Too Many Blooms (4 page)

Finally, it was the last class of the day. Most of my friends think I am lucky because I have gym last period. That means I don’t have to go back to class all sticky and
sweaty. Which is good. But the bad part is that both Ashley Edwards and a bully named Bob Zimmer are in my class. Luckily, the two of them are paired together for square dancing. I’ll take Rodney Franklin and his sweaty hands over mean Bob any day.

As always, we were sitting in rows on the uneven, wooden gym floor, waiting for class to begin. I glanced down at the world’s most unattractive gym uniform. I know what you’re thinking — gym uniforms are
supposed
to be ugly. There’s practically a rule about that. But are your school colors yellow and purple? Didn’t think so.

Mr. Rolando, my gym teacher, stood in front of us taking attendance. I was idly wondering which state Gran and Gramps were in by then. It was a long trip, and I hoped they wouldn’t try to drive too far on their first day. I was startled back to reality when Mr. Rolando blew his whistle. I looked up. And there stood Señor Guapo, the cute boy from that morning.

Are you kidding me?
I thought. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Ashley leaning forward with interest. For some reason, this totally irked me.

“Class, please welcome our new student, Hamilton
Baldwin,” said Mr. Rolando. Everyone mumbled a halfhearted hello.

That was why I hadn’t recognized him. New kid. I stared at the boy formerly known as Guapo. Despite my mortification, my next thought was:
He looks good in yellow and purple.
And let me tell you, that is not an easy feat.

Mr. Rolando consulted his attendance sheet. “And since … Rodney Franklin is out today, you can partner up with Delphinium Bloom,” he told Hamilton in his booming gym teacher voice. “Del, will you raise your hand?”

My heart immediately started pounding like crazy.
Why me?
I thought. I waved my hand weakly at my new dance partner. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize me in my uniform. It was my only hope.

Hamilton grinned as he walked over. He flopped to the ground beside me. “Dental Hygiene Girl!” he said. “What’s up?”

I smiled despite myself. And my face, once again, turned hot.

“I didn’t mean to startle you this morning,” he said. “By the lockers,” he added.

As if he had to explain!

“No problem,” I said, studying his black Converse Hi-Tops. They were as long as surfboards, I swear. “So you’re new?” I added lamely.

“Yeah, we just moved here. My mom, stepdad, and me.” He frowned for a moment. “Hey, if I say something, do you promise not to get offended?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “It depends,” I said warily.

“I’ve gone to a couple of different schools in my life,” he said, “and I can honestly tell you that I have never seen a gym uniform as ugly as this one. We all look like Easter eggs!”

I couldn’t help myself. I snorted. Loudly. “You’re right!”

Ashley, who was sitting directly across from me in the next row, leaned over. “Very ladylike, Del,” she said, giving Hamilton a big smile.

To my delight, Hamilton ignored her. He leaned closer to me. “Who’s that?” he whispered. “The captain of the manners police?”

I laughed like it was the funniest thing I had ever heard. Ashley gave me a dirty look.

As I searched for something witty, or at least not lame, to say to Hamilton, Mr. Rolando blew his whistle again, signaling the beginning of class. We were learning a new dance
today. Mr. Rolando put his hands on his hips and began to demonstrate the steps. I had to give him credit, for a muscle-bound gym teacher, he was certainly light on his feet.

Then it was our turn. “Ladies to the gents’ right,” Mr. Rolando instructed.

“Yee-hah,” I said weakly, and Hamilton chuckled.

As we formed our square, Hamilton said, “I have to warn you, I am totally uncoordinated when it comes to dancing.”

“You couldn’t be any worse than my regular partner,” I said as the music started.

But I was wrong. Very wrong.

Hamilton was the most terrible square dancer ever. But he laughed every time he stepped on my feet. And so did I. When he accidentally bumped into me and I went flying into Ashley and Bob, and she said loudly, “As smooth as ever, Delphinium,” I didn’t even care. Very strange.

And the weirdest part of all? This time it was
my
hands that were sweaty.

