Too Many Blooms

by Catherine R. Daly

  “I am,” said Hamilton.

  “And are you enjoying all that Sarah Josepha Hale Middle School has to offer?” she asked with a bright smile.

  I groaned.

  “Why, yes I am,” said Hamilton. “I’ve met some really cool people.”

  Just then the late bell rang. Students scattered.

  “See ya!” said Hamilton, waving as he walked backward down the hall, and narrowly missing running into a boy in a baseball cap.

  “He likes you!” hissed Heather just before she took off for class.

  She left me sputtering in the hallway. “Wait — how …” But she was gone.

  “Exhibit A,” said Heather when I cornered her at her locker after school. Amy was there, too, so we lost valuable time as Heather quickly recapped the Flat Tire Episode. Not that I was desperate to know exactly how Heather knew he liked me or anything, but still. “He smiled at you when he said he had met some really nice people.”

  “Really?” I said. “Are you sure he was smiling at me and not just smiling?”

  “Positive,” said Heather.

  “Exhibit B,” she continued. “He backtracked down the hall after the bell rang.” She nodded knowingly.

  “Interesting,” said Amy.

  “Because that’s where his class was,” I said.

  “Oh, Del, must I explain everything to you?” said Heather. “My goodness, you are dense sometimes.” She shook her head, her history book in her hand, mid-shelve. “That means he had already passed his classroom. So the only reason he was still walking down the hall was to follow you.”

  “What if he was going to the water fountain?” I asked.

  Heather shuddered. “Only losers drink from the water fountain, Del. I thought everyone knew that.”

  Amy nodded.

  This was news to me. “Is there an exhibit C?” I asked.

  She shelved her history book and turned to me. “Yes,” she said seriously. “The most interesting one of all. You only give someone a flat tire if you are following behind them too closely.” She cleared her throat. “Therefore, I must conclude that he was trying to listen to what we were saying!”

  I shook my head. This was all too complicated for me.

  Heather slammed her locker shut. “I know what I’m talking about, Del,” she said. “Your crush boy likes you back.”

  Amy took off her glasses and polished them on her shirt. “I wasn’t there,” she said, holding them up to check for smudges, “but I’m convinced he likes you. If anyone knows crushes, it’s Heather.”

  I didn’t even try to argue. Mostly because I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  “Girls, I’m home!” Mom shouted when she walked in the door that night. “You’re never going to believe what happened at the store today!”

  Buster began to bark like a maniac. I put my mechanical pencil down on the kitchen table and stood up. I was looking for any excuse to take a break from my boring science homework. I strolled into the living room and joined my sisters, who’d been watching TV. Dad was working in his study.

  “Olivia changed her color scheme again?” I guessed.

  “Olivia wants me to be her flower girl!” crowed Poppy.

  “Customers were asking why your beautiful daughter Rose wasn’t there to greet them?” suggested Rose.

  Mom turned to Aster. My sister shrugged. Mom grinned at her.

  “No — we sold Aster’s bouquet!”

  Aster looked really surprised. But not as surprised as I felt.

  Mom scratched Buster behind the ears as she explained. “A goth girl came in to send an arrangement to her aunt in the hospital. I did a very cheerful snapdragon and freesia piece — really sweet. While she was waiting, she saw the dead-roses-and-spider arrangement on the counter and fell in love with it for herself. She wants four more for her friends!”

  “Wow,” said Aster. She looked pleased — well, as pleased as Aster can look.

  I opened my mouth, about to say something. Florists sell live flowers! Not dead ones! But Mom was giving me the hairy eyeball. She shook her head and the look was definitely Del, keep your mouth shut.

  So I did. But I wasn’t very happy about it. Earlier that day, after the public-speaking torment in English class, we had learned a new vocabulary word. The word was disgruntled. And it was exactly the way I was feeling about this whole flower shop situation.

  Mom must have sensed this, because after I was already in bed that night, she came to my room and quietly stood in my doorway.

