Read Online Too Many Blooms by Catherine R. Daly - Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine R. Daly
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anything when Dad announced we were having leftovers again. And it was his tuna casserole, which is bad enough the first night. Hot canned tuna — which culinary genius invented that one?
But as I was loading the dishwasher, I had a sudden, awful thought. I remembered someone else who had been in the hallway that afternoon. Could it be that the person Hamilton was trying to look cool in front of was …
Ashley Edwards?
I wanted to think the boy had better taste than that. But it was a definite — and unpleasant — possibility.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, over hot chocolates in the cafeteria, I filled Becky and Heather in on what happened in the hallway with Ashley — and Hamilton.
“I can’t believe you didn’t call and tell us last night!” Heather cried, slamming down her copy of
Us Weekly.
I blushed. I hadn’t called Becky or Heather because after dinner I’d done my homework and then stayed up late reading about Alexander Hamilton on Wikipedia.
“I’m just impressed you stood up to Bob,” Becky said, her brown eyes widening. “You usually never come up with comebacks until days later!”
“I know,” I said. “Isn’t that weird?”
Becky beamed. “I’m proud of you, Del!”
But Heather just studied me, a funny look on her face.
“What?” I said.
“I recognize the signs,” she said, nodding solemnly. “You’ve got it bad.”
“Got what?” I asked warily.
“A big old crush,” she said, smiling at me.
I shook my head at her. “We’re just friends, Heather!” I exclaimed.
Heather just kept smiling at me. I sighed. Heather had a new crush every few weeks, so she thought she was an expert. Becky, on the other hand, looked a little disappointed in me. But she had nothing to worry about. I didn’t
like
like Hamilton. He was a boy friend. Not a boyfriend. End. Of. Story.
After school I decided to call the store to see if Mom needed any help. Dad answered the phone instead.
“Flowers on Fairfield,” he said. “Serving Your Floral Needs Since, um …”
“1912,” I finished. “It’s me, Dad,” I said. “How’s everything going?”
“Pretty good,” he said. “I’ve been working on the books and I’m happy to say that your grandparents left thingsin great order.” Then he lowered his voice. “Del, did you clean up your mom’s work space again?” he asked. “She’s a little annoyed.”
I winced. I
had
stopped by the store as Mom was closing up the night before and secretly organized her space. It was such a mess — piles of discarded ribbon, soaking-wet floral foam, shears, hot-glue gun all in a jumble. But it seemed as if Mom wasn’t very grateful. Not one bit.
“Yes,” I said. “I guess she doesn’t want to thank me?”
“On the contrary,” said Dad. “She’s going crazy looking for her shears. And her floral tape.”
I explained where she could find them and refrained from adding
Where they belong.
No need to rile anyone up any further! I also decided to skip going to the store that afternoon. I might be tempted to do some more organizing and I knew how well
that
would go over!
In the middle of breakfast the next morning, Mom’s cell phone rang. It was the theme from that old movie
Jaws —
you know, da-Dum, da-Dum, da-Dum, da-DUM! Just before the shark attacks.
Mom reached over to the kitchen counter and picked the phone up, looking confused. Her eyebrows rose as she recognized the name on the display.
“Hello, Olivia,” she answered. “Of course this isn’t a bad time …” We all watched as she made a “sorry” face at us and wandered out of the kitchen.
I stared at my sisters. Which one was the ringtone culprit? Rose looked innocent, but she was an actress, I reminded myself. I turned to Aster. She tried to look really busy cutting up her rock-hard waffle, but I could see the mischievous look in her eye.
I glowered at the two of them, since the twins rarely worked alone.
“Jaws
?” I said, shaking my head. “Very
But as I was loading the dishwasher, I had a sudden, awful thought. I remembered someone else who had been in the hallway that afternoon. Could it be that the person Hamilton was trying to look cool in front of was …
Ashley Edwards?
I wanted to think the boy had better taste than that. But it was a definite — and unpleasant — possibility.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, over hot chocolates in the cafeteria, I filled Becky and Heather in on what happened in the hallway with Ashley — and Hamilton.
“I can’t believe you didn’t call and tell us last night!” Heather cried, slamming down her copy of
Us Weekly.
I blushed. I hadn’t called Becky or Heather because after dinner I’d done my homework and then stayed up late reading about Alexander Hamilton on Wikipedia.
“I’m just impressed you stood up to Bob,” Becky said, her brown eyes widening. “You usually never come up with comebacks until days later!”
“I know,” I said. “Isn’t that weird?”
Becky beamed. “I’m proud of you, Del!”
But Heather just studied me, a funny look on her face.
“What?” I said.
“I recognize the signs,” she said, nodding solemnly. “You’ve got it bad.”
“Got what?” I asked warily.
“A big old crush,” she said, smiling at me.
I shook my head at her. “We’re just friends, Heather!” I exclaimed.
Heather just kept smiling at me. I sighed. Heather had a new crush every few weeks, so she thought she was an expert. Becky, on the other hand, looked a little disappointed in me. But she had nothing to worry about. I didn’t
like
like Hamilton. He was a boy friend. Not a boyfriend. End. Of. Story.
After school I decided to call the store to see if Mom needed any help. Dad answered the phone instead.
“Flowers on Fairfield,” he said. “Serving Your Floral Needs Since, um …”
“1912,” I finished. “It’s me, Dad,” I said. “How’s everything going?”
“Pretty good,” he said. “I’ve been working on the books and I’m happy to say that your grandparents left thingsin great order.” Then he lowered his voice. “Del, did you clean up your mom’s work space again?” he asked. “She’s a little annoyed.”
I winced. I
had
stopped by the store as Mom was closing up the night before and secretly organized her space. It was such a mess — piles of discarded ribbon, soaking-wet floral foam, shears, hot-glue gun all in a jumble. But it seemed as if Mom wasn’t very grateful. Not one bit.
“Yes,” I said. “I guess she doesn’t want to thank me?”
“On the contrary,” said Dad. “She’s going crazy looking for her shears. And her floral tape.”
I explained where she could find them and refrained from adding
Where they belong.
No need to rile anyone up any further! I also decided to skip going to the store that afternoon. I might be tempted to do some more organizing and I knew how well
that
would go over!
In the middle of breakfast the next morning, Mom’s cell phone rang. It was the theme from that old movie
Jaws —
you know, da-Dum, da-Dum, da-Dum, da-DUM! Just before the shark attacks.
Mom reached over to the kitchen counter and picked the phone up, looking confused. Her eyebrows rose as she recognized the name on the display.
“Hello, Olivia,” she answered. “Of course this isn’t a bad time …” We all watched as she made a “sorry” face at us and wandered out of the kitchen.
I stared at my sisters. Which one was the ringtone culprit? Rose looked innocent, but she was an actress, I reminded myself. I turned to Aster. She tried to look really busy cutting up her rock-hard waffle, but I could see the mischievous look in her eye.
I glowered at the two of them, since the twins rarely worked alone.
“Jaws
?” I said, shaking my head. “Very
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