Revenge of the Flower Girls

by Jennifer Ziegler

  Here’s a thing about being a triplet. As long as two of you are in sight, no one worries. If only one — or none — of you can be seen, parents start freaking out. So while Dawn and I swept up the althea bush mess and weeded the front flower beds, Delaney was able to sneak away and run to the post office. She’s the fastest runner of all of us, so it made sense for her to go and do it. Dawn and I made sure to stay in motion and switch places now and then, to make it seem more like three of us instead of two. And after about thirty minutes, Delaney was back.

  “I did it!” she said, all sweaty and panting and grinning with victory. And we took a break long enough to whoop and turn cartwheels.

  “Now Alex will know Lily still likes him!” Dawn said.

  “Maybe he’ll come over now!” Delaney said.

  “Maybe he’ll show up with flowers and tell her to marry him instead of Burton!” I said.

  We were whirling about and singing a song we made up called “Bye-Bye, Burton,” when Mrs. Caldwell’s big gold-colored car pulled up in the driveway. Three girls were with her. Two of them looked a lot alike. They were both skinny and had brown hair and pouty faces. The third girl had dyed black hair and so much makeup, it was hard to tell her expression. She was wearing a short black dress with ripped stockings and black boots.

  “Is she a pirate?” Delaney asked. We knew she was talking about the girl in all black.

  “Maybe a vampire,” Dawn suggested.

  “She reminds me of a raccoon,” I said, noticing the dark lines around her eyes.

  As they walked toward us and the house, I heard one of the pouty girls say to Mrs. Caldwell, “Are those the little brats?” But I couldn’t hear Mrs. Caldwell’s reply.

  “Good morning, girls,” Mrs. Caldwell said once they were right in front of us. “I’d like you to meet my nieces, Mavis and Felicia.” She gestured to the pouty girls. They looked so much alike, I’d originally wondered if they were twins, but they weren’t. Felicia was taller and obviously the older one, perhaps seventeen years old or so, and Mavis was probably around fifteen. “And this is Bree, Burton’s other cousin on his father’s side,” she said, with a lazy wave toward the pirate girl.

  “Hi,” we said.

  None of them said hi back. It was hard to tell who was the least happy to be there. The pouty girls were huffing and sighing and staring at the sky. The other girl looked like she’d dressed for a funeral, and had the expression to match. And Mrs. Caldwell seemed extra twitchy around us — probably due to the shenanigans the day before.

  Dawn, Delaney, and I weren’t exactly turning flips over their arrival either. In fact, we had been skipping about and celebrating but stopped when they got there.

  We heard the door open and Lily came down the walkway toward us.

  “Are you ready?” Mrs. Caldwell asked.

  “Where are you going?” Delaney asked.

  Mrs. Caldwell answered before Lily had a chance. “Your sister is coming with us to a nice shop where we’ll pick out dresses for her bridesmaids.”

  “Oh,” Delaney said. “Who are the bridesmaids?”

  Felicia made a huffy noise. “We are. Duh.”

  “Dawn, Darby, and Delaney should come, too,” Lily said. “After all, they’re the flower girls.”

  Mrs. Caldwell made a shuddery sort of movement. “That isn’t really necessary,” she said. “We could pick out something for them. Besides, I can’t fit everyone in my car.”

  “I can take them in my car,” Lily said. “And it will be so much easier if they can try things on. We don’t have time for anything to hold up the wedding.”

  At this, Mrs. Caldwell seemed to change her mind. I looked over at Dawn and Delaney. None of us wanted to go, but it was nice to see Lily have her way for a change.

  We invited Mom to come, too, but she was on a deadline. She warned us about a trillion times to behave or else, and Lily promised to keep a close eye on us. Then we all piled into Lily’s car and followed Mrs. Caldwell. On the way, we asked Lily why Clare, her best friend, wouldn’t be a bridesmaid, and Lily explained that Clare was studying in Ireland and couldn’t make it back in time. When Dawn started complaining about how Burton’s family was taking over the wedding, Lily pointed out that we got to be flower girls and that it was nice that Burton’s cousins got to participate.

