“That would have been great,” he said. “But that’s not what I’m asking.”
I knew what he was asking. What was going to happen in the future? Would we stay together? When he started university in a week and I was back in high school in two? Was this connection even possible outside this garden? Outside Bakewell?
“Let’s get through the Bloom,” I said. “Can we wait and have this conversation after the competition?”
He nodded, then caught my lips for another little kiss. “Okay. I can live with that.”
“Want to look at the stars?” I asked. “I can tell you why I left Toronto.”
So that’s what we did. Lay back on the grass talking, with my head on his chest, looking at millions of stars in the sky.
29
BUILDING OUR BLOOM
Even though Rowan and I were up so late, I was showered, dressed, and ready before eight for the Bloom. I left the tiny house quietly, since Samaya was still sleeping. She’d be coming to the festival later with Mom and Dad. Rowan was already at the workbench, packing up the flowers and moss. I smiled, heading toward him.
But before I reached him, June and Leanne came out of the greenhouse wearing matching T-shirts with some floral design on them.
“There you are,” June said, her hands on her hips. “I knew you had to be the one behind this.” She waved her hand in the general direction of the sculpture frame Rowan and I had made last night.
“Hi, Juniper!” I said. Leanne was frowning behind her. I bit my lip. I probably should have told Leanne privately that I’d returned.
Rowan grinned at me. “My sister was just laying into me for not telling her you came back.”
Juniper slapped her brother on the chest. “Of course I was laying into you! I mean, it’s not like I don’t love this new design, because holy crap, it’sspectacular, and we’re fine with changing our entry to this. But you can’t just hog her for yourself because y’all are playing tonsil hockey these days! We’re a team!”
“You got home so late. I didn’t want to bother you,” Rowan said, glancing at Leanne.
“Where did you go?” I asked Leanne. She still seemed mighty irritated to see me. I didn’t blame her.
“We were getting T-shirts,” Leanne said, pushing a white T-shirt at me. She looked at June. “Tell ’em how we got them, Junebug.”
Juniper smiled proudly. “Leanne and I went for burgers yesterday while Rowan went to pick up the plants, and I had the idea to get shirts while we were eating. It was, like, super last minute to get custom tees, but then Leanne remembered there’s a twenty-four-hour Staples print shop in Saint Catharines. Her dad once had to get brochures printed in the middle of the night because the ones he ordered saidBEELANDLANGSTON, instead of Leeland Langston, which, I mean,c’mon, I would have changed the whole business name to Bee Land because it’s hilarious. Anyway, Leanne and I designed these on her phone, and they printed it on these iron-on sheets for us. But then we had to get the T-shirts to iron them onto. Do you know how hard it was to find blank T-shirts at midnight? These are from a grocery store, believe it or not. They’re men’s undershirts! They had books, too! Can you imagine being able to buy books in the middle of the night?”
I was looking at Leanne while June was talking, and she was looking at Juniper with so much...liking. Like, serious affection. I raised a brow at Rowan. What else had happened in Saint Catharines?
I held up the shirt to look at it. “Why’d you make me a shirt if you didn’t know I was here?”
“You’re one of us,” June said, smiling. “Even if you needed to leave for that fancy photo shoot, you’re still on the team.”
The shirt was gleaming white, with a big rectangle in the middle filled with flowers of every color. Sunflowers, daisies, violets, cornflowers. In the middle, with white blocky letters, it saidBFFS. Above those letters, with a smaller print, it saidBFF.
“Get it?” June squealed. “We’re the BFF BFFs. The Bakewell Flower Festival’s Best Friends Forever. I know flowers aren’t, like, what did you call it, youraesthetic, but for the Bloom, flowers are good, right? You only have to wear it today.”
I grinned. “I love it. Seriously. It’s perfect. I’ll go change.” I went into the tiny house and texted Leanne right away.
Tahira:I hope you trust me and we can work together today. And don’t worry—I worked it out. June’s still getting her signed book.
Leanne:June and Row are happy, so I can’t be mad, as long as June gets the book. Don’t hurt them. Welcome back.
I put on my flowered shirt, finally ready for the Bloom.
The Bloom was being held on a big grass-covered field next to the main festival grounds. The festival itself wasn’t open to the public yet, but we had an hour to work alone before spectators were allowed to watch us. I was surprised to see how many people were already there. I rolled Ruby’s wheels over the grass toward our assigned spot. There were about thirty other teams scattered over the field, and a stage area set up in front. We weren’t near anyone I knew—but I could make out Addison and her team in the distance.
Before the competition officially opened, a judge with an impressive handlebar mustache visited our station to make sure our frame followed the rules. It was approved, thankfully. Soon after, that judge, and a bunch more people, climbed the stage.
A woman in a fifties-style pinup dress in a peony print said a little speech about the history of the Bloom (super long and auspicious, apparently) and the rules (super strict and unclear, if you asked me), then introduced another judge to officially open the competition—a sturdy woman in a floral button-up and unironic mom jeans. After ashort inspirational speech, the judge pressed a button on a loudspeaker and proclaimed the Bakewell Bloom officially started.
