Invaluable Read online

  © 2011 Holly J. Wood.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Deseret Book Company, P.O. Box 30178, Salt Lake City Utah 30178. This work is not an official publication of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Church or of Deseret Book. Deseret Book is a registered trademark of Deseret Book Company.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Visit us at DeseretBook.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Wood, Holly J., author.

  Invaluable / Holly J. Wood.

  pages cm

  Summary: When Eliza Moore begins dreaming about her great-grandmother, she comes to understand the significance of the eight Young Women values, and she finds her life changing for the better as she strives to live them.

  ISBN 978-1-60908-835-4 (paperbound : alk. paper)

  1. Young Women (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints)—Juvenile fiction. [1. Young Women (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints)—Fiction.

  2. Mormons—Fiction. 3. Christian life—Fiction. 4. Conduct of life—Fiction.]

  I. Title.

  PZ7.W84943Inv 2011

  [Fic]—dc23 2011022423

  Printed in the United States of America

  Malloy Lithographing Incorporated, Ann Arbor, MI

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For my children

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Discussion Questions

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to extend my deepest gratitude to the wonderful people at Deseret Book. In particular, I’d like to thank Heidi Taylor and Lisa Mangum for their kindness, insight, and encouragement along the way (and for immeasurable amounts of patience with a “rookie” author!).

  There have been so many incredible friends and family members who have shown me their love and support in this endeavor. I wish I had pages and pages to name each person individually, but suffice it to say—thank you, to each and every one of you (you know who you are).

  My utmost expression of love and appreciation goes to my husband, Steve, for granting me the precious gift of time, for being “Super Dad,” and for always believing in me. This book would not have been possible without you.

  Finally, to my parents, David and Marilyn Rudd, for being the most amazing parents a person could ever hope for. Your unwavering examples of faith, love, and support have helped me in ways that I cannot adequately describe. Thank you so much—for everything.

  Chapter One

  Eliza! Honey, please hurry down for breakfast. I don’t want you to be late for school again!” This was the second warning from Mom, and I knew better than to mess around with that tone of voice. I took one last glance in the mirror, then grabbed my lip gloss off the dresser and stuffed it into my backpack as I ran downstairs.

  Mom stood by the stove wearing her usual morning attire: a velour leisure suit and slippers. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was flipping French toast. I could smell the cinnamon she used as a special ingredient.

  Argh! French toast was one of my favorites; this dieting thing was not going to be easy. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself wearing a stunning prom dress (that I had yet to find) and felt the resolve I needed to say no to the calories.

  Just a few more weeks. You can do this.

  “Go ahead and sit down. Breakfast is ready.” Mom gave me a threatening look, and I wondered if it was a coincidence that she was serving my favorite breakfast.

  Nope. After one glance at her, I could tell that she definitely knew about the diet; how did she do that?

  “Thanks, Mom, but I don’t have time today. I’ll just take one of these.” I tried to act casual as I searched the pantry for a flavor of granola bar I liked.

  “Eliza, you need to eat!” She cast a desperate glance at my dad, who was sitting at the table finishing his last piece of bacon.

  He reached over and picked up the glass of orange juice by my untouched plate and said, “It’s the most important meal of the day, you know. At least drink your juice.”

  Mom sighed in exasperation—that was obviously not the kind of backup she’d been hoping for.

  I smiled at Dad as I took the glass of juice, and he gave me a quick wink. Dad was more laid-back than Mom about most things, and, fortunately for me, a lot less observant.

  I drained my juice glass, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door. I avoided Mom’s glare, but as a peace offering said, “Sorry about breakfast. Maybe Courtney will want it.” Doubtful, since my thirteen-year-old sister had yet to make her appearance this morning. “See you later!” And with that, I was out the door.

  I stepped out into the beautiful April morning sunshine and headed for my car. Our neighbor was mowing his lawn and I could smell the freshly cut grass. To me that sound and smell always meant one thing—summer was on the way! For a moment I considered ditching school and heading for a park to bask in the sun all day, but that thought was short-lived. I knew the school would send a recorded phone message to my house that I’d been absent and then I’d be busted.

  As I got in my car, I consoled myself with the fact that at least today was Friday. I turned on the ignition, blasted the radio, and headed for Jill’s house.

  Jill and I had been best friends ever since second grade, when her family had moved into the neighborhood a block away from my family. I tried to be patient as I waited in Jill’s driveway, watching the minutes tick by with no sign of my friend.

  Just as I was about to send her a text message, Jill came flying through the front door. She jumped in the car holding a half-eaten piece of toast in one hand and a mascara tube in the other.

  “Sorry, I was trying to hurry,” she said breathlessly.