  “Now, I don’t want any arguments,” she began softly. “But I’m going to need all hands on deck at the store this Saturday. It’s the day before Mother’s Day and there will be lots of orders and walk-in customers. Plus, next Saturday is Olivia’s wedding. And the night before that is opening night of Rose’s play. So we’re going to have to finish everything early to make it there on time.”

  “But …” I started to say, thinking about how hectic it was when my sisters came to the store.

  Mom held up her hand. “No buts. Everyone is pitching in. End of story.”

  “Fine,” I said, and rolled over on my side, turning my back to my mom. She stood there for another moment, then closed the door.

  I felt terrible. I knew I was being stubborn and disgruntled, but I couldn’t help it. I had to do something about this crazy family of mine before they officially drove me insane.

  Chapter Ten

  The next day after school, Amy asked me to stay late to help her with Spanish homework. By the time we were done, the halls were pretty deserted. I knelt in front of my locker, loading up my backpack, when a pair of feet — a pair of very large feet to be precise — came to a stop in front of me. I stared at the worn-out green-and-black-checkerboard Vans.

  “If it isn’t Miss Dental Hygiene,” said Hamilton.

  I could feel myself blush, but fought down my nerves.

  “Hey,” I said nonchalantly. At least I hoped it sounded nonchalant. I stood up, slipping my bag over my shoulders. “How are you?”

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you a question. Something I’ve been wondering.” He paused. “Are you walking home?”

  “I am,” I said.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

  I gulped. “Sure,” I said.

  He gave me a funny look.

  “I mean, no. I don’t mind,” I said.

  We took off down the hallway. I looked up at him. “So what were you wondering?” I asked.

  “I was wondering if you knew the reason why Mr. Howard’s clothes look so funny,” he said.

  As we headed out the door I laughed and explained that our history teacher’s suits were five sizes too big — because he had lost a ton of weight but was too cheap to buy new clothes. Hamilton thanked me for clearing that up. Then he told me about the new alien movie he was dying to see, and I pretended to be somewhat interested. Suddenly, as we were coming up on Willow Street, he stopped and pointed.

  “Hey,” he said, sounding intrigued, “this looks like a nice park. Can we cut through it?”

  I wanted to tell Hamilton that it was just a regular old playground, but since he was new, he must have found the regular old things in our town somewhat interesting. Which was kind of refreshing for me, too.

  And that’s how I found myself strolling through the kiddie park on a blustery spring afternoon. All the toddlers must have been home drinking hot cocoa or watching Yo Gabba Gabba! or something, so we had the whole place to ourselves. When Hamilton suggested we sit on the swings, I said sure. When he started pumping his legs, I joined in. At first I felt ridiculous, but then I gave in to the joy of it, soaring back and forth, not a care in the world.

  We swung in companionable silence until the sun started to set and our hands were chilled through by the metal chains. I pried mine free and rubbed them together for warmth as we left the park. And I was pleased to notice that Hamilton walked me all the way home.

  “Cool house,” he said, studying
the widow’s walk. “I bet it’s great for hide-and-seek.” And with a wave, he was gone.

  I walked in the door with a big smile on my face, not even noticing the pile of toys and shoes in the front hall. Then my smile faded when Rose appeared in front of me, hands on her hips.

  “Where were you?” she cried. “You promised you’d run through my Bye Bye Birdie lines with me. You promised!”

  Oh no. I grabbed Rose’s arm. “I’m really sorry; I totally forgot.”

  Rose’s mouth fell open. “You totally forgot, huh? What kind of a sister are you?”

  “Sorry, Rose,” I said. “Um, can’t we just do it right now?”

  She scowled. “I already ran through them with Aster. Too late.”

  I really felt bad. “Is there something I can do to help?” I asked.

  Rose brightened. “Actually, there is something you can do. You can ask Aunt Lily a favor for me.”

  “What?” Surely Rose was kidding. Ask mean old Aunt Lily for a favor?

  “We’re short on costumes and I need to get some nineteen fifties–style clothes for the show.” She smiled. “Guess who was a teenager in the fifties and still has everything she ever wore stored up in her attic?”

  “I guess that’s where Aunt Lily comes in,” I said with a sigh.

