Violet in Bloom

by Lauren Myracle

  Yasaman drops her eyes. Milla fidgets, and Katie-Rose exhales through her nose in her bull-snort-ish way.

  “What?” Violet says.

  No one responds.

  Violet shakes the table, and a little bit of milk sloshes out of Yasaman’s carton. Violet winces. “Ack. Sorry, Yaz.”

  “It’s okay,” Yasaman says.

  “But for real. What are y’all not telling me?”

  Milla shifts uncomfortably, and Yasaman can guess what she’s thinking: that she’s the one who should explain, since she’s the one who used to be friends with Modessa. She picks up her fork and turns it over in her hands. She says, “She’s done this before, that’s all.”

  Violet frowns.

  “Um, not to Cyril, but to Elena.”

  “Who’s Elena?” Violet asks.

  “She’s in Ms. Perez’s class with me and Yasaman,” Katie-Rose says.

  “She lives on a tiny little farm outside of town,” Yasaman contributes. “Out past the highway, where all that open space is.”

  “Her parents raise llamas,” Milla says. “They sell the wool to people. And Modessa—”

  “Last year, she called Elena ‘Llama Girl,’” Katie-Rose says. “Whenever Elena came around, she’d sniff the air and say things like, ‘Does anyone smell llama poop?’”

  “Doesn’t Elena have a pig, too?” Milla muses. “Like, as a pet?”

  “Oh yeah,” Katie-Rose says. “Modessa made oinking sounds, too.”

  Violet shakes her head. “Wow, how original. Didn’t she get in trouble?”

  “Kind of,” Yasaman says. “Elena told on her, and Modessa was supposed to apologize, but she never did.”

  “But that’s just wrong,” Violet states.

  “I know,” Yasaman says.

  “You can’t just . . .” Violet puts down her sandwich. “Just because someone’s different . . .”

  “Tell it to the police,” Katie-Rose says darkly. “Modessa never apologized to Elena, and I swear to you, she’ll never apologize to Cyril, either. If she does, I will first laugh in amazement, and then fall over dead in a faint, and there will be little x’s where my eyes should be.”

  Violet looks stunned. She looks like someone just stole her lollipop, and not at all like the strong, tough Violet Yasaman’s used to.

  Yasaman decides to change the subject. “Um, speaking of farms . . .”

  “Who’s speaking of farms?” Katie-Rose interrupts. “I’m not speaking about farms.”

  “Elena’s farm,” Milla says.

  Katie-Rose makes a plfff sound.

  Yasaman falters, then says, “I think it’s cool, that’s all. That her family lives on a real farm, tiny or not. Do you know what I mean?”

  “As opposed to a tiny fake farm?” Katie-Rose says.

  “Actually, yes. I did some research on the company that makes Cheezy D’lites, and they pretend to be a farm, but they’re not.”

  Milla tilts her head. “Meaning what?”

  “The company’s name is Happy Healthy Farms,” Yasaman tells her. “And that makes you think of, like, a happy farm with grass and cows and puffy white clouds, right?”

  “I guess,” Milla says.

  “But it’s a factory,” Yasaman says. “There’s no farm. There are no farmers. There are no puffy clouds.”

  “Are there cows?” Katie-Rose asks.

  “Yes, but they live in a stockyard. Oh, and get this: Cheezy D’lites have no cheese in them at all. Not one single ounce of cheese.”

  “Then what are the cows for?” Katie-Rose asks.

  “Because they make other things besides Cheezy D’lites. Like frozen cheeseburgers, which maybe have real cheese in them or maybe don’t, I’m not sure. But the hamburger part is cow.”

  “Gross,” Violet says.

  “I know,” Yasaman says. “Which is why, you know . . . the Snack Attack! Did you guys read my blog entry last night?”

  “You know I did, because I left a comment,” Milla says.

  “Wait,” Violet says. “If they’re called Cheezy D’lites, but they have no cheese in them . . .” She shakes her head. “They should be called Non–Cheezy D’lites, and the Happy Healthy people should be called Stupid Unhealthy Liars. Omigosh, I hate people like that. It’s like Modessa all over again! It’s the exact same thing!”

  “It is?” Yasaman says.

  Violet presses her hands on the table and leans forward. “Modessa thinks she’s above the rules of the school, like they don’t even apply to her. Right?”

  “They pretty much don’t,” Katie-Rose mutters.

