Gia grinned. “You should put her in that oversize blazer you made, Tahira. She has the height for it.”
Juniper nodded, smiling. “I know I’m not really, you know,prettypretty, but models are moreinterestingthan pretty, right?”
Gia shook her head. “Shut up. You’re totally pretty pretty. You’d be great.”
Shewaspretty, and if I was going to be here all summer, I would need someone other than Gia and me modeling. “Have you modeled clothes before?” I asked.
Juniper shook her head. “Rowan was in the school fashion show last year, but I didn’t even try out. I’m such a dork at school; I would have been laughed off the stage.”
Rowan had been in the fashion show? Clearly, I wasn’t the only one to notice that his outside was much more attractive than his inside. But I didn’t want to talk about Rowan—mostly because I didn’t think it was right to call him a douche canoe in front of Juniper, and those were the words that came to mind when I thought of him.
Maybe I could try Juniper’s conversation quick change. “What’s that building?”
“The library and community center. I wanted to work at the library this summer, but Mrs.McLaughlin only hires college kids. Ageism, right? I’ve read more books than that Adams girl...but I guess it’s good—the library booth is the most boring booth at the festival—and I’d have to be there all day because Mrs.McLaughlin thinks she’s too important to stay put. Did y’all bring any books up with you?”
“Just some sewing books,” I said. The sidewalks widened after we passed the library, but there were more people walking on them. I squeezed close to Juniper as a woman with a massive stroller approached. Juniper said hello to her as she passed.
“That’s Yolanda Torres,” Juniper said. “She’s the head of the festival this year.”
“Oh, look how pretty that little courtyard is!” Gia said. “This whole town looks like a postcard. What’s the deal with this festival?”
“No one told you about the festival? The Bakewell Festival of Flowers is massive. It’s at the end of August, and there’s a midway with rides and games and food trucks. Last year there was an arepas truck from the city. Oh, and they have this custom ride with spinning flowers. It’s on the logo for the festival. There are also all these contests, you know, best garden, best flower arrangement. The biggest is the Bloom—that’s the floral sculpture competition. This year they’ve partnered with some hoity-toity horticultural association, so it’s an even bigger deal. They did this winter ball in December to raise money, so the Bloom prize is epic now. Not that I want to enter. Row will, of course. He came in second last year.”
Juniper kept describing this community fair while I kept looking around on the way to the store. This must’ve been the downtown core, if you could call it that. The buildings were two stories tall and were more tightly packed together, and they were somehow even brighter and more flowery. We walked past a small specialty-food store, a hardware store, and an antique shop. Plus two banks, a bookstore with a front window filled with gardening books, a Chinese restaurant, some sort of bistro, an auto garage, and a large clock-tower building with a big, manicured garden in front of it.
“So how come you two ended up coming here, anyway?” Juniper asked as we passed a store that looked like it sold only plaid things.
“I was supposed to be working with a designer this summer, but the job fell through.” I told her about Nilusha, the bird, and the lost internship.
“And I came along because I can’t have a summer without Tahira,” Gia said. “Don’t worry, T, we’re going to get so much new content to make up for losing your job.”
Juniper looked at me, tilting her head. “That sucks about the internship. This is why you really don’t want to be in Bakewell, right?”
I turned to Juniper. How did she know I didn’t want to be here? It wasn’t like I’d ever said that—aloud, at least. I smiled. She was perceptive. “Nothing against Bakewell; it’s just...the experience with the designer would have been better for my college application. I’m trying to get into FIT.”
“Is that an art school?” Juniper asked.
“It’s a fashion school in New York.”
Juniper’s eyes widened. “Sounds intense.”
“You’ll get into FIT,” Gia said. “You havetwenty thousandfollowers. You’re, like, ridiculously talented.” Gia was my biggest cheerleader, but honestly I didn’t think she understood how stressed I was about this. Everyone who made it big in fashion had big platforms, but they also had connections, talent, and all the right kind of experience.
And maybe expecting to get that experience from a town with less people living in it than I had Instagram followers (but more flowers, apparently) was a bad idea.
I rubbed my palm.No. No self-doubt now. No second thoughts. I didn’t have any other option but to be here. I had to make it work.
Juniper pointed ahead. “There’s Lilybuds.”
I saw the store for the first time, and it took all my self-control not to make a face. It wasn’t very big, and it had large windows on either side of the door. Above the door was one of those oval wood-carved signs like the welcome sign into town. Was there some sort of Bakewell discount on those or something?LILYBUDSwas in cursive writing in themiddle, surrounded by pink, purple, and yellow flowers. Looking in, I could see the window display, complete with mannequins in floral dresses, and more batik than at one of those Thai beach photo shoots. Fixing this place up was going to be aseriousproject.
“Is everything church-picnic wear?” I asked, trying not to frown but probably failing.
“The stuff in the window’s not great,” Juniper said. “But Shar got some new things in recently that are pretty cool. I’m saving up for the black linen overalls. Anyway, should we go in?”
Whether I wanted to be here or not, Iwasgoing to turn this store around and put my own personal stamp on it.
I took a breath. “Yes. Let’s get started.” I opened the door.
