“I wonder how long before they have to come up for air.”
“Be nice,” Laurel said, just a touch of seriousness to her tone. “She’s happy.”
“I hope so.”
“We should do something with them. I mean, the four of us.”
“Like a double date?”
“Yeah. We haven’t done anything all together since they hooked up. I think we should. I like Ryan. He has great taste in girls.”
David laughed. “My taste is better.”
Laurel raised her eyebrows. “I think anyone who has kissed me would have to agree that I have the best taste of all.”
“Not all of us can taste like nectar,” David said teasingly, his hand at the back of her neck as he kissed her. “You have an unfair advantage,” he murmured against her mouth, his hand sliding down her back and pressing her against him.
“Ow!” she said, pulling away.
David looked down at her, confusion plain on his face. “I’m sorry?” he said—both a pronouncement and a question.
Laurel glanced around the hall. “I’m getting ready to blossom,” she whispered. “Another two or three days, I think.”
David grinned, then coughed to try to hide it. It didn’t work.
“It’s okay,” Laurel said. “I know you like it. And since I know what it is this time around, it doesn’t bother me, really. It’s just sensitive.”
“Well, I’ll be careful,” he promised, leaning in for another kiss.
They both jerked as the door to the chemistry lab flew open, smacking loudly against the wall beside it. The earsplitting clang of the room’s smoke detector filled the hall as blue smoke billowed out of the doorway and several students emerged from the cloud, coughing. “Out, out!” Ms. Pehrson’s voice sounded above the din as she shooed a bunch of sophomores from the classroom. The blue haze spread down the hallway and somebody pulled the fire alarm, setting off the entire building’s cacophonous alert system.
David looked at the blue haze and the students running toward the exits. He stood and helped Laurel to her feet. “Well,” he said wryly, his mouth close to her ear, “whose experiment do you think that was?”
They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Laurel stood in front of the mirror in her room, staring at the pale blue petals that rose just above her shoulders. After her dad’s return from the hospital last year, their family had decided that home would be a safe haven for Laurel—that she would never have to hide what she was. But agreeing to that and actually walking downstairs without hiding her blossom were two very different things. She had to leave for school in half an hour; maybe it would be understandable if she came down with her petals already bound.
But her dad would be disappointed.
Of course, her mom might be relieved.
Laurel looked down at the sash in her hand. This year she was spared the fear of having some strange disease, but for some reason, the trepidation she associated with her blossom hadn’t really abated.
Clenching her teeth, Laurel wound the sash around her wrist. “I’m not ashamed of what I am,” she said to her reflection. But her stomach still twisted as she turned the doorknob and opened the door, her petals spread out behind her for everyone to see.
She tiptoed halfway down the stairs, then changed her mind—not wanting to appear as though she were sneaking around her own house—and clomped down the rest of the steps.
“Wow!”
Laurel’s eyes shot up to meet David’s. His gaze flitted to her exposed navel and snapped back up to her face. Leaving her petals unbound had a tendency to slightly raise the front of her shirt as well as the back. David seemed to appreciate the effect, but Laurel had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to have her shirt bunched up around her ribs, crowding the tiny leaves at the base of her blossom. Several of the tops she’d brought back from Avalon had low-cut backs, perfectly suited for wearing while in bloom, but what she needed today was concealment.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’m glad to see you too,” David said, raising one eyebrow.
“Sorry,” Laurel said, squeezing his hand. “You surprised me.”
“I knew you were close yesterday; thought I’d stop by and offer support. Or whatever.”
Laurel smiled and hugged him. It did feel better to have him here. Even if he was really here to get an early peek at her new blossom.
In the kitchen, Laurel’s mother fussed with the coffeemaker, studiously avoiding Laurel’s gaze. From the corner of her eye, however, Laurel caught her mother sneaking furtive glances as she poured fresh coffee into a take-along cup. Nothing had changed after their fight at the store. No apology but no added awkwardness, either. It was as if Laurel had never showed up that day, which was somehow worse. Their relationship seemed to increasingly revolve around ignoring problems in hopes that they would go away. But they never did.
