Flower Feud

by Catherine R. Daly

  I took a medicine dropper and added some lemon juice to the cabbage water. Then I added a few drops of vinegar to the next one. I watched excitedly, waiting for them both to change color.

  But something was not right. “These are both acids,” I said, more to myself than to my ridiculous lab partner. “So why is one turning green and the other red?”

  Bob snickered. “Because I mixed them all up, Delfrozenyogurt!” he cried.

  I stared at him in disbelief. Everyone else was finishing up and dumping their compounds down the sink. When the bell rang I really did want to break Bob’s other leg. Or at least dump an acid — and maybe a base — on his head.

  I took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself before I packed up my backpack and made my way to the front of the room. “Ms. Studdert,” I said, “can I stay after to redo the experiment? Bob messed the whole thing up.”

  Ms. Studdert sighed. “I’m sorry, Del. Of course you can.” She shut her eyes for a moment. “I just don’t know what to do with him. He’s smart, but he’s such a smart aleck.” She patted my arm. “I’m sure you’ll end up setting a good example for him.”

  Albert stopped by on the way out the door. “I missed you today, Del,” he said. But then he smiled. “But Matt wasn’t so bad, actually. We had fun.”

  I scowled at him. “Lucky you,” I said.

  After dinner that night, Mom and I sat at the kitchen table finishing up dessert. It was Rose and Aster’s turn to clear. Dad was helping out, scrubbing the pots and pans, his sleeves rolled up.

  “Any prom orders today?” I asked hopefully, taking a spoonful of chocolate pudding.

  Mom looked glum. “Not a one,” she said. She lowered her voice. “I don’t want to panic, but where are all our customers?” she asked worriedly.

  I shook my head. “I’ve been reminding all the kids at school to go to our store,” I said. “Could they really be going to Fleur instead?” I put down my spoon and carried the bowl to the sink. I had lost my appetite.

  The phone rang, and Dad reached out a soapy hand to answer it.

  “Bloom residence,” he said. “Yes, just a minute.” He held the receiver to his chest. “Rose, it’s for you.”

  Rose looked pleased. “Hello?” she said. “Oh, hello.” She gave us all an excited look and took the phone into the living room.

  Curious, I lingered in the kitchen.

  A couple of minutes later, Rose replaced the phone, checked to make sure it was really hung up, and started shrieking.

  “Guess what?” she said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I got invited to Jennifer Collins’s slumber party!” she exclaimed.

  “Um … sounds great,” I said.

  “How nice,” said Mom, wrapping both her hands around her cup of tea.

  “Nice?” said Rose. “Nice? It’s … it’s … stupendous!”

  “Nice word,” Dad said appreciatively.

  Aster dumped a handful of forks into the dishwasher and yawned.

  “What’s so stupendous about it, sweetie?” Dad wanted to know.

  “Well, she’s just the most popular girl in the entire fifth grade,” Rose explained. “Tell them, Aster,” she urged.

  “She’s popular,” Aster agreed with a shrug.

  Rose’s eyes were shining. “She has this party every year. And this year she invited me! They order pizzas. Watch movies. Do makeovers. Give each other manicures. It’s — amazing!”

  “Sounds incredible,” I said drily. As incredible as my middle school prom!

  Aster snickered.

  “Are you going, too, honey?” Dad asked Aster.

  “Nope,” said Aster, emptying a water glass and placing it in the top rack of the dishwasher.

  Rose bit her lip and looked at Aster worriedly. Dad handed Rose a frying pan to dry. “Do we know Jennifer’s parents?” he asked her.

  Mom looked up. “Yes. Maybe I should give them a call …” she started to say.

  “Mom!” Rose squealed. “That would be humiliating! Oh my God, you can’t possibly do that. Do you understand how embarrassing that would be? I would be the laughingstock of the entire fifth grade!”

  I wasn’t in the mood for any more of Rose’s drama that evening, so I grabbed our dog’s leash. Buster, our adorable black-and-white Boston terrier, had been lingering around the garbage can hoping someone would drop some scraps. I snapped the leash on his collar and pulled him out the door. He gave me an annoyed look.

