“Yeah, yeah. I know. The plant metaphors can be a little much.” When I see that little smirk tilting the corners of her—for once—unpainted lips, it’s hard not to smile back. “But you get the point.”
“I do. Kind of.” She sighs. “Fine. Tell me something about you that youcanshare, then. Something that won’t set you back on your journey.”
“Hmm.” It takes me an embarrassingly long time to think of something about myself worth sharing. Something that isn’t tied to a past I’m trying to leave behind. Finally, sheepishly, I offer, “I’m allergic to mangos.”
“Mangos? Really?”
“Yeah.”
“That actually sucks,” Rose says. “Mangos are delicious.”
“I wouldn’t know. I think I had something with mango in it when I was, like, three and had to be rushed to the ER? But I don’t remember it.”
“Sono mango smoothies for you.”
“Nope.”
“That’s tragic. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I laugh. “Thank you. Your sympathy is appreciated.” I poke her arm. “Your turn. Tell me something about you.”
“I’mnotallergic to mangos.”
“Ha-ha. You’re so funny.”
“I know. I’m hilarious.” Rose grins before pausing to consider. “I like running.”
“Running?”
“Yeah. I ran cross-country on my high school’s track team. Even won a few awards.”
“Wow. That’s cool.”
“What about you?”
“I didn’t run track, but I played a few sports. Mostly softball.”
“Really leaning into that lesbian stereotype, huh?”
“Yep.” I laugh. “Honestly, I like sports, but it was more a way to spend time with friends or keep myself busy.”
“Sports were my lifeline. Gave me something to do after school besides going home. And with track especially—there’s just something about running, feeling the wind in my hair, trying to see just how far I can go without stopping. Maybe it’s justthe endorphins, but after running a few miles, no one could bring me down. At least for a little while.” She swallows and shakes her head. “Eventually, though, even that wasn’t enough to get me to stay. So I went out for a run one day and just didn’t stop. Not until I reached a bus station. A couple weeks later, somehow, I ended up in Culverton, where Lily found me.”
“I’m glad she did,” I say. My shoulder is resting against Rose’s now, and we’re both turned to look at each other, our faces a few inches apart. “I hope you know you don’t have to run anymore. You’re safe here. With Sol. With the other girls.”
“With you?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“Hmm.” She turns away from me, that same mischievous smile creeping onto her lips and causing my heart to flutter in my chest. “I’ll try,” she says. “I’ll try to blossom like a tulip in the springtime and not let the dandelions bring me down.”
The burst of laughter that comes out of me is loud and sharp, almost like a witch’s cackle. “What?”
“I can do flower metaphors, too, you know.” She nudges me with her shoulder.
I nudge her back. “Fine. Maybe we should both leave them to Sol?”
“No,no. I think I’m getting the hang of it. I’ll try to bloom like a petunia in a garden that’s been sprayed with weed killer. No, wait! Like asunflowerthat—”