  “It’s okay. It’s not like this is our first time being late for school. Nice shirt,” I added sarcastically as I backed out of the driveway. She caught my tone and smiled; she had borrowed that shirt from me last week.

  Jill and I were about the same size and were constantly swapping clothes. We often went shopping together to make sure that we bought clothes both of us liked.

  “Don’t make any sudden stops; I don’t want to poke my eyes out,” Jill warned, flipping down the visor mirror and applying her mascara.

  I had to hand it to her—even when she just threw things together at the last minute, she still managed to look good!

  Although we were similar in lots of ways, our physical features were dramatically different: Jill was of Asian descent, with dark hair cut in a stylish A-line, dark almond-shaped eyes, and
a flawless, creamy skin tone. Because of her striking features, she hardly had to wear any makeup. I didn’t even know why she bothered with the mascara.

  I, on the other hand, had fair skin, and it certainly wasn’t always flawless. If I didn’t wear makeup, I felt like my face disappeared. I had long brown hair, which I routinely highlighted to break up the monotony; my current highlights were a deep honey color. My height was a completely average five feet five, and although my weight would probably be considered average as well, I really wanted to lose ten pounds.

  My one redeeming feature was my eyes. I had inherited my mom’s strikingly bright blue eyes, and it was usually the first thing people noticed about me.

  Jill was gabbing away about some TV show she’d watched last night while I inserted an occasional “Mm-hmm” and tried to focus on the road. She and I made a good pair. She was always bubbly and animated and never lacked for something to say, while I was a little bit shy and labeled as a “good listener.” Jill made me go out of my comfort zone by suggesting fun and spontaneous things to do, and I kept her (or at least tried to keep her) from getting too carried away.

  She was right in the middle of a sentence when her cell phone buzzed.

  “Wow, lover boy’s getting started early this morning. What has it been, like ten whole hours since you talked to him last?” I smirked.

  She rolled her eyes at me and flipped open her cell phone. “Oh, he’s sooo cute!” she gushed. “He says he misses me and he can’t wait until lunch.”

  I made a gagging sound, but her fingers were already flying as she replied to his text message. I hoped she would spare me the details of whatever mushy message she was sending.

  Jill and Nick Forrester had been dating since the beginning of the school year. At first it had been fun to watch them become a couple and hear all of Jill’s stories about what Nick said and how it felt to have a boyfriend (especially because neither of us had ever had one before), but after a few weeks, it started to get old, and I began to feel like I was losing my best friend. It didn’t help that I’d never particularly liked Nick. He was always so clingy with Jill, almost as if he didn’t have any life outside of their relationship.

  And, yeah, I was a little bit jealous—jealous that Jill had a boyfriend and I didn’t, and jealous that she spent so much time with him.

  When she finished her text, she smiled at me and said, “He’s gonna meet me by my locker before class. Isn’t that sweet?”

  I grimaced. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to go in another direction.” She smacked my arm, and I grumbled, “Just kidding, sheesh!”

  We pulled into the parking lot and started searching for an open space.

  “Wow, there’s actually a spot toward the front, hurry!”

  I looked to where Jill was pointing and lightly pushed down on the accelerator. I had gotten my driver’s license only two months ago, and I prided myself on cautious driving.

  Just as I was about to reach the blessed opening, a flashy red BMW came squealing around the corner and into our spot. I slammed on the brakes, and my tires screeched in protest.

  Without missing a beat, Chelsea Andrews emerged from the offending vehicle and started walking toward the school with her signature runway model walk. She didn’t even bother to glance back at us.

  “Holy cow! We almost slammed into her!” Jill yelled. “You should have just gunned it and ran straight into her precious little car. What a brat!”

  I realized I was holding my breath, so I let it out and tried to relax my white-knuckled fingers from their death grip on the steering wheel.

  Jill rolled down the window and yelled at Chelsea, “Watch where you’re going next time, road hog!” But Chelsea had already disappeared through the front doors.

  We found another parking space in the second-to-last row of the lot while Jill continued her tirade on the many faults of Chelsea Andrews. Secretly, I knew Jill was going off on Chelsea because deep down, she was jealous of her. I think every girl in school was jealous of her, and for good reason.

  Chelsea had everything. She always wore the latest styles, which were frequently copied by her little swarm of friends. She was on the drill team, she was completely gorgeous (I mean like Barbie-doll gorgeous), and she always had a string of boys after her. To top it all off, Chelsea’s family lived in a huge house on the hill, and she was known for throwing incredibly fun pool parties—which Jill and I had yet to be invited to.

  Two weeks ago, she’d had a huge party for her sixteenth birthday, and her parents had surprised her with that brand-new BMW.