  Buster was rather unadorably sniffing at my neighbor’s garbage can when my cell phone rang. I flipped it open. It was Heather. “Hey, Heath —” I started to say.

  “I’ve got it!” she announced. “You and Hamilton and this flower business thing. It’s a star-crossed romance — like Romeo and Juliet.”

  I rolled my eyes. “We’re reading that play in my English class, too,” I said. I wasn’t going to indulge Heather in her silly fantasies.

  “Don’t you see?” she pressed on. “Your families are at odds so you cannot be together.” She sighed. “It’s so romantic.”

  “It’s so ridiculous,” I responded. “Come on, Heather, don’t you think you’re taking things too far?”

  Heather grew silent. “I know you like him,” she said. “And I bet you anything he likes you back. Who cares if his mom owns a flower shop?”

  Just hearing the words Hamilton, mom, and flower shop made me see red. Why did they have to move here and ruin everything? I thought. I yanked Buster’s leash, perhaps a little too forcefully, and we set off down the street. “You just don’t understand, Heather,” I said. “Petal Pushers means everything to me. And it is really important to keep the store running for my grandparents.” I gulped, thinking about Gran and Gramps, millions of miles away. Knowing them, they were on some sunset cruise somewhere, and didn’t warrant any pity. But I wanted to make them proud. And being friends with the enemy just did not make sense.

  “I’ll tell you what I do understand,” she said. “That you are going to be really upset if he goes to the dance with Ashley.”

  I felt a jab to my heart. I must have eaten too much chili at dinner, I told myself. “He can go with whomever he wants,” I said. “It’s just not going to be me.”

  “Whatever you say, Del,” Heather answered. She changed the subject, slightly. “Hey, did you hear that Carmine Belloni finally got up the nerve to ask Penelope Peterson to the prom? And she said yes!”

  “That’s great,” I said, meaning it. Carmine was a really good guy. He’d been crushing on Penelope for months. I was glad someone was happy.

  Chapter Five

  Later that night, I lay in bed, stewing. The Blooms couldn’t just sit back and let Fleur take over as the flower shop in town. I had to find out if all the kids were really going to Fleur instead of us to order their prom flowers — and why. Was a newspaper ad really enough to steal all our business?

  Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and walked over to my bookshelf. I searched until I found an old dog-eared copy of The Wolves of Willoughby Chase, an old favorite. The adventures of wild Bonnie and her delicate cousin Sylvia as they tried to outwit their evil governess, Miss Slighcarp, would be just the thing to take my mind off proms. I had just settled under the covers when there was a knock on my door. I sighed and put the book facedown on my quilt.

  “Come in,” I called. Rose slipped in, looking furtive. She was wearing her pink robe with the hearts on it and fluffy white slippers. She sat down on my bed. She looked so pensive I almost started to laugh. But Rose can get insulted easily, so I kept a straight face.

  “I’m worried about Aster,” she whispered.

  “Why? Is there a sudden shortage of black nail polish?” I couldn’t resist asking.

  Rose gave me the fish eye. “Del-phinium,” she said, drawing my name out. “Did you see the serious look on her face when I got the call from Jennifer?”

  “Was it any more serious than usual?” I asked.

  “She was sad, Del,” Ros
e explained. “She’s upset that she wasn’t invited to Jennifer Collins’s birthday party and I was.” She sighed. “What am I going to do?”

  I wrinkled my brow at Rose. Was she kidding?

  “So you’re telling me that goth girl Aster is jealous that you are going to a girly sleepover that she’s not invited to?” I shook my head. “I think you’re wrong. Totally wrong. Aster doesn’t do parties. Remember? For your guys’ birthday she wanted to visit Edgar Allan Poe’s grave in Baltimore.”

  Rose put her hand on my arm. “Del, she’s my twin. I understand these things.”

  There was no arguing with Rose when she was convinced of something, no matter what the evidence was to the contrary. “Whatever you say,” I told her. “But I wouldn’t worry too much. I think she’ll survive.”

  But Rose had that determined look on her face she sometimes gets. “I can fix this,” she said, her jaw set. “I have to.”

