Forget-Her-Nots (6 page)

Make me bloom, too! she thought as the warmth penetrated her skin. Everywhere she turned, everywhere she walked these days, there was some new patch of color, some new fragrance to entice her. Colors, scents, petals were so much more vibrant this spring than ever before. She’d been surrounded by flowers her whole life, but
they’d never made her body tingle and buzz.

Laurel craved flowers in her hand but hesitated to pick any publicly. Instead she headed to a strip of ground behind the library where a few days ago she’d noticed thick leaves poking through the mulch. Rounding the tower, she felt a sudden and soaring delight. A few red tulips had bloomed along its south-facing wall. She fell onto her knees and cradled a blossom between her hands. Its satiny petals were still closed, but she gently pried them open to breathe in a subtle but spicy scent.

“Mmm,” she said. Red tulips were for a “declaration of love.” She’d wanted some for her presentation, but they hadn’t been blooming yet.

“What’s with you and the flowers?” said a voice just behind her.

Laurel startled and turned. Nicole was standing only a few feet away.

“You scared me.” Laurel spread her hand over her racing heart. This path was roundabout to anywhere. “Are you following me?”

“Why would I?” Nicole broke off a tulip stem. “Does this flower mean something? In that language?”

Laurel’s eyes traced the lines of tulips. “Something about declaring love, I think.”

Nicole lifted a flower to her face. “Are they supposed to smell good?”

“Here. Hold the petals open like this.”

“I still don’t smell anything.”

“Let me try.” Laurel bent toward the one in Nicole’s hand. The scent was gorgeous, like simmering spices from faraway places. “Do you have a cold?”

“No,” Nicole said sullenly.

Laurel stared at the red petals in confusion. “Are we allowed to pick flowers?” she said, and immediately wished she could unsay it. The question sounded so babyish.

“Who cares?” said Nicole.

Laurel winced as Nicole broke off another bloom. “I—uh—just wondered.” She pulled herself away from the tulips and turned toward main quad.

“You’re making another fussy flower thing, aren’t you?” said Nicole.

“What?” Laurel turned around.

“At your presentation you said there was some old book in the library.”

“So?”

“Sooo, if the book’s really old, it’s in the tower, and you were just there, probably looking at it. So you’re making another bouquet,” Nicole said smugly. “Right?”

“Wrong,” Laurel said.

Nicole took a step closer. “You should make Tara one.”

“Why?”

“She wanted that one in class.”

Laurel threw up her hands. “But I’m not making any.”

Nicole frowned. “Whatever. It’s not like they matter.” Striding past Laurel, she waved to someone else and hurried across the quad, still holding the two tulips.

Laurel turned back to the red blooms. The book said they declared love, but how could anyone translate? After one more whiff of tulip, Laurel walked back to the quad and scanned the patchwork of blankets for someone she knew. Dodging a whirling Frisbee, she spotted Rose.

“Hey.” Rose looked up at Laurel through oversized sunglasses. “You look stressed,
mon amie
.”

“Always.” Laurel threw her backpack onto the blanket and sat down cross-legged.

“Fifteen minutes of sun will promote vitamin D production and boost your mood.”

Laurel had to smile. “Thank you, Dr. Rose.”

“No problem.” Rose lay back, her pale arms straight at her sides.

Laurel couldn’t lie down or slow her thoughts. “Hey, do you know anything about Violet Evelyn Mitchell?”

“Who?”

“Violet Evelyn. Our great-great-grandmother.”

“Enough with the flower names.” Rose leaned on her elbows. “If I ever have a daughter, I am absolutely
not
naming her after a stupid flower.”

“But there has to be a reason they
all
did it.”

“Family pressure,” said Rose. “My mom caved. Did you hear from her yet?”

Laurel shook her head. The only messages in her in-box were lame jokes her dad had forwarded from his BlackBerry. He required a daily e-mail exchange, but neither of them managed to talk about anything important.

“She’s always swamped during tax season,” said Rose. “Want me to remind her?”

“That’s okay.” Aunt Iris had said she needed to put in a full day at work, so she wasn’t picking them up for spring break until the next morning. Laurel watched the Frisbee zoom back and forth. “So, does your mom ever hear from Grandma?”

Rose shook her head. “Mom says she’s still grieving, but . . .”

“But what?”

Rose sucked in her lips. “I shouldn’t talk.”

“
Say
it.”