  “Yes, and I’m afraid to call her. So I need you to do it.”

  I groaned. “Like I’m not afraid?” I said.

  Rose gave me a little shove. “You? You’re not afraid of anything!” she said.

  While I was flattered that my little sister thought of me that way, I was really shocked. I couldn’t not think of things I was afraid of — big hairy spiders. Public speaking. Horror movies. Identical triplets. And, of course, Aunt Lily.

  The last thing I wanted to do was call Aunt Lily. But I felt guilty about disappointing Rose again. And she was giving me those puppy dog eyes. “Okay,” I finally said.

  “Lillian Davis,” said my great-aunt crisply when she answered the phone.

  “Oh, hi, Aunt Lily,” I said nervously. “This is Del. Del Bloom,” I added unnecessarily. “How are you?”

  “Fine, Delphinium,” she answered. “And you?”

  “Great,” I said. “Um …”

  “And to what do I owe the honor of a phone call?” she asked. “I can’t remember the last time one of you girls called here.”

  “Well, I need to ask you a favor,” I explained.

  “Ah,” said Aunt Lily. “A favor. And what might that be?”

  I explained the situation. There was a long silence.

  “I do have several boxes of old clothing,” Aunt Lily said. “Including one from the fifties. Tell Rose that she should come to my house tomorrow evening at six o’clock to pick it up. Not five forty-five. Not six fifteen. Six o’clock on the dot.”

  I admired her precision. “Thanks, Aunt Lily. I will.”

  “And tell her if anything is ripped or stained she will be held responsible.”

  “Of course, Aunt Lily,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “You are quite welcome,” said Aunt Lily. Then she made a dry sound that might have been a laugh. “Imagine the day when the dungarees you are wearing today are used as props in an old-fashioned play, Delphinium. Imagine that.”

  I said good-bye, shaking my head. Nobody called jeans dungarees anymore. But still, she did have a point.

  The next evening, Rose and Dad brought the box of clothes home. We all gathered in the living room as Rose started pulling clothing out. It was a treasure trove of cool fifties fashions — poodle skirts and sleeveless blouses. Neck scarves and pencil skirts. Aster tried on a beaded black cardigan sweater. Poppy covered herself in scarves. Rose pulled a pair of cute, shortish, pale blue pants on over her leggings. “These would be perfect for my first scene,” she said excitedly.

  “Cute!” said Mom. “I like those pedal pushers!”

  “Petal pushers?” Poppy giggled. “Do you wear them to push flowers? That’s funny!”

  “Not petal,” Mom corrected. “Pedal. They’re pants you’d wear while riding a bicycle so your pants leg wouldn’t get caught.”

  “I like it my way better,” said Poppy stubbornly.

  “I do, too, Poppy,” said Mom.

  I stared at the assortment of young, fun outfits. “I just can’t picture Aunt Lily wearing these clothes. Was she ever really a teenager?” I said.

  “Wait a minute!” cried Mom. She jumped up, ran to the bookcase, and pulled down a photo album with a tattered cover. She turned the pages until she came to one and stopped. “This is it!” she said. We all joined her at the coffee table, jostling around to get a good look. There was Gran, when she was must have been about ten years old, with the same halo of curly hair — except then it was blonde, not snow-white — and cheerful smile. And next to her stood a girl who looked a few years older, with wavy, long light brown hair and wide, hazel eyes, in a sleeveless blouse and a pair of pedal pushers.

  “That’s Aunt Lily,” said Mom.

  “Wow,” I said. The girl was pretty. And happy-looking, too.

  “She looks just like you, Del!” said Rose.

  I took a closer look. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. Even the way she was standing, her hands on her hips and her weight on one leg.

  Just like me.

  On Friday afternoon, I was still thinking about the picture of Aunt Lily. It was so weird how different she had looked — but how much I looked like the girl in the photo. On my way to math class, I ducked into a stall in the girls’ bathroom on the first floor. While I was in there, I heard two girls walk into the bathroom, chatting. I instantly recognized the voices: Ashley’s handmaidens, Sabrina and Rachel. I was about to open the door when I heard something that made me freeze in my tracks.