  “And why? Because when teachers come around, she fools them into thinking she’s a pretty perfect princess. But she’s not. She’s a total phony, just like those Happy Healthy stupid-heads!”

  Yasaman furrows her brow. Yes, Modessa and Quin are phony, and yes, Cheezy D’lites are a big fake. Which is why Yasaman wants to get rid of them!

  But the whole world is fake-ish, to a degree. Like how Yasaman tells her aunt how good her fried liver is, when it’s not actually to her liking. Or when a teacher says, “Good morning, Yasaman. How are you today?” and Yasaman says “fine,” even if she’s not. Everyone does that. No one ever says, “Well, frankly, my elbow hurts, and I don’t know why. Oh, and I’m wearing the same socks I wore yesterday. It’s possible my feet might be stinky.”

  “Everybody lies sometimes,” Yasaman says.

  “Not my mom,” Violet mutters.

  Everyone falls silent, because Violet hardly ever talks about her mom.

  “She doesn’t know how,” Violet goes on. Adopting a strong Southern accent, she says, “‘Oh, Lavinia, the bake sale is coming up, and it would be fabulous if you could whip up a dozen or so pot du crèmes. You do have a good recipe for pot du crème, don’t you?’” She goes back to her normal voice. “No, and who cares?!”

  Yasaman isn’t sure, but she guesses Violet is mimicking the fancy ladies Violet’s mother had to be around at Violet’s old school in Atlanta. Yasaman herself has never heard of a pot du crème.

  Ohhhh, Yasaman thinks, figuring something out. Maybe one reason Violet is so worked up about Modessa and Quin is because they’re like the kid versions of the pot du crème lady. Phony and fake, and using that phony-fakeness to make other people feel bad.

  It is Milla who breaks the tension by saying, “So we’ll fight the phoniness. That’s what my comment was about, on Yaz’s blog.” She glances from friend to friend. “Don’t you want to know what my secret Snack Attack weapon is?”

  “Totally,” Yasaman says. “Tell us!”

  Milla grins impishly. She ducks under the table, unzips her backpack, and emerges with a brown plastic bottle. “Voilà!”

  “Me no understand,” Violet says.

  “They’re Jelly-Yums,” Milla says. “Mom Joyce got them as a party favor at Sara’s blessing way.”

  Katie-Rose reaches across the table and takes the bottle. “Why’s there a picture of a giraffe on the label?”

  “I have no idea, but two Jelly-Yums equal one whole serving of fruits and vegetables,” Milla says. “Instant healthiness!”

  Katie-Rose unscrews the lid and peers inside. “Pew! They stink!”

  She shoves the jar at Yasaman, who shakes a handful of the Jelly-Yums into her palm. They resemble jelly beans, except they’re swampy colored. And they do smell pretty gross.

  “Try one,” Milla urges.

  “Um, sure,” Yasaman says. “Okay.” She passes them out, only Katie-Rose refuses to accept hers, so Yasaman places it by her sandwich. Katie-Rose eyes it antagonistically, and Milla sighs.

  “You just have to eat it quickly, that’s all. There is a slight weird flavor at the very beginning, but then it goes away.” She puts hers in her mouth, chews, and swallows. “See?”

  Yasaman goes for it. Her eyes water as the taste hits her, and she gags, but she gets it down. “Not bad,” she manages to say.

  “And now you’ve had a full serving of fruit and
veggies!” Milla exclaims.

  “Half a serving,” Katie-Rose corrects. “You said she had to eat two.”

  “I can do that,” Yasaman says bravely. She reaches for Katie-Rose’s, but Katie-Rose slaps her hand.

  “Keep yer paws off my bean,” she growls. “I might eat it one day.”

  “When you’re thirty?” Violet asks. “Hey, can I see the jar?”

  Milla passes it over, and Violet reads aloud the list of ingredients. “Blueberry, raspberry, pomegranate.” She makes a face. “Beets?”

  “Beets aren’t bad,” Yasaman says.

  “Yes, they are,” Katie-Rose says.

  “Broccoli,” Violet says. “Wow. And kale. And spirulina, whatever that is.”

  “No clue,” Milla says.

  Violet pops her bean into her mouth. A range of expressions play over her face: first yuck, then meh, then well, look at that, I seem to have survived.

  “I feel healthier already,” she proclaims. She holds out her hand. “Hit me again. I want my full serving of spiru-whatever.”

