Not a problem. I could move them.
I dragged the two larger pots away, careful not to get too close to the pollen-y looking flowers. The third pot was smaller, so I lifted it. Keeping my nose turned away from the offending flora, I walked it over to the other two. And that’s when I noticed that the stupid pot was dripping brown water on my boots.Ugh.My beautiful red vintage boots.
I put the pot down. Both my feet had large spots on them. The boots were probably salvageable, but I’d need a soft brush and gentle soap to clean suede.
This was all a terrible idea. I glanced back at the gorgeous mural, then at my amazing outfit. What would Mom and Dad say?
I went back for the bags of soil. Those looked heavy. Dragging them across the gravel would tear the plastic. No problem—I’d carry them. I bent my knees, picked up one bag, and stood.
“What thehelldo you think you’re doing?” asked a deep voice behind me. And I jumped, because I always jumped when startled. But unfortunately, this time jumping meant flinging the bag of soil out of my hands. It crashed to the ground, splitting down the middle and spilling dark dirt all over my wet suede boots. Inside and out.
“Fuck!” I screamed.
There was soil literally everywhere. Halfway up my legs. On my boots.Inmy boots. Some had even managed to get on my silk T-shirt. I spun to face the saboteur who’d done this to me. Or saboteurs, I should say, because two people were coming, a guy and a girl.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” the girl asked.
I pointed at my feet. “No, I’m not okay! Look at my shoes. You two scared the crap out of me!”
They’d reached me by then, and the guy scowled at me. “Are you serious? You’re worried about yourshoes? Look at this mess!”
I stepped out of the pile of soil. I could have cleaned the dirty plant water off my boots, but now, because of these two, they were completely ruined.
I made an irritated noise and glared at the shoe wreckers. They both looked about my age, she was white and he was Black, and they were both wearing these short little green apron/tool-belt things that saidWYNTER’Son them. The girl’s shirt had a cartoon rabbit with the phraseIWORK HARD FOR THE BUNNYunder it, and the guy was wearing cutoff denim shorts and an even stranger T-shirt—pale orange, with a picture of a Stormtrooper mask made completely out of colorful flowers. Below the mask were the words,THESE AREN’T THE PLANTS YOU’RE LOOKING FOR.
Where did these two buy their clothes? Was this the work uniform around here?
But their faces were quite cute. Her lips were downturned with concern, but her eyes sparkled playfully. The long, curly auburn hair, fresh face, and happy eyes were all a bit...wholesome. She was very pretty but had kind of an Anne of Green Gables country vibe.
The guy, well, he still had that killer scowl on his face.
“Care to tell us what you’re doing here?” he asked.
I tried to shake the dirt off my boots, but it was a lost cause. “I was trying to move this stuff so I could get a picture for my Instagram. You two work here?”
The girl pointed at her apron. “Obviously.”
I did kind of feel bad for them, both for those shirts and for the soil everywhere. “I’m sorry about this mess. I can help clean it up. And I’ll pay for the dirt—”
“Can you notread?” Flower Stormtrooper Shirt asked, arms folded across his chest.
I frowned. What was he talking about?
He pointed at a sign that I hadn’t noticed on the wall of the barn. A camera and a phone with a red line through them.
The redhead smirked. “I can help you decipher it—we keep the signs to a kindergarten-level comprehension. No pictures!”
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t so wholesome after all. Anne of Green Gables in the novel had a temper, but she wasn’tmean.
“I can’t take a picture of a wall?” I asked. “Is this place, like, IDK, a CIA front or something?”
The girl snorted a laugh. “This is Canada! It would be CSIS, not CIA. However...” She peered at me through long lashes, pure mischief on her face. “I’m not denying anything.” She pinched her shirt and lifted it to her mouth, pretending there was a microphone in it. At least I thought she was pretending. “Code red. She’s onto us.The red bird has run out of seeds.I repeat,the red bird—”
Flower Stormtrooper Guy smacked her arm. “Can you be serious right now?”
I was in agreement—I wasn’t in the mood for this girl’s annoying brand of humor right now.
“I can credit this place in my pictures to make it up to you,” I said. “I have over twenty thousand followers.”
