Coming Up Roses (3 page)

“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.

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 the 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?”

“No way!” I yelped. Dad gave me a quizzical look.

“I mean, we wouldn’t want them to think we were spying on them or anything,” I said quickly.

Dad didn’t know this, and hopefully never would, but I
had
actually spied on Fleur. Not once, but twice. I didn’t want to take any chances that Hamilton’s mom would recognize me. Or, even worse, that Hamilton would be there and introduce me to his mom, who would
then
recognize me as Secret Agent Bloom.

This seemed to make sense to Dad, and thankfully, we went directly to the phone store.

Grown-ups are always complaining about the DMV, but I think phone stores are the most painfully slow places ever. I put my name down on a list and browsed through all
the fancy phones I couldn’t have, until my name was called. Luckily, it was time for an upgrade for me and I picked out my new phone (pink, cute, flip, decent camera). Our salesperson, Missy, who wore bright red lipstick and had long, jet-black hair, activated the phone. She was about to ring us up when she noticed something on her computer screen.

“Can I see your phone?” she asked Dad. He fished into his pocket and handed it to her.

“Whoa! Look at this!” she called to her coworker. “When’s the last time you saw a phone this humongous?” They both laughed out loud. “You haven’t had an upgrade since you bought this dinosaur!” Missy told Dad. “Are you ready for a new phone?” She peered at his phone from under her bangs. “Who knows how long the duct tape is going to keep that battery in place?”

Dad shrugged, but then allowed himself to be led over to the display of smart phones. And before I knew what was happening, he was the proud owner of a brand-new iPhone. I looked down at
my
new phone and frowned. It didn’t look quite so fun or sleek anymore.

With a shrug, I turned on my phone. Two seconds later, it started ringing! I cringed — it was one of those
embarrassing ringtones that the phone came programmed with. I’d have to play around with it and fix that right away.

The number calling was one I didn’t recognize. Who could it be? My heart skipped a beat. What if it was Hamilton?

I flipped it open. “Hello?” I said uncertainly.

“Hey, Del,” said Mom. “I guess you got your new phone.”

I felt a weird combination of disappointment and relief.

“I did!” I said. “And you’re never going to believe it — Dad got one, too!”

“I guess that’s why my call didn’t go through to him,” Mom said. “That’s good. That old one was as big as a walkie-talkie. Listen, can you guys pick up some dinner tonight? I’m going to stay a little late at the store to work on the Homecoming bouquets. Mrs. Kelly will stay with the girls until you and Dad get home.”

“Munchbox?” I suggested hopefully.

“Sounds good to me. Don’t forget to order extra drumsticks. I hate when you girls fight over them.”

“Sure,” I said, hanging up. “That’s crazy,” I told Dad. “That was Mom calling from Petal Pushers. I didn’t even recognize the number.”

“That happens to everyone,” said Missy. “Nobody knows anyone else’s numbers anymore. We’re all used to speed dial.”

Dad laughed. “I still remember my best
f
riend’s number from grammar school,” he said. “Five-five-five-three-eight-two-three!”

“Impressive, Dad,” I said, rolling my eyes. I was glad I’d gotten all my friends’ numbers from Becky and had copied them into my binder.

“When I was a kid we had rotary phones,” Dad explained to Missy. “None of this pressing a button. If you missed one number, you had to start dialing all over again. If there were a lot of nines or zeros it could take forever!”

Missy looked puzzled. “What’s a rotary phone?” she wanted to know.

Dad sighed. “Man, I feel old,” he said.

As we walked out of the store, Dad immediately began worrying. “I think I spent too much on my phone.
I don’t need all these special things. Maybe I should return it.”

“But now you can check your e-mail from anywhere,” I explained. “It will be really helpful for work. Plus, there are all these cool apps you can download….”

“Apps?” he said, looking confused.

I gave him a look. Did he live in a cave or what?

“You know, games and stuff,” I explained.

“Oh, I don’t need any of those things,” he said. “Aren’t they just for kids?”

“No way! You can get online dictionaries and Bartlett’s Quotations!” I told him.

He brightened. “Oh, that could be fun. I guess I’ll read the manual and see what it’s capable of.” He thought for a minute. “Hey, I know it’s almost dinnertime, but you want to split a soft pretzel?”

“Of course!” I said. You didn’t need to ask me twice if I wanted my favorite mall snack of all time. We headed toward the food court, which was pretty empty. Dad sat at a table and pulled out his phone and the manual. I knew he would read it cover to cover. The man loves
reading so much he would read anything he could get his hands on.

I got in line behind a tall, blonde woman at the pretzel stand, who was talking on her cell phone. Her voice sounded familiar. I was reaching into my pocket for my money when I overheard something that gave me pause.

“That’s right,” the woman said. “I need five hundred sixteen-inch red rose stems and two hundred yellow ranunculus. They need to be here by next Friday, the latest.”

Tall. Blonde hair. Ordering flowers. Was I standing right behind Hamilton’s mom? As she paid for her pretzel and coffee, I stole a quick look at her profile. Yup. I’d recognize her anywhere.

