Coming Up Roses Read Online Free PDF Page B

relief. It was just Poppy.
    “What are you pretending?” she asked. “Can I play, too?”
    “I … um …”
    Luckily, Mom called up the stairs at that moment. “Girls! Breakfast!”
    “How about later, Pops?” I told her.
    She shrugged. “Okay,” she said and took off.
    I turned back to the mirror for one last glance and frowned at my reflection. I took off the pink scarf I had looped around my neck.
Too Ashleyish,
I decided.
    My entire family was already at the breakfast table by the time I got downstairs.
    “So what shall we plant this morning, Poppy?” Dad asked.
    The rest of us had thought Gnomeland was cute enough, but Poppy had shown a real interest. “It reminds me of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” she’d said. “That’s a movie I saw when I was a little girl.” That made us all laugh, because she had seen it just two weeks before.
    “Lima beans!” she told Dad now.
    “Those take six hours to grow,” Dad replied. He frowned and checked his watch. “I’ll be between classes. Perfect! I can harvest them then.”
    “Yay!” said Poppy, clapping her hands.
    Rose, Aster, and I exchanged glances. Seriously, this gnome stuff was getting out of hand.
    Mom piled Dad’s plate with scrambled eggs and placed a kiss on top of his head. “You’re so funny,” she told him. “I love seeing you and Poppy having so much fun together.”
    “I got this game for you girls,” Dad told all of us.
    “Gee, thanks,” said Aster drily.
    I laughed, looking at my dad hunched over his phone, letting his eggs get cold. “I can tell.”
    After the usual waiting period, I headed to school with my sisters. I was relieved that Rose and Aster were listening to music together on Aster’s iPod so I didn’t have to talk at all. My thoughts kept returning to Hamilton, and whether he would say yes when I asked him to Homecoming.
If
I asked him.
    But I couldn’t ask him if I couldn’t find him. I searched high and low for Hamilton. Waited at his locker until I got too embarrassed and left. Scanned the cafeteria for him at breakfast.
    At lunch, I sat down at the table and unwrapped my ham and cheese on rye (with mustard) unenthusiastically.“I can’t find Hamilton anywhere,” I told my friends. “Weird, huh?”
    Heather made a face. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Hamilton wasn’t in math class this morning. It’s kind of gross. Rumor is he has … conjunctivitis.”
    Pink eye?
I thought.
    “Oh my gosh!” said Jessica. “Is he going to be okay?”
    “I would think so,” said Amy.
    “But won’t they need to take it out?” Jess asked.
    We all stared at her.
Huh?
    “Take out his eye?” I finally asked.
    “No, silly,” she said. “His — you know —” She pointed to her stomach.
    Complete silence. Finally, Becky said, keeping as straight a face as she could, “Not
appendicitis,
Jess,
conjunctivitis
.”
    At her blank stare, Becky explained, “Pink eye.”
    “Ewwwwwww,” we all said.
    Pink eye had been making the rounds of Sarah Josepha Hale Middle School for weeks. It was an uncomfortable infection that brought itchy, watery, pink eyes. Hamilton would be out for a couple of days waiting for the antibioticsto clear it up. I felt relieved for my reprieve, sorry about Hamilton’s itchy eyeballs, and a little grossed out, too. Not a stellar combination.
    That afternoon, I trudged home alone. Rose was at auditions for the play. Aster was, shockingly enough, going to the mall with her new friends. Poppy was at a playdate, and Dad had office hours. I decided to head to Petal Pushers to see how things were coming along.
    I paused to look inside the front window of our cozy little store. Mom’s latest window display was a fun fall combination of cheerful yellow and red zinnias; Chinese lanterns with their orange, papery seedpods; and these fluffy, white flowers called bunny tails. Inside, I saw Mom, a goofy little smile on her face as she finished up a simple yet stunning arrangement of orange orchids. It