Coming Up Roses Read online

  “So what day do you want to invite them over?” Mom asked Aster, still looking surprised.

  “How about Wednesday?” Dad asked. “My last class gets out early that day.”

  “Sounds good,” said Aster.

  Mom turned to Rose. “Do you want to have some friends over, too?” she asked.

  “No thanks,” Rose mumbled, staring down at her half-eaten plate of General Tso’s chicken. She looked up to see us all staring at her. “I’m busy preparing for the play try-outs,” she said defensively. “If I want to get a lead role, I can’t waste time hanging out with friends! This is middle school now. Serious stuff.”

  I still hadn’t gotten used to the fact that my twin sisters went to the same school that I did. Every once in a while, if I passed one of them in the hallway, I’d have a brief moment of confusion — two worlds getting mixed up, like your grandma showing up in gym class. But it was starting to feel less weird as time went on.

  After dinner, I went to Dad’s office to call Becky.

  “Are you calling me from a landline?” she asked in disbelief.

  “I am,” I said. “Poppy dropped my cell phone in Lake Winnipesaukee.”

  Becky burst into laughter. “Sorry,” she said. “But you have to admit that is pretty funny.”

  “It will be funny eventually,” I told her. “Just not yet.”

  “So what’s going on?” Becky asked. “You calling to get HB’s number so you can ask him to HC?”

  I laughed. Our texting shorthand had started to overtake our conversations, too.

  “No, I think this requires an in-person invitation,” I explained.

  “Very brave!” Becky said. “But it’s not like he’s going to say no.”

  “You never know,” I said, feeling a swell of nervousness. “This whole thing is freaking me out a little.”

  “It’s pretty obvious he likes you,” Becky said. “You don’t bring birthday cakes to girls you don’t like. It gives them the wrong impression.”

  “I guess …” I said. Over the summer, Hamilton had hand-delivered me a birthday cake. Strawberry shortcake, my absolute favorite. “But that was way back in July,” I argued. “People change their minds. Or he could have other plans. Or maybe he doesn’t like football,” I finished lamely.

  There was a moment of silence. “Or maybe you’ve never asked anyone out before,” Becky said wisely.

  “Yeah, maybe I haven’t.” I smiled. My best friend knew me pretty well.

  “You can do it,” she said. “Piece of cake. So when are you getting your phone?”

  “Tomorrow after school,” I said. “Thank goodness.”

  “Did you keep a list of all your numbers?”

  Oh no. I felt embarrassed by my lack of organization. It so wasn’t like me! “I meant to, but I never did,” I confessed. “Can you give me the ones you have? I’ll have to input them all over again. How annoying.”

  “Sure,” she said, and gave me our mutual friends’ numbers. “And just in case you chicken out and decide to text him instead, here’s Hamilton’s,” she said.

  As I was copying down the numbers on a sheet of paper, someone picked up the other line.

  “I’m on the phone!” I said crossly.

  “Oh, sorry, Del,” Aster said. “Let me know when you’re off.”

  I had gotten so used to my cell, I had totally forgotten about the lack of privacy on landlines.

  “Rose?” asked Becky.

  “It was Aster,” I told her. “Calling her new friends!”

  “Weird!” said Becky.

  “Del, we’re about to dip the leaves!” Mom yelled from the kitchen.

  “You can be the assistant’s assistant!” shouted Poppy.

  “I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I told Becky.

  In the kitchen, I found Poppy standing on a stool as she and Mom intently watched a block of paraffin melt in the double boiler. Every surface was covered with flattened paper grocery bags. As soon as the paraffin had completely melted, we took turns holding leaves by their stems and dipping them in the thick, clear liquid, laying them on the paper bags to dry. The leaves looked even more vibrant with their shiny wax coating. When we were done, the kitchen was bursting with preserved leaves of every shape and color.

  Mom sighed contentedly. “Gorgeous, girls, just gorgeous,” she said.

  Dipping the leaves had taken my mind off everything. But as I headed upstairs, I could feel my stomach do a flipflop of nervousness. I couldn’t believe I had decided to ask Hamilton on a date the next day. Now that I had told Becky, it was definitely real.

