Even Thistles Bloom, page 8
“High school sucks,” he said.
“You’re telling me.” Todd hugged Fifi. Noah remained silent, making Todd wonder how his high school days had been. He’d always envied Noah’s quiet life, but high school must have been hell for someone whose diagnosis announced itself on his face.
Todd’s friends teased Claire for stuttering, even though she was smart, even though you’d never guess judging by her appearance. People rarely teased Todd about his fingers, but they did stare at them. Even when handing him change, people avoided touching him, as if he’d lost his fingers to a disease that would transmit through his stubs. How much worse had Noah’s childhood been?
“People suck,” Todd said, knowing he had to include himself, the cowardly idiot, in that group.
“Some do, but they don’t matter.” Noah stood. “You can sleep here whenever you want, but let me know because if it happens a lot, I will have to make you a really big doggie bed.” His grin made Todd chuckle, and once he started laughing, he couldn’t stop. Noah joined him with an unashamed belly laugh that echoed through the greenhouse.
Nothing changed, but Todd felt better anyway.
“Do you want some soup?” Noah asked, gesturing toward the house.
“Yeah,” Todd said, and somehow, he knew he’d be okay.
Chapter 10
Todd rushed to the art room, hoping his good night’s sleep at the greenhouse would help him make sense of his economics book. Oliver instructed them to “use black and white to evoke the colors of emotion,” and directed them toward a bin of charcoal. Todd drew a squiggly line and returned to his book, a strategy that worked better for him than for Cathryn.
His well-rested eyes read the words, but the extra sleep hadn’t boosted his brainpower as much as he’d hoped. He tried focusing on the graphs and charts, but even those eluded him. Maybe his mom was right. He didn’t need a big brain to hold a girl’s hand, right? Would big muscles impress Claire?
Probably not. Todd returned his focus to the textbook, but he only retained a tenth of what he read. He shoved the book aside and muttered, “I’m an idiot.”
“Yeah you are,” Minh said. Todd shot her a glare, but she cut him off. “You’re struggling through a textbook by yourself while you have a human encyclopedia sitting next to you.” She gestured to Cathryn, who looked up from her book.
“What?”
“I’m not asking a sophomore for help with my homework,” Todd said.
“Then you’re even dumber than you look, because Cat is the smartest girl in school.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Cathryn said.
Minh shifted her reproving gaze to Cathryn. “You have a photographic memory.”
“Is that really a thing?” Todd asked.
“Technically, no,” Cathryn said. “But it is a colloquially acceptable description for a variety of memorization techniques that allow a person to retain a prodigious amount of information.”
Todd understood only half the words in that sentence, but he guessed that was Minh’s point. He pushed his textbook to Cathryn.
“Prove it.”
She scanned the page, then handed the book back to Todd and recited the passage verbatim.
Todd’s jaw dropped. “That’s insane.”
“Told you,” Minh said.
“I’m best with history and English,” Cathryn said.
“But she’d rather salivate over the big words in your economics textbook than explore the essence of charcoal,” Minh said as she added more strokes to her drawing.
Cathryn nodded, and Todd found himself with a sophomore tutor whose entire body weight would equal his left thigh but whose brain was the heavyweight champion of academics. She broke down the concepts into digestible pieces, and Todd learned more in twenty minutes than he had in his hours-long study session.
“Drawing in your textbooks?” Oliver said. “I like it.”
Todd and Cathryn exchanged a nervous glance.
“No,” Minh said as she slid her drawing across the table. “This is our offering for the day.”
Todd gaped at the picture. She’d captured Todd’s dejection and drawn an eager-looking Cathryn peering over his book. Detail that good should have taken weeks to craft.
“Excellent work, Minh, as always, but I’ll need Todd’s and Cathryn’s art too.”
“Prioritizing individual contributions is a Western cultural construct,” Cathryn said, syllables spilling out of her mouth even faster than usual. “Other cultures emphasize collectivism. Collaboration is an important skill to develop for the workplace, especially with the rise in globalization resulting in more cross-cultural interactions.”
