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Authors: Catherine R. Daly

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BOOK: Flower Feud
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Chapter Four

The next day, I was minding my own business, standing in the lunch line when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around warily.

“Hey, Del!” Hamilton said cheerfully. “What’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while.” He grinned. “What, have you been avoiding me?” he said jokingly.

I gulped. Hamilton pushed his shaggy hair out of his eyes. He has the longest eyelashes I had ever seen on anyone, boy or girl.

I wasn’t quite sure how I felt — a weird mix of happy to see him, angry at him about the Fleur ad, nervous that he would ask me to the dance, and maybe, oddly enough, nervous that he wouldn’t.

“Hi, Hamilton,” I replied. Then, not knowing what to do, I picked up a package of chocolate chip cookies and
studied the nutritional content like it was the most interesting thing I had ever seen.

Hamilton laughed. “Fascinating, huh? I prefer reading oatmeal raisin myself.” He picked up a package and pretended to study it as well. I couldn’t help it, I laughed. He was just so goofy. And cute. Goofily cute. Totally distracted, I realized that I was next in line. I grabbed a sandwich and a drink and paid the cashier without even registering what I was doing.

“Bye, Hamilton,” I said. He waved.

When I got back to my seat I looked down and saw I had grabbed a grape juice by mistake. I hate grape juice. Too sweet and purply.

My friends were poring over prom magazines that Amy had borrowed from her sister. My face was still hot from my brief encounter with Hamilton and I couldn’t pay attention. I nodded enthusiastically when Heather asked me what I thought of a certain dress, then wanted to take it back when I realized I had given the thumbs-up to a bright pink fringed flapper-style dress. Becky gave me a funny look.

“Well, what do you think about
this
one?” Amy asked the group, pointing to a white dress that had so many
silver sequins on the bodice that it looked like an ice skater’s costume.

No one knew what to say. Finally, Heather broke the silence. “Totally tacky,” she said bluntly.

“And the bubblegum-pink flapper dress wasn’t?” Amy asked, her feelings clearly hurt.

“Del liked it!” protested Heather.

Amy turned to me. “Do you really like the flapper dress better than the sequined one?” she asked me point-blank.

“Hey,” I said, hurriedly grabbing my books. “Gotta go. It’s the perfect time to start reminding people to buy their prom flowers at Petal Pushers!”

My last class of the day was science lab. I ran into Albert Bustios, my lab partner, on the way there.

“I’m really excited about today’s lab,” he said.

“I know! Acids and bases!” I replied.

Yes, I like science lab. A lot. I like how organized you need to be to perform the experiments. And when everything is just right, you get the exact result you’re looking for.

“Totally. I mean, they’re only the key to understanding
chemistry!” he said with a smile. “I heard Ms. Studdert is going to use cabbage juice as the neutral.”

“Nice choice,” I said.

“I have an idea!” said Albert excitedly. “Let’s take turns testing the solutions and keep them secret from each other so we can guess which is which.”

“That’s a great idea,” I said. “It will definitely make the lab more interesting.” I smiled at him. That was why Albert was the best lab partner ever. He just got it.

We walked into the lab room together. Our teacher, Ms. Studdert, is one of my favorites. She’s young and pretty and makes science fun. There’s just one thing I don’t like about science class: Bob the Bully. Make that
two
things I don’t like: Bob and his obnoxious lab partner and best friend, Matt. The two of them are disruptive and annoying. You’d think that Bob’s broken leg would slow him down a bit. But maybe his cast was itching him or something, because that day he was being even more annoying than ever. If that’s even possible.

Ms. Studdert, wearing a crisply starched white lab coat, stood in front of the room. She clasped her hands together, hardly able to contain her enthusiasm.

“Today we’re going to do one of my favorite seventh-grade science experiments ever — acids and bases!” she said with a grin.

Albert and I smiled at each other. The rest of the class looked bored. Bob gasped loudly like he was crazy excited. “How thrilling!” he cried.

Matt laughed.

Ms. Studdert gave Bob a warning look, and held up a red cabbage, neatly cut in half. “We’re going to make cabbage water today and then we’re going to …”

“Have a party!” cried Bob.

Albert and I exchanged disgusted glances. Leave it to Bob to try to ruin the best experiment of the school year. I turned around and glared at him. He stuck out his tongue at me. So immature. I faced the front of the room and shook my head. Bob would still be irritating if he were at least funny. But his jokes are always so lame.

