Forget-Her-Nots (11 page)

Following the path they’d created in the crowd, Laurel found Robbie on the outskirts and grabbed his arm. “Here. Tara wants you to smell this.” She held the basil leaves under his nose and said her words quickly.

Robbie batted her hand away. “I can’t find her.”

“No, seriously,” said Laurel. “Tara
really
wants you to smell this.” She bent a leaf and rubbed it against his upper lip.

“Yuck,” said Robbie. “What is it?”

“Basil. Tara really likes it.”

“She hates me.” Robbie rubbed his forehead. “My head hurts.”

“Sniff again,” said Laurel. “It’s good for headaches, too. You want something to eat?” She led him to the
food tables and pressed a hot dog into his hand. She crumpled the rest of the basil and pushed it close to his nose.

“Cut it out!” Robbie pulled away from her.

“Where’s Tara?” Laurel asked.

“Who cares?” Robbie’s mouth was jammed with hot dog. “Can I have ’nother?”

“Have all you like.” My antidote worked perfectly, she thought.

“Laurel!”

Turning toward the voice, Laurel saw Kate waving both hands at her. She was standing in a group of five boys, including Justin and his curly-haired friend. Laurel’s stomach fluttered, and she dropped the basil as she threaded her way to them.

Kate sidled close. “Your flowers are awesome.” Then she turned to the curly-haired boy, twirling her bouquet. “Alan, have you met Laurel? And this is Justin. And Ben. And Casey. And Hugh.”

Omigod
, Laurel wanted to say. The guys were literally hovering around Kate, jostling for her attention. Laurel’s hands were empty and smelled like basil. She wiped them on her jean skirt.

“Hey, Justin?” she said, leaning into his line of vision. “How’s it going?”

Kate noticed her and smiled mischievously. “Here.”
She pulled out one of her lilac fronds and tucked it behind Laurel’s ear. “You need a flower, too.”

Laurel’s face flushed, and her hand shot up to catch the bloom as it fell from her hair. She could kick herself for not grabbing something in the garden.

Justin turned toward her. “Is that lilac?”

“Yeah,” Laurel said.
For the first emotions of love
.

“My mom has lilac bushes,” he explained. “She puts the flowers all over the house.”

“Cool.” Laurel raised the flower to her nose, but its scent seemed muted.

Kate touched Alan’s arm as she laughed. He’s winning, Laurel thought. Suddenly jealous, she wanted to move closer to Justin, to touch him and laugh together at private jokes, but he’d turned back to Kate. Laurel frowned at his ponytail as someone grabbed her from behind.

“Robbie ditched me,” Rose whispered. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“I took care of that problem,” said Laurel, keeping an eye on Justin. “He’s fine.”

Rose’s eyebrows drew together. “You’re positive? He’s totally not himself.”

“Positive,” said Laurel. “I’ll explain later.”

“You’ve got an awful lot to explain,” Rose said. “This better be—”

Justin lunged to grab a yellow Frisbee that had shot across the quad.

“Did someone just aim that at my head?” Rose craned her neck.

Laurel stepped back to Justin’s side. “Nice catch,” she said.

Justin flipped the Frisbee between his hands. “I play Ultimate sometimes. It’s all in the wrist.” He flicked his hand, and the Frisbee glided smoothly away.

“Cool,” said Kate. “Can you teach
me
to toss like that? I stink.”

“Sure,” said Justin, smiling only at Kate. “When do you want a lesson?”

“I play Ultimate, too,” said another boy, whose name Laurel had already forgotten. “I’ll teach you.”

“Or I can,” said Alan, putting his arm around Kate’s shoulder.

Kate was beaming, but Laurel felt a wicked glare rise up. This was too much. Kate’s smile faltered when she met Laurel’s eyes.

“ATTENTION WILLOWLAWN STUDENTS. THE FIRST SHUTTLE BUS WILL DEPART IN FIVE MINUTES.”

“Uh, sorry, Kate,” said Justin. “We’ve got to go. Alan and I have a massive project due Monday, but we couldn’t skip May Day. Can we do a lesson later?”

“For sure,” said Kate. “And Laurel will come, too.”

“Yeah, sure,” Justin said, but he didn’t even glance Laurel’s way. He punched Alan’s arm. “Yo, Alan. We got to go, man.”

“I’ll catch up,” said Alan, his eyes on Kate.

“You can’t,” said Justin. “We have to meet with Snarly Yarley in half an hour. Chemistry project?”