Oliver stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language.
Minh held up her hands as though receiving a blessing from the heavens. “We allowed the inspiration to flow from their brains through my fingertips, and we hope the result will inspire art lovers the world over.”
Oliver nodded. “Right on. Keep up the good work.” He moved to another group.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Cathryn said once Oliver turned his back.
Minh smirked. “That’s the point, Cat. Didn’t he tell you to break all the rules?”
The bell rang. Cathryn shook her head and followed her friend. Todd must have walked with an extra-large spring in his step, because he arrived at economics on time.
He sat through Mr. Patel’s lecture, remembering Noah’s words when his classmates snuck glances at him and whispered. They don’t matter. When Mr. Patel released the class to project work, Claire scooted closer to her friends, making it clear she neither expected nor wanted his help.
Todd refused to let her rejection dampen his good mood. He reviewed the content Cathryn had taught him, knowing Claire would only accept his help if he knew what he was doing.
The girls started whispering, and the whispering led to chatting. Todd eavesdropped just enough to confirm they were comparing projects and not ridiculing him. Mr. Patel strode toward the group, hard-soled shoes clacking on the classroom floor.
“Ladies, I expect you to work on your own projects.” He directed the comment to Claire.
Todd cleared his throat. “Prioritizing individual contributions is a Western culture thing. Other cultures emphasize, uh, collectivism. With the economy being more global and having cultural contact and stuff, it’s good to, uh, collaborate and…you know.” He’d been so sure he’d remembered all of Cathryn’s big words, but his academic pontificating fizzled beneath his classmates’ critical stares.
Mr. Patel pinched the bridge of his nose as if warding off a migraine. “Just work on your projects.”
He left to answer another student’s question, but Beth, Saafi, and Claire still gaped at Todd. After an awkward silence, Saafi broke into soft giggles, which she covered lest Mr. Patel hear.
Todd’s mouth dropped open. Saafi hadn’t smiled in his presence since last year, but now she was giggling. His hope parasite warmed within him.
Beth and Claire were not so easily amused.
“What. Was. That,” Beth said.
“Did you swallow an encyclopedia this morning?” Claire said.
Beth slapped her desk, as if Claire’s comment clarified everything. “You’ve been hanging around Minh’s friend, haven’t you?”
“Well…” Todd searched for a plausible lie that didn’t involve revealing he’d asked a sophomore to tutor him.
Beth’s gaze hardened. “I thought I told you to stay away from my sister.”
“Technically it was Cathryn—”
“I don’t approve of you spending time with her either.”
“Hey, I’m not a—” He almost said monster, but Saafi was looking at him, big brown eyes waiting for something. An apology?
Todd hung his head. “I’m just trying to finish high school.”
“So you asked a sssophomore for help?” Claire said.
“I didn’t ask. She offered.” More like Minh volunteered her, but she hadn’t objected.
“If you needed a tutor,” Saafi said, “why not ask one of us?”
“No,” Beth and Claire said simultaneously. They shot Saafi a warning look, and Todd had to agree with them. If Saafi thought to offer herself as a tutor, then she forgave too quickly.
“Cathryn is skittish as a baby rabbit, but she makes Einstein look like a moron.” Beth leaned forward. “You put one finger on that girl, and I’ll tell Maite to rip your arms off.”
She won’t need to ask Maite. If Maite’s reaction to seeing him at the greenhouse reflected her opinion of him, she would jump at the chance to pummel Todd.
“I’m just trying to finish high school,” Todd repeated, hoping to end the conversation by returning his attention to his textbook. The girls left him alone, but the bell rang before he made any headway into the next chapter.
“Claire?” he called as the room emptied.
Claire lifted a hand to stop her friends from following her back to Todd’s desk. Todd couldn’t imagine having friends so loyal he needed to signal them not to help.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t, um…You don’t think I’m a worthless idiot, do you?” He finished the question with his eyes.