“Robert,” said Ms. Studdert in a warning tone. Her normally kind face had a harsh expression on it. “Please keep your comments to yourself.”

“Sure, Ms. St-St-Studdert!” he replied.

Matt snorted with laughter.

I spun around in my seat, my mouth open in shock. The room began to buzz. Had Bob really just made fun of a
teacher?
This was shocking, even for Bob. I’m no expert, but that screamed instant detention to me.

Apparently, Ms. Studdert was taken aback, too. She stared at him in disbelief.

“Robert, that’s it,” she said sternly. “You will report to detention immediately after school today.”

Yes!
I thought, smiling to myself. Bob would finally learn his lesson.

“Oh man,” Bob groaned, and Matt said, “Tough break, dude.”

“And that’s not all,” Ms. Studdert went on, “you and Matt together are a bad combination. New partners for you both. Right now.”

Oh no!
Albert and I exchanged nervous glances. We both dropped our eyes to our notebooks, willing ourselves invisible. Because when teachers split up the bad students, you know who they reassign them to. The good ones. It was like we had targets on our backs.

There was silence, during which I assume Ms. Studdert was scanning the room, deciding who to torture. I
was concentrating on my blank notebook page with all my power.
Say someone else’s name,
I chanted silently.
Please.

“Albert,” she finally said. “You will be Matt’s new partner. Matt, please go join Albert.”

My eyes flew to Albert’s face. He looked as stricken as I felt.

I knew what was coming next, but I still hoped against hope that somehow I was mistaken.

“Del, you’ll have to move to the back of the room to join Bob, if you don’t mind.”

I do mind!
I wanted to scream, but I knew I couldn’t.

Albert gave me a doleful look. Matt approached our table and I gathered my books. As I started to walk past Matt, I paused to glare at him.

He shrugged. “Sorry, Del,” he said.

“Your apology is not accepted,” I told him.

I made my way to the back of the room and plopped down on the lab stool next to Bob.

“Hello, Delfurnit —”

I raised my finger to his face to silence him. I was not in the mood. “Listen to me, Bob,” I snapped. “I take science seriously. If you mess up this experiment I’ll …”

“You’ll what?” he said with a smirk.

“I’ll …” Hmm. He was right in a way; he already had detention. What could I do that was much worse? Break his other leg? Too violent. Tell his mom? Too second grade. Send him a bouquet of dead flowers from the store? Too Aster. Finally, I got it. “I’ll make you do this lab all by yourself,” I threatened. That would fix him.

But it didn’t.

Things started out okay. Ms. Studdert handed out safety goggles and materials. I placed several pieces of cabbage into a large beaker and covered them with hot water. But as soon as the water cooled down, my new lab partner picked up the beaker, drank the liquid, and burped. My mouth fell open in shock. This was beyond gross, even for Bob. I had to start all over again, making a second batch of cabbage juice and telling Bob not to dream of drinking it. Then I lined up my solutions — ammonia, baking soda, lemon juice, vinegar, cream of tartar, and seltzer. I stole a glance at the clock. We were running out of time thanks to Bob and his shenanigans. That was a Gran word, and it totally fit.

I took a medicine dropper and added some lemon juice to the cabbage water. Then I added a few drops of vinegar to
the next one. I watched excitedly, waiting for them both to change color.

But something was not right. “These are both acids,” I said, more to myself than to my ridiculous lab partner. “So why is one turning green and the other red?”

Bob snickered. “Because I mixed them all up, Delfrozenyogurt!” he cried.

I stared at him in disbelief. Everyone else was finishing up and dumping their compounds down the sink. When the bell rang I really did want to break Bob’s other leg. Or at least dump an acid — and maybe a base — on his head.

I took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself before I packed up my backpack and made my way to the front of the room. “Ms. Studdert,” I said, “can I stay after to redo the experiment? Bob messed the whole thing up.”

Ms. Studdert sighed. “I’m sorry, Del. Of course you can.” She shut her eyes for a moment. “I just don’t know what to do with him. He’s smart, but he’s such a smart aleck.” She patted my arm. “I’m sure you’ll end up setting a good example for him.”

Albert stopped by on the way out the door. “I missed
you today, Del,” he said. But then he smiled. “But Matt wasn’t so bad, actually. We had fun.”