  Then we were there. We pulled up at a swanky boutique called Amelia’s that I’d never noticed before, even though it was just a couple of doors down from Reinheimer’s, a barbecue place that Dad always takes us to.

  Inside, we were helped by a woman with a bun so tight it stretched her face. It hurt to look at her. At first, she ignored us and started pulling out dresses for the bridesmaids. Felicia immediately fell in love with a lacy lilac-colored one with a long skirt, and Mavis gushed over one in bright, shiny, peach-colored fabric that had a short skirt. After they tried them on, they started arguing over which one was better. It was odd seeing girls in fancy dresses call each other names like “stink breath.”

  Since they were so caught up in their disagreement, the lady with the bun started helping us.

  “What are you doing in the wedding?” she asked.

  “We’re the fake flower girls,” Delaney replied.

  The woman looked confused until Dawn explained that the flowers were fake, not us.

  After that, she started pulling out dresses from every part of the store to show us. Each gown was very different, but they were all horrible. One was gossamer-looking, as if it were made out of tissue paper. The other had so many sparkles, it seemed like something a fairy would wear. Delaney must have had the same thought, because she asked if it came with wings. Another dress had multicolored flowers sewn onto the top, and the skirt was made out of three big ruffles. “I just can’t,” Dawn said. “I’d feel like a walking wedding cake.”

  Finally, the lady gave up and suggested to Lily and Mrs. Caldwell that we look around on our own. This made us feel better until Mrs. Caldwell started showing us dresses that we liked even less — each one more poufy or ruffly or sequin-y than the one before it.

  “Maybe we should go with the giant cake dress,” I mumbled when Mrs. Caldwell swept off to find something else. “Her choices are worse.”

  Dawn snorted angrily. “Well, what did you expect? Her old dress, the one Lily is borrowing, has big marshmallow sleeves and a skirt as wide as Houston.”

  “Has she even seen us?” Delany said. “I mean we never wear dresses. Never. What makes her think we’ll go all princess now?”

  Lily managed to find a simpler one, but it was so hot pink, it hurt our eyes.

  “It’s very fancy here. There just isn’t anything that fits your taste,” Lily said.

  Mrs. Caldwell returned, holding up a dress with a long, tight, scalloped skirt — like a mermaid. When we told her we’d trip and fall in it, she threw back her head, said, “I give up!” to the ceiling, and stalked to the other side of the store.

  Lily sighed. “I’ll go talk to her. You all look around. But be careful, okay? Please — no stunts.”

  I looked at our reflection in the nearby mirror. The three of us looked as pouty as Mavis and Felicia.

  “I hate to say it,” I said. “But I’d rather be home doing yard work.”

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” Delaney said.

  “I’m going outside to breathe in the barbecue,” Dawn said.

  I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just stood there amid the sparkly dresses, listening to Mavis and Felicia sniping at each other. I sort of felt like hiding inside one of the dress racks, the way I used to do when I was younger, but I was too big to do that anymore. Instead, I walked up real close to the mirror and yanked at the hair on either side of my face until my features went all flat and stretched like the bun lady’s.

  I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be with most of those people. And I didn’t want Lily to be getting married in the first place.

  Why did people have weddings anyway? I thought they we
re supposed to be wonderful, but so far, there didn’t seem to be any part of it that was fun. Ugly dresses and rings. Stressed-out people. Lots of work. There was cake, and that was usually a good thing, but why not just have dessert, say “I do,” and forget everything else?

  “I hate this place,” I mumbled to my stretchy reflection.

  “I hate it, too,” I heard someone say — only, it wasn’t Dawn or Delaney. I turned around and saw Bree standing there. She was wearing a pink dress that I’d seen the bun lady give her earlier. And, well, there’s just no way to put it nicely. She looked ridiculous. She was so pale, the color was extra loud on her. So instead of cotton candy or a carnation or the soft colors of sunset, it reminded me of … a slice of ham.

  “Oh, hi. You look … you look …” I wanted to say something nice but couldn’t think of anything and started stammering. I hate being shy.

  “I look like a naked mole rat,” she grumbled as she stepped up to the mirror and turned from side to side.

  I tried not to laugh. I had no idea what a naked mole rat looked like, but it was probably true.

