But then, inside is even more depressing, with beige lockers and walls.
So here we are, and on my sweep through the area, my eyes land on another thing that I love and had forgotten about.
Flowers.
Gardenias, to be exact. Tons of them, mixed in with daisies and roses and hemlock.
“Aha.” I perk up because I like flowers. “Like flowers. Look! And the fact that we get to work on them this weekend.”
Every Saturday, as a part of reformation and teamwork, all girls do a little bit of gardening. We mainly grow gardenias, the school symbol, because it represents purity and innocence.
It also represents secret love, which I’m pretty sure no teachers know about and it’s sort of like a running joke between all the girls here.
Poe sticks her tongue out. “Ugh. I hate flowers.”
I give her a look. “Everyone likes flowers, Poe.”
“I like roses,” Wyn adds.
“I think gardenias are cool,” Salem pitches in. “What about you, Callie?”
Daisies.
I love daisies. I have dresses with daisies printed on them.
Or Ihaddresses with daisies printed on them.
I left them all in Bardstown the day I came here because I hate them now.
I hate daisies. I hate those dresses. I hate…
No, Callie. Now is not the time.
“I, uh —”
Poe saves me from answering — thank God — when she shakes her head and bursts out, “Can we get back to me, please? I was talking about something before Callie decided to go all crazy on us and declare her undying devotion.”
I sit up straight, thankful for the distraction. “Right. Okay. I was totally listening though.”
“Really? What was I saying then?”
“Uh…” I drum my fingers on the table. “You were saying that –”
“I’ll save you the trouble. She was saying what she’s always saying,” Wyn says.
Poe turns to her. “What am I always saying?”
“How much you hate your guardian,” she answers. “Because he sent you here. Because you wouldn’t stop setting his clothes on fire and poisoning his food.”
“I never poisoned his food.” Poe points a finger at Wyn. “Never.”
“So how did he end up in the hospital then?” Wyn asks.
“One time. That happened one time,” Poe clarifies. “And it wasn’t because I had poisoned his food. It was because I made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Completely innocent. I did him a kindness. I was kind, people.”
“He’s allergic to peanuts, Poe.”
“Yes! And I found that out later. When his tongue was swelling up.” Poe throws her hands in the air, exasperated. “Why won’t anyone believe me?”