On the walk home, I finally thought of the perfect Ashley comeback. Just after she’d said, “So do you think you can handle it, Delphinium?” I should have held up my palm to her, smirked (a very important detail), and said, totally seriously, “Calm down, Tinky Winky.”

Why do I always think of the perfect response about twenty-four hours after the fact? I hate it when that happens. Which is
always.

I was about to head straight for my house, but I stopped. I knew I should give Mom a break and not show up at the store on her first day, but I just couldn’t stay away. As I turned and started the familiar walk toward Flowers on Fairfield, I told myself it was to fill Mom in about Ashley and Olivia being related. But deep down I knew the truth: I was checking up on her.

It was my favorite time of day. The late afternoon sun bathed everything — houses, storefronts, trees, even mailboxes — in its reddish-golden light, making Fairfield Street somehow sharper and more beautiful. When I approached the shop window, at first I couldn’t see inside from the glare. Then I got closer and squinted. My heart sank. The window was crammed with bud vases, and each one held a different colored gerbera daisy. It was very colorful.

And very disorganized.

The bell rang as I pushed the door open. The store was empty. No hello. No “Welcome to Flowers on Fairfield.” Where was Mom? I felt a pang of worry.

She came running out from the back, Gran’s flowered apron tied around her waist. “I’m so sorry …” she started. Then she laughed. “Oh, it’s you!” She pointed to the front window. “What do you think of the new display?” She nearly bounced on her toes with anticipation.

I sighed, no longer worried, but a little bit frustrated. “Mom, you should really greet the customers the minute they walk in the door!” I said. “And did you use every bud vase in the store for the display?”

Mom’s face fell.
Shut up, Del,
I thought.
It’s her first day. Give her a chance.
But I kept going.

“What if we need one for an order?” I asked.

Mom sank back onto her heels, looking disappointed.

“You have to think about these things, Mom!”

Then I caught sight of the worktable, and I gasped. I struggled to keep quiet, but the words just flew out. “Mom!” I cried. “This is such a mess! Gramps would have a fit if he saw this!”

Mom sighed. “I was busy all day doing the weekly arrangements for Oscar’s, and didn’t get to clean up yet,” she said.

I wondered how those had turned out. Oscar’s was the fanciest restaurant in town, and had been a client of Gran and Gramps’s for years.

“And I’m still getting used to everything,” Mom went on. “Don’t worry, it will all fall into place.” She thought for a moment and then her face brightened. “I got three new walk-in customers just from my window display! They told me so.”

“Okay …” I said, trying to be supportive. But I couldn’t
help grabbing a garbage can and tossing stems and leaves into it.

Mom took it from me gently. “Del!” she said. “Relax. Things will be easier and neater in here once Daddy’s done with finals.”

Yeah,
I thought to myself rather meanly,
things will be much better with both Mr.
and
Mrs. Disorganized in charge.
But I managed to keep my mouth shut.

“Go home and do your homework,” Mom added. “I’ll close up and meet you there.”

I looked at her, about to argue.

“Stop worrying, Delphinium,” she said firmly. “I can handle this.”

I left the store without even getting to tell Mom about Ashley Edwards.

I walked home, my shoulders drooping. I didn’t like the way things were going. Not one bit. Then as I reached my house, I felt my spirits lift. Gran and Gramps would be back in three months. As long as the store didn’t fall apart before then, everything was going to be okay.

Right?

The next morning, I went down to the kitchen, my stomach growling. Mom makes us a healthy breakfast every morning. She likes to be sure we start the day with a balanced meal. So I blinked in surprise to see Dad manning the stove, a frilly apron around his waist and a whisk in his hand.

“Good morning, my dear,” he said. “I trust scrambled eggs will be to your liking?”

“Um … sure,” I stammered. I glanced at Rose and Aster, who were sitting at the kitchen table in stunned silence.

Just then Poppy made an appearance. “Twenty-two!” she announced. Poppy likes to count each step as she goes downstairs. If you somehow get caught behind her, this ends up taking forever. And she always tells us the number, as if somehow it could change from day to day.

Then she saw Dad. And she wasn’t as polite as the rest of us.

“Daddy’s cooking?” she wailed. “Yuck!”