  “My mom owes me big-time for making me do this,” she said. Then she spun around and gave me what might have been a smile, except I couldn’t tell, with all her raccoon makeup. “Excuse me,” she said. “I have to go change before I puke.”

  Again I just stood there like a dummy as she walked off. I was amazed that we triplets weren’t the only ones who thought this whole dress-up part was stupid. Of course, I was also amazed that a girl who dressed like a vampire pirate couldn’t get into the spirit of a wedding costume.

  And then, right at that moment, I saw it. On a rack in the far corner of the store. The perfect outfit!

  I grabbed it and headed toward Delaney, who was just coming back from the bathroom. On my way, I poked my head outside to tell Dawn to come back in.

  “Look,” I said, holding up the outfit as we all gathered around.

  “It’s perfect,” Dawn said.

  “Yes! I would wear that!” Delaney said, hopping up and down.

  We took it over to Lily and Mrs. Caldwell.

  “We want to wear this,” I said, lifting it up.

  “A tuxedo?” Mrs. Caldwell said.

  Lily smiled really big. “I love it!”

  “But those are for ring bearers, not flower girls,” Mrs. Caldwell said.

  Then Lily did something I’d never seen her do before. She lifted her chin the same way Mom does when she’s quietly mad and said, “I don’t care. They are doing this as a favor for me, so they should be able to wear whatever they wish.”

  Dawn, Delaney, and I looked at each other. I’m sure I had on the same expression they did: astonished and proud at the same time.

  “In fact, I think everyone in the wedding party should wear what they want,” Lily went on. She called out to Felicia and Mavis — who were still bickering — and then to Bree. “I’ve decided that instead of choosing one dress design, I’m going to let everyone wear what they want,” she told them. “So choose whatever you like.”

  The sisters gaped at her.

  “Are you kidding me?” Bree said.

  “No, I’m serious.”

  “But then they won’t match!” Mrs. Caldwell said. She seemed all in a dither. Her eyes were big and her movements were jerky. Again I was reminded of a spooked deer.

  “Who cares?” Lily said. “This is my wedding and I want everyone to be comfortable.”

  “So I can get this?” Felicia said, holding up the lilac dress.

  “And I can get this?” Mavis said, holding up the peachy one.

  “Yep,” Lily said with a grin.

  “Best. Bride. Ever,” Bree said.

  Mrs. Caldwell threw up her hands. “Well! I can tell I’m not needed here.” She marched over to a chair by the dressing room and started flipping noisily through a magazine.

  Everyone — except Mrs. Caldwell — left the store happy that day. Mavis and Felicia stopped fighting because they each got the dress they wanted. Bree found a bright red dress that she could wear with her boots. The three of us ordered white tuxedoes — mine with a white bow tie, Dawn’s with a red one, and Delaney’s with a blue one. And the bun lady seemed happy to see us go. It was satisfaction all around.

  And that, I thought, should be what weddings are about.

  Unfortunately, Mrs. Caldwell didn’t share Darby’s opinion. She seemed to think weddings were all about stressing out as many people as possible.

  “Mrs. Caldwell is coming over with a can of paste,” I heard Darby say the next morning. I heard her, but I didn’t really do anything because I was still asleep and I figured I must be having a weird dream.

  Delaney is almost always the first triplet who wakes up, which is a good arrangement. She’s a morning person and usually goes and gets some wiggles out of her system by playing with Quincy in the yard. Then, by the time she’s ready for cereal, we’re up. But some days, she gets bored and lonely and wakes us on purpose — although she won’t admit it.

  Wham!

  I sat up in bed, startled and blinking. Across the room, I could see Darby doing the same thing.

  “Sorry,” Delaney said. “I accidentally knocked over that book.”

  My big heavy biography of Abraham Lincoln was lying on the floor about four feet away — which meant Delaney probably tossed it instead of knocked it.

  Before I could complain, Delaney said again, “Hey, guys. Mrs. Caldwell is coming over with a can of paste that she wants us to try.”

  This time, I really listened to the words. “Huh?” I said.

  “Why? I don’t need to glue anything,” Darby said. “Did you break something with all your bouncing, Delaney?”