“Why are all these guys hanging on Kate?” Rose whispered to Laurel. “It’s like she has pheromone perfume.”

Laurel blinked at the tussie. Pheromone perfume? Chemistry project?

Kate waved to Alan as Laurel stood frozen. Justin had never even looked back.

“Oh, Justin,” Rose said in a high, mocking voice, and clasped her hands together. “You’re so big and strong and talented. Will you teach little me to play Frisbee?”

“Shut up,” said Laurel. Kate lifted her tussie to her face, but Laurel pushed it down. “Careful. That thing is dangerous.”

“
D
on’t
you think Alan’s adorable?” Kate said between bites of hamburger. She’d used the I-have-to-go-to-the-bathroom excuse on the leftover guys, but she, Laurel, and Rose were hiding behind some bushes anyway. Laurel didn’t want to be harassed by Tara, either, and she made Kate throw away her tussie.

Kate went on. “He’s so funny and—”

“But does he have good teeth?” asked Rose.

“Huh?” said Kate.

“She’s making fun of you,” said Laurel.

“Am not,” protested Rose.

Laurel scowled at her.

“Okay, a little.”

Laurel was finishing an ice cream cone, but she felt
ready to snap at anyone. Part of her was excited that their experiment had been a success, but most of her wasn’t. She tried to convince herself that Justin was attracted to Kate
only
because of the flowers, but Kate was tall and blonde and gorgeous. The flowers were like icing. Laurel couldn’t help wondering if her life would be entirely different now if she’d kept that gardenia.

Rose bumped Laurel’s arm. “So start explaining. What happened with Robbie?”

Laurel held up her palm for silence. “Wait a sec.” The professor and Miss Spenser were walking toward the forest. She was still holding her tussie, vibrant with gardenia magic.

Kate clapped her hands. “They’re goin’ to the gazebo—to the kissin’ couch.”

“You’ve got kissing on the brain,” said Rose.

Kate grabbed Laurel’s arm. “Let’s follow. Aren’t you dyin’ to see if he got the message?”

“Yeah,” said Laurel, but she couldn’t shake her disappointment. Romance and love were swirling all around, yet nothing seemed to touch her. “I just—”

“Come on.” Kate tugged on Laurel’s arm. “We have to get there first to hide.”

“Stop!” Rose said. “Will someone puh-leeeze explain what’s going on?”

“Later,” said Laurel impatiently.

“But—but—” Rose sputtered.

Laurel and Kate ducked low behind the bushes and hurried toward the gazebo.

“This path is shorter,” said Kate. The pine needles were soft beneath Laurel’s shoes, and the crisp scent of the trees was energizing. She took a deeper breath. A stick snapped behind her, and she turned to see Rose rushing after them.

Laurel felt a pinch of guilt about spying, but she was too curious to stop now. She plunged into the high meadow moments after Kate. Pastel wildflowers dotted the knee-high grasses. At the top of the slope, the green-and-white gazebo stood unoccupied.

“Quick,” said Laurel. Kate squealed as they scrambled into a tangle of branches.

Rose arrived seconds later. “What are we doing?” she begged breathlessly.

“Spying,” Laurel whispered. “Shhh.”

With its privacy and views of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the “kissing couch” was the most romantic spot on campus. Tales of amorous conquests—of both victories and defeats—zoomed through the corridors with fiber-optic speed on most Mondays.

Just then they heard voices, and footsteps echoed on the wooden steps. The wicker couch creaked above their heads, and they all hunkered low.

“This is a lovely spot,” Professor Featherstone said in his genteel drawl.

“It is,” said Miss Spenser, whose voice had more of a lilt than usual. “You should see the sunsets from here.”

Laurel longed to peek even though she could picture Miss Spenser sitting ladylike straight with her knees pressed together and her feet crossed.

“There’s also a marvelous view of the valley from the other side of that hill,” added Miss Spencer. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Some day, Sheila,” said the professor. “But not now. Now we have something far more important to discuss.”

Kate’s mouth sprang open, and she squeezed Laurel’s hand too tightly. Laurel pressed her index finger to her lips.

“Sheila . . .” The professor cleared his throat. “After Dolores died, I had few expectations for the rest of my life. But when I first saw you in the dining hall with that bouquet, you looked like a portrait. You look like one today with these gardenias.”

Kate pumped her fist, but Laurel was concentrating.
Bright cut flowers, leaves of green, bring about what I have seen.
She closed her eyes and imagined a wedding in a grand church, with sunlight slanting through stained glass windows.