“Well, it’s like Grandma’s punishing us. Mom said she didn’t act like this when her own husband died. I mean, she has another daughter and grandchildren. Life goes on.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want it to.” Laurel lay back on the blanket and closed her eyes.

“You are such a loser, man.” A male voice yelled, so
nearly all the heads on the quad turned toward it. Laurel felt her hopes gather, until she recognized Everett.

“Spare me,” said Rose, flipping onto her stomach.

Laurel took inventory of the quad. Everett and his gang were hanging out by the cheerleaders, who were yelling in unison and shaking their butts. Ally was attempting to teach Kate how to throw a Frisbee while Tara and Nicole lurked and whispered.

That makes
one
thing Kate’s not good at, thought Laurel. A few more guys appeared intermittently, but none of them was Justin. Rose started snoring, so Laurel jumped up and yelled to Ally. The Frisbee came toward her fast and smooth, but she misjudged the timing and it hit her fingernails.

“Oww.” Laurel shook her hand and picked the Frisbee up.

“Nice catch, Whelan,” Tara snickered.

Laurel felt irritation flicker. She’d missed the catch, but she knew how to throw.

“Look out!” Nicole yelled. Tara barely had time to throw up her hands to block her face.

“Sorry,” Laurel said. “I thought
you
knew how to catch.”

“Perfect toss,” Ally said, jogging over to Laurel. “Wanna play?” They threw the Frisbee back and forth until a bank of clouds gradually darkened and cooled the quad. Laurel woke up Rose as the first raindrops fell.

Back in her room Laurel sent a quick e-mail to Aunt Iris, asking her the questions Rose hadn’t answered. Her aunt’s response arrived a few hours later.

Laurel scowled at the screen.
But Grandma’s given up on herself—on all of us
. Her aunt clearly didn’t have the birthday letters, but Laurel would ask her about Violet as soon as they were alone.

One thing seemed certain to Laurel: her mom wanted her to wonder about the language. The lyrical words had popped into her head like she’d always known them, but she must have learned them from her mom. Other memories—vital memories—had to be buried deep inside her. She had to find her way back into her mother’s
garden, even if it no longer existed. She pulled a sprig of rosemary from a vase and closed her eyes. She had to make this memory magic—if it was magic—all by herself.

“Please let me remember something,” she said. “Please, God,
please
.” Holding the stem to her nose, she raised her eyes to a botanical print and stared until its colors blurred. “Bright cut flowers, leaves of green—”

Like a match struck into flame, the tingling sparked and spread through her body. Energy hummed into her, and she shut her eyes to ride its wave . . . .

Flowers—red, white, and yellow—next to the sickbed filled Laurel’s vision
.
Her mom’s pale forehead was wrapped in a bright scarf, and her eyes were closed. But she was smiling at something Laurel had said.

Laurel kept reading from the book in her lap, even when she saw the sheer curtains flap upward on an otherwise still day, even as the rasp that was her mom’s breath ceased, even as the hospice nurse came to check her mom’s pulse, and as the nurse’s eyes fell heavy upon her. She kept reading when her dad came and kissed his wife’s cold lips and didn’t know what to do with his only child who was reading out loud to a dead woman. She kept reading because
The Little Prince
was one of their favorites. Because throughout the dying months, her mom had asked for chapters from that book.

“Read me the part about the geographer and what’s ephemeral.” And Laurel read.

“Read me the chapter about taming the fox.” And Laurel read.

When, on that last day, her dad took hold of the book and tried to pry it away, Laurel yanked it back and ran from the room and from their house . . . into the leaning sunflower tower they’d planted only months earlier when her mom was still strong enough to sit up in her garden and direct her daughter’s hands.

Her mother’s rosy presence, which Laurel sensed with every taut cell of her body, was still wrapped around her. Sheltered by the canopy of sunflowers, she read on, ignoring the urgent cries of her dad. She knew her mom was still listening, because her mom finished every book she ever started.

The familiar words on her tongue filled Laurel with peace and nearly hypnotized her into believing that her mom was still alive . . . still listening. The last picture. The last paragraph. Laurel read on more deliberately, savoring each syllable.

“Come back.” As soon as she’d released the syllables, Laurel longed to take them back forever unspoken—to hold them and her mom there. Come back. Laurel closed her eyes and held her breath for fear of reminding her mom where she now belonged.

But Heaven beckoned. Like a scarf unwrapping from her neck, the warmth, the peace slowly dissipated, leaving Laurel cold and exposed. She shivered and stared at the closed book in her lap . . . .