  Yasaman smiles. She’s happy that Violet likes the Jelly-Yums (or, perhaps more accurately, is willing to eat the Jelly-Yums), and she’s happy that Milla brought them in the first place. The Snack Attack is off to an excellent start.

  And then Natalia appears at their table. “Hey, girlth,” she says.

  Katie-Rose’s fingers close over her bean. Her face closes down, too, and Yasaman’s stomach sinks. Katie-Rose was so rude to Natalia this morning, and now here she is doing it again. Which means, again, that Yasaman will have to be doubly nice to make up for it.

  “Hi, Natalia,” she says weakly.

  “What’th up?” Natalia asks. She glances at the Jelly-Yums bottle. “What’cha got there?”

  “Nothing,” Katie-Rose says.

  “We’re working on our Snack Attack campaign,” Yasaman says. “Milla brought us these vitamin things, and . . . yeah.” She pauses. “Do you, um, want one?”

  She shakes out one of the Jelly-Yums and offers it to Natalia. Eau de spirulina rises in a cloud.

  Natalia steps back. “Oh. No, thankth.”

  “Why not?” Katie-Rose challenges.

  “Becauth I don’t need a vitamin. I already eat healthy.”

  “I’m sure you don’t always,” Katie-Rose says. “You eat junk food, too, and don’t even try to lie this time, because I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you eating Green Apple Sour Loops, and the reason I remember is because I like them, too!”

  Yasaman wants to groan. If Katie-Rose wants Natalia to leave, then she shouldn’t engage in a conversation with her about Green Apple Sour Loops. She shouldn’t engage with her, period.

  But, no. Katie-Rose puts her own bean in her mouth and chews vigorously. “Mmm, delicious. Delicious and nutritious.” She plucks the unclaimed Jelly-Yum from Yasaman’s palm and eats it, too. Then she grabs the whole bottle and spills five or six of the swampy beans straight into her open mouth. She makes exaggerated sounds of pleasure as she works away at them.

  “That’th dithguthting, and no, I do not like Green Apple Thour Loopth,” Natalia says. “If you thaw thomeone eating them, it wathn’t me.” She turns to Yasaman. “But I would like to help with the Thnack Attack.”

  Yasaman feels Katie-Rose glowering, but her mouth is full of Jelly-Yums, and she can’t speak.

  “Um, I guess,” Yasaman says.

  “Fabulouth,” Natalia says. “I have a button maker at home. Want me to make buttonth?”

  Something is drumming a beat into Yasaman’s shin. Something named Katie-Rose’s foot. But what is Yasaman supposed to do? She can’t hurt Natalia’s feelings.

  “Sure,” she says helplessly.

  Katie-Rose groans and throws herself back in her seat. Milla and Violet don’t look pleased, either.

  Natalia claps and says, “Oh yay! Thith ith going to be thuch fun, don’t you think?”

  Yasaman is upset with Natalia for putting her in this position, and she’s upset with her friends for not understanding that she didn’t want to include Natalia in their campaign.

  She’s beginning to see how people get sucked into acting fake. More than that, she’s beginning to see how nearly impossible it is to stay real.

  Mrs. Gunderson, the music teacher, explains to Chance for the forty-fourth time that there’s no need to blow so hard on his recorder.

  “You are not lost in the forest, blowing your safety whistle as if your life depends on it,” she says.

  Everyone laughs except Katie-Rose, who hunches over her desk. It’s those cursed Jelly-Yums. They’re rolling around in her gut, releasing beet gas and broccoli gas and spirulina gas, whatever spirulina is. And all that gas is building and roiling and—

  Owwww. It’s not good. It’s very bad, in fact. Very very bad. She waits for the spasm to pass, then rises from her desk and tries to walk normally to her music teacher’s desk.

  “May I please have the bathroom pass?” she whispers.

  “Katie-Rose, you just came from lunch,” Mrs. Gunderson chides. “You’re supposed to use that time to make your bathroom trips.”

  It’s true, possibly, that Katie-Rose has a history of making more trips to the bathroom than the average fifth grader, but that’s because she gets squirmy sometimes, especially during music. Especially when they’re playing their recorders. She’s failed her “Mary Had a Little Lamb” test three times now.

  But this isn’t one of her squirmy times. Well, yes squirmy—horribly, dangerously squirmy—but not ag-I-hate-my-recorder squirmy. If she doesn’t get to the bathroom soon . . .