Claire perched on the desk, holding his gaze. “I went to sssssss-speech therapy for thirteen years. I’m not ashamed of asking for help, and you shouldn’t be either. Besides,”—her gaze drifted to where Minh’s bunny drawing had graced his arm—“looks like you need it.”
Todd wasn’t sure whether to consider today a success. Claire had surmised his life was a mess, but she hadn’t told him to leave her alone. Was that progress? He wouldn’t have thought admitting his weaknesses would earn Claire’s esteem, but Minh and Cathryn had recommended sincerity. Maybe they were right.
Todd gathered his books and headed to his next class. Girls are weird.
Chapter 11
Todd slammed his civics book shut, but Cathryn, vicious task master, didn’t acknowledge his tantrum. She grabbed a hunk of clay and broke it into twelve parts.
“These represent citizens of two electoral districts.” She put the lumps on a piece of scratch paper and drew a line to separate them. “Each group has four Republicans and two Democrats.” She drew an R or D under the respective lumps. “If the Democrats redrew the district line like this”—she separated off the Democratic lumps—“they would win that district. That’s gerrymandering.”
“You just redraw the lines so your party wins?”
“You got it,” Cathryn said.
“Politics is disgusting,” Minh said as she snatched one of their clay lumps.
“True, but it’s easier to play the game if you know the rules,” Todd said. High school worked the same way. With Cathryn’s tutoring, his grades had risen a full letter. Not that moving from D’s and F’s to C’s and D’s would impress Claire, but it was a start.
“Speaking of games”—Minh grabbed another lump of clay and shaped it—“how goes your quest to win fair redhead’s heart? Beth is grouchy, so I assume it’s going well?” Her tone didn’t reveal her own opinion.
“I think your sister hates me more for talking to you than for working with Claire,” Todd said.
“I can take care of myself.” Minh squished a lump of clay as if to demonstrate what she’d do to Todd if he misbehaved. “Now answer the question.”
Todd shrugged. “Claire talks to me now, only about our econ project, but that’s better than cursing my name.”
Minh frowned as she smoothed an angle on her clay figure. “Have you tried bribery?”
“Minh,” Cathryn said.
“Cat, how many of the books you’ve read were romance novels?” Minh’s tone suggested she already knew the answer.
“None,” Cathryn admitted. “I suppose there is an established historical practice of men buying flowers and chocolate during courtship.”
Minh gave Cathryn the look she used when threatening to drag the bookworm out of the library more often, then turned her attention to Todd.
“Skip the flowers, but your gift should involve chocolate. Unless she has a known allergy, in which case you’re doomed.”
Minh returned to sculpting, but Todd couldn’t focus on Cathryn’s lesson. What would Claire like? He pondered Claire’s tastes, dismayed by how little he knew. She played volleyball, grew up on a farm, and wanted to open a restaurant. Flowers and chocolate didn’t seem likely to win her favor.
“Cat, do you think I need another guy here?” Minh asked.
Todd gaped at Minh’s creation. She’d taken the lumps Cathryn had used to represent electoral populations and turned them into soldiers on a battlefield, complete with tortured facial expressions.
“Is there any form of art you haven’t mastered?” Todd asked.
Minh shrugged. “I prefer ink pens, but clay feels nice between the fingers.” She raised her eyebrows at Cathryn.
“You only ask my opinion so you’ll have an excuse to enact the plan you’ve already made.”
Minh nodded as though Cathryn had given her a real answer. “You’re right. The soldiers are perfect, but the tank needs some damage.” She pressed her finger into its side, creating a realistic dent.
Oliver gushed over the display. “Art has always played an integral role in war. Just look at Guernica.” He showed them the painting on his phone, but Todd preferred Minh to Picasso.
Oliver’s fingers fluttered as if he were sprinkling fairy dust over the group. “I’m getting wonderful vibes from you three. Keep it up.”
