Falling for You (24 page)

As he talked, I found myself wishing I’d had more time with her. More time to learn about the kinds of books she liked and why. Just more time. At least, I thought, there’s one book I knew she’d loved. I couldn’t wait to pore over its pages.

“Ella’s son, Paul,” the pastor said, “had this to say about Ella Perkins. ‘My mother could make friends with anybody. She had this rare combination of honesty and kindness that people liked. I often think our world would be a much better place if there were more people like her.’ ”

It made me cry. Because I’d been lucky enough to be her friend for a short time. But also because I desperately wanted to be more like her.

nobody’s perfect

THE NEXT DAY I LEARNED MY POEM “SCARS” HAD BEEN THE TOPIC of conversation at school. Ms. Bloodsaw even brought it up in class for a bit of a discussion.

She asked the class if we thought we were ultimately hurting people by letting them submit poems anonymously. Were we telling them we didn’t want to see their pain, and encouraging them to hide it?

It seemed that the majority of the students didn’t agree with me.

Felicia basically said what Ms. Bloodsaw had said earlier to me. “If we don’t let people submit their poems anonymously, people simply won’t submit anything personal. And that’s even worse. At least this way they’re doing something positive with their feelings.”

I raised my hand. “What if kids knew for sure they’d be
safe when they signed their names? That’s what we need to do; we need to assure people that this is a safe place to share what they’re going through.”

Ms. Bloodsaw narrowed her eyes. “I’m afraid that’s difficult to guarantee, Rae.”

I leaned forward, my arms resting on my desk. “Maybe alongside a poetry revolution, we should try to start a kindness revolution. Why are we so cruel to each other, anyway? Why aren’t we more empathetic when it comes to the stuff we’re all dealing with? We should be lifting each other up when things are hard instead of knocking each other down.”

No one said anything. I looked around the room. Kids were doodling in their notebooks or trying to hide the fact they were checking their phones.

Dale, a scrawny, quiet kid, raised his hand. I don’t think he’d said anything in class the entire year. “It’s like everyone thinks they have to portray this image of perfection. Like online, at social media sites, people love showing off their cool stuff and pictures of their cool friends, as if to say, be jealous of me. So over and over, I see snapshots that say, ‘My life is awesome.’ Pretty soon it feels like I’m the only one having problems. But if you stop and think about it, there’s no way all those people don’t have problems too.”

I looked around again. Now people were paying attention.

Another guy, Markus, responded. “It’s no fun reading
negative stuff all the time, though. Personally, people who complain a lot bug the crap out of me.”

“I’m not saying we should all whine and complain,” Dale said. “But a little more honesty—a little more reality—would be good.”

I swallowed hard and then I spoke. “My friends think I get all my clothes at the City Girl. That’s what I’ve told them. That’s what I’ve wanted them to believe, because I didn’t want them to think I was less than them, somehow. But the truth is, I can’t afford expensive clothes. I shop at the thrift store most of the time.”

Felicia swiveled in her seat to look at me, her mouth gaping open. I continued. “Why does it matter what we wear? What kind of car we drive? Or where we live? I don’t get it. I’m beginning to realize that all the energy we spend on trying to be as good as or better than everyone else would be better spent elsewhere. So, personally, I’m not gonna hide stuff anymore. Everyone has problems. You may feel alone, but you’re really not.”

I scanned the room, and a few people were nodding their heads. Whether anything would change their behaviors remained to be seen, but at least I’d tried my best to get my point across.

“Does anyone have anything else to add?” Ms. Bloodsaw asked. When no one spoke up, she continued. “What I’d like to do now is give you some time in class to write a poem. The
topic is entirely up to you. This is a class assignment that will be graded, with the option of submitting it to the paper, name or no name, whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

She went back to her desk and sat down. “Thank you for the great discussion, class. You certainly got me thinking.”

I hoped she wasn’t the only one.

Bloom

by Rae Lynch

In the dark,

the flowers hide.

They wait

for the right time

to come up.

Warmer temperatures

and sunshine

encourage them

to come out,

to reach,

to grow.

They are proud

of who they are.

They bloom,

giving the world

color and joy.

In the dark,

the people hide.

They wait

for the right time

to speak up.

Compassion

and kind words

encourage them

to come out,

to reach,

to grow.

They are proud

of who they are.

They bloom,

giving the world

light and hope.

Sometimes it’s dark

where I am.

I don’t want to hide

anymore.

confessions

FELICIA DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING TO ME AS WE LEFT CLASS. WE met Alix in the hallway, since we had chemistry together next period.

“Hey,” Alix said to me, “what’s wrong?” She pulled me into a hug. “You okay?”

Did I look upset? I didn’t feel upset. Anxious, maybe? I took a deep breath and let it out. “I told a secret last period. I’m hoping Felicia isn’t annoyed with me.”

“What happened?” Alix asked.

“I shared with the entire class that I buy my clothes at the thrift store.” I laughed nervously. “I’m a real pro at it. You should come with me sometime. You’d be amazed how much money you can save.”

Alix considered this for a second and then said, “Really? Everything you own?”

“Pretty much.”

“Huh. Well, fine with me. I don’t care.” She shrugged. “It’s fine, right, Felicia?”

“I guess.” She gave me a puzzled look. “But I don’t get why you lied to us. We’re your friends.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Please don’t take it personally. I think it says more about me than you. I can be insecure, that’s all.”

“I’ll bet we all have stuff we don’t tell each other,” Alix said. “It’s okay.” Now she put her arm around Felicia. “Like she said, we shouldn’t take it personally.”

“Is there anything else we should know?” Felicia asked. She didn’t say it in a mean way, but still, I kind of wished she’d let it go.