  But he could out-and-out say no. He could laugh at me. I could have food stuck in my teeth (it has happened before!). I could trip and fall. What if I burped or accidentally spit on him?

  I decided to get ready for bed before my imagination totally ran away with me. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and put on a cozy pair of pajamas. I got under my comforter and read a chapter of an old favorite, Caddie Woodlawn. Before I shut off the lamp on my nightstand I automatically reached for my phone to check for texts. Then I remembered. Bummer.

  “Let’s go!” I called up the stairs for the third time that morning. I was waiting, not so patiently, for my sisters so we could walk to school together. They were never ready. It ate into my hanging-out-with-my-friends-in-the-morning time. And this morning, I was in desperate need of some moral support before I asked Hamilton out. The very thought made me feel sick to my stomach.

  “Jeez, Del,” said Rose as she slowly walked down the stairs, still brushing her blonde hair. “No need to freak out. There’s plenty of time.” She rolled her eyes. “Only you would be in a big rush to get to school.”

  Aster ran down the stairs with an apologetic look, her dark hair falling into her eyes. I smiled, despite myself, at the sight of the twins side by side.

  Rose was wearing pink-and-white-striped leggings, a denim miniskirt, and a pink hoodie with cute mitten-shaped pockets. Aster, on the other hand, was wearing black jeans, black boots, and a shapeless black pullover sweater that must have once belonged to Dad. The only hint of color was the red T-shirt that showed through the moth holes in the sweater.

  I looked down at my own outfit — skinny jeans, green suede flats, and a green-and-purple flannel shirt. A very nice asking-a-boy-out-for-the-first-time outfit, if I did say so myself. If I actually managed to ask Hamilton out, that was. Otherwise, it would be a very cute losing-your-nerve ensemble.

  The three of us set off for school at a snail’s pace. Rose was really dragging her feet today.

  “How do you like middle school so far?” I asked them.

  “Fine,” said Rose tersely.

  “Not bad,” said Aster.

  “Are your classes interesting?” I asked.

  “Sure,” said Rose.

  “I like English the best,” said Aster. “We’re reading ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’!”

  “Cool,” I said.

  “Bo-ring,” said Rose.

  “You have Mr. Packer, right?” I asked.

  Aster nodded.

  “Try to stay out of the first two rows if you can,” I advised her. “He’s a crazy spitter!”

  “Tell me about it!” said Aster with a laugh.

  She and I chatted the rest of the way about her upcoming report on Washington Irving. Rose lagged behind, kicking at pebbles in her path. English never was her favorite subject, I remembered.

  We walked up the granite steps to the school. As I pushed open the heavy wooden door, I asked Aster and Rose if they wanted to join me in the cafeteria. It seemed like the sisterly thing to do, but secretly, I hoped they wouldn’t say yes. I had important, private things to discuss with my friends.

  Aster said she had friends to meet in the library, and Rose said she had some homework to finish, so I headed to the lunchroom alone.

  “I heard about your phone!” was how my friend Jessica Wu greeted me as I approached the table. “That’s terrible!”

/>   “I know,” I said as I sat down across from her. Spiky-haired, skinny, and slightly spacey, Jess looked cute as ever in a cropped sweater, miniskirt, and tights.

  Sitting next to Jess was Heather Hanson, who looks like a china doll with her blonde curls and blue eyes, but happens to be very tough. To my left was Amy Arthur, with her red hair and funky, rectangular glasses. Amy totally worships her big sister, Amber, who’s in high school. Amy is also the most trustworthy person I’ve ever met. And next to Amy sat Becky, with her flawless dark skin, warm brown eyes, and gorgeous, curly black hair. I smiled at her. I was lucky to have a BFF who was smart, sweet, funny, and always put a positive spin on things.

  “I’m going to get a new phone after school today,” I told them.

  “Thank God,” said Jessica.

  “No wonder you didn’t return my call yesterday!” Heather squealed. “I was feeling insulted until Becky filled me in.” Then her eyes widened with horror. “What if Hamilton tried to call you and thinks you’re ignoring him?”

