Coming Up Roses Read Online Free PDF

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 aMcIlhenny 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.
    He was thirteen years old, so I doubted he’d be a professional. But I let it go.
    Nice!
I typed.
    I’m looking forward to taking some shots of the foliage, and also some action shots at the football game.
    Sounds good!
I wrote.
    Just wondering — is there anything at McIlhenny that’s one of a kind that would be fun to photograph?
    I was stumped.
The statue of Sarah Josepha Hale?
I thought.
The Dairy Queen where Elvis Presley allegedly ate three Peanut Buster Parfaits?
Then I remembered a random piece of information that Dad had shared with me on my last visit to the university. I was sure this was something that Nicholas wouldn’t be able to be an expert on. With a smile I typed:
You’re in luck! McIlhenny Library has a new exhibit on Tupperware!
    Silence. I grinned. I had stumped him!
    That’s right!
he wrote back.
Earl Silas Tupper was from New Hampshire!
    Sheesh, is there anything this kid doesn’t know?
I wondered.
    Del, you made my day!
he wrote.
Believe it or not, I love Tupperware.
    Oh, I believe it,
I thought. One thing was for sure. Nicholas was still a totally dorktastic know-it-all.
    Ugh. I could hardly wait for his visit to be over and he hadn’t even arrived yet.

Chapter Four
    “Hello, Hamilton, would you be interested in accompanying me to the Homecoming game?” I asked my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
    No, too formal.
    I tried again.
    “Hey, Hamilton, want to go to the big game next weekend? With me?”
    “Why, certainly, Delphinium,” I replied in a deep, didn’t-sound-very-much-like-Hamilton-at-all voice.
    “Hey, Del,” a voice said from behind me.
    I spun around, mortified. Then I breathed a sigh of