Sawyer grimaced but tried to hide it with a friendly smile. She nodded. “Yeah, I’m feeling way better. How about you?”
Tara groaned, resting her head in her hands. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little. You don’t usually look so…green.” Sawyer felt bad immediately when she saw the blush wash over Tara’s cheeks. “Sorry. Is—is there anything I can do for you?”
“Short of delivering this baby, I don’t think so.” She began the mammoth job of pushing herself up from her chair. “How about I get you some oatmeal, hon?”
Sawyer felt herself bristle involuntarily. Only her parents—her real parents—called her hon.
“No, thanks.”
Tara’s face fell now that she was standing. “Nothing?”
“I’m okay. You should sit down. Oh, and you didn’t need to bring the flowers to my room. They’re nice, but you should be the one to enjoy them.”
Tara pulled a cup from the cupboard, poured herself a glass of water. “Why? They’re yours.”
Sawyer blinked. “What do you mean?”
“They came for you yesterday.”
Sawyer’s stomach started to roil, and she swallowed hard. “For me? Was there a card?”
Tara frowned. “I didn’t see one. But the delivery kid asked for you specifically. He said, ‘These are for Sawyer Dodd.’”
“It was a kid? Like, my age?”
Tara drained her water glass and shrugged. “Yeah, about your age, I guess. Why? Do you have a secret admirer?”
Sawyer’s eyes went wide, and Tara held up her hands then clapped one on her mouth. “Oh, Sawyer, I didn’t mean—I mean, I know you and Kevin were together for a long time and—I was just being silly.”
Sawyer took a step back, threw her backpack over her shoulder. “I need to get to school.”
***
Chloe was sitting on the stone wall that surrounded the school when Sawyer spotted her.
“Hey,” Chloe said, launching herself from the wall. “You didn’t call me last night.”
“What? Oh, sorry.”
“And I didn’t see you after school.”
“I went home early. I wasn’t feeling well.”
Chloe offered her a sympathetic look. “You know you can talk to me, Sawyer.”
“My parents want me to talk to the shrink.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Still?”
“Again.” Sawyer stopped walking and turned to face Chloe. “Hey, do you know anyone who would send me flowers?”
Chloe folded a stick of gum into her mouth. “What kind of flowers?”
“Roses.”
“No, like, romantic flowers or sympathy flowers or, I don’t know, ‘sorry your dad and stepmom are breeding’ flowers.”
Sawyer tried not to smile. “This is serious. And I don’t know what kind of flowers. Just…roses.”
“Color?”
“First red and then pink.”
Chloe waggled her eyebrows. “Two bunches? Ooh la la. Red is the color of love. And pink is appreciation.”
“How did you know that?”
Chloe shook her cell phone. “Information superhighway. So you’re loved and appreciated. What did the card say?”
Sawyer bit her lip and glanced at her friend. Normally, she would tell Chloe everything—every crush, every intimate detail of her dates with Kevin—but her admirer and the notes he left her felt bigger than all that. “No,” she lied. “No note.”
Chloe blew a bubble and sucked it in. “What about that Cooper guy? You said he sent you a flower, right?”
Sawyer nodded. “Yeah, but why would he send roses right after he sent me a flower?”
“Maybe he didn’t want to send you the flower. Maybe Meddling Maggie forced him into it. Face it: a buck is a small price to pay to get her to shut up.”
Sawyer thought of Cooper, of his shy smile, of the way Sawyer knew next to nothing about him. “It’s a possibility, I guess. Oh. There’s the bell. See you in choir?”
Chloe nodded and popped another bubble. “Sure.”
Sawyer was digging in her backpack when she bumped into Logan.
“Oh, hey, Logan. I’m really sorry. It seems like I keep doing that to you.”
Logan’s smile—and his cheek-pinkening blush—went all the way up to his eyes. “That’s okay.” He didn’t move, and Sawyer stared at him for a beat.
“Um”—she pointed over his shoulder—“you’re kind of blocking my locker.”
“Oh.” Logan jumped out of the way. “I’m really sorry.”
Sawyer spun her lock as students milled around her. She felt motion everywhere as she was jostled and bumped, but she also felt the stillness. Logan remained behind her, eyes boring into her back. She turned slowly, gripping her history book.
“Can I help you with something, Logan?”
“Um…” He twisted his hands in front of him, then jammed them into his jeans pockets. “Did you get the roses I sent?”
Ice water shot through Sawyer’s veins. She had the overwhelming feeling of heat and cold all at once. “What did you say?”
“The roses. I sent them. Did I get the right house?”
Sawyer put her book down. “You sent me flowers.”
“Roses. Pink roses. Just to say, you know”—Logan looked at his feet, kicked at the school-issue linoleum flooring—“thanks and all.”