“My soul smiles whenever I see you,” he said. “This may be sudden and impulsive, but Sheila Spenser, will you honor me with your hand in marriage?”

There was complete silence. Neither Laurel nor Kate nor Rose dared to breathe for fear of interrupting the spell.

“Of course, Luke.” Miss Spenser’s voice quivered with emotion. “Of course.”

Laurel clamped both hands over her own mouth to keep from exploding with delight.

“Omigod,” Kate mouthed silently to her.

“Now, now,” said the professor. “No tears. Aren’t you happy?”

Miss Spenser was sniffling. “So happy.”

The girls below squeezed themselves into silence as the crying above transformed into a peal of laughter. Rose huddled quietly, tracing patterns in the dirt with a stick. Footsteps echoed down the stairs, but Laurel held Kate back and counted to a hundred before peeking out. “All clear,” she whispered.

Kate popped out, trailing a stray vine from her shoelaces. “I can’t believe they’re gettin’ married already. Your flowers are awesome.”

Laurel picked a leaf out of Kate’s hair and hurried up the steps to watch the path the couple must have taken. “They’re old. They can’t waste any more time.”

Kate sat down and spread her arms along the back of the kissing couch. “But none of this would be happenin’ without your tussies.”

“It must be just coincidence, right?” Laurel said, hoping Kate would contradict her. Rose followed them into the gazebo and sat down on the railing.

Kate smiled. “C’mon. I don’t believe that and neither do you.”

Laurel had to smile back, because Miss Spenser’s life was forever transformed. There was a power in her blooms, in her words—a force that could awaken and sway sleeping emotions.

“You think he kissed her?” asked Laurel.

“Why do you think it got all quiet?” said Kate.

“Passionately?” asked Laurel.

“Passionately.”

“Stop,” said Rose. “Enough with the girly-girl talk. Will someone please explain to me what all this flower crap has to do with my brother freaking out?”

Laurel and Kate exchanged a glance.

The couch creaked as Kate moved. “Laurel makes bouquets that are like magic.”

“Magic?” Rose folded her arms on her chest.

Kate nodded. “
Luv
magic.”

“Not really magic,” Laurel said, leaning against a post. She knew Rose would never buy that explanation. “The
flowers just seem to—to influence people’s feelings.”

“Their
romantic
feelings,” interjected Kate.

Rose shook her head. “So you actually tried to make Robbie fall in love with Tara?”

“No way.” Laurel straightened defensively. “Tara was after someone else.”

“Those flowers were meant for another guy,” Kate added.

“Enough with the flowers,” Rose said angrily. “My brother acted like a total ass in front of the entire school!”

Kate waved her arms. “Whoa. Rose, please try to open your mind.”

“I am completely open-minded,” said Rose. “About rational things.”

Laurel took a deep breath. “Remember that language of flowers project I did for English?”

“Not so much,” said Rose.

“So, I made this bouquet following the language and gave it to Miss Spenser.”

“Actually, you gave her three,” said Kate. “And now they’re happily ever after in
luv
.”

“It’s like the flowers were saying the things she was too shy to say,” Laurel explained. “And the professor could sense that—the flowers speaking.”

“Flowers speaking,” repeated Kate. “I like that.”

Rose walked to the other side of the gazebo. “Okay, maybe some pretty flowers got his attention, but you can’t
make
someone love another person.”

“Not just pretty,” whispered Kate. “Powerful.”

“Oh, I get it.” A huge grin spread across Rose’s face as she looked around. “Major prank, right? You guys are doing a great job for newbies.”

“This is
not
a prank,” said Kate. “You’re smart, but you don’t know everything.”

Rose crossed her arms. “I never said I knew
every
thing.”

“Stop,” Laurel said. “Rose, you know people have always used flowers for medicines and messages. Greek mythology has tons of flower stories.”

Rose lifted one eyebrow. “So?”

“Right,” said Kate. “People are always turnin’ into flowers or constellations or something.”

“And my name, too,” said Laurel. “Apollo fell in love with Daphne, a beautiful huntress—”

“A
virgin
huntress,” added Kate.

“And he chased her until she cried out to her river-god father, who changed her into the laurel tree,” Laurel said.

Rose circled her hand impatiently. “Then the laurel was Apollo’s favorite, and winners wore wreaths of laurel. Blah, blah, blah . . . It’s just a myth.”