  “No, I didn’t. I swear,” Delaney said. “Apparently, Mrs. Caldwell is bringing the paste at lunchtime. Mom has to meet with a client and might be late. She wants us to eat breakfast and do our household tasks before Mrs. Caldwell gets here. She left instructions downstairs.”

  I groaned and threw the bedsheet over me. Mom also didn’t agree with Darby’s definition of weddings. She seemed to think they were all about chores.

  Mom was still trying to get the house super tidy and sparkling for the wedding, so she had a new list of things she wanted us to clean — including stuff we’ve never cleaned before, like doorframes and windowsills and the screen door. You’d be surprised at the gunk that can build up on a thin strip of wood. Darby wanted to make a collection of all the dead bugs we found, but we talked her out of it.

  While we did all that, Lily polished Mom’s silver and washed her china sets so they could be used for serving food at the reception. I had to admit, the house had never looked so good — at least, not as far as I could remember. I found myself stopping and admiring each of the downstairs rooms as I stepped into them. Even Quincy kept sniffing everything as if he thought he was in a brand-new place.

  Around noon, we heard the crunch of gravel outside. I peeked through the living room window and saw Mrs. Caldwell coming up the porch steps with a stack of white to-go boxes.

  Delaney opened the door. “Did you bring the paste?” she asked.

  “Paste?” Mrs. Caldwell looked confused. “Why would I bring paste?”

  Delaney shrugged. “Mom said you were bringing over a can of paste for us to try. Only, I don’t know why. I didn’t break anything recently — I promise.”

  “Oh. I think you mean canapés,” Lily said, putting her hand on Delaney’s shoulder. “It does sound like ‘can of paste.’ It’s a type of appetizer, and she’s bringing samples for us to try. To serve at the wedding.”

  “Can of paste! Oh ho ho! Can of paste.” Mrs. Caldwell kept shaking her head and making that chirruping laugh of hers as she headed into the dining room.

  Delaney ducked her head slightly. Her cheeks looked as if they’d been roasted.

  It was kind of funny, but I didn’t laugh. Instead, I felt bad for my sister.

  “Don’t worry about it, Delaney,” I whis
pered, patting her other shoulder. “She’s just a big meanie.”

  “Yeah,” Darby said. “And, hey. At least she’s not accusing you of breaking something.”

  Lily followed Mrs. Caldwell into the dining room, with us close behind. Mrs. Caldwell had already set down her packages and was standing at the head of the table as if she were in charge of everything in the world.

  “Now, before we get to the tasting, I have big news to share.” Mrs. Caldwell had her hands pressed together and was bouncing slightly in her pointy shoes. It looked like she was doing a bad impression of Delaney. “The reporter who writes the society column for the paper will be coming to the rehearsal dinner!”

  For a few seconds, no one made a sound. Eventually, I said, “Why?”

  Mrs. Caldwell’s smile fell away. “Because Burton’s marriage is big news. It has to be covered. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they do a huge write-up on it.”

  “Oh my,” said Lily. “Well, how about that?” She seemed to be doing a bad impression of an excited person. “So! How about we sample the food before it gets cold?”

  We all stood around as Mrs. Caldwell opened each of the six boxes, one by one. “I have food samples from five nearby caterers, along with some booklets that list what they offer,” she said, setting down the books. “I’ll help you decide on the menu so you can place the order sometime today.”

  I hated the way Mrs. Caldwell was bossing people — especially Lily. At the same time, I was curious, so I stepped forward and peered into the boxes. Each one held some sort of colorful bite-size food.

  “Don’t they all look delicious?” Mrs. Caldwell said.

  “They all look meaty,” Delaney said.

  I looked over the selection again, and it was true. Each one was full of beef or wrapped in bacon or topped with fish.

  “Lily can’t eat any of this,” Darby said. “She’s vegetarian.”

  Mrs. Caldwell either didn’t hear her or pretended not to. Instead, she bit into a meatball and went “Mmmm.”

  “It’s okay,” Lily said to Darby. “I’m sure I can find some good options in these books. You girls go ahead and try them. It’s lunchtime after all.”