  “Shhhh!” I said, taking a quick glance around the cafeteria.

  “Don’t worry,” Heather told me. “He’s on the breakfast line. He can’t hear us.”

  I shook my head. Heather is completely boy crazy and keeps tabs on not just her crushes, but everyone else’s.

  I took a deep breath and told my friends about my plan to ask Hamilton to Homecoming today.

  “Do it!” Heather squealed very loudly.

  “So how do your really feel?” I asked, wincing. Too late, I remembered why I usually tend to keep things, as Gramps would say, close to the vest (except around Becky, of course). Now my friends would never let this rest until Hamilton and I were sharing a hot dog in the bleachers at the football game.

  Amy nodded. “Totally a great idea,” she said. “And I’m glad you’re going to do it in person. Much better than texting or calling. Trust me, I know about this stuff from Amber.”

  I gulped, wishing I felt as confident. Texting Hamilton would be so much easier….

  “Look at that,” Amy said disgustedly. I followed her gaze. Ashley Edwards, my arch-nemesis, and her two interchangeable best friends, Sabrina and Rachel, had just entered the cafeteria. They were pointing and laughing at a seventh grader on crutches who was struggling to carry a heavy tray. I shook my head.

  Sometimes I couldn’t believe that Ashley and I had actually once been best friends. Okay, it was way back in preschool. And we had parted ways over a Halloween costume. Yes, I said Halloween costume.

  Sure we’d had a brief friendly encounter over the summer after I had saved her birthday party from certain disaster. But when school started in September, we were back to being mortal enemies. It was like our positive moment never even happened.

  “I can’t believe they’re not helping him!” Amy sputtered, standing up. “I’ll show them how human beings are supposed to act!”

  “No worries,” said Heather. “Da-da-da-da,” she sang. “It’s Super Hamilton to the rescue!”

  I spun around in my seat. And there was Hamilton, putting down his books and food on a nearby table. He talked to the struggling seventh grader, took the tray from him, and walked with him to an empty table. Once Crutch Boy was settled, he thanked Hamilton, who waved it off and walked back to get his breakfast.

  Heather batted her long eyelashes at me. “Your hero!” she said. I made a face at her, but I could feel my cheeks getting very warm.

  “Oh!” Jessica said, wide-eyed. “Is that the guy you want to ask to Homecoming?”

  Becky rolled her eyes. “Oh, Jess!” she said lovingly.

  “Shhhhhhhh!” Amy and Heather hissed at Jess.

  “That’s him,” I told Jess softly.

  Suddenly, Heather kicked me under the table. Hard.

  “Oww, what’s up with that, Heather?’ I asked, bending down to rub my shin. When I straightened up, I saw that all my friends were staring at something behind me.

  “Huh?” I said, turning around to see what was so interesting. And there he was. Super Hamilton himself, balancing a hot chocolate and a buttered bagel on a stack of books.

  “Hey, Del,” he said. “How have you been?”

  “Great,” I replied.

  “Gym isn’t the same without you,” he added.

  “I know,” I said. “I mean, for me, either. It’s weird. I mean it’s still fun, well, not when we play stupid games like Steal the Bacon — remember when we had to play that game? That wasn’t fun at all, at least I didn’t think so, but maybe you …”

  Another kick under the table. I managed not to yelp, but I did give Heather a dirty look.

  This was not going well. My face was hot again and my mind was a total blank. I glanced over at Becky for encouragement. She was looking at me with extra-large eyes, nodding her head. I knew exactly what she was trying to tell me. Ask him to Homecoming. The rest of my friends were all smiling at me encouragingly.

  Hamilton shifted his weight. “All right, then,” he said. “I guess I’d better find a seat and eat my breakfast before —”

  Suddenly, I found myself standing up. And talking. “Hamilton, I wanted to ask you a question …” I started to say, ignoring the intense flip-flopping that was going on in my stomach.