  Mrs. Gunderson must read this in Katie-Rose’s eyes, because she sighs and hands Katie-Rose the pass.

  After a l-o-n-g stay in her favorite stall, Katie-Rose feels better. But no more Jelly-Yums, she tells herself. Jelly-Yums are not snacktastic. Jelly-Yums are the devil’s candy.

  The Snack Attack itself must go on, however. They just need to find a new healthy Cheezy D’lites replacement, and without any help from Natalia. Stupid Natalia, worming her way in where she’s not wanted and most definitely not needed. Katie-Rose makes a detour on her way back to music, hoping a peek at the taped-shut snack cabinet will cheer her up.

  Only when she gets there—aaaargh!

  That stupid, annoying, meddlesome Natalia!

  Fuming, Katie-Rose tugs her Sony Cybershot out of her jeans pocket, extends her arm, and aims the video camera at herself.

  FADE IN:

  INTERIOR RIVENDELL ELEMENTARY—HALLWAY BY THE SNACK CABINET—MORNING

  Behind Katie-Rose’s scowling face is the snack cabinet, cleared of all black-and-yellow police tape.

  KATIE-ROSE

  Natalia took down the tape! Do you see now, Yasaman? Do you see how Natalia is not someone who should be part of the Snack Attack? She took down private property just to make me mad, and let me tell you, it worked. And let me also tell you something about Natalia. Natalia is . . . She’s just plain . . .

  Katie-Rose’s lips poof out as she struggles to come up with the right words.

  KATIE-ROSE (CONT’D)

  She’s worse than trans fats . . . worse, even, than cheez pretending to be cheese! Because you don’t know this, but she is buddying up to you and then turning around and being ha ha and braggy to me about how you’re her friend now. Did you know that?

  Off-screen, someone clears her throat. Not a kid. A grown-up.

  KATIE-ROSE (CONT’D)

  (pasting on a nervous smile)

  Uh . . . hi there.

  Katie-Rose rotates her camera 180 degrees. Her teacher Ms. Perez fills the frame.

  MS. PEREZ

  (amused)

  Hi there yourself. And no, I didn’t know that. Care to enlighten me?

  KATIE-ROSE (off-screen)

  Um. Someone stole my private property. Can you punish her?

  MS. PEREZ

  So you’re the one who taped shut the cabinet. Is that what you mean by “private property”? The police tape?
<
br />   Katie-Rose’s expression can’t be seen. If it could, it would be classic oops.

  KATIE-ROSE (off-screen)

  Uh . . . uh . . .

  Ms. Perez waits. She’s young and fun, and Katie-Rose has always wondered why she isn’t married. Sometimes the fifth-grade girls talk about it, and some of them say it’s because she’s too chubby. Katie-Rose thinks that’s ridiculous. Today Ms. Perez is wearing a flowery blouse with fluffy ruffles cascading down the front. She looks pretty.

  MS. PEREZ

  Katie-Rose, are you filming me?

  KATIE-ROSE (off-screen)

  Maybe? You’re very photogenic. Have you ever considered a career in Hollywood?

  Ms. Perez laughs.

  MS. PEREZ

  Thank you, Katie-Rose, but I’m quite happy being a teacher. Were you hoping I might pack up and move? Maybe right this very second?

  KATIE-ROSE (off-screen)

  Ha ha. No. Ha ha.

  MS. PEREZ

  Sweetie, do you want to put the camera down so I can see your face?

  KATIE-ROSE (off-screen)

  No thanks. But thanks for the offer.

  MS. PEREZ

  Do you want to tell me why you taped shut the snack cabinet?

  KATIE-ROSE (off-screen)

  Uh, no thanks, but thanks for the—

  MS. PEREZ

  (interrupting)

  I’m the one who took the tape off, by the way. And let me rephrase: Katie-Rose, why did you tape shut the snack cabinet?

  Off-screen, Katie-Rose exhales. Another rumor about Ms. Perez is that she’s better with kids than with adults, and that’s why she can’t find a husband. But Katie-Rose doesn’t think she’s being all that great with kids right now.

  It would be much better if Ms. Perez just walked away and forgot this little incident ever happened. But she doesn’t. Her expression stays pleasant, but it’s clear she expects an answer.

  KATIE-ROSE (off-screen)

  Because we’re protesting the Cheezy D’lites we have for morning snack. Because of trans fats and cheez that isn’t cheese. Do you know how bad that stuff is?