I started walking toward class. “Mostly, life is a lot worse at home than I let on. But you guys know I don’t like talking about it.”

Alix looped her arm with mine. “You know we love you no matter what. Tell her, Felicia.”

Felicia’s face softened. “Yeah. Of course. I’m sorry. It just . . . surprised me, that’s all.”

“There’s a lot more where that came from,” a voice broke in from behind us. I knew who’d said it before I’d even turned around.

“Don’t start, Nathan,” Alix said, pivoting around, causing us to stop in the middle of the hallway.

He ignored Alix and glared at me. “Why don’t you tell
them what a prince your stepdad is, Rae? How he tries to recruit innocent kids like me to do his dirty work for him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

Nathan’s hair was really long now. I could hardly see his eyes behind his bangs. “That night I went over there? He tried to pull me into his gambling ring. Said they could use someone like me. Someone with a rich daddy who wouldn’t miss a few bills taken from his wallet now and then.”

I could feel my face turning red. “I’m sorry he did that. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. I told him to go to hell.”

When he said that, a chill went down my spine. He sounded exactly like Dean.

“Stop trying to make trouble,” Alix told Nathan.

As the bell rang, Alix pulled Felicia and me into chemistry. I turned and watched as Nathan walked down the hall, flanked by two of his buddies. Clearly, they weren’t going to class.

Oh, Nathan. What’s happened to you?

the last special delivery

“HOW WAS THE FUNERAL YESTERDAY?” SPENCER ASKED ME WHEN I got to work.

“It was nice,” I said. “I loved the song they started the service with. Have either of you heard the hymn ‘In the Garden’?”

Nina stepped away from the shelf of plants she was arranging. “No, I don’t think I have. Did you like it?”

“I loved it. I think I want that played at my funeral.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Nina said. “It might be bad luck or something.”

“I want mine to be a big party,” Spencer said. “I hope they play some ABBA. Or Pointer Sisters. Something that makes people want to get up and dance.”

“Okay, can we stop talking about this, please? It gives me the creeps,” Nina said as she returned to the plants. “Rae, we’re glad you’re back.”

An older man stepped into the shop holding an envelope. “Just found this by your door,” he said. “For someone named Rae?”

I took the envelope from his hand. “That’s me. Thanks a lot.”

“No problem. Don’t know why the person didn’t bring it in to you.”

I smiled. “Yeah. I’d love that, actually.” The man left as I tried to analyze the handwriting like I’d done every other time. I still had no idea what I had to do with these anonymous deliveries, and I was beginning to think I’d never know.

It was like Spencer read my mind. “Any idea who it might be? It’s been going on for a while now. Seems like we should be able to figure it out.”

I stared him down. “Spencer, it’s not you, is it?”

His eyes got big and he put his hand to his chest. “Me?” He laughed. “Oh, that is funny. Remember, I’m the selfish one. I want credit where credit is due.”

It did seem like it would take a special someone to do something so incredibly kind and not want any recognition for it.

“So let’s see it,” Spencer said as he put his arm around me. He smelled good, like Altoids and rose petals. “Who’s the lucky person today?”

I opened the envelope. Spencer read it out loud, over my shoulder.

Dear Rae,

Please make yourself a flower arrangement.

Make it the bouquet of your dreams, with your favorite flowers.

It’s your turn to smile for a change.

Signed,

A friend

Tucked in the envelope was fifty dollars, just like the others.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I told Spencer. “I’m supposed to deliver flowers to myself?”

“Even better, Rae,” Spencer said as he pointed to the workroom. “You get to create the bouquet of your dreams! What are you waiting for?”

Before I could respond, Leo walked through the door.

He had a big smile on his face. Something about it was different. And his eyes, they lit up with excitement. What could possibly make him that happy on a boring March afternoon?

And that’s when it hit me. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?

Maddie had known both of us.

Lots of people in town knew Leo. He even told me he was a good listener because people loved sharing personal stories while he made coffee.

It had to be Leo.

Still holding the envelope, I walked over to him and whispered, “Can I talk to you outside?”

“Sure. Can I see if you guys have some ones first?” He looked at Spencer. “My mom’s going to make a bank run, but would you have five or ten dollars’ worth to hold us over?”

After Spencer gave him the change, I led Leo out the door and over to the bench outside Cutting Edge. He took a seat and patted next to him, gesturing for me to sit too. But I couldn’t. I felt on edge, my heart beating fast as I wondered if my suspicions were right. I waved the envelope at him.

“Why have you been doing this?”

At first he tried to play dumb. He looked confused and asked, “What?”

“You know what! I’ve figured it out, Leo. It’s you. You’re the one who had me deliver flowers to Maddie. To Ella. To George. Why? Please, tell me, why?”

He started to protest again, and then stopped. A smile spread across his face and he said, “Okay. You got me.”

I pressed my hand to my stomach as a mixture of relief and confusion rushed through me. “It’s really you?”

Again he gestured for me to sit, and this time I didn’t refuse. “I hope you’re not mad that I didn’t tell you.”

I laughed nervously. “No, I’m not mad, but I don’t understand at all.”

He put his hand on my thigh. “In high school, kids are supposed to do community service projects, right? My mom wanted me to do something to make a difference in someone’s life as part of our homeschool curriculum.

“For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what I could do. Because of work, I don’t have a lot of free time. And then, after you showed me that poem you wrote, I wanted to help you. It felt to me as if you were carrying around your secrets like a deadweight.

“I came up with the idea to have you deliver flowers to cheer up a few people. I figured it’d help them, and maybe it’d help you, too. And before you say I was crazy for spending that kind of money, my mom agreed to help me. She really liked the idea. She called me the flower fairy.” He narrowed his eyes. “Please let that be our little secret.”