Coming Up Roses (7 page)

Unfortunately, it was not a joke at all.

When I got to the breakfast table the next morning, there sat Nicholas, wrapped up in a plaid bathrobe, eating a bowl of cereal.

“Today’s the day!” he said. “I can’t wait.”

I didn’t know what to say. I walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice.

“You want any?” I asked our houseguest.

“Actually,” he said, “I prefer a glass of tomato juice first thing in the morning. You don’t happen to have any, do you?”

I shook my head. “Sorry.” I picked up the box of cereal to discover it felt awfully light. I looked inside. Empty. Hmmm.

Mom walked into the room, and I gave her the evil
eye. “Nicholas informed me that he’s coming to school with me today,” I told her, my voice rising.

“Oh, that’s right!” Mom said cheerily. “Did I forget to tell you? I’ve arranged the whole thing with your school.” My mouth fell open, but Mom kept going. “Nicholas will be spending the morning with you, attending all your classes.”

“I don’t get it,” I said.

She turned to Nicholas. “And then I’ll pick you up right before lunch and you can help me out in the shop in the afternoon,” she finished.

Wait — he was helping out at
Petal Pushers?

“Sounds great,” he said.

I turned to Nicholas. “But school is so boring! Wouldn’t you rather spend the day with your mom sightseeing?” I suggested. “Don’t forget — Tupperware!”

“My mom had to go to Boston this morning for business,” he explained. “And actually, I’ve really been looking forward to seeing what middle school is like in New Hampshire! Your principal said I could bring my camera and take lots of pictures. I’m planning on doing a presentation when I get back to my school.”

I shook my head. Was this really happening?

He frowned. “So, should I wear my blue pullover or my red cardigan?” he asked me. “I’d like to blend in, you know. As a photojournalism.”

“Um … pullover,” I said.

“I assume jeans are okay?” He took one last spoonful of cereal and headed upstairs.

As soon as he was gone, I glowered at my mom.

“What?” she said over her mug of coffee. “Oh, come on, it’s not
that
big a deal, is it?”

“Actually,”
I said. “It is.”

That made her laugh. “All right,” she said with a sigh. “I owe you one.”

“He ate the last bowl of Oatie-os,” I said. “You owe me
two.”

I was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, as usual. Nicholas came down first in the red cardigan, a perfectly pressed white oxford shirt, and a blue-and-red-striped tie. He wore jeans and penny loafers. Worst of all, his big, geeky camera was slung around his neck. He was going to blend in at school about as easily as someone wearing a clown costume.

Rose came down next. “Are you really planning on going to school dressed like that?” she asked.

“Rose!” said Aster, who had quietly slipped downstairs after her. “That’s mean.”

At first, I thought she was talking to Nicholas. But she was eyeing me directly. I glanced down at the cute red kilt and black turtleneck I was wearing. What was she talking about?

“Um … yeah,” I said to Rose. Why was she suddenly being so critical of my clothes? Weird.

But I quickly forgot about it as the four of us set off for school. Nicholas chatted away about the photos he would take for his photo essay comparing and contrasting the middle school experience in Austin versus Elwood Falls, pausing only to wonder aloud if we were taking the most direct route to school. Should we have made a left on Hawthorne instead of Hickory? It looked that way when he had looked it up on MapQuest the night before. I sighed as he rambled on.

Once we arrived, Aster gave me a sympathetic look as she headed to her locker. Rose waved at me with a smirk. “Good luck!” she said.

“Are you sure that’s the most efficient way to organize your locker?” Nicholas asked me as I jerked open the lock. “Alphabetically? Have you considered chronologically?” He took off his lens cap and began snapping away.

When I didn’t answer, he added, “You know what I mean, right? The order that your classes are in?”

“I am well aware of what
chronologically
means,” I said between clenched teeth.

Nicholas snapped a picture of me, lowered his camera, and examined the shot. “Not the best look for you,” he said. “I guess I’ll delete that one. You really should smile more.”

And, once we arrived in the cafeteria: “Are you sure you want hot chocolate? That’s a lot of sugar first thing in the morning. I’m sure they must have green tea. Lots of antioxidants.” He focused his camera on the display of breakfast cereals.
Snap, snap, snap.

