Page 39 of Merry Little Hate Notes

Holly scrunched her face, trying not to fix it for me. “Hmm. Try another cookie and take it slow.”

“Okay.” I took a bite of the “practice cookie” before putting a new one on my plate. “These are kind of disgusting,” I complained. “Nowhere near as good as the ones you made growing up.”

Holly looked around, panicking. “Shh.”

“What?” I wondered why she’d freaked out.

“No one here knows that we grew up together,” she whispered. “I want to keep it that way.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she sighed. “No one here knows my past. I don’t want people to feel sorry for me for no longer living a charmed life.”

“Are you admitting being my neighbor constituted a charmed life?” I said lightheartedly, knowing that wasn’t what she meant. But I never wanted her to think that I felt sorry for her. Yes, I was sorry for what had happened in her life, but I admired her too much to ever dishonor her by pitying her.

“You are still so full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Mistakes I wish I could fix.”

“Mistakes like your cookie,” she squeaked out, like she couldn’t catch her breath.

“I wish my cookie were the only thing that needed fixing. Although, I’m not sure I can fix this either.” I nodded toward theuntouched cookie, wishing my life could get a clean slate, especially when it came to Holly.

“My dad says that often the only way to fix anything is to mistake your way to the solution.”

“That sounds like something your dad would say.” I smiled. “So, how do I mistake my way through this?” I was talking about more than the cookie.

Holly pursed her pretty lips together and thought. “Maybe we need to think outside the box here.”

Was she trying to tell me to keep trying to change her mind about me? That it was okay if I kept making mistakes?

Holly grabbed a new plate. “What do you think about tie-dyed Christmas trees?”

“Groovy,” I laughed, making her giggle.

“Here’s what we’re going to do: Take the white frosting and make a good-sized circle with it on your plate, enough to cover the cookie. Then zigzag in some of the other colors.”

I did as she directed, making a mess of it.

“Don’t worry if it doesn’t look good right now. It will. Just watch. Take a toothpick and make squiggle lines through it.”

I tilted my head, not sure how this was going to work.

“Trust me.”

I gazed at her, unable to help myself from getting lost in her ice-blue eyes. “I trust you.”

She waved her hand around nervously. “Hurry. I want to win this.”

“Me too.” I wasn’t talking about the cookies. I followed her directions and then dipped my cookie into the mess. When I lifted the cookie, I expected to see a disaster, but to my surprise, I found a masterpiece, if I do say so myself.

Holly beamed at the cookie with its array of color. “It’s perfect.”

“Only you could turn such a mess into something so beautiful.”

Her cheeks blushed to match her rose-red lips. “Maybe I can do the same thing in my life—turn the mess into something beautiful.”

As far as I could tell, she’d already done so.

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