“Where’s Mom?” I asked.

“In the study, on the phone with Olivia,” he said. “For
forty-five minutes now. I realized if you girls were going to get a decent breakfast, I had to step in.”

“Great,” I said with a sigh.

Here’s the deal — Dad is a bad cook. Mom may burn dinner now and then, but when she manages to set the timer, her food is very tasty. Dad, on the other hand, has a special talent for turning ordinary meals like scrambled eggs into something completely gross. It’s like his secret, evil superpower. If he were a supervillain he would be Inedible Man — able to destroy appetites with a single dish!

I poured Poppy and myself some orange juice.

“So,” said Rose, looking around at all of us. “Does anyone want to ask me how the play is going?”

“How is the play going, Rose?” we all asked in unison.

“I’m glad you asked,” she said, fluffing her hair and smiling.

Aster snorted. Rose gave her an elbow to the ribs.

“The play is going great!” Rose went on. “This is the best cast yet, I swear. And I tell you, I was born to play this role. Now” — she paused for dramatic effect — “Aster helped me with my lines when we did
Annie Get Your Gun
last fall, so I was thinking that this time …” She smiled
in my direction like she was about to give me a large and expensive gift. “… Del, would you like to do the honors?”

“Oh!” I said in surprise. “Really?” I thought of a million excuses not to do it. Rose can be demanding, and running through the same dialogue over and over is crazy boring. But my sister was looking at me so hopefully that I had to say, “I would love to.”

“I’m glad that’s settled,” said Rose, spreading a paper napkin daintily on her lap. “Now we have to figure out how not to eat breakfast,” she said in a low voice.

“Voilà!” said Dad, presenting us with a towering platter of gray eggs. “I don’t know why I don’t do this more often,” he said. “This cooking thing is pretty fun!”

Aster bravely ate a forkful, but the look on her face was enough for me. She slipped the rest into her napkin. Rose put hers back on the platter while Dad’s back was turned, then hurried out of the kitchen. Poppy tried to feed hers to Buster, but even he was not interested.

Just then Mom swept in, still on her cell phone. She balanced it on her shoulder as she poured coffee into a thick, purple mug I had made for her in pottery class. “That’s great, Olivia. Okay, don’t worry. Everything will
be fine. Just think about what I said. Okay, good-bye.” Mom snapped the phone shut and sat down at the table.

“Well, she’s certainly a handful,” she said, slathering raspberry jam on a cold piece of toast. “She’s freaking out about the centerpieces and we haven’t even talked themes or colors yet. I suggested she might want to get a wedding planner to help her.” She poured some milk into her coffee and stirred it. “I hope she takes my advice,” she added with a sigh.

“I know she’s a pain,” I told Mom as I got up from the table, my napkin concealing the uneaten eggs on my plate. “But just remember, she’s our customer and the customer is always right, no matter what.” I hurriedly dumped the eggs in the trash, rinsed my plate, and placed it in the dishwasher.

Mom stood up and kissed me on both cheeks. “You’ve learned very well from your grandparents, Del,” she said. “It’s just that Olivia is such a …”

“Bridezilla,” we both said together.

“Grrrr!” said Poppy delightedly, baring her teeth and curling her hands into claws.

I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but when I got to school, I was totally looking for Señor Guapo, I mean, Mr.
Do-Si-Do. (Or maybe I should call him Mr. Do-Si-Don’t, considering my squashed toes.) I told myself I just felt bad for him because he didn’t know anyone.

It wasn’t until lunchtime that I saw him on the other line in the cafeteria. He had a hamburger, French fries, and three, count ‘em, three chocolate milks on his tray. Not that it was any of my business, but you have to admit, that is a lot of chocolate milk, growing boy or not. I briefly considered calling his name and inviting him to sit with me and my friends, but before I got up the nerve, he had disappeared into the crowded lunchroom.

I joined Becky at our usual table, sitting with our friends Jessica Wu, Amy Arthur, and Heather. As soon as I sat down, Becky leaned forward eagerly and started to talk. But her mouth was full and I couldn’t understand a word she was saying.

