Sharmin Aunty waved me over. “Tahira. Come meet Juniper!”
A girl stood up from the garden on the far side of the patio. She held a trowel. I guess she’d been crouched, digging.
When she saw me, she squealed with glee, and, well, the only way to describe the way she headed over to me was she bounded. Like Bambi.
“Yay! You’re here, you’re here!” She stopped in front of me and wiped the dirt off her hand. “I was so excited when Shar told me someone my age was moving in all summer! I’m Juniper Jessica Johnston.” She shot her hand out to me. “Terrible, right? My parents think alliteration is sooo cute. I go by either June or Juniper, and I honestly have no preference. I’m sixteen, my pronouns are she/her, and I’ll be in grade twelve in September. Ooh, I forgot. I have something for you.” She grinned and skipped off toward the greenhouse at the far end of the yard.
Juniper was a bit too perky but still kind of adorable. Tight curls in a low ponytail and wide, dark, round eyes. She was wearing cutoff black shorts, an open flannel shirt with a fitted black camisole under it, and a ribbon choker with a heart locket in the middle. Also, she was Black, with smooth medium-brown skin. In fact, her skin tone, eyes, and cheekbones were exactly the same as the grumpy nursery guy’s...and Sharmin Aunty said Juniper’s brother, Rowan, worked at the nursery. Which meant he was probably Mr.Flower Stormtrooper.
Great. I’d be living next door tothatguy all summer. I’d been wrong. Itwaspossible for my day to get worse.
4
SO THEY’RE NAMED AFTER TREES?
She is probably going to give you flowers,” Sharmin Aunty said as Juniper disappeared into the greenhouse. “I should have told you: June likes to give meaningful bouquets to everyone.”
“What a thoughtful neighbor,” Mom said. “Tahira, don’t get the flowers too close to your face.”
Sharmin Aunty nodded. “Juniper and Rowan are both so thoughtful. I’m so lucky to have such great neighbors here. Bakewell’s not completely white, but they are one of the only Black families in town. They’ve had to deal with some intolerance and microaggressions...not a lot, but any is too much. The kids are so well adjusted, though. You’ll love living next to them, Tahira.”
I was sorry to hear about the racism, but honestly? I doubted this guy was going to be happy to see me here, assuming hewasthe “These aren’t the plants you’re looking for” guy.
Juniper reappeared then, holding a bundle of flowers wrapped with a yellow ribbon. I took them, keeping my eyes and nose away from the blooms.
“This is a welcome bouquet,” Juniper said. “I used chrysanthemums and sunflowers to symbolize friendship. Did you know that sunflowers are really called helianthus? I added some daffodils to symbolize newbeginnings. Their real name is narcissus. Oh! I hope you don’t think I’m calling you a narcissist! Although it’s the white ones that are commonly called narcissus...the yellow ones are daffodils, even though the scientific names for both are narcissus. They’re one of the earliest spring flowers—that’s why they symbolize new beginnings.” She beamed, proud of her arrangement.
“Thank you,” I said. They were kind of pretty—I liked the yellow with the deep burgundy. The girl could have had no idea I was allergic to flowers, so this was a nice gesture. A little weird, but nice. “I...um...”
“They’re lovely,” Sharmin Aunty said, taking the bundle from me. “I’ll put them in my kitchen so Tahira can see them when she comes in for dinner. Come have some chai, Tahira.”
I sat on the outdoor sofa while Juniper went back to her digging. Sharmin Aunty asked me some questions about school and my sewing classes. Mom was, of course, glued to her email on her phone, even though it was a Sunday.
Mom suddenly stood. “There’s a crisis in the Ottawa hotel. I’m going to have to call in. I’ll go inside; you keep catching up.” She headed to the house.
I sighed. Mom was always on call if an HR emergency came up at the hotel company she worked at. She was a workaholic, like Dad. It was a Janmohammad family trait.
Juniper turned from her digging so she could face me. “What grade are you going into?” she asked.
“Twelve. I just turned seventeen,” I said.
“Same grade as me! Except my birthday’s in December, so I’m still sixteen.”
She seemed younger than sixteen to me. Small-town kids just weren’t as sophisticated.
“My brother Rowan’s eighteen,” Juniper continued. “He’s going to university in September. He’s excited you’re here, too.”
I stifled a snort. That wasn’t likely.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
I nodded. “Yeah, a sister, Samaya. She’s a year younger.”
“I wish I had a sister. You’ll miss her this summer—hope she can come up for a visit.”
I shrugged. “We’re not really close.” I mean, I liked my sister fine, but it was hard to relate to her since we had nothing in common. She went to a high school that specialized in math and science, while I went to the best art-focused high school in the city. Still, I did need to remember to call Samaya tonight to congratulate her for getting that math camp position that she wanted so much.
“I’m trying to dig out this garden bed before Row gets home,” Juniper said. “He’s been in a shitty—sorry,” she said, glancing at Sharmin Aunty. “He’s been in abadmood all week.”