“No!” Laurel opened her eyes and hurled the rosemary across her dorm room. “I don’t want to remember that!” she screamed.

N
ew
blossoms—pink, white, and lavender—blanketed the azalea bushes on the path back from soccer after spring break. It was a tunnel of flowers—a fragrant and magical pathway. Watching Kate’s blonde ponytail swing from side to side, Laurel wondered if Kate—or anyone else—could smell the azaleas. She breathed in the fruity scent and wished, not for the first time, that whoever had left the mystery bouquet was at her side. That person
had
to be a kindred spirit. Those flowers had faded, and she’d told no one. Was that a mistake?

Over the break she’d asked Aunt Iris about Violet and if she knew the language. But her aunt had no answers and kept saying she was “knee deep” in tax returns. There were hardly any flowers growing in her
yard or even in her neighborhood. Most nights Rose stayed up late watching sci-fi movies with Robbie and then slept until noon. Laurel’s dad called from Brazil only once. Laurel took long walks by herself, searching for fresh rosemary, and even asked Aunt Iris to buy her some at the supermarket. But still she didn’t remember anything important. Laurel had been surprised by her own eagerness to get back to Avondale.

Now she jogged to catch up with Kate. Ally wasn’t back from break yet. “Hey, do you know any guys who like flowers?” she asked.

“You mean Willowlawn guys?”

“Yeah.”

“None that would admit it.”

Duh. Laurel switched tactics. “Have you ever had a class with Ms. Suarez?” She’d headed to the conservatory as soon as she got back from break, but no one had answered her knock, and the golf cart wasn’t parked there.

Kate bounced a soccer ball off her thigh and caught it. “We had to take her earth science class last year.”

“What’s she like?” asked Laurel.

“Fine, but kinda out there.” Kate bounced the ball off her other leg.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes I just don’t get what she’s talkin’ about.
She gets all excited about stuff, like watersheds and butterfly migration. Tara says she had a nasty divorce right before she came here to teach.”

“She’s so nosy,” said Laurel.

“Ms. Suarez?”

“No. Tara.” Laurel grabbed the ball out of the air, dropped it, and dribbled ahead.

Kate caught up and stole the ball back. “But Tara knows a ton. It’s . . . useful.”

Cringing with impatience, Laurel booted the ball loose from Kate and ran after it as it rolled toward the teacher cottages. She trapped it and gestured for Kate to catch up.

“Look!” she whispered. “Miss Spenser’s all dressed up.” The teacher was wearing heels and pearls on a Monday evening. “Maybe she has another date. C’mon.”

Miss Spenser was opening the driver’s door of her car.

“Hi, Miss Spenser. Where are you off to?” Laurel called out.

“You look elegant,” said Kate. “That lipstick’s a great color for you.”

“Why, thank you,” said Miss Spenser. “A—um—a friend is cooking dinner for me.”

“Who?” Laurel and Kate said simultaneously.

Miss Spenser shook her head. “You two pop up at the oddest times.”

Laurel and Kate exchanged a knowing smile.

“You can’t go
yet
,” said Laurel.

“Excuse me?” said Miss Spenser. “And why not?”

“Because you need flowers,” Laurel said. She pictured Miss Spenser carrying the red tulips that grew near the library.

“Riiight,” said Kate. “Exactly. You
need
some.”

“And why do I need flowers?” asked Miss Spenser.

Kate gestured like a game-show host. “Because they’ll complete your ensemble?”

“And you can thank the friend who’s making you dinner,” said Laurel. “You know: ‘Say it with flowers.’ You look empty-handed.”

Miss Spenser smiled. “Your earlier bouquet
was
lovely. How long might this take?”

“Ten minutes?” said Laurel.

“All right,” said Miss Spenser. “I could use a sip of water.”

“Great!” Laurel pulled Kate’s arm and whispered as they hurried away. “Run to the bathroom and get some wet paper towels. Please.”

“Cool,” said Kate. “Got it.”

Laurel let her legs lengthen into a sprint as she headed toward the library. She rounded the tower and gasped. Hundreds of tulips—red, yellow, and white—had opened their petals to the warming sun. Yellow tulips were for
“hopeless love” or friendship, she remembered, and she wasn’t sure about white, so she picked only red. A hint of their spiciness swirled around her, but she tried not to breathe it in. She gathered a dozen—enough to speak loudly for Miss Spenser’s shy heart.