  “Good luck,” I said. She nodded seriously, stood up, and walked to the door. “Good night, Del,” she said, her hand resting on the doorknob. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.” She closed the door behind her with a click.

  I picked up my book with a sigh. If only I had a plan. I finished the first chapter, replaced my bookmark, checked to make sure my alarm was set, and turned out the light.

  “Hello, Delphotobooth.”

  Blech. “Hello, Bob,” I said with a sigh, not wanting to turn away from my locker. I hung my jacket up extra slow, savoring the moments before I had to face him. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Huh?” said Bob.

  “Skip it,” I said, turning around. “So where’s your little sidekick, Matt?” I asked. “I didn’t think you two did anything without each other.”

  “I don’t know where he is, actually,” said Bob with a frown. “Listen, Del, I need to copy your lab sheet,” he said. “It’s due today.”

  “Um, yeah,” I said. “That’s why I redid the entire thing after school yesterday.”

  He stared at me.

  “The lab that you ruined,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, and now I need it,” he said. “So hand it over.”

  I laughed. “No way,” I said.

  “But I’m going to fail!” he whined.

  “Too bad,” I said. “You should have thought of that before you messed up our experiment.” I slammed my locker shut.

  “Del, you’re being a real pain,” he said.

  “It takes one to know one,” I replied. I wasn’t proud of myself for the elementary school retort. But it fit. I took off down the hall.

  Ashley, Rachel, and Sabrina were standing by Ashley’s locker and had witnessed the whole thing. “Ooh, did you get into a fight with your boyfriend?” Ashley called out as I passed by.

  Her handmaidens cackled merrily. I felt my face turn bright red. Without even thinking, I stopped right in front of her. “What did you say?” I asked in a low, angry voice.

  “JK!” she said.

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “Just kidding,” she explained slowly, like I was a little kid. “Text much? Don’t be so touchy, Delphinium. It’s unattractive.”

  And then she and her handmaidens laughed and took off down the hallway.

  Ugh. What a great start to my day. I arrived at our cafeteria table to find Becky there, alone. For once, she wasn’t buried in a notebook, but just sitting with her hands folded in her lap, her brown eyes sparkling.

  “Hi, Del,” she said, a big smile on her face. She took a deep breath. “I wanted to …”

  I sat down heavily and slammed my books on the table. “Bob is the biggest idiot I’ve ever met!” I told her. “Can you believe he asked to copy my lab sheet after he messed up the experiment and I had to redo everything by myself?”

  “That’s terrible,” said Becky. “I hope you said no.”

  “Of course I did!” I sputtered. “The nerve! It’s all because he and his stupid friend Matt got Ms. Studdert so mad she made them change partners. It’s not fair — those two deserve each other.”

  Becky frowned. “Bob certainly is a big idiot.” She paused. “But is Matt really that bad?”

  “Anyone who’s friends with someone like Bob has to be an idiot, too,” I said. “Right?”

  “Right,” said Becky in a small voice.

  “Now what did you want to tell me?” I asked her.

  Becky opened her mouth, then shut it. “Oh, nothing important,” she said.

  “Hey, guys!” said Heather cheerfully as she sat down at the table, her cheeks flushed. “Guess what?”

  “You asked Billy Walters to the dance,” I guessed.

  “No,” said Heather with a huge grin. “He asked me!”

  “Oh, wow!” I exclaimed. I realized that I felt a little jealous that Heather was going to the dance with someone she liked. I decided to rise above it. “So what do you like about him?” I asked her eagerly.

  Heather leaned forward, her lips pressed together as if she was holding back a big secret. “Well, he’s very cute and very popular,” she confided. “He’s the captain of the soccer team, you know. Everyone likes him.”

  I gave Heather a funny look. Becky seemed as confused as I felt. “But what do you like about him?” she asked. “I mean, is he funny?”

  Heather looked blank.

  “Do you like the same kind of movies, maybe?” I suggested.

  “Or you’re both really into … history?” suggested Becky.

  Heather glanced at us as if we were crazy. “He’s popular,” she said. “All the girls want to go to the prom with him. And he asked — me.” She smiled smugly.