I scowled at him. “Lucky you,” I said.

After dinner that night, Mom and I sat at the kitchen table finishing up dessert. It was Rose and Aster’s turn to clear. Dad was helping out, scrubbing the pots and pans, his sleeves rolled up.

“Any prom orders today?” I asked hopefully, taking a spoonful of chocolate pudding.

Mom looked glum. “Not a one,” she said. She lowered her voice. “I don’t want to panic, but where are all our customers?” she asked worriedly.

I shook my head. “I’ve been reminding all the kids at school to go to our store,” I said. “Could they really be going to Fleur instead?” I put down my spoon and carried the bowl to the sink. I had lost my appetite.

The phone rang, and Dad reached out a soapy hand to answer it.

“Bloom residence,” he said. “Yes, just a minute.” He held the receiver to his chest. “Rose, it’s for you.”

Rose looked pleased. “Hello?” she said. “Oh,
hello
.”
She gave us all an excited look and took the phone into the living room.

Curious, I lingered in the kitchen.

A couple of minutes later, Rose replaced the phone, checked to make sure it was really hung up, and started shrieking.

“Guess what?” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“I got invited to Jennifer Collins’s slumber party!” she exclaimed.

“Um … sounds great,” I said.

“How nice,” said Mom, wrapping both her hands around her cup of tea.

“Nice?” said Rose. “Nice? It’s … it’s … stupendous!”

“Nice word,” Dad said appreciatively.

Aster dumped a handful of forks into the dishwasher and yawned.

“What’s so stupendous about it, sweetie?” Dad wanted to know.

“Well, she’s just the most popular girl in the entire fifth grade,” Rose explained. “Tell them, Aster,” she urged.

“She’s popular,” Aster agreed with a shrug.

Rose’s eyes were shining. “She has this party every year. And this year she invited me! They order pizzas. Watch movies. Do makeovers. Give each other manicures. It’s — amazing!”

“Sounds incredible,” I said drily.
As incredible as my middle school prom!

Aster snickered.

“Are you going, too, honey?” Dad asked Aster.

“Nope,” said Aster, emptying a water glass and placing it in the top rack of the dishwasher.

Rose bit her lip and looked at Aster worriedly. Dad handed Rose a frying pan to dry. “Do we know Jennifer’s parents?” he asked her.

Mom looked up. “Yes. Maybe I should give them a call …” she started to say.

“Mom!” Rose squealed. “That would be humiliating! Oh my God, you can’t possibly do that. Do you understand how embarrassing that would be? I would be the laughingstock of the entire fifth grade!”

I wasn’t in the mood for any more of Rose’s drama that evening, so I grabbed our dog’s leash. Buster, our adorable black-and-white Boston terrier, had been lingering around
the garbage can hoping someone would drop some scraps. I snapped the leash on his collar and pulled him out the door. He gave me an annoyed look.

Buster was rather unadorably sniffing at my neighbor’s garbage can when my cell phone rang. I flipped it open. It was Heather. “Hey, Heath —” I started to say.

“I’ve got it!” she announced. “You and Hamilton and this flower business thing. It’s a star-crossed romance — like Romeo and Juliet.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re reading that play in my English class, too,” I said. I wasn’t going to indulge Heather in her silly fantasies.

“Don’t you see?” she pressed on. “Your families are at odds so you cannot be together.” She sighed. “It’s so romantic.”

“It’s so ridiculous,” I responded. “Come on, Heather, don’t you think you’re taking things too far?”

Heather grew silent. “I know you like him,” she said. “And I bet you anything he likes you back. Who cares if his mom owns a flower shop?”

Just hearing the words
Hamilton, mom,
and
flower shop
made me see red.
Why did they have to move here and ruin
everything?
I thought. I yanked Buster’s leash, perhaps a little too forcefully, and we set off down the street. “You just don’t understand, Heather,” I said. “Petal Pushers means everything to me. And it is really important to keep the store running for my grandparents.” I gulped, thinking about Gran and Gramps, millions of miles away. Knowing them, they were on some sunset cruise somewhere, and didn’t warrant any pity. But I wanted to make them proud. And being friends with the enemy just did not make sense.

“I’ll tell you what I
do
understand,” she said. “That you are going to be really upset if he goes to the dance with Ashley.”

BOOK: Flower Feud
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