My Mother Grows Wallflowers Read online

  My Mother Grows Wallflowers

  Copyright © 2016 by C. L. Howland

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact:

  http://www.clhowland.com

  ISBN: 978-1-947957-26-8

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017954379

  Second Edition: December 2017

  This book is for my husband, Dale, who shows me the kind of man Sam is—every day, and for my children, Jenna and Andrew, for their unwavering encouragement.

  I love you all.

  I am truly blessed. For that, I’d like to thank God for ALL the people in my life. In particular, my long time kindred spirits in this pursuit…

  Carol J. Bova for her steadfast support

  CJ Alfonso for her thoughtful insights

  Also, a shout out to my betas for their valuable feedback: Helen Lane, Lydia Hill, Stephanie Lewis, Pamela Goodrich and Ellen Bagley.

  A special thanks to Clare McAfee at wiggoddess.com for my fabulous look and photos.

  I’d like to thank Random Tangent Press, and in particular, John Doppler for all their support.

  May 1990

  “Hey, Mouse…I drew a picture of you.”

  Please, please don’t embarrass me. A spiral notebook was shoved across the desk. Too late. Mina didn’t have to look at the picture to know it would be unflattering; it always was. Her cheeks burned as she laid the handouts on each desk in the group, keeping her eyes trained on the pile of papers in her hand.

  “Like it?”

  The giggles made Mina’s face flush even more. Setting the packet on the last desk, she heard a quiet, “Thanks.” Surprised, she looked up. Dark eyes met her gaze. Sam Miller had been here two weeks and had already been to the office three times for fighting. This was the first time she’d heard him speak. “You’re welcome.” She dropped her gaze and turned to leave.

  “Hey, Mina, don’t forget your picture,” a whisper came, followed by louder giggles. Mina went back to her group of desks and slid into her seat. Don’t you cry. Don’t give them any more fuel.

  “Blair and Missy, I don’t know what’s so funny, but you need to settle down,” Mrs. McIntosh warned. “Thanks, Mina.” The teacher came around her desk and leaned against the front edge. “This handout’s for a creative writing project we’re going to start next week. I want you to take the premise of a well-known fairy tale and use it to write your own story. This will be your final project for the year and will count for a third of your Language Arts grade.” A general groan went up throughout the room. “Look, you’re in eighth grade now and next year you’ll be up at the high school, so you might as well get used to this kind of assignment. Also, this will be a cooperative project.” Mrs. McIntosh ignored the muttered, “Huh?” in the back of the room. “You’re going to have a partner.” That brought loud whispers as kids pointed to each other to match up.

  Mina kept her eyes on her notebook. She never asked anyone to partner and rarely did anyone approach her. Usually assigned to one of the least ambitious kids in class, she’d end up doing the whole project, earning them both a good grade. It’s your own fault if you don’t speak up. So don’t complain. And she didn’t.

  “Okay, listen up.” Mrs. McIntosh walked toward the other side of the room.

  Mina’s eyes followed the teacher’s progress until landing on Blair Whitman. While most of the kids looked at the teacher, Blair watched Sam Miller. Not that Mina could blame her. Northam, Vermont had never seen the likes of him. His skin was naturally the shade of brown teenagers spent hours lying in the sun to attain. With his black hair twisted in a long braid, his worn jeans and faded shirt did nothing to detract from his exotic looks. She’d heard the other girls talking about how cute he was. She couldn’t disagree.

  “When do we get to pick partners?”

  Uh-oh. Mina wondered if he knew what Blair was up to. But Sam wasn’t looking at Blair or anyone else; his eyes were on the handout.

  “That’s a good question.” Blair’s grin turned to a scowl at the teacher’s next words. “I’ll be assigning partners next week.” More groans.

  I’ll probably get Fred Edgars or Robbie Fields. Fred looked at least three years older than the other kids, and he smelled like cigarettes. Robbie, on the other hand, wore a perpetual smirk, as if he knew a secret about you. Mina didn’t like him much.

  “What if we don’t like our partner?” Blair glanced over at Mina.

  “You’ll have to work it out. Part of this project is about cooperating and working together.” Mrs. McIntosh headed back to her desk. “At the end of the handout there’s a list of well-known tales, but you can pick another one, or even a fable, as long as you both agree on it. Let’s put this away and move on to the homework assignment. Don’t lose those handouts. If I have to make you a new copy, you’ll get a free detention with it,” she warned over the rustle of paper. “Okay, your homework. The Phantom Tollbooth, chapters one and two. I hope everyone read them and answered the questions.” With that, she swung into a discussion, moving around the room to ask students the questions on the homework assignment. “Good answer, Nancy. The watchdog said Milo could escape the Doldrums simply by putting his mind to work. What do you think he meant by that? Sam?”

  Mina studied him out of the corner of her eye as Sam sat studying his desk, his shoulders hunched in his flannel shirt. She noticed the almost imperceptible jumping of his leg.

  “Sam?’’

  Someone snickered. Mina could see the muscle in his jaw work from across the room; he was not happy, and she understood why. Kids, mostly Blair, sometimes laughed at her because of her clothes, because she was chubby, her house, her mother…the list went on.