“Chew!” I said, laughing.

She swallowed her mac and cheese and started over. “I forgot to tell you something last night on the phone!” she said.

“Go on,” I said, unwrapping my chicken salad sandwich.

Becky shivered with excitement. As the daughter of the “About Town” columnist (Becky’s mom
hates
to be called a gossip columnist, but technically, that’s what she is), Becky loves to share a good story.

“My mom told me that there’s going to be a cover story on Olivia and her fiancé in the Stylish Times section!” she said breathlessly.

“Wait, who’s Olivia?” Jessica wanted to know, running her hand through her jet-black pixie cut. She dresses super-girly, mostly in short skirts and leggings, so no one ever mistakes her for a boy.

Becky looked like she was about to burst as I hit the pause button and filled our three friends in.

The Stylish Times is the section in the local newspaper that features all the wedding announcements, fundraisers, fancy parties, concerts, and openings that happen in town. It’s a big deal to certain people to get featured in it.
Olivia must be totally excited,
I thought.

Once everyone was up-to-date, Becky continued. “And get this — remember last year when that revival of
The Sound of Music
came to town with that famous singing lady and everyone in town was fighting over tickets?”

“That’s right,” I said. Rose had begged my parents to get tickets, but they hadn’t been able to.

“Oh, I remember!” said Amy, looking studious in her new rectangular glasses. The glasses looked good with her pale skin and reddish hair, but I still hadn’t gotten used to her wearing them. “My mother was so mad she didn’t get to go.”

“A lot of people were,” Becky said. “My mom got an entire column out of that one!”

“So what does
The Sound of Music
have to do with Olivia?” I wondered. I pulled open my barbecue potato chip bag, fished out a chip, and crunched it. Yum.

“Well, Olivia went to the concert with her boyfriend at the time. And she
just so happened
to be seated next to a very handsome man who was there on a date himself. But for Olivia and the handsome guy, it was love at first sight. By the final curtain call they had exchanged e-mail addresses. And now they’re getting married.”

“Ooh!” squealed Amy. “That is sooooo romantic!”

I licked orange barbecue powder off my fingers. “Not for their dates, it wasn’t!” I said.

Becky let out a yelp. “You’re right, Del!”

“Oh man!” said Heather.

I guess it wasn’t particularly
funny
for their dates, either. But we all got a good laugh out of it. We had to explain it to Jessica, who can be a bit of a space cadet, but when she got it she laughed, too.

“What’s so funny?” said a voice.

I looked up to see Ashley standing by our table, wearing her usual snotty expression.

“None of your business,” I replied.

Ashley shook her head at the bag of chips in front of me. “I can’t believe you eat that stuff, Delphinium,” she said. “Yuck!”

I ignored her and shook a couple more chips into my mouth. “Mmm-mmmm good,” I said, smacking my lips. I smiled sweetly at her. “Can we help you, Ashley?”

Ashley tossed her hair proudly. “I just wanted to let you know something totally fab,” she began. I gritted my teeth. “The guest list has been finalized for the wedding.” She smiled. “Five hundred people are invited.”

What?
My heart skipped a beat.
That’s a lot of centerpieces for one small store to make!
But I tried not to let my panic show on my face.

“And,” she continued, “you do remember that the groom’s father is the mayor, don’t you? As you can imagine, there are several very important people invited.”

“Oh yeah, like who?” I asked. “The town dogcatcher?”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Hel-lo, Delphinium. Like the fire chief and the entire city council?”

“How exciting for you,” I said.

“And we’ve been dress shopping for superexpensive bridesmaids dresses,” she added. She eyed my faded jeans, vintage Snoopy T-shirt, orange cardigan, and my favorite Vans with the multicolored robots on them. “One dress will probably cost more than your whole wardrobe.” She paused, then added, “I really hope you guys can handle this wedding!”

Now what was my comeback? Oh yeah! “Calm down, Tinky Winky,” I said. But Ashley was already headed back to her table, her off-white suede boots click-clacking on the lunchroom floor.

“That was funny, Del,” said Becky supportively. The rest of my friends nodded. But it was too little too late.