Laurel bit her lower lip. She couldn’t bear Rose’s scorn. “Look, one time my mom took me to hear a scientist who lived in the rain forest. He talked about how the natives use plants and flowers to heal people.”

“Those shamans use plants as cures, not to play around with emotions,” said Rose.

“But the Victorians believed flowers were magic,” Kate said, “didn’t they?”

“I think so,” Laurel said.

“The Victorians were also fond of tight corsets and bleeding with leeches,” Rose said.

Laurel scoured her mind for proof. “Think about how Robbie was—a different person. The only explanation is that he inhaled Tara’s love bouquet.”

Rose frowned across the meadow. “That was scary.”

“What about Kate and all those guys?” added Laurel. “You even said something about pheromone perfume.”

“I was joking.” Rose’s face twisted in disgust. “You didn’t buy some pheromone crap on the internet, did you?”

“No way,” said Laurel. “But it’s like that, except it’s the natural scent of the flowers.”

Kate shook her hair. “You’ve lost me. What are pheromones?”

“Chemicals released by an organism that allow it to
communicate with other members of its species,” Rose recited quickly.

“In English, please,” said Kate.

Rose sighed. “Okay, so scientists have discovered that animals release certain chemicals, like smells, that signal other animals that danger’s near or that they’re ready to mate.”

“For real?” said Kate. “Do humans do it, too?”

“Yep.” Rose nodded. “Big research topic now. Biologists are trying to figure out how it all works.”

“So.” Laurel stepped forward. “Scientists think that what you smell can affect your behavior, right? Tara had a gardenia, which means ‘ecstasy and transport’ in the flower language and some purple lilac, which means ‘the first emotions of love.’ And that’s exactly what happened. Robbie acted like he was
ecstatically
in love with her.”

“Ecstasy?” said Kate. “Like the drug? Can flowers make you high?”

“Poppies can,” said Rose. “That’s where opium comes from.”

“High on
luv
?” Kate giggled.

“No,” said Rose, “just stoned. Opium fries your brain, and it’s seriously addictive.”

“Please. Let’s focus here.” Laurel took a deep breath. “Rose, you know my mom used to give people flowers all the time.”

“She always had so many,” Rose said wistfully.

“But I think it was more than that,” said Laurel. “I think she was speaking to them—to their souls—in this language. Maybe trying to make their lives better.”

“With flowers?” said Rose.

Laurel nodded solemnly. “And the messages can come true.”

Rose’s eyes were cool with skepticism. “Did she tell you this? I mean, before—”

“No,” Laurel said. “But I’m positive she knew it and that she wants me to know.”

Rose hesitated. “Just don’t use Robbie as a guinea pig next time.”

Laurel lifted her right palm. “Promise. That was a total accident, but we could use your help figuring this all out.”

Rose rubbed her forehead. “It’s a little outside my range of expertise.”

“But what about that fern you told me about?” said Laurel. “The one that takes poison out of the soil?”

“Arsenic,” said Rose. “The fern absorbs it. Phytoremediation.”

“Exactly,” said Laurel. “Plants have
tons
of powers we don’t understand yet.”

Kate stood up. “And Laurel has powers, too.”

Rose held her palms outward. “C’mon. How do you
know Miss Spenser and the professor wouldn’t have fallen in love anyway?”

“You kinda had to be there,” Kate explained. “The flowers did something. Laurel felt it.”

“He couldn’t stop sniffing them,” said Laurel. “We believe my flowers helped make it happen.”

“Believing is completely different from knowing,” Rose said. “And why would anyone use
flowers
to communicate? It’s totally inefficient.”

“It’s retro,” Kate said with a smile. “Laurel’s flowers are
beyond
retro.”

Rose was fighting back a smile. “Okay, so there’s nothing weird about carrying flowers on May Day, but what about the other three hundred sixty-four days?”

“Flowers are always part of special occasions,” said Laurel. “Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, lilies for Easter—”

“And corsages for prom,” added Kate. “Everyone’s gonna want flowers like mine.”

Prom? Laurel wasn’t sure if the feeling that rippled through her was excitement or fear.

Later that evening Laurel pasted blue violets—for faithfulness—to another note for Grandma. She’d promised herself that she’d send them until Grandma responded, but it seemed like an “exercise in futility”—one of her
dad’s favorite expressions about life on Capitol Hill.

When someone knocked on her door, Laurel put a heavy book on top of the note. “Come in,” she called out, and immediately regretted it.

“Hope you had a good laugh,” Tara sneered, and shut the door behind herself.