Moments later Laurel was dashing back to the teacher cottages. Nicole couldn’t smell the tulips, but Laurel hadn’t said her words then. In her mind’s eye she pictured Professor Featherstone kissing Miss Spenser’s hand, the two of them twirling and waltzing with happiness.

“Bright cut flowers,” Laurel said, “leaves of green. Bring about what I have seen.” The scented energy rocketed up her arm and flowed through her body.

Kate was just ahead on the path, but so was Tara. Breathless, Laurel held the flowers farther from her face and hoped no one else could hear the humming that filled her ears.

Tara shook her head. “More flowers? Are you playing Little Red again?”

Kate glanced anxiously from Tara to Laurel. She handed the wet paper towels to Laurel who—her hands shaking visibly—wrapped them around the stems. The humming, the tingling inside her was building.

“I
like
Laurel’s flowers,” said Kate.

“You’re not supposed to pick them on school grounds,” said Tara.

Laurel mirrored her glare. “Are you going to tell on me?”

“I’m no snitch,” said Tara. “Just tell me who they’re for.”

Suddenly dizzy, Laurel looked pleadingly at Kate.

“Um,” Kate started, “she’s givin’ them to Ms. Suarez . . . who needs them for some meeting thingy at the conservatory. Right?”

“Right,” Laurel panted. Her hands were stinging, and she could barely stand still.

“La-ame,” said Tara. “But why should I expect more from you?”

“Got to run.” Laurel flashed Kate a look of gratitude and took off. Miss Spenser was waiting in her car, and Laurel almost tossed the tulips through the open window.

Miss Spenser caught them in her lap. “Oh! How wonderful. Where did you get these?”

The fierce energy sailed out of her, and Laurel sighed in relief. “By the library. There are tons blooming.”

“You know, students aren’t supposed to pick flowers.” Miss Spenser tried to look stern, but her finger was stroking one of the velvety petals.

“Keep the bouquet with you the whole time,” Laurel said. “Especially when you’re with the professor.”

Miss Spenser’s eyebrows lifted. “How do you know that I’m seeing him?”

Laurel felt like her mind had stumbled. “But you
are
, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but you’re becoming quite dictatorial these days,” Miss Spenser teased, suddenly girlish. “Thank you, dear. You’re an angel.”

Waving, Laurel watched the taillights disappear down the tree-lined road and crossed her fingers. This is so crazy, she thought, walking to dinner. But it feels right.

By the time Laurel reached the dining hall, Kate’s table was full. Laurel had a quick meal with Rose and Mina and then headed for the dorm’s basement, which held the mailroom. An occasional postcard from her dad was all she could realistically hope for, but she couldn’t stop herself from checking. The other letters her mom had promised were somewhere in this world.

“Where’s Tara?” Laurel whispered to Kate, who showed up moments later.

“Nicole’s room,” said Kate. She picked up a package and read the label. “Yay, it’s for me. My mom’s the queen of express mail.”

Laurel’s box was empty as usual. Her dad’s easy smile flashed into her mind, and she couldn’t help wondering if someone new was filling his time.

Kate also had a card in her box, which she handed to Laurel as they walked up the stairs. “My dad
adores
goofy cards,” she explained. The card was funny, but Laurel had to fake a laugh. Kate’s life seemed charmed. Tara’s door was closed, a sure signal she was still elsewhere.

“You got the tulips to Spinster Spenser, right?” Kate whispered.

Laurel nodded. “Want to come in for a sec?” She shut the door behind them.

“Wow,” said Kate. “Your room’s so neat. Mine’s a mess.”

Laurel shrugged. Her room was one of the few things in her life she had complete control over.

Kate sat on the bed and opened her package. She pulled out a tie-dyed shirt with a scoop neck and held it against her chest. “My mom has awesome taste, doesn’t she?”

Laurel could barely speak through the waves of jealousy. Her mom would
never
buy her another shirt. “Yeah. Great.”

Kate met Laurel’s eyes, and her mouth opened in recognition. “Oh. I’m sorry. You can borrow it any time, if you wanna.”

Tara’s distinctive laugh rang out in the hallway.

“Thanks for covering for me,” said Laurel.

“I hope she doesn’t find out,” Kate whispered. “It’s pretty rough on her bad side.”

“I know. I’m there.”

“All she talks about now is Everett. She’s in
luv
.” Kate wrinkled her nose and looked around. “Your room smells good. What is it?”

“Rosemary.” Laurel broke off a piece and handed it to Kate. “Here.”

“Mmm. It smells soft.”