  As Jill and I got out of the car, I looked at my own ’89 Honda Civic hatchback and felt for the hundredth time that it wasn’t fair. My dad worked in an office by Chelsea’s dad, and I knew he made as much money—if not more—than Mr. Andrews, and yet they had a huge mansion and she got a brand-new car while I lived in a regular house and drove a lump of scrap metal.

  I knew I should be grateful to have a car at all, but to add insult to injury, Dad had given me the car on the condition that I get a job and pay for the insurance myself. The only thing worse would have been riding the bus, so I had reluctantly agreed.

  Jill snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Anybody home? Come on, I don’t want to be late.”

  I pulled myself out of my personal pity party and picked up the pace beside her. As we were hurrying toward the school, she started unbuttoning her shirt.

  “Um, what are you doing?” I asked in alarm.

  “Don’t worry; I’m not about to streak or anything,” she said with a laugh. Underneath her shirt (or rather, my shirt), she was wearing a tight yellow tank top with a big purple flower and rhinestones on it.

  “I don’t remember seeing that shirt before,” I said, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice.

  Jill looked a little embarrassed. “Well, Nick and I went to the mall last night, and he saw this and told me it would look good on me. . . . And besides, this way I can get some sun on my skin before prom. You can borrow it whenever you want,” she added in a hurry.

  “Thanks,” I said halfheartedly. She knew I would never borrow it. My mom was the Young Women’s president in our ward, and she practically had the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet memorized. Sleeveless shirts were a no-no in our house . . . but it did look cute on Jill.

  Maybe if I hid it under my clothes like Jill did . . . hmm.

  Just then the bell rang.

  “Oh, great, now I won’t have time to meet Nick.” Jill’s lips pulled into a pout as we ran through the entrance doors.

  Chapter Two

  A few hours later, I walked out of my math class feeling like my head was going to explode. I did relatively well in all my classes—except math. Why did we need to take math, anyway? I couldn’t imagine myself wanting to be in any profession that would require using a calculator with mysterious functions, so what was the point?

  I walked through the halls toward my locker, surrounded by bright posters on the walls announcing prom: “This Year’s Prom Theme Is ‘One Last Dance.’ Buy Your Tickets Today!” Although I thought the theme wasn’t very original, I had to admit I was excited to be going to my first prom.

  Jason Sorensen had asked me to prom on the very day they announced the date for the dance. He was a junior, and we’d met in a health class last semester. He was really nice, and I was flattered that he’d asked me.

  What worried me was that I suspected he might want to be more than just friends. He was always searching me out at school, and lately I’d been getting secret notes in my locker that I was pretty sure came from him. But I wasn’t sure if I liked him in that way, so I tried to keep all of our conversations casual and off the topic of dating. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, after all.

  I reached my locker, and as I opened the door, a piece of paper fell on the ground. “Oh no,” I mumbled under my breath as I picked up the note and slowly unfolded it.

  Eliza,

  I just wanted to tell y
ou that you look beautiful today. I always look forward to seeing your amazing smile.

  Your Secret Admirer

  I swallowed hard and shoved the note into my bag just before I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  “Hey, gorgeous, what’s up?”

  I turned around to see Jason’s smiling face. “Um . . . not much. I was just on my way to lunch,” I replied, trying my best to remain composed. I wondered if he was looking for a reaction to the note.

  “Cool. I was headed to the cafeteria too. Mind if I walk with you?” His green eyes looked so hopeful that I couldn’t say no.

  “Not at all. How was your last class?” School was always a good, safe subject.

  “Ugh, choir. Ms. Steele is really on one today. She made us sing the same line over and over until the tune was drilled into our brains. I’m gonna be humming ‘All That Jazz’ in my sleep tonight!” he moaned.

  I laughed. “Yeah, that’s pretty brutal. Hopefully she’ll be in a better mood after lunch, because I have choir next.”

  “Oh, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re one of her ‘star students,’” he said with air quotes. “You could never be on her bad side.” Jason smiled at me with an unmistakable hint of admiration in his eyes.

  I felt myself start to blush, so I changed the subject.

  “Thanks. So what are you gonna get for lunch today?” I attempted lamely.

  Just then I caught sight of Jill and Nick waiting for me by the cafeteria doors. Nick had his arm around Jill and was whispering something in her ear while she giggled.

  After taking one look at them I felt nauseated. In a moment of sheer desperation, I turned to Jason and blurted out, “Do you want to eat lunch with us?” I hadn’t even given him time to answer my first question, but I knew I couldn’t stand being the third wheel in the lovebirds’ lunch party.