The Wonder of Wildflowers

by Anna Staniszewski

  But when we start practicing, my confidence fades. As we run the new routine, I stumble for the first time in days. Yuli helps me to my feet, and I hurry to get back in line.

  Then it happens again. And again. By the end of recess, I’m out of breath and my legs are tired and shaky.

  Eileen is frowning at me. I know she thinks I’m going to ruin everything.

  “You’ll do better tomorrow,” Yuli tells me. “It’s been a weird day.”

  It has been a weird day, but it’s more than that. The Amber must be wearing off. I’ve had it in my system for such a short period of time that the half rations are affecting me faster than everyone else.

  I need to drop out of the dance and tell Krysta to find another girl to take my place. It’s the only way to avoid embarrassing myself in front of the entire school. But when I start to tell her, the words won’t come out of my mouth. I’ve spent years dreaming of being part of the group—really part of it. Now that I finally am, I can’t give it up.

  20

  There are two jugs of Amber sitting in our basement, under a shelf full of paint cans. Mama has been using small amounts of Amber for experiments she’s been doing in her spare time, so one of the bottles is open. The other one is still sealed. My parents made it clear that the extra Amber is off-limits now that the rationing has increased. It’s for emergencies only.

  This isn’t an emergency, but I need it.

  If I swipe a bottle from the medicine cabinet, one of the ones Tata still refuses to take, my parents are bound to notice. But if I pour a few drops of the Amber from the open jug and smuggle them into my room, my parents might not catch on.

  I cautiously move through the basement, glancing at the boarded-up window left over from the attack on our house. Tata says he hasn’t had a chance to fix it yet. I wonder if he’s putting off replacing the glass because he’s afraid someone will break it all over again with another angry rock.

  I hear Tata outside in the yard with a weed whacker, and my stomach churns. Maybe I should go ask his permission. Maybe I don’t need to steal.

  But what would I say? I need the Amber for a dance routine? I know my parents would never understand. Tata would probably use the situation as a chance to lecture me about “rules being there for a reason” and make me feel bad for wanting to be like everyone else.

  There’s no other way. I have to take the Amber. If all goes well, I’ll only need it until the assembly. Then I can go back to half rations and no one will ever find out.

  Quickly, before I lose my nerve, I pull out an old perfume bottle that Mama let me keep, and carefully pour some Amber into it. The liquid oozes like apricot jam, filling up the bottle at a painfully slow rate.

  Tata turns off the weed whacker just as I screw on the bottle top. I shove the jug of Amber back under the shelf and hurry toward the basement stairs.

  I pause for a second at the top, struggling to tuck the bottle into the pocket of my jeans. When it’s safely hidden away, I slowly open the door and sigh in relief when I see that the kitchen is empty. Hopefully, I can get to my room and hide the bottle under my bed before anyone notices.

  Just then Tata opens the back door and shuffles inside. I manage to yank the basement door shut behind me and leap toward the refrigerator.

  “I thought you were studying,” Tata says, unlacing his boots. “If you’re finished, the back steps could use sweeping.”

  “I’m getting a snack.” Can he see the lump in my pocket? Can he tell that I’m hiding something?

  “Fruit only,” he says. “We’ll be eating dinner in a half hour.”

  I nod and pluck an apple off the counter with a shaking hand. Then I hurry off to my room, and am only able to breathe again when my door is shut firmly behind me.

  21

  In the morning, I can feel the stolen dose of Amber coursing through my body. I’m buzzing with energy like a too-bright lightbulb.

  When I get onto my bike to go meet Krysta, my hands shake for a second, and I wonder if I took more than I should have. I was afraid to use one of the measuring cups from the bathroom, since my parents might notice that it was gone. My Uses of Amber textbook only said that “self-medicating isn’t advised,” which wasn’t helpful. I finally smuggled a tablespoon into my room and used that, figuring it would measure about the same amount as in my regular rations. Mama’s warnings about Amber overdoses flash through my head, but I ignore them. I’ll be fine. In fact, once I start pedaling, I feel great.

