“See?”
Now David started to laugh. He backed up against his locker and slid down onto the floor. Laurel joined him warily. “How bad is it that I don’t know whether to be mad or think that’s the coolest thing ever?” David asked. He slung an arm around her. “You did it, though. You did it right.”
Laurel smiled. “I did, didn’t I?” She laughed now. “I don’t suck.”
“You don’t suck,” David agreed, then pulled her in, kissing her forehead. “Good job.”
“Get a room!”
David’s head jerked up, but it was just Chelsea, who grinned at them from across the hallway before turning back to Ryan.
“I’m still not used to that,” David said, shaking his head with a smile.
“I know,” Laurel said, feeling intrusive watching someone else kiss, but unable to tear her eyes away.
“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.
Now David started to laugh. He backed up against his locker and slid down onto the floor. Laurel joined him warily. “How bad is it that I don’t know whether to be mad or think that’s the coolest thing ever?” David asked. He slung an arm around her. “You did it, though. You did it right.”
Laurel smiled. “I did, didn’t I?” She laughed now. “I don’t suck.”
“You don’t suck,” David agreed, then pulled her in, kissing her forehead. “Good job.”
“Get a room!”
David’s head jerked up, but it was just Chelsea, who grinned at them from across the hallway before turning back to Ryan.
“I’m still not used to that,” David said, shaking his head with a smile.
“I know,” Laurel said, feeling intrusive watching someone else kiss, but unable to tear her eyes away.
“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.