Todd chuckled on his way to economics and brainstormed gift ideas during Mr. Patel’s lecture. He observed Claire, hoping for inspiration. Perhaps his crush warped his perspective, but she looked especially pretty. Even without any insight into women’s fashion, he could tell her green sweater flattered her. It was loose enough to accommodate her muscular arms, but hugged her torso enough to reveal her fit form. When she faced him, green eyes bright, Todd couldn’t breathe for a few heartbeats.
She handed him a sheet of paper. “I drafted the menu last night. I’ll have to compare suppliers and plan a b-b-b-budget before adding the prices, but since you’ve developed an interest in ‘collaborating,’ you may as well take a look.”
Todd perused the menu. “Don’t you think people will want soup while it’s cold outside?” He always wanted soup, but maybe his experience with Mrs. Thompson’s homegrown vegetable soups skewed his objectivity.
Claire snatched the paper from him and chewed the end of her braid as she scanned it. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Insulting the judgment of the girl you wanted to date had to be number one on Minh’s list of mistakes to avoid.
“You’re right.” She flipped open her notebook and jotted notes. “We need more c-comfort foods, and we should rotate the mmmmenu to feature seasonal dishes.”
“You’re not mad?”
Claire furrowed her brow. “Why would I be upset with you for having a good idea?”
Girls are so weird. When Todd tried to be smooth, he angered her, but when he acted like an idiot, she empathized. When he complimented her, she took offense, but when he insulted her menu, she praised his ideas. Puberty must rewire girls’ brains into nonsensical tangles.
The rest of the day passed with blessed mundanity. Thanks to his art class study session, he breezed through his civics quiz. Adam snuck him an extra chocolate milk at lunch, and his math teacher gave them the night off from homework. By the time he transitioned from autumn’s chill to the greenhouse’s summery humidity, he was humming a cheerful ditty like a cartoon character. Except the cartoons usually fall off a cliff afterward.
Todd pushed his foreboding aside and checked the heaters, reminding himself to tell Noah to buy a backup generator in case they lost power. Otherwise, the plants would freeze.
As if summoned, Noah appeared beside him. “Can you man the register? Mom is having a rough day.” He gestured to the outside, implying the cold didn’t help her health. “I’ll be back soon. I just need to check on her.”
“Sure.” Todd strode through the greenhouse to the office/shop/register. Noah moved beyond that and into the house.
Todd scanned the surroundings, but Noah had already cleaned. With nothing better to do, he made a list of seasonal vegetables for Claire’s menu.
A bell chimed. Todd’s gut clenched as two women in hijabs entered, but they didn’t recognize him.
“Where is Noah?” the taller one asked.
“Checking on his mom,” Todd answered, knowing the Thompsons were open about her health problems. “I can help you.”
The woman pursed her lips as though considering waiting for Noah. “I have an order under the last name Xoriyo.”
Todd was grateful she spelled it, because the pronunciation didn’t lend itself to easy interpretation. He had enough trouble with his civics vocabulary, much less Somali names. He found her order in the system and retrieved her box of broccoli and kale.
“We don’t need the box.” The shorter woman lifted an intricately woven, yet sturdy, bag onto the counter and loaded it with the vegetables. Todd blinked. Claire liked to cook, and cooking required shopping, right? Would she like a bag?
He cleared his throat. “Um, do you mind my asking where you bought that?”
The shorter woman raised her eyebrows.
“I mean, for my girlfriend,” Todd said quickly. If Claire heard him refer to her as his girlfriend, she’d give him a bloody nose, but the explanation made the woman’s eyes twinkle.
“Midtown Global Market.”
“Thanks.” Todd accepted their payment and took their order for the following week, feeling odd after they departed. Saafi was a popular girl, so after last year’s incident, he’d rarely interacted with Somalis who didn’t want to tear his guts out. He’d almost forgotten normal human interactions—just a greenhouse worker helping a customer. It felt good to serve instead of scheme.
The bell chimed again, but this time it wasn’t a customer.
“Keep those green thumbs limber,” Adam said without introduction, “because we are back in business.”