  Daniel is back at school after being absent again yesterday. I’m getting more and more nervous about our project. Miss Patel keeps telling the whole class that she’ll know if we didn’t work together.

  I’m so worried that at lunch, instead of going over to my normal table, I head to the corner where Daniel usually sits alone.

  “Why do you keep missing school?” I ask. “We’re behind on our project.”

  He glances up from the book he’s reading—something about hydrogen-powered cars—and shakes his head. “Mine are all dry. I’ll finish labeling them tonight. We’ll be okay.”

  “But we still need to pick our top five and figure out what we’re going to say. You don’t want us to fail, do you?”

  “Fine. You can come over this weekend, but only for a little while.” Daniel sighs, a low, mournful sound that makes me pause.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask. Maybe he isn’t being difficult about our project for no reason. Maybe something is wrong.

  Daniel glances around, as if he doesn’t want anyone to overhear what he’s about to say. Then he seems to change his mind. “Just come over tomorrow afternoon.” He glances past me. “You should probably go to your table before Krysta decides you’re not allowed back.”

  Sure enough, Krysta’s eyebrows are raised so high that I can see them from across the cafeteria. For a second I’m tempted to plop down next to Daniel and eat my lunch here, to see what she’d do.

  Then I notice Yuli’s worried face, and the urge passes. I sigh and hurry to the table where Krysta is waiting.

  * * *

  At recess, I barely stumble as we go through the new routine. The extra dose of Amber must be working.

  “You’ve been practicing,” Yuli says, clearly impressed.

  I can tell by the way Krysta wrinkles her eyebrows that she’s suspicious, but she doesn’t say anything. Eileen just seems glad that I’m not going to humiliate the dance group in front of the entire school after all.

  And then a strange thing happens. As we’re running the dance one last time, Eileen is the one who stumbles.

  We all stop and stare at her in surprise as she picks herself up and gets back in line. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I don’t know what happened.”

  Then it hits me. After years of being the worst in my class—the worst student, the worst dancer, the worst everything—that might not be true anymore. I know it’s wrong to be happy when Eileen looks so miserable. I hate myself for even thinking this way. But I have to put my hand over my mouth to hide the smile creeping onto my lips.

  22

  Maybe I should kick Eileen out of the dance,” Krysta says as we walk our bikes home that afternoon. Normally she’d be at karate, but her teacher was injured during a match. I guess the half rations are starting to affect everyone.

  “Eileen would be crushed,” I say.

  Krysta sighs. “I know. But we can’t cancel the performance. How will that look? If she messes up again on Monday, I’ll replace her with Ava. She used to tap-dance when we were little.”

  “Or you could give Eileen some of the Amber from your well,” I say softly.

  Krysta freezes. “What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t have to pretend. I saw it in your yard after the fund-raiser. Your dad was giving some people Amber out of it. They were saying he owed them because they helped him get elected.”

  Krysta’s eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them. “You can’t tell anyone, okay?” she half whispers.

/>   “I won’t!” I’ve never seen her look so scared. Still, I can’t help adding, “But it’s not fair, is it? For you guys to have a well when everyone else is rationing?”

  “It’s not like that. My parents take me to this special doctor who figures out exactly how much extra Amber I need so that I can keep being their perfect daughter. They don’t even let me touch the well, and they’d never let me give our Amber to someone outside the family.”

  You could steal some, I think. But I catch myself before the words burst out of my mouth. Just because I’m smuggling rations from our basement doesn’t make it suddenly okay to steal. And really, would I risk giving Eileen some of my Amber?

  “Forget it,” I say. “Just give Eileen another chance, all right?”

  “Fine,” Krysta says.

  We get to the shop with the umbrella display in the window. Except this time, it’s full of brightly colored paper butterflies.

  “There once was a girl with a butterfly…” I start, trying to lighten things between us.

