“We have showers in the locker room,” he says, giving me this little smirk that makes my knees weak.
“Ah. Yeah, of course.”Duh, Zara.
“So… have you given any more thought to…” He bites his lip. It’s so weird seeing this popular guy look nervous. “Our conversation earlier?” he finishes.
“Yes,” I say.
“And?”
My toes curl into the grass while we stand in my front yard. I feel weirdly bold and confident while Zane is standing here looking so sheepish. “You said you liked me because I didn’t care about football.”
“That’s not the only reason,” he says quickly.
“But it’sAreason,” I say. “And I need you to know the truth.”
“What’s the truth?” he asks.
“Come with me.” I walk to the front door and then turn to him. “I can’t explain it. I have to show you.”
It’s a good thing that this is a weekday and my sister is at college. If she were here right now, she’d be freaking out about this hunky semi-famous guy in my living room. I’m almost embarrassed just thinking about it. Of course, she’d try to play it cool, but when it comes to my sister, she has no idea how to play anything cool. She is one hundred percent an unapologetic fangirl.
Zane follows me through the foyer and into the living room. Everything looks kind of normal here. Besides the football themed umbrellas and Dad’s Dallas Cowboys flip flops by the door, it appears like we’re just a regular family.
“Brace yourself,” I tell him, holding up my hand. “You are about to enter a world of insanity.”
He cocks an eyebrow.
My dad is probably in his mancave, which is the spare bedroom, watching sports right now. Mom is in her office. Which used to be a dining room. I walk him down the hallway to the office. The white French doors are open and upbeat music plays from Mom’s Bluetooth speaker.
“Here it is,” I say, spreading my arms wide.
Mom looks up from the ribbons she’s carefully arranging on the table. “Huh? Oh hello,” she says, noticing our visitor. “I’m Zara’s Mom, Kate.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Zane.”
Mom’s face flashes with recognition and then she glances at me, as if she’s surprised I was able to bring such a prized human being into the house. Like she didn’t think I was good enough to get his attention. Wait until she hears he’s already asked me on a date.
“I wanted to show him the factory,” I say, spreading my arms open wide. It’s a one-woman factory, but still a factory of sorts. Plus, I often get stuck helping out. The walls are filled from floor to ceiling with white cube shelves which are labeled and sorted with all kinds of ribbons, stickers, and plastic sports charms. The center of the room has a tall workshop table that Dad built for Mom so she wouldn’t hurt her back from leaning over all day. Spread out on the table are several mums in progress.
Mums are a big deal in Texas. I’ve heard that other southern states have them as well, but no one does mums like we do in Texas. What exactly are they? It sounds weird to describe them, but they’re whimsical and fun, and most importantly—they’re tradition. Mums have a fake flower (that look like a chrysanthemum) at the top, and then ribbons and streamers and glitter and toys and all kinds of stuff hang down from them. You can put your name, or your football jersey number (or your date’s number) or a teddy bear or even battery powered lights on them. Mums used to pin to the front of our shirts, and we’d wear them to school during the day and then wear them to the homecoming game at night. But now, probably because everything is bigger in Texas, most mums are so huge they come with a ribbon to tie around your neck like some big necklace instead of pinning them to your shirt.
They usually come in the school colors, but some people make them solid pink or purple or black and white. Anything goes. Some mums are so big that you can only see a girl’s head when she’s walking down the hall. The rest of her body is totally obscured by the mum. Seriously, Google it if you’ve never seen one. They are a sight to behold.
The boys have it a little easier. They were corsage mums, which are much smaller, and fit around their upper arm with elastic.
“Whoa,” Zane says.
“Yep,” I say. My mom is the homecoming mum queen. She ships them all over the state.”
“I sell about ten thousand a year,” she says. “Which means I work really hard for three months a year and then I watch Netflix shows the rest of the year.” She winks.
“Everyone comes to my mom for their mums,” I explain as we walk around the table. “Here’s her very first one.”
I was six when Mom made me a mum to wear to school. She went to the craft store and bought a bunch of stuff and burned herself with the hot glue gun, and made a total mess. But in the end, I had the coolest mum out of everyone in my elementary school. My friends asked her to make them one next year. And eventually, she turned it into a business.
That first mum she made me is hanging in a spot of honor on the wall. It’s pretty short, because I was short back then, but it’s beautiful, with silver and blue ribbons and my name spelled out in glitter cardstock across the top.
Zane looks impressed. “I guess I know where I’m getting mine this year.”