“Where’s Dad?” Laurel asked.
Her dad shook his paper from the couch, just out of sight through the living room doorway. “I’m here,” he said distractedly.
“She blossomed,” David called.
Laurel brought one hand to her forehead as she heard her father get quickly to his feet. “Oh, yeah? Let’s see.”
“Tattletale,” she whispered to David.
Her mom grabbed a canvas tote and passed by as her dad was coming through the doorway. “I’m headed to the store,” she said, her eyes avoiding his.
“But don’t you—?”
“I’m late,” she insisted, though her voice wasn’t sharp. It sounded strange to Laurel, almost like she wanted to stay and couldn’t bring herself to. She and her dad both watched her all the way out the door.
Laurel’s eyes stayed glued on the door, willing it to open; for her mom to come back.
“Whoa,” her dad said, refocusing on Laurel. “That…that’s huge.”
“I did tell you,” Laurel said, knowing that if she were human her face would be bright red right now. Being a plant was not without advantages.
“Sure. But, I thought…” He scratched the back of his neck. “Honestly, I thought you were exaggerating a little.” He circled Laurel as her embarrassment grew. “How did you hide this from us?”
Excellent timing. “Like this,” she said, pulling her sash off her wrist and binding the petals around her ribs and waist. She pulled her blousy peasant top down over it and dropped her waist-length hair over the whole thing. “Ta-da!”
He nodded. “Impressive.”
“Yeah,” Laurel said, grabbing David’s hand. “Let’s go.”
“What about breakfast?” her dad said as she picked up her backpack off the table.
Laurel shot him a look.
“Sorry, habit.”
“My car or yours?” David asked after Laurel shut the door.
“Yours. Driving with a smooshed blossom can’t be very comfortable.”
“Good point.” David held the passenger door open for her. Even after almost a year, he never forgot.
“Well,” David said, firing up the engine, “we’ve got about half an hour before first bell. Shall we go straight to school?” His hand slid onto her thigh. “Or somewhere else first?”
Laurel smiled as David leaned over and kissed her neck.
“Mmm, I have missed that smell.” His lips traveled up her neck to her jawline.
“David, my dad is peeking through the window at us.”
“That’s okay with me,” he murmured.
“Yeah, ’cause he’s not your dad. Get off!” she said, laughing.
David leaned back and shifted into reverse. “I guess I can hold on till I get a block or two away.” He looked at the house and waved at the small gap in the living room curtains.
“David!”
The gap disappeared.
“You are so bad.”
He smirked. “Your parents love me.”
And they did. Laurel had always thought that would be a good thing. Som
etimes, though, she wasn’t so sure.
THIRTEEN
THE NEXT DAY, LAUREL AND CHELSEA SAT ON THE porch swing in front of Laurel’s house, lazily swaying back and forth. “I hate Saturdays,” Chelsea said, her head hanging over one arm of the swing, her eyelids closed against the sun.
“Why?” Laurel asked, similarly draped.
“’Cause boyfriends always have to work.”
“Sometimes you have races.”
“That’s true.”
“And besides, you get to come over and hang out with me. Isn’t that worth something?” Laurel said, poking her.
Chelsea opened her eyes and looked at Laurel skeptically. “You don’t kiss as good as Ryan.”
“You don’t know that,” Laurel said with a smile.
“Not yet,” Chelsea said, leaning toward Laurel.
Laurel swatted at her arm and they both leaned back again, giggling.
“You do have a point,” Chelsea said. “We don’t hang out as much anymore; aside from lunchtime, I mean.”
“And you mysteriously disappear about half the time,” Laurel said with a laugh.