  “Oh,” I said. Becky gave me a barely perceptible shrug. That was why we were best friends. We understood each other without even speaking.

  Heather looked a little disappointed that Becky and I were not completely ecstatic about her big news. But Amy and Jessica soon arrived and their reaction more than made up for it. General squealing and mass excitement.

  “This is the best news I’ve heard all week!” said Jessica.

  I squinted at her. “Jessica, it’s only Wednesday morning.”

  She brushed me off. “You know what I mean.”

  Amy had news herself. “Well, you know how I was hoping that Brian Kilpatrick would ask me?”

  “So he did?” asked Heather excitedly.

  “No,” Amy admitted. “But Angela Cash told Ellen Corker that Jimmy Matthews is planning on asking me. Maybe even today.”

  “That’s great!” I said.

  Amy held up a hand. There was more to come. “So I’m wondering if I should ask Brian before Jimmy asks me.”

  I was confused. “But don’t you like Jimmy?” I asked. “He’s so funny. I bet you’d have a good time with him.” I took a deep breath and said what was on my mind. “Why not just go with him instead of waiting for an invitation that might not ever come?”

  “Oh, I would have a good time with him,” Amy agreed. “But he’s just not as cool as Brian.”

  I still thought she was wrong. But I leaned forward, interested despite myself. “Have you ever asked a boy out before?”

  “Never,” Amy said, her eyes wide behind her glasses. “It makes me feel sick to my stomach just thinking about it, actually.”

  I could imagine. Not that I had ever asked a boy out myself. And not that I ever would, at the rate things were going.

  That evening Mom was making her famous turkey and sundried tomato meat loaf, and the house smelled delicious. I hoped she wouldn’t burn it. (It’s happened more than once.)

  I washed my hands and galloped down the steps to the kitchen. I was hungry.

  Everyone was already sitting at the dinner table. Mom stood by the oven, waiting for the timer to go off.

  “Any orders today?” I asked her. I asked this every night now, and the answer was always the same.

  Mom frowned. “No,” she said slowly. Then she pasted a big smile on her face. “I h
ave a new attitude,” she said. “The power of positive thinking. I guarantee that the store will be flooded with orders this weekend.” She nodded. “Plus, I called Gran today. She’s going to say a prayer to Saint Jude.”

  “You told Gran?” I wailed. “Now she and Gramps are going to worry!”

  “The patron saint of lost causes?” called Dad from across the room.

  I laughed. Mom’s family is Irish Catholic and Dad’s is Jewish and they are both fascinated with each other’s religion. Dad insists we get the biggest Christmas tree in the lot every year and he knows all the saints and their sometimes strange specialties. And Mom spins a mean dreidel and her brisket is out of this world. They crack me up, those two.

  “That’s him,” said Mom with a grin. She turned to me. “Gran and Gramps still own two-thirds of the business,” she said. “It seemed irresponsible not to tell them what was going on.” She paused. “Also, better they hear it from me …”

  “Than Aunt Lily,” I finished. “All right, you’ve got me there.”

  I headed over to the old wooden kitchen table where my sisters sat, practically salivating as they waited for dinner to be served. Rose had a huge grin on her face and looked like, as Gramps would say, the cat that ate the canary. And I was pretty sure it wasn’t because we were having meat loaf for dinner.

  I was right. “Aster,” Rose prodded. “Tell everyone what happened today!”

  Aster scrunched up her face, pretending to think hard. “Um, Aiden threw up in gym class?”

  “Ugh,” said Mom with a grimace. The timer went off and she grabbed two oven mitts, which Poppy likes to call “helping hands,” and took the meat loaf out of the oven. “Really, Aster, not at the dinner table,” she added, setting the meat loaf on a trivet in the middle of the table.

  “Don’t touch,” I warned Poppy, who was reaching out for the food. “It’s superhot.”

  “Not that, silly,” Rose said to Aster. “Your big news.”

  Aster looked like she wanted to say something sarcastic, then thought better of it. “Yes,” she said with a small smile. “I was invited to Jennifer’s slumber party.”

  Rose clapped her hands together prettily. “Isn’t that just so exciting?” she cried.