“‘Rosemary to remember,’” said Laurel. The next phrases echoed through her mind.
With sage I esteem, thyme to be active
—but the last line still eluded her.

“‘Rosemary to remember,’” Kate repeated. “Can it
make
you remember?”

“Maybe,” said Laurel. “Here, smell it.”

Kate bent over the herb and sniffed obediently.

“Now close your eyes,” Laurel said. “Does it make you see anything or feel anything?”

“Like what?” said Kate, her eyes still closed.

“Like something you forgot about. Something you didn’t even know you knew.”

Kate blinked. “Is it supposed to?”

Laurel shrugged. “It’s probably just an old saying.”

“Can I keep it anyway?” asked Kate. “I need all the rememberin’ help I can get.”

“For what?”

“Pivotal dates in world history. That gigantic test is comin’ up. Did you forget?”

Laurel shook her head as she glanced at her homework calendar. She had more important things to remember. “Ugh. I’ve got a Latin quiz tomorrow. Want to study together?”

Kate shook her head. “I don’t take Latin.”

“But it’s required.”

“No, it’s not. I take Spanish.”

“So do I,” said Laurel, frowning. Latin had simply appeared on her Avondale schedule, and she hadn’t thought to question it.

Movie night was on Avondale’s campus that Friday. Tara had practically superglued herself to Kate, and Ally had a cold, so Laurel walked into the auditorium with Rose and Mina. She scanned the rows of heads for Justin. Kate—wedged between Tara and Nicole—waved as Laurel passed. Tara had stuck a red tulip over one ear.

Copycat. Laurel’s stomach tightened in fear. Did Kate spill to Tara?

Some Willowlawn guys were turned around in their seats facing Kate and Tara, and Laurel recognized one of them. The gorgeous one.

“Hey! You’re that flower girl,” Everett called out. “Laur-
elle
. Qué pasa?”

“Hi. Uh, fine.” Her face reddened as she sat down next to Rose.

To her surprise, Everett hopped over several guys, crossed the aisle, and knelt on the empty seat in front of her. “I’m kinda disappointed, Laur-
elle
.”

Thinking she smelled a prank, Laurel looked around
suspiciously. She wanted him gone until she noticed Tara watching them. “Why are you disappointed, Ev-rett?”

“You didn’t bring me a fuzzy-wuzzy.” Everett shook his head in phony distress. “Again. You know, I was really hoping for more from our relationship. Flowers are sooo special to me.”

Laurel knew better than to trust him, but she could play this game. “You call this a relationship? I haven’t heard from you in weeks. Not even a dandelion.”

Everett grinned. “You mean there’s still hope for me?”

Rose leaned forward. “Not in this lifetime, Ev.”

“Oh, hello, Rose.” Everett bowed with mock formality. “Nice seeing you. You leave your broomstick in your locker?”

Rose slapped the chair in front of her. “Ha-ha. You’re such a wit. Or is it twit
?
”

Everett held up his hands. “Oooh, Rose is thorny tonight. Get it?”

Laurel had to smile, but Rose scowled. “Like I haven’t heard that one.”

“Look, I’m just trying to get to know Laur-
elle
here,” said Everett. “The new girl.”

Rose shooed him. “Go sit with your little buddies, Ev. She’s my cousin.”

Everett glanced between them. “Now I see the family resemblance. Are you a flower girl, too, Rosie?”

“No,” Laurel said with a firmness that surprised even herself. “She’s not.”

Rose’s eyebrow lifted at her as the lights flashed.

“Got to go.” Everett stretched his hand toward Laurel. “Later, Laur-
elle
.”

But Laurel was struck with a jolting thought as she shook his hand. Everett was the only guy who seemed remotely interested in her flowers. Was there any way
he
had left the mystery bouquet? That made no sense.

“Congratulations,” Rose whispered. “You’ve attracted the attention of the most obnoxious, arrogant fathead on the whole Willowlawn campus.”

“Don’t hold back now,” Mina said.

“You know I can’t stand him,” hissed Rose.

Laurel tried to focus on the images flashing on the screen, but Everett’s antics confused her. She half expected the whole room to turn around and start laughing at her, like this was some premeditated prank.

When the lights finally went up, she spotted Justin at the rear of the room, but it was too crowded for her to catch up. They followed everyone to the dining hall, where popcorn and sodas were being served. Laurel’s eyes darted around as they grabbed bags and headed for some chairs in a corner.

“What’s the deal with you and Everett?” Laurel asked Rose.