“No, I’m good. Thanks.” I hold up a half-eaten grilled chickensandwich. “Um, better throw this away.”
I hurry over to the trash cans before he can argue. Maybe if I kill a little time, the conversation will move on to something less discouraging. When I turn back, everyone is leaning toward Sam. I hurry over, wanting to hear whatever rumor or secret is being shared.
“I just wish Dr. Allen wouldn’t have put her in my group. She can’t keep up,” Sam whispers.
“Jesus, don’t be a prick. She’s our friend,” Huan says.
I stop behind him before anyone notices I’ve returned. I wrap my arms around myself. There’s only one possibility of who Sam’s talking about.
“I know she is. And she’s nice enough if you’re sitting around talking about nothing, but not when you’re in a presentation group with her. How the hell is she supposed to help write the PowerPoint on the decay of radioisotopes if she can’t even understand the damn definition? She shouldn’t be here. But she is, so now I’m left carrying the whole project myself and she’ll get an A because of my work. Not that she doesn’t need it.”
I suck in a breath and Huan turns, followed by Dev, Sage, and Kelly. Their eyes bulge and they shift their glances to Sam. He’s the last to turn around and when he does, his expression is unnaturally calm.
“Hey there. I—uh—didn’t realize...”
I bob my head, too humiliated to speak. Every fear I’ve had about taking classes here explodes in my mind. Sage reaches toward me, but I can’t stay. I don’t want to hear Sam’s excuses or fake apologies. I don’t want to smile and nod while Sage and Huantell me that I’m trying hard and that’s what counts, like I’m a goddamn kindergartner or something. I just have to get away.
When I reach the conservatory, I’m surprised to see a few people chatting and sipping drinks around the fountain. I debate leaving, but something about the humid air and the tangle of leaves and flowers is too calming. I walk to the other side, letting my fingers trail along the palm leaves as adrenaline and anger course through me.
“Do you like the changes?”
I jump. It’s the gardener I met last time. She’s wearing dark green pants and shirt with a name tag. Miriam.
I force myself to push Sam from my mind and inspect the space. My mouth drops open. There are cushioned chairs... tables... I can’t believe she took my advice. The weight on my chest lifts slightly. I may be horrible at school, but that doesn’t mean I’m horrible at everything.
I turn to Miriam and she smiles.
“No point avoiding good advice just because I didn’t think of it.” She waves a hand toward a group clustered around the pond and whispers, “I can’t get the students to leave nowadays. They make a terrible mess, but it’s nice that the place is being used. Did you bring any of those fairy gardens you mentioned before?”
It takes me a second to remember what she’s talking about. “Oh. No, I didn’t. I kind of... I didn’t get a chance to run by my room.”
“Hmm.” She gives me an appraising look. “What’s your name?”
“Ellie Nichols.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Miriam Powers. I have something you might like. Follow me.”
She steps behind one of the larger palm trees to reveal a door, painted green to blend into the surroundings. A long narrow greenhouse lies beyond. The cement floor is smeared with dirt, the windows are streaked, and masses of potted plants sit along shelves. A spot of joy breaks through my previous mortification.
“Few people get to see behind the curtain,” she says with a smile, surveying her surroundings. “Not much to write home about, but I thought you might find a few things you could use in your gardens.”
She gestures to the other end of the greenhouse, where trays of tiny ferns, baby tears, Irish moss, and other plants I don’t recognize wait. I hurry over, pulling the pots from the trays. I’ve never had so many plants to choose from before. I started gardening in sixth grade, when we moved from a house into an apartment and I realized houseplants made my small dark bedroom come alive. I’ve spent a lot of time in garden nurseries since then, but they always have the same things. Not here.
“You don’t mind?”
“It seems you need a place to escape to,” she replies. “You’re welcome to come down here to make your fairy gardens... as long as you put in a little work.”
I drag my eyes from the plants, my mind already racing with everything I could do. “What kind of work?”
She sets a maidenhair fern down in front of me—it’s seen better days.
“Nip off some of the brown bits at the bottom.” She hands me gardening shears like I’m her new apprentice or something. I hesitate, but honestly, gardening sounds like a great break fromeverything happening on the other side of the conservatory doors.
We work together in silence. When I finish with the maidenhair fern, she points to another one behind it, then has me repot a half dozen fishtail palms. The work isn’t difficult but it is consuming, and thoughts of Sam fade. Finally, I stop to stretch my back and hand her the shears and trowel. A bit of time spent in the conservatory again and I already feel better.
“It’s nice having an assistant.” She nods at the plants in front of me. “Especially one who knows what they’re doing.”
“Eh, I don’t know about that.”