Luckily, she didn’t notice me. When I got back to the table with the warm, buttery pretzel, Dad was fully fixated on his new phone.

“I just downloaded this game,” he told me excitedly. “And it’s free! It’s called Gnomeland! Look at all those cute little guys! They all have different-colored hats, and they each have a different power. This guy in the purple hat
is the musical gnome. He plays his glockenspiel and it helps the beans grow. And I get points when I harvest the beans so I can buy things!”

I gave him a look. Was he for real? “Gnome things?” I said.

Dad nodded excitedly. “Yes! Like hoes and shovels and tractors and stuff like that!”

“Sounds fascinating, Dad,” I said sarcastically.

But apparently it was. He was so preoccupied with the game that I got to eat the whole pretzel myself. No complaints there. And then he stayed in the car and played when I went into the Munchbox (owned by my classmate Eleni Nikolopoulos’s family) for fried chicken and all the trimmings. Eleni was there doing homework in a booth, so we hung out for a bit while I waited for my order.

“Tell me more about Trollville,” I said to Dad when I got back into the car with the food.

“Gnomeland, silly,” he corrected me. I settled back into the passenger seat as he told me about all of the different types of beans you could plant and harvest. It sounded crazy lame to me. But Dad was enthralled.

MENU. SELECT. ADDRESS BOOK. SELECT. ADD NEW CONTACT. ENTER FIRST NAME. ENTER LAST NAME. ENTER NUMBER.

Over and over and over. I was sitting at the kitchen table after dinner inputting all my friends’ numbers from my binder. I accidentally put in Jessica’s number incorrectly and had to start over. This was so boring. But now my phone had a ringtone that sounded like a frog croaking, which made me very happy.

Mom pushed open the kitchen door, a scrap of paper in her hand. She had a big smile on her face. “I was just IMing with Debbie,” she said excitedly. “She gave me Nicholas’s number to give to you. He’s totally excited about spending time with you on the trip and he has a couple of questions. Maybe you could give him a call.”

I squinted up at her. “Mom, are you kidding? Questions about
what
?”

She handed me the scrap of paper with Nicholas’s number on it. “Oh, who knows. Maybe he wants to know if he should bring his Atari,” she said cluelessly.

“Fine, Mom,” I said. “I’ll call him.” I put in his number, Amy’s, and a couple of other kids from school as Mom hovered next to me. I blushed like mad as I input Hamilton’s number. Luckily, Mom didn’t notice.

She smiled. “It means so much to Debbie and me that you and Nicholas are going to spend some more time together,” she said.

“How much time?” I asked warily.

“Well, they’ll be here for almost a week,” Mom explained. “I think you guys will strike up a nice friendship!”

I realized there was no arguing with her. Why do adults think that just because they’re friends with someone, you are automatically going to be best buds with their friend’s kid? I mean, it wasn’t
that
long ago that she was my age, you know?

I said good night to my mom and headed upstairs to finish my homework. I passed by Poppy’s room and could hear her jumping on her bed, saying, “I’ll brush my teeth tomorrow instead, Dad. I swear. I’ll shake on it!”

I walked into my room, sat down at my neat desk, and smiled. The pens and pencils were carefully arranged in a
McIlhenny University mug. My laptop was gleaming, my textbooks in a perfect pile. Ah, order.

I opened up my laptop. I had a couple of questions due tomorrow on the cotton mills of New Hampshire, but first I decided to check my e-mail. Nothing much — some spam that I immediately deleted, and from Heather, a link to a YouTube video of a funny cat who liked to sit in boxes of all sizes. I made a mental note to show it to Poppy the next day. She’d love it.

Suddenly, a message popped up in the corner of my computer.

Hey, Del, it’s Nicholas!
it read.

Oh boy,
I thought.

Hey, Nicholas!
I typed in unenthusiastically.

I didn’t get a ca
ll
from you, so I decided to IM.

Sheesh, give a girl a minute!

Totally psyched about our visit,
he continued.

Me too,
I typed. Good thing the sarcastic tone in my head didn’t translate on IM.

Homecoming should be a lot of fun,
Nicholas wrote.

Yeah … just to warn you, our team is not exactly …
I started to write.

But he beat me to it.
Though I hear that the McIlhenny Moose have quite a record! Haven’t won a game in ten years!

I smiled ruefully. He had done his research.

Actually, I have a couple questions about my upcoming visit,
he wrote.
You have a minute?

Sure.

Where will I be sleeping?

In the garage,
I wanted to write, just to see what he would say.

Guest room,
I wrote.

Queen bed or twin?

I had to think about that one for a minute.
Full,
I wrote. Then I added, just because,
actually.

Should I bring my own pillow?

IDK, we have plenty here.

Hmm … maybe I’ll bring mine. Hypoal
l
ergenic.

I had no reply to that one.

Do you have wireless?

Of course.

I don’t want to brag,
he wrote,
but I’m a bit of an amateur photographer.