  Krysta’s frown disappears. “She really liked to eat pumpkin pie…” she says.

  I think for a second. “One day she had a slice…”

  “And then she had it twice!”

  “And…” I pause, trying to come up with something that rhymes with butterfly. But my mind is completely blank.

  “Come on, Mira,” Krysta says. “You can think of something.”

  I can’t. No matter how hard I try, my brain feels empty. “I… I don’t know,” I finally say.

  Krysta’s eyes shine. “I win! I can’t believe I finally won against you!”

  We’ve always ended our limerick game in a tie. No matter how much better Krysta’s been at everything else, this was the one thing that we could do together. But not anymore.

  I hurry away, tears stinging my eyes.

  “Hey, wait up!” Krysta says, rushing after me. “What’s wrong? It’s a stupid game.”

  But it’s not. Not to me.

  * * *

  Since Tata needs the car for a job on Saturday, Mama says she’ll walk me to Daniel’s house and then wait for me at the town library. It’s nice to have her to myself for once. Her late nights at work have been turning into early mornings and weekends in the office too.

  As we walk through town, Mama asks me about school and my friends and my poems. I don’t want to think about my writer’s block, so instead I tell her about the dance group.

  “You’ve always been so shy. I can’t believe you’ll be dancing in front of the whole school!” she says.

  I can hardly believe it myself.

  About a half mile from Daniel’s house, a car slows down beside us. I glance at the driver, but the windows are tinted and I can’t see who’s inside. My heart starts to beat faster. I know it’s crazy, but I’m afraid it’s the same person who attacked our house.

  I’m about to grab Mama’s hand, when the car speeds up and drives away.

  “Who was that?” I ask as the car turns the corner.

  “I don’t know,” Mama says. “Maybe they were lost.”

  But judging from the quiver in her voice, Mama is as shaken as I am. We practically run the rest of the way. When there are people in town who hate us, how can we ever feel completely safe?

  We finally get to Daniel’s house, and I give Mama a wave and promise to meet her at the library in a little while. Then I go ring the doorbell.

  Daniel waves me inside without saying hello. There’s no music coming from Aunt Flora’s studio, and the house is strangely quiet. As I follow Daniel down the hallway, the only sound comes from the TV in the living room.

  “Danny?” Mikey’s quiet voice calls. “Is Mira here?”

  “Yeah, bud,” Daniel calls back, heading toward the living room as I follow behind. “How are you feeling?”

  Mikey is on the couch, tucked under a blanket, his head resting on a pillow. He looks pale compared to the last time I saw him, but more than that, he looks tired, as if someone drained some of that endless energy out of him.

  “I’m okay,” Mikey says. He turns to me. “I’ve been good about not running around, so Aunt Flora’s making me an ice cream sundae.” He grins, and for a second he looks like his old self. “With whipped cream and everything.”

  Sure enough, I hear Aunt Flora in the kitchen. But her movements are careful, as if she’s afraid of making too much noise.

  “That sounds really good,” I manage to say with a weak smile.

  “We’re gonna go work on our project,” Daniel says, “but if you need anything, holler, okay?”

  Mikey picks up the remote to flip though the channels. That’s when I notice the splotches on his arm, like a web of red bruises under his skin.

  “Wh-what’s wrong with him?” I whisper as we go into the dining room.

  “He was born with a blood disorder,” Daniel answers.

  “Is that what made him really sick when he was little?” I ask, remembering what Daniel told me the first time I came over.

  Daniel nods. “The doctors back home did what they could to make him better. He’d get blood transfusions and stuff, but he kept getting weaker. Finally we managed to come here, and the Amber made him healthy again.”

  “He seemed fine the last time I was over. I figured he was cured.”

  “We couldn’t afford to buy enough Amber to cure him, but we could make the symptoms go away.”

  “That’s why your aunt doesn’t take her rations,” I say, understanding. “And why you were taking only half of yours.”