  “So like Josh Gilson told Melissa Packer that that new guy Hamilton has a crush on someone!” Sabrina said.

  I leaned forward in the stall, holding my breath. Who did he have a crush on? My heart started beating faster. Could Heather have been right? Could it be …

  “Josh said it’s a girl in Hamilton’s gym class,” she continued.

  Gym class — that’s me! I thought. Or is it …

  “So it must be Ashley!” Rachel squealed. “I knew it! I can’t wait to tell her!”

  “No fair! I get to tell her! It’s like, my gossip!” said Sabrina.

  “Maybe we could text her together,” said Rachel.

  “Oooh, I like that. But from my phone,” Sabrina declared.

  I peered out the crack in the door and saw them putting on lip gloss and flipping their long, straight brown hair. I looked at my watch. The bell was about to ring. I was going to be late for class, but I couldn’t let the handmaidens see me. Too embarrassing. So I waited.

  “They would make the cutest couple ever, wouldn’t they?” said Rachel, and Sabrina nodded, giggling.

  Finally, they left. I waited a couple of seconds, then left the stall, washed my hands, and sprinted to class. But I was late, and had to do an extra-hard math problem on the board as a result. Talk about adding insult to injury!

  “Del, are you coming?” called my mother bright and early that Saturday morning. “We’re heading over to the store!”

  In my bedroom, I pulled my gray hoodie over my head and twisted my hair back in a sloppy bun. I had woken up in a bad mood. Could it have something to do with what I’d overheard in the bathroom yesterday? Nah, I thought. That can’t be it.

  I headed to the top of the stairs to see Mom, Dad, Rose, Aster, and Poppy zipping up their coats, ready to head out. Then I had an idea. I smiled. “I’ll meet you all there!” I called down the stairs.

  Let my family get the store ready this morning, I thought. While Mom and Dad opened the new shipments, Rose could haul out the buckets of flowers and display the premade bouquets. Aster could check the answering machine for orders that had come in while we were closed. Even Poppy could help, sweeping up or something. I needed some alone time. I’d go in later
to help with the orders, once the place was ready.

  Unfortunately, I just couldn’t relax. I tried to read a book, but couldn’t focus on the words. I couldn’t even concentrate on a rerun of Project Runway on TV. I tried organizing my bookshelves, but as it turned out, they were already in perfect order. So, much sooner than I had expected, I was making my way to Flowers on Fairfield.

  I stood in front of the door (it could use a good Windexing, I noticed), sighed, and pushed it open.

  Ring-a-ling-ling! No one even looked up. They hadn’t heard me come in because the radio was blaring. And what a mess! There were stacks of unopened boxes of flowers on the floor. Mom and Dad were nowhere to be found. Aster was making another one of her dead-flower arrangements. Poppy and Rose were dancing in the middle of the store. What if I had been a customer!

  That’s when I lost it. “What is going on here?” I cried.

  No one heard me. I stomped over to the counter and shut off the music.

  “This is a business!” I yelled. “Not our living room! When are you guys going to realize that?”

  Poppy looked at me. Her chin trembled. And then she started to cry.

  “Nice one, Del,” said Rose, glaring at me. “Making your baby sister cry!”

  Aster just shook her head and continued with her arrangement of death.

  I took a shaky breath. I hadn’t meant to yell. I looked at my sisters. “I’m sorry, Poppy,” I began. “I didn’t mean to …”

  I glanced up and saw that Mom and Dad had appeared (paper cups of coffee in hand, so I knew where they had been) and were staring at me, looking concerned. Poppy ran over to Mom, who quickly put down her coffee and picked her up.

  “Del scared me,” Poppy said, sniffling. “She’s mean!”

  “Del,” Mom said softly. She bit her lip. “Maybe it would be better if you went to Becky’s for the day. We can handle things here.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I was getting kicked out of the store. My store! I was suddenly mad again. “Fine!” I said. I turned around and stormed out the door.

  “Have a nice day!” called Aster sarcastically.