“I’m a busy girl,” Chelsea said in mock defense. “Oh, hey! Ryan’s having a big party at his house next Friday. You and David are invited. It’s the old ‘say good-bye to summer’ thing but minus the cold water, scratchy sand, and smoky fire.”
“He’s a little late,” Laurel said, forgetting that not everyone was hyperaware of the change from summer to fall.
“Meh. Close enough. It’s still a good enough reason to have a party. Ryan has the best party house. Surround sound, big rec room. It’ll be awesome. You guys should come.”
“Sure,” Laurel said, accepting the invitation for the both of them. David wouldn’t mind; she was the one who usually didn’t like late-night things.
“Awesome.” Chelsea squinted at the sun. “Is it five o’clock yet?”
Laurel laughed. “I’d be surprised if it’s even three.”
Chelsea stuck out her bottom lip dramatically. “I miss Ryan.”
“That’s good. You should miss your boyfriend.”
“I used to mock girls who practically swooned when their boyfriends walked by. I always wanted to tell them to grow a personality and stop letting someone else define them. Sometimes I did tell them.”
Laurel rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
“And now I’m one of them,” Chelsea said with a groan.
“Except that you have a personality.” Chelsea had more personality than almost anyone Laurel knew.
“I hope so. But, seriously, he’s become such a big part of my life.” She lifted her head to look at Laurel again. “Did you know that the two races he’s come to this year have both been personal bests for me? I run faster when he’s around. And I thought I was running as fast as I could before. I’m a scoring runner on our team now. He did that to me!” She put her hand to her forehead and mocked fainting back against the swing. “He’s wonderful.”
“I am so glad, Chelsea. You deserve a great guy, and Ryan seems to really like you.”
“Yeah, he does. Weird, huh?”
Laurel just snorted.
“Do you think we’re moving too fast?” Chelsea asked seriously.
Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Well, that depends. How fast are you moving?”
“Oh, nothing like that,” Chelsea said, waving away her concern. “I mean more like maybe I’m getting in too deep too quickly.”
“How so?”
“I was registering for the November SAT the other day—”
“November?” Laurel interrupted. “How come November? David and I aren’t taking it till spring.”
“Chronic overachiever,” Chelsea said dismissively. “Anyway, it asked which schools I wanted my scores sent to. And I said…?” She looked at Laurel.
“Harvard. You’ve always wanted to go to Harvard,” Laurel said without even having to think about it.
“I know, exactly,” Chelsea said, sitting all the way up now and crossing her legs beneath her. “But I went to write Harvard and I was like, Well, wait. Ryan’s going to UCLA; Boston’s really far away from UCLA. Do I want to go that far away from him? And I totally didn’t write it down.”
“You had your scores sent somewhere else?” Laurel sat up straight. “Where? Stanford? You hate Stanford.”
“No, I just left it blank. I haven’t finished it yet.” She paused. “Do you feel this way? About David?”
“Yep,” Laurel said. “I would totally not go to Harvard for David.”
“Sure,” Chelsea drawled. “That’s because you want to go to Berkeley, like your parents, right?”
The question took Laurel completely off guard. She nodded, vaguely, but her thoughts were in Avalon. There was a place for her at the Academy—tuition-free, room and board, no SATs required, and even though Jamison wanted her to help watch for trolls now, she assumed the faeries would expect her at the Academy full-time pretty soon. But how could she tell Chelsea that?
“Let’s say David goes back East. Would you throw away your plans and follow him there?”
That’s two years away, Laurel told herself, attempting to quell her rising discomfort. She gave a little shrug.
“But you’d think about it, right?”
“Maybe,” Laurel said automatically. But it was so much more than just a question of following David a thousand miles. Following David would mean leaving behind Avalon, the Academy, everything. Would going to the Academy mean not choosing David? It was a new thought, and not one Laurel liked.
“So do you think you and David will be together forever? Because some people do that,” Chelsea added in a rush, speaking more to herself than to Laurel. “They meet in high school and it’s just like—click!—soul mates.”
