“No,” Poppy says. “I mean youlike herlike her.”
Igesture to the door. “We should go help the others—”
“Oh, come on, Iris,” Poppy says, almost whining. “Let me have this. I used to read all sorts of romance novels. When I could sneak them from the library. I’ve been stuck reading the same two books Sol got me for months. I need something new. You get to be my romance novel.”
“We’re not a romance novel,” I tell her. “Nothing is going on between us. We’re not allowed to date each other anyway.”
“Forbidden love is my favorite trope.” Poppy keeps grinning at me. “Just don’t do any funny stuff with me and Zinnia in the room, okay?”
“What?” I sputter.
“You heard me!” She flops onto her belly and kicks her legs as she rests her chin in her hands to look at me. “Will you tell me if something does happen?”
“No!”
“Please? Gives me something interesting to hold over Zinnia’s head.”
“No—I mean, nothing’s going to happen.” I start walking toward the door. “Drop it, okay?” My face is burning and my heart is racing. I feel like I’ve been caught. Like I’ve done something wrong.
I’vedone a lot wrong recently, but not this. I’m telling the truth—nothing has happened between Rose and me. But the fact that Poppy sees the connection between us, that she assumes we’ve broken the rules already, has me wondering if maybe I’m delusional. Maybe that line I keep telling myself we haven’t crossed is blurrier than I thought.
Rose has another Growth Session that night. It’s the second one in a row, and it goes much later than usual. Poppy and Zinnia—exhausted by the long day of chores—were asleep within seconds of their heads hitting the pillows. I, however, can’t seem to close my eyes.
Dread sits heavy on my chest, tense as a cat waiting to pounce, staring at me with accusatory yellow eyes. A tally of everything I’ve done wrong runs through my head in an endless loop: telling Rose about the trials, lying to Sol about her absence, every touch of our hands, every secret smile, every blush.
If Poppy has noticed and Violet thinks I’m so attached to Rose that I can’t see her true nature, then surely Sol has noticed, too.
I think about the day I was caught shoplifting, the cops showing up to check in, and the smell of gasoline and smoke from the fire. I tell myself not to regret the arson—I did it for the othergirls, after all, and because Sol asked me to, and Sol has been so good to me that Ishoulddo everything he asks.
But part of me does regret it. And I certainly haven’t done everything Sol has asked of me. Not recently.
I’m meant to be blooming, and instead I feel as if I’m withering.
Rose sees that I’m awake when she finally returns from her Growth Session. I turn my head to give her privacy as she changes out of her jeans, and I hear her sigh when she finally falls down onto her own mattress.
“How was it?” I ask.
“Same as always. Lots of telling me how I’m not meeting my potential. I’m not blossoming or whatever. I have so much to accomplish, and I need to let him help me. Blah, blah, blah.”
All I can think of is Violet comparing Rose to Marigold.
Marigold, who isn’t here anymore.
“You should, you know. Let him help you.”
Rose scoffs. Then, after a moment, she says, “He asked about us, by the way.”
That gets me to sit up. I look over at her, feeling the claws of dread curl into my chest. She sits up, too, and faces me.
“What did he ask?”
“Personalthings,” she says. “Questions he really shouldn’t have been asking me.”
“Like what?”
“He asked if something was going on between us,” she says. “He asked if we’ve kissed.”
“Poppy asked me that, too.”
