Coming Up Roses by Catherine R. Daly Page B

was quiet, as usual. Then she asked, “Do you really think we’re going to have to sell the store?”
    I felt the familiar pang as soon as I thought about our family business becoming a trendy coffee shop. “I don’t know, Aster. I sure hope not.”
    “There’s something else that’s bothering me,” she said. “Del, I’m worried about Rose.”
    I nodded. “She has been acting weird lately. Kind of rude.”
    Aster shoved her hands into her pockets. “And sad,” she said. “I miss the old Rose.”
    “I know,” I told her. “But I wouldn’t worry. She’s going through a rough patch. Not getting the role she wanted in the play. And I think she might be a little jealous of your new friends. She’s used to being the popular one. It will work itself out.”
    “You really think so?” Aster said. “It’s just weird — she was part of this big group of friends in our old school, but they don’t seem to hang out together anymore. I think maybe she’s … lonely.”
    I looked at her worried, pale face, framed by her dark hair. I smiled. “She’s Rose. Everything will be fine. She’ll make new friends. We just have to give her time.”
    “I hope you’re right,” said Aster.
    When we got home, Aster headed upstairs and I went into the kitchen, where I found Mom, Nicholas, Poppy, and Debbie all bunched around a laptop.
    “We’re looking at Nicholas’s photos,” said Mom. “Come see. They’re incredible!”
    “I uploaded the pictures from today at your school,” Nicholas told me.
    He put on a little slide show for us. There I was, shelving my books in my locker. Alphabetically. There was the lunch lady, a big grin on her face as she handed over the oatmeal. The back of a kid looking out a window at the swirling fall leaves. A close-up of my science teacher, all bushy eyebrows and bow tie, his finger in the air making an important point. Two girls whispering together, a look of surprise on the second girl’s face.
    They were good. Very good.
    “You have quite an eye, Nicholas,” said Mom.
    And there was a picture of me in the cafeteria that morning. I hadn’t realized it had been taken. I had a funny, faraway look in my eyes.
    “What was I …” I started to ask.
    “Oh, that’s when you were staring at that guy —”
    “Who was eating that really big … bagel!” I finished lamely, my cheeks burning. I knew exactly which guy I was staring at. Hamilton.
    I wanted to change the subject. Immediately. “So, let’s see some of your other work,” I said.
    “Show the ones from the football game we went to last weekend,” Debbie suggested.
    “Good idea,” said Nicholas. He opened up another folder and started another slide show.
    There was a close-up of a cheerleader in mid-yell. A dazed-looking football player, his helmet in his hands. A shouting girl, her face painted half red and half white, wearing the hugest …
    I jabbed my finger at the screen. “Wait! What
is
that?” I asked.
    Nicholas stopped the slide show and returned to the photo in question.
    “Holy guacamole!” said Poppy. We all stared in disbelief. The girl was wearing the largest corsage I had ever seen in my life. It was covered with ribbons and trinkets. It was way too big to pin on, so it hung around her neck like an enormous necklace. And it was made with fake flowers.
    “That’s a mum corsage,” explained Nicholas.
    “But it’s so … huge,” Mom said.
    Debbie laughed. “You know what they say — everything is bigger in Texas!”
    I studied the ginormous corsage, an idea beginning to form.
    “Hey!” said Nicholas. “Why doesn’t Petal Pushers make mum corsages to sell at the big game?” he asked.
    “No, wait,” I protested. “That’s what I was thinking!”
    “What a great idea, Nicholas!” said Rose, smirking at me.
    Mom grimaced. “I don’t know. I’m not sure if such huge corsages are going to go over so well here in preppy New England.”
    “I think you should give it a try,” Nicholas