“I don’t know,” Laurel said honestly. “I can’t picture myself ever not loving David. I just don’t see us breaking up.” But torn apart? Suddenly that seemed like a distinct possibility.
“You said the L-word,” Chelsea said with a grin, pulling Laurel away from her dreary thoughts.
“Why, yes—yes, I did.” Laurel laughed.
“You’re in love with David?”
Just thinking about it made Laurel’s whole body feel warm. “Yeah. I am.”
“So do you guys…you know?”
There went that fuzzy moment. “Not…exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means not exactly,” Laurel insisted stubbornly.
Chelsea was silent for a while. Laurel hoped she wasn’t dwelling too hard on the precise state of Laurel and David’s physical relationship. “I think I might love Ryan,” Chelsea finally said, relieving Laurel’s tension. “That’s why this whole Harvard thing is throwing me. It’s what I’ve wanted to do since I was, like, ten. Go to Harvard, major in journalism, be a reporter. But now, I can hardly bear the thought of being away from Ryan.”
“Maybe he should follow you to Harvard.”
“Don’t think I haven’t considered that,” Chelsea retorted. “He wants to be a doctor like his dad, and Harvard’s got a great med program.”
“So send your scores to Harvard,” Laurel said, doing her best to focus on Chelsea’s problems instead of her own. “You have almost two years before you have to decide. A lot can happen in that time. And, seriously, if you have to give up a dream to be with a guy, maybe you’ve chosen the wrong guy.”
Chelsea’s brow furrowed and she fiddled with her fingers. “And what if the time comes and the dream doesn’t seem worth it?”
David’s and Tamani’s faces seemed to float before Laurel’s eyes, the Academy looming in the background. She shrugged and forced the images from her mind. “Then maybe it was the wrong dream.”
Ryan’s house was vibrating with music when Laurel and David pulled up on Friday night. “Wow,” Laurel said. The three-story, bluish-gray house had a slate roof and bright white shutters. A large set of picture windows adorned the front and looked o
ut onto a beautifully landscaped yard with dogwoods lining a rock-paved walk and ivy crawling up the south wall. The house was right up against the rocky shoreline, and Laurel suspected they had an incredible view off the back deck. “This is really beautiful.”
“Yep. It’s nice to be the only child of the town cardiologist.”
“I see that.” They walked hand-in-hand up the walk and through the front door. Since it was a small town and a big house, the party wasn’t too crowded, but it was full enough. And where people didn’t fill the corners, music did. Laurel already felt a dull ache in her ears.
“Over there,” she said, raising her voice over the music and pointing toward Ryan and Chelsea. Ryan looked fairly normal in a bright red T-shirt and Hollister jeans, but Chelsea had outdone herself. She had pulled her curls up in a high ponytail and was wearing long, swinging gold earrings. Dark blue jeans with cute black sandals and a black tank top with shiny beading set off the tan she’d gotten that summer.
Probably on the deck of Ryan’s pool.
“Look at you!” Laurel said as they approached. She pulled Chelsea into a hug. “You look awesome!”
“You too,” Chelsea said.
But Laurel was already wishing she hadn’t had to wear the long, empire-waist, tie-back blouse with a rather large bow that covered up the bump from her blossom. It was warm, and she was already starting to feel confined.
“Don’t you just adore this house?” Chelsea exclaimed, pulling Laurel a little off to the side.
“It’s gorgeous.”
“I love to come here. With three brothers under twelve, we can’t have very many breakable things at my house,” Chelsea said. “But here? They put statues on the coffee table. At dinner the glasses are made of—would you believe it—glass.”
They both laughed.
Chelsea turned her head to watch David and Ryan talking and laughing together. As if feeling themselves being observed, they both turned to look over at the girls. Ryan winked.
“Sometimes when I see the two of them together like this I wonder how Ryan could have been there for so many years and I never saw him.” She turned to Laurel. “What was I thinking?”
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