I could feel my jaw clenching. This was going to be one long morning. Then I spotted a familiar face from across the room. Hamilton. He was laughing with a friend. My cheeks got hot and I turned away quickly.

After Nicholas had taken an action shot of the lunch
lady serving up some oatmeal, we headed over to see my friends.

“This is Nicholas,” I said. “He lives in Austin and he’s staying with us for a couple of days. His mom went to McIlhenny University with my mom.” I smiled. “Perhaps you’re all not aware that today is Take-a-Texan-to-School Day.”

“Nope,” laughed Heather. “I guess you’ll have to share him, Del!”

“Hi, Nicholas,” said Becky, looking like she was trying hard not to laugh. I had texted her, filling her in on our new visitor before bed last night.

“Welcome to Sarah Josepha Hale Middle School,” said Amy.

Jessica bit her lip. “I had no idea it was Take-a-Texan-to-School Day,” she said.

“Actually,” said Nicholas. “I had no idea Del had such lovely friends!”

I rolled my eyes. Nicholas was about as annoying as a person could possibly be.

“Awwwww,” said my friends. Apparently, they did not agree with me.

“Do you mind if I take some photographs of you guys?” he asked. “It’s for a school project.”

“No problem!” said Heather, fluffing her hair and smiling prettily. “Cheese!”

Things got worse in history class. Nicholas raised his hand more than I did.

He answered questions I didn’t know the answers to. About the decline of the mills in New Hampshire, no less. And I had done the reading the night before.
And
taken notes.

I looked at him in disbelief. “How do you know this stuff?” I whispered.

“Actually, I checked out the New Hampshire middle-school curriculum online and did some research,” he whispered back.

“Very informative,” said my teacher, Mr. Decker. I was stunned. Even my most well-researched homework answers hadn’t gotten more than a “fine” from my tough teacher. This was worse than I had expected.

In Spanish class, Nicholas conversed with Señora Friedman in perfect Spanish and she commended him on
his Castilian accent. By the time that class was over, I was officially done with my “shadow.” I practically ran out the door, I was in such a rush to get rid of my special visitor. I turned around impatiently to see why he was dawdling to discover that he was chatting away with someone. I took a closer look. Yikes — it was Sabrina, one of Ashley’s best friends.
Oh no,
I thought.
He’s embarrassing me in front of one of her handmaidens! Social suicide.

He held up his camera, and Sabrina grinned and struck a pose.

I ducked back, grabbed his hand, and pulled him away from Sabrina and down the hall. “My mom is waiting!” I told him. “Can’t be late!”

He shut off his camera and rubbed his hands together. “Well, that was great!” he said. “I think I made a good impression. Probably scored you some brownie points with your teachers, too.” I ground my teeth in annoyance. “And all the kids seem so nice! Sabrina is really pretty, don’t you think?”

“Whatever,” I said.

“Hey, Delphinium!” a voice shouted. “Who’s your Siamese twin?”

I would recognize that obnoxious voice anywhere. It was Bob, the school bully and my second-worst enemy (after Ashley, of course).

“Ignore him,” I told Nicholas.

But Nicholas could not resist the lure of correcting someone’s mistake. He stopped short and turned to face Bob. “Actually,” Nicholas told him, “the preferred term is
conjoined twin
.”

Bob stared at him like he was insane.

“The term ‘Siamese twin’ originated, of course, from Chang and Eng Bunker,” Nicholas explained.

Still no response from Bob, who was beginning to look alarmed.

“The conjoined twins from Thailand?” Nicholas asked incredulously. “They shared a liver, you know!”

Bob blinked.

Nicholas shook his head in exasperation. “Of course, you know that Thailand was formerly known as
Siam
?” he explained as if Bob was a dimwitted child. As annoying as Nicholas was, I couldn’t help enjoying the confused look on Bob’s face.

I touched Nicholas’s arm, bringing him back to reality.
“My mom is waiting,” I told him. “Say good-bye to your new friend Bob.”

As we walked down the hall, Nicholas shook his head. “Philistine!” he said. I had no idea what that meant, but if it was about Bob, I assumed it wasn’t good.

“Philistine!” I agreed.

I marched Nicholas out the front door, and down the stone steps of the school. Luckily, Mom’s car was there waiting. “Have fun at the store today,” I told him before I slammed the car door shut. I waved as Mom drove off.

