Catching Fireflies. Sherryl Woods

at her.

      “You need to watch it, slut,” Annabelle said.

      She spoke in a sneering way that made Misty wonder how half the town could think Annabelle was some sweet little Southern belle. Of course, most people had never seen this mean side of her.

      “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Annabelle prodded when Misty remained determinedly silent. “You are such a loser.”

      Enough, Misty thought, squaring her shoulders. “If I’m such a loser, why are you so obsessed with me?” she retorted, feeling a certain amount of pride in having finally spoken up to her tormentor.

      “Obsessed? Are you kidding me? You’re just an annoyance.”

      “Is that because your boyfriend wants to go out with me?” Misty asked, knowing she was pushing her luck but suddenly beyond caring.

      Color rose in Annabelle’s cheeks. Her eyes glittered with fury. “You stay away from Greg, you hear me?”

      “I’m not the one making the passes,” Misty reminded her. “If you’ve got a problem keeping him in line, tell him. Leave me out of it.”

      Annabelle stared at her with momentary shock, then looked for all the world as if she was about to start tearing Misty’s hair out. She’d just reached toward her, when Mrs. Martin appeared.

      “Girls, you need to keep your voices down,” she said, then frowned at Annabelle. “Do you have a pass to be in here?”

      Annabelle flushed guiltily. “No, ma’am.”

      “Then I suggest you get to whatever class you’re due to attend before they count you as tardy.”

      “What about her?” Annabelle asked.

      Misty held up her pass. “All nice and legal,” she said with a sense of triumph.

      Mrs. Martin smiled at Misty, then waved off Annabelle. “Run along.”

      Only after Annabelle had gone did Mrs. Martin turn back to Misty. “I know perfectly well that pass was for last period, young lady, but it was obvious to me the two of you were having some kind of spat. Knowing how Annabelle can be, I assume she started it.”

      Misty stared at her wide-eyed. “You’re blaming Annabelle?”

      Mrs. Martin regarded her with a steady gaze. “Am I wrong?”

      For the first time in weeks, Misty felt a tiny shred of hope. Still, confirming Mrs. Martin’s guess could lead to the kind of showdown she’d been hoping to avoid. Better just to be grateful for the support and keep silent.

      “It was no big deal, Mrs. Martin. Really.”

      The librarian didn’t look convinced. “I’m not sure I believe that, but I’ll let it pass. Just promise me that if there is more to it, you’ll speak to me or one of your teachers and get it straightened out. Understood?”

      “Yes, ma’am,” Misty said. “Do I have to go to my next class?”

      “Just this once I’ll pretend that pass really is for an extra credit English project, just the way you told me when you came in.” She gave her a stern look. “Just don’t make a habit of this kind of thing, okay?”

      “No way,” Misty promised readily. “Thank you.”

      Mrs. Martin smiled at her. “I wish more of the students loved spending time in here the way you do and showed the same respect for the books. You’re going to make something of yourself one day, Misty. Don’t let anyone steer you off the path you’re on to do that.”

      She walked away and left Misty in tears for the second time in the past hour, but these tears didn’t feel nearly the same. They felt good.

      6

      Laura loved working on the town’s fall festival. Right after moving to Serenity, she’d been asked to serve on the organizing committee. It had been her first taste of how eagerly residents of the town threw themselves into these kinds of events. She’d signed up to work on the committee every year since. This year she’d been named the chairperson.

      With only three days until the Saturday event, her committee was meeting every evening to make sure all the details were under control. She glanced around her living room at the other women. It was a really good group—Sarah McDonald, who was an on-air talent at the local radio station and married to the station owner; Raylene Rollins, wife of the police chief and owner of Laura’s favorite boutique; and Annie Townsend, whose husband, Ty, was a star pitcher for the Atlanta Braves.

      She knew perfectly well that the three of them were the younger generation of the group known around town as the Sweet Magnolias, which meant they knew every mover and shaker in Serenity. They could get things done. This year’s festival had more official sponsors, vendors and music than ever before. Sarah’s husband had even called in a favor to get a couple of up-and-coming country singers to perform.

      “Okay, I know you ladies are used to margaritas at your gatherings, but I thought we probably needed to stay stone-cold sober while we go over this final checklist,” Laura said.

      “I, for one, couldn’t be happier,” Annie said. “I have no idea how my mom, my mother-in-law and Helen have survived drinking those things.”

      “Amen to that,” Sarah said. “Laura, you need to get together with us and try one.” She glanced around at the others. “It would be okay, don’t you think so?”

      “Absolutely,” Raylene said. “The next time there’s a Sweet Magnolias margarita night, you’re invited. They tend to be spur-of-the-moment when there’s a crisis, but we do at least a little planning ahead for a celebration. We’ll give you as much notice as we can.”

      Laura understood that it was a huge mark of acceptance in Serenity to be included with this group of women. The Sweet Magnolias might not be an official organization, but they understood the true meaning of friendship. She was touched that Sarah, Annie and Raylene thought of her as a friend.

      “I’d love it,” she said simply. “But when your kids are old enough to be in my English class, don’t be expecting me to do them any favors.”

      “My stepdaughter is already in your class,” Raylene reminded her with a grin. “Believe me, I hear all about how tough you are. Every time Carrie moans about it, though, she also adds that you’re fair and that she’s learning a lot. You’ve even inspired her to keep her grades up, something I think Carter had despaired of accomplishing.”

      “An outstanding tribute, if you ask me,” Sarah said.

      “I’ll definitely take it as a compliment,” Laura said. “Now, let’s go over this list before my head explodes just thinking about everything we need to have ready by Saturday. Sarah, how’s publicity going?”

      “Travis and I have been talking on-air about the festival nonstop and about the musical performances. We’ve gotten mentions for the singers on the air at country stations all over the region. There have been calendar listings and a couple of stories in the papers, too.” She grinned at them. “I predict we’re going to be swamped with folks who never even knew Serenity existed before this. I am so glad we decided to move everything over to the high school. We couldn’t have managed it all on the town green.”

      “I’m still taking flak over that from the downtown merchants,” Laura admitted. “They say we’re toying with tradition and taking business away from them.”

      “The football field is a few blocks away,” Annie said. “There’s bound to be an overflow into town and even if there’s not, if people have a good time, they’ll come back.”

      “I agree,” Raylene said, “and I’m one of those downtown merchants. Sometimes it’s important to shake things up.”

      “And our vendor list?” Laura asked Raylene. “How’s that shaping