  “I wanted to give him all of mine,” Daniel says, “but my aunt says I need it to keep up at school. That way no one asks too many questions.”

  He’s right. If Daniel falls too far behind, people will wonder why he’s not taking his rations. Even sharing them with family members is frowned upon.

  “Now that they’ve cut the rations, my aunt’s been selling off some of the antiques around the house so that we can afford more Amber,” Daniel adds.

  “Is that why you haven’t been at school?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Aunt Flora needed me to stay with Mikey while she tried to figure things out.”

  “But he’ll be okay, right?”

  Daniel bites his lip. “My aunt’s going to start teaching art classes now that I’m old enough to watch him after school. That will help bring in more money.”

  I nod, hoping the extra Amber will be enough to get Mikey back to his old self.

  “Don’t tell anyone, okay?” Daniel adds. “My aunt doesn’t want people gossiping about us.” He lets out a soft snort. “More than they already do.”

  “I won’t say anything.” Who would I tell? Krysta wouldn’t understand about someone being sick, not when she’s never even had a cold.

  “Come on,” Daniel says. “Let’s work on our project.”

  We settle in at the dining room table and start going through our flowers, choosing which ones to talk about for our presentation. I should be happy that we’re finally finishing our project. But somehow getting an A doesn’t feel quite as important as it did this morning.

  23

  Almost overnight, kids start missing school because of colds, flus, ear infections, and stomach bugs.

  “Amber has protected us since birth,” Miss Patel explains. “Now that the rations have been decreased, there’s not as much of it in our bodies to boost our immune systems and fight off germs.”

  “Are we all going to die?” Anton asks.

  Miss Patel smiles. “No, Anton. But we will have to deal with the occasional sniffle from now on.”

  The looks on the other kids’ faces seem to say that getting the sniffles is almost as bad as dying.

  For the rest of the day, everyone is oddly quiet and serious. Finally, the last bell rings.

  “Mira,” Miss Patel calls as we pack up our things. “Can I see you for a moment?” Her tone tells me I’m not in trouble, but I’m still nervous as I approach her desk.

  “Yes, M
iss Patel?” I ask.

  “I thought you’d like to know that we got a letter back from the children’s magazine,” she says, holding out a thin envelope. Her face is glowing with excitement. “Your story has been accepted as a finalist!”

  “A finalist?” I repeat in disbelief.

  “There are nine others that were chosen,” she explains, “including one by another student from our school. The judges will choose one of the ten as the winner, but even getting this far is such an incredible honor, Mira! Your story was chosen as one of the best.”

  As I scan the letter, happiness washes over me like warm sunlight. For a second, all the worries of the past days fade away. The judges liked my story. They really liked it! Even though I wrote it before I’d even tasted Amber, it was still good enough to be noticed!

  Suddenly Miss Patel lets out a little groan and leans back in her chair, holding her fingers to her temples.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Oh, yes,” she says with a soft laugh. “I have a bit of a headache. I get them once in a while, but Amber has always eased the pain. These days, I guess we have to learn to deal with those little aches the way that other people have been doing for ages.”

  “My mother gets headaches sometimes,” I tell her. “She has pills sent from overseas. They’re just for pain.”

  She smiles. “Thanks, Mira. Maybe I’ll try to find some of those.”

  I turn to leave, but then I hesitate. “Miss Patel, do you think the rations will ever go back to normal?” I’ve seen stories on the news about more and more towns cutting them like we have.

  She thinks for a moment before answering. “Some people claim this is temporary to get the supply back up and to lessen our overall dependence on Amber. Others say the new rations are here to stay.”

  “What do you say?”

  “Well, back when the rationing first began, people were told it was temporary. That turned out not to be the case.”

  “So the rations are going to stay this way forever?” I ask. How much longer can I keep sneaking doses from my parents’ stash before they notice it’s missing? How will Daniel’s family manage to keep Mikey healthy?