Then I breathed a sigh of relief. I had enjoyed the scene with Bob, but there were only so many
actuallys
a girl could take in one day.

I rushed down the hallway toward the cafeteria. It was chicken-finger-and-waffle-fries day and I was already ten minutes late thanks to my camera-happy buddy. Just then, my phone began to vibrate. I paused for a minute, reached into my pocket, and flipped it open.

I had a text. From Nicholas!

WANNA MEET UP AFTER SCHOOL? he’d written.

Was he for real? We had literally been apart for two minutes!

2 BUSY. I wrote back. C U L8TR.

“How did it go?” Becky asked as I sat down with my lunch, feeling victorious because I had nabbed the very last serving of chicken fingers. I dunked a crispy finger into the barbecue sauce. Pure crunchy deliciousness.

I shook my head. “He thinks he knows everything. He wouldn’t stop taking pictures. How could my mom do that to me?”

“Well, I just heard he called Bob the Philly Fanatic,” said Jessica. “And Bob was mad.”

“Something like that,” I said with a grin.

“So his visit wasn’t a total disaster,” said Heather.

“I guess not,” I admitted. But it didn’t change the fact that I was counting down the days until our visitors returned to Texas.

That afternoon, Aster and I walked home from school together. Rose had rehearsal and Dad would be picking her up after his office hours.

I vented about Nicholas, and Aster was quiet, as usual. Then she asked, “Do you really think we’re going to have to sell the store?”

I felt the familiar pang as soon as I thought about our family business becoming a trendy coffee shop. “I don’t know, Aster. I sure hope not.”

“There’s something else that’s bothering me,” she said. “Del, I’m worried about Rose.”

I nodded. “She has been acting weird lately. Kind of rude.”

Aster shoved her hands into her pockets. “And sad,” she said. “I miss the old Rose.”

“I know,” I told her. “But I wouldn’t worry. She’s going through a rough patch. Not getting the role she wanted in the play. And I think she might be a little jealous of your new friends. She’s used to being the popular one. It will work itself out.”

“You really think so?” Aster said. “It’s just weird — she was part of this big group of friends in our old school, but they don’t seem to hang out together anymore. I think maybe she’s … lonely.”

I looked at her worried, pale face, framed by her dark hair. I smiled. “She’s Rose. Everything will be fine. She’ll make new friends. We just have to give her time.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Aster.

When we got home, Aster headed upstairs and I went into the kitchen, where I found Mom, Nicholas, Poppy, and Debbie all bunched around a laptop.

“We’re looking at Nicholas’s photos,” said Mom. “Come see. They’re incredible!”

“I uploaded the pictures from today at your school,” Nicholas told me.

He put on a little slide show for us. There I was, shelving my books in my locker. Alphabetically. There was the lunch lady, a big grin on her face as she handed over the oatmeal. The back of a kid looking out a window at the swirling fall leaves. A close-up of my science teacher, all bushy eyebrows and bow tie, his finger in the air making an important point. Two girls whispering together, a look of surprise on the second girl’s face.

They were good. Very good.

“You have quite an eye, Nicholas,” said Mom.

And there was a picture of me in the cafeteria that morning. I hadn’t realized it had been taken. I had a funny, faraway look in my eyes.

“What was I …” I started to ask.

“Oh, that’s when you were staring at that guy —”

“Who was eating that really big … bagel!” I finished lamely, my cheeks burning. I knew exactly which guy I was staring at. Hamilton.

I wanted to change the subject. Immediately. “So, let’s see some of your other work,” I said.

“Show the ones from the football game we went to last weekend,” Debbie suggested.

“Good idea,” said Nicholas. He opened up another folder and started another slide show.

There was a close-up of a cheerleader in mid-yell. A dazed-looking football player, his helmet in his hands. A shouting girl, her face painted half red and half white, wearing the hugest …

I jabbed my finger at the screen. “Wait! What
is
that?” I asked.

Nicholas stopped the slide show and returned to the photo in question.

“Holy guacamole!” said Poppy. We all stared in disbelief. The girl was wearing the largest corsage I had ever seen in my life. It was covered with ribbons and trinkets. It was way too big to pin on, so it hung around her neck like an enormous necklace. And it was made with fake flowers.