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won a trophy.”
    Mim leans against her truck. “Last year he cheated, Doria. His float design was taken from one in the Rose Bowl Parade. The designs have to be original. You know that.”
    This tall lady isn’t happy. “Mim, Coleman Crudup is a major force in this town. We need to keep him happy.”
    Mim adjusts her purple scarf. “I believe in taking care of everyone in town, and those who respect the rules should get precedence at the festival over those who don’t.”
    I think Mim needs some help, so I walk up. The tall lady looks at me, not impressed. “You’re the granddaughter. . . .”
    â€œI’m Anna, ma’am.” I smooth my Kids Act Out shirt from the Children’s Drama Workshop.
    â€œI hear you’re amusing. . . .”
    I wiggle my nose. People love this in Philadelphia.
    This woman stares at me.
    â€œYou must show us your full range of talents sometime, dear. I love to be entertained.”
    I smile.
Really?

    Mim is driving down Rose Street: a man hangs twinkling lights shaped like flowers over Mabel’s Cafe, a giant winking sunflower turns on top of Crudup’s Country Market, Star Nails is offering 20 percent off on all flower nail designs from now until the festival. I look at my nails, which I’ve chewed to stubs.
    â€œEverything is bigger than I remember, Mim.”
    I haven’t been here for the festival in years—I was always at the Children’s Drama Workshop summer program.
    â€œAnd you won’t believe the crowds that show up. We spent a lot of time in Rosemont trying to figure out what’s the best gift we’ve got to offer that might bring in some tourism. We always had fine gardens, so we built from there, and now”—she laughs—”we’ve created amonster.”
    She turns down a winding road lined with bushes shaped like animals.
    â€œWho did those, Mim?”
    â€œBurke.”
    â€œYou’re kidding!” I look at a bird, a dog . . .
    â€œThat boy’s got deep rivers.” Mim pulls into the parking lot of the Rosemont Library. We get out of the truck, walk past a bush shaped like a camel and up the steps. “You’ll hear a lot more about this while you’re here, Anna, but I want to maintain the heart of this town and this festival. Not grow it too big, to where we can’t handle things. But some people keep pushing for more. . . .”
    â€œLike Coleman Crudup?”
    Mim stops for a second and looks so tired. “He’s the richest man in town, and he expects to get his way.”

Six
    â€œI hear you were a cranberry.”
    The boy is wearing a T-shirt that reads POSSIBLE GENIUS , and he is holding a weird pink hat with petals.
    I look at the hat. “Four shows a day on the weekends. I had a nine-week run.”
    He twirls the hat. “Winnie Dugan asked me to talk to you. She’s in an extra-long meeting with people who drive her crazy.” Mim’s in that meeting. Winnie is one of the librarians here and Mim’s best friend.
    The boy holds up two costumes. Both look lame. “We’re trying to get kids to help get out the word about the festival, and Winnie wondered if you’d like to be a flower and pass out information.”
    A kid dressed like a sunflower walks by, not doing much with the role.
    â€œDaisy or petunia?” the possible genius asks.
    As a professional, I need hard facts to make this choice. I take out my phone, look up daisies and petunias.
    Points for daisies: simple beauty, popularity. Daisies cheer people up.
    Points for petunias: toughness, they keep blooming in cold weather. You can count on a petunia.
    That settles it. “Petunia,” I tell him.
    He hands me the pink costume with the weird petal hat and points to the bathroom. “You can change in there, Petunia.”
    â€œMy name’s Anna. We’re doing this now?”
    â€œYou have