  “Hey, Hamilton!” a sugary voice called out then. I groaned. I knew that fake cheerful tone anywhere. It was Ashley. She sauntered up to us and looked me up and down, taking in my outfit with a sneer. Despite myself, I felt my heart sink. It stung a little that my carefully chosen outfit did not meet the fashion queen’s approval.

  “Hello, Delphinium,” she said icily.

  “Hey, Ashley,” said Hamilton. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, I have a question about the Spanish homework, but it can wait a minute,” she said. “Del, why don’t you ask Hamilton your question first?” She looked at me with a mocking smile on her face. “I can wait.”

  Gulp.

  “Um, it wasn’t a big deal. I’ll ask you another time,” I mumbled to Hamilton.

  “Are you sure?” asked Hamilton kindly.

  I sank back down into my seat. “Yeah, I’m sure,” I said. I watched dejectedly as Hamilton and Ashley walked off together.

  “Foiled again,” I said ruefully.

  “There’s still time,” Becky said gently. “Don’t worry, Del, you’ll get up the nerve.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said Heather. I told you, she’s tough.

  It wasn’t too long before the bell rang for class. I said good-bye to my friends and headed to history. Halfway down the hall, I spotted Aster, walking with four other girls, all dressed in black. They were giggling together. Have the twins switched bodies? I wondered.

  “Hey, Aster,” I said. I smiled at her friends. “Is that your sister?” one of the girls squealed. “Isn’t she an eighth grader?”

  I grinned to myself. It shouldn’t have been such a thrill to be looked up to by the sixth graders. But somehow it was.

  Chapter Three

  After school, my sisters practically had to run to keep up with me on the way home. I was in a huge rush to get my new phone. My dad would be stopping by the house on his way from the university to pick me up and take me to the mall.

  While Aster and Rose went inside, joining Poppy and her babysitter, Mrs. Kelly, I anxiously waited outside for Dad. Had he gotten held up with a student? Got called into a departmental meeting? Completely forgotten about our shopping trip?

  But to my great relief, his car soon pulled up. I raced over to the sidewalk and yanked open the passengerside door.

  “‘Adopt the pace of nature,’” said Dad, “‘her secret is patience.’ Ralph Waldo Emerson.”

  “Whatever, Dad,” I told him with a grin. I snapped my seat belt on, feeling giddy with anticipation. Sure, I was eager to get my new phone, but I was also kind of looking forward to spending some time alone with my dad. With three little sisters, we didn’t get to hang out too much, just the two of us.

  “Everyone at th
e university is really excited about Homecoming,” Dad said as he signaled and pulled away from the curb. “They say the parade is going to be bigger than ever this year.”

  “Do they also say that the McIlhenny Moose are finally going to win a game?” I asked him, smiling.

  He laughed. “No, they certainly aren’t saying that yet,” he said.

  I pictured myself in a cute outfit, cheering (you’ve got to be optimistic) at the game with Hamilton by my side. Yeah, as soon as you ask him! I reminded myself. After that morning’s debacle, I had briefly considered dropping a note into his locker, but Amy had talked me out of it. She’d convinced me that in person was the only way to go.

  “So what kind of phone should I get?” I asked Dad, pushing thoughts of Hamilton aside for the moment.

  “How about one with a camera?” he suggested in all seriousness.

  “Dad, they all have cameras these days,” I told him. “Remember? That was how I lost my phone in the first place.”

  “Oh, that’s true,” Dad said absentmindedly. “My phone doesn’t have one, though!”

  Dad pulled into the mall and parked the car. I took note of the section. My family has been known to forget where they parked — much more than once. One time, Mom had to wait until the mall closed and most of the other drivers had taken off before she found our van. True story.

  Just my luck, we had parked near the entrance that forced us to walk right past Fleur — the flower shop owned by Hamilton’s mom. My stomach sank.

  “Hey,” said Dad when he saw the gleaming windows. There were spotlights focusing dramatically on three floral arrangements which, frankly, looked a little busy to me. “That’s the competition, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I muttered, taking his hand and trying to pull him past.

  But Dad paused to peer inside. His eyes lit up as he saw the shiny metal counters and the gleaming flower fridge. “Wow,” he said. “Very modern. Should we go in and check them out?”