. The breathing techniques her counselor had taught her flooded her mind, but she couldn’t remember exactly how and what to do or how many times to do it, so she ended up hyperventilating through it all.
A knock sounded on the door. “Holly, are you okay?”
She released a sob once she recognized Diane’s voice.