  The lunch bell rang. “We’ll pick up here after lunch,” Mrs. McIntosh said over the din of books closing and the scrape of chairs on tile as kids headed toward the lunch room in a lazy line. Sam was gone by the time Mina retrieved her lunch bag.

  Mina entered the lunch room, assailed by the pandemonium of the whole school in there at one time. The cavernous room served as a combination gymnasium and cafeteria, with fold down tables that could be pushed back into the wall for P.E. class. Even above the racket, she could hear, “Mina, Mina, Mina!” She turned. Her little sister Emma jumped up and down and waved from her table. The two tables at that end of the room were for the little kids, smaller and lower to the ground to accommodate shorter arms and legs. Mina headed that way.

  “Hi, Em.” She settled onto the narrow bench across from her sister, her knees bumping against the underside of the table. “How’s your day going?” Mina opened the brown paper bag. A bologna and cheese with mustard on white bread, a folding sandwich bag of potato chips, an apple, and a paper napkin. It was the same as Emma’s lunch, except Emma liked oranges better, so she had an orange. It was always the same lunch. Just once, I’d like to open the bag and have something different roll out. How about a tangerine? Or better yet, those giant strawberries.

  “Look.” Emma pointed to the tray sitting in front of the girl next to her. “Hot lunch kids get ice cream for dessert today.”

  Mina glanced at it and looked away. Their mother said hot lunch was too expensive. She changed the subject. “Did you get your milk?”

  As Emma sh
ook her head, her thin blond braids flopped around. “Nope. I lost my ticket again.” She glanced over at the ice cream for a second time.

  I wish I could get you some, Em. You need to be fattened up a little. Mina reached over and made short work of the peel on Emma’s orange, split it open, and set it on her sister’s lunch bag. “Here, eat your orange, and I’ll get you some milk. How about we make it chocolate?” At Emma’s nod, she stood. “I bet if I shake the carton really hard, it’ll be nice and thick just like a milkshake. You think?”

  Emma’s thin face was transformed by her smile. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Mina gave the lunch lady her own milk ticket and scooped up a carton of chocolate milk, shaking it vigorously.

  “The way everything’s shaking on her right now, I’d say chocolate milk is the last thing she needs.”

  Mina stopped in her tracks, and a little boy too close behind rammed into her backside with his lunch tray. Blair. Why can’t you just leave me alone? Several kids were laughing now. The boy’s half-eaten apple rolled off his tray when he bent down to pick up scattered silverware. Mina knew her face was red and wanted to walk away, but instead helped the boy pick up the remnants of his lunch. She apologized and turned back toward her table, looking neither left, nor right. She sat down and opened the paper carton to hand to her little sister. Over Emma’s shoulder and three tables back, she met Sam Miller’s gaze. The dissipating flush was back in an instant. He wasn’t laughing though; he just stared at her.

  “Mina?”

  “Yes?” She redirected her gaze to Emma. Chocolate milk edged the little girl’s upper lip.

  “Molly’s asking you a question.”

  “I’m sorry.” Mina looked at the girl next to Emma. “What’s your question?”

  “How come you guys dress alike all the time?” Molly asked, shoving a spoonful of macaroni and cheese in her mouth at the same time. “I thought only twins wore the same clothes. You’re not twins; you’re big.”

  “Our mother makes all of our clothes.” And dresses us like babies.

  “Do you guys wear dresses all the time?”

  “Mostly. To school at least,” Mina answered. “Why?”

  The girl shrugged. “My older sister says if you wear those dresses at the high school next year, you’re gonna get beat up. Maybe you should have your mother make pants.”

  “She makes us pants. And ribbons to match our dresses.” Emma lifted one of her braids only to discover the ribbon was gone. “Oh no, I lost it. Ma’s going to be mad.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Have you been outside yet today?”

  Emma shook her head.

  “It must be in your classroom then. Look around when you go back after recess. If you don’t find it, we’ll look after school.”

  “Hey, wanna share my ice cream?” Molly asked. At Emma’s eager nod, she handed over her fork. “You use this.” They giggled and made short work of the dessert.

  Mina smiled and glanced between them. Sam was talking to someone. Who? She leaned a little to the right to see around some kids and spied two girls sitting next to him with the same black hair and bronzed skin. His sisters? One was little like Emma, and the other looked around Mina’s age. Both were dressed in t-shirts and jeans.

  “Mina, I’m all done.” Emma stood.

  “Okay, go throw away your trash.” As her sister tossed her lunch bag in the big metal trash can, Sam’s youngest sister came up. Emma said something to her, and the girl nodded and smiled in return, showing white teeth. Emma and Molly each put an arm around her and herded her out of the lunch room. Emma tossed her a wave just before she went out the door. Mina glanced around, almost everyone was gone, including the two other Miller kids.

  Mina wandered out the open double doors to the playground and stopped, lifting her face skyward as she closed her eyes. It was one of those rare days in Vermont where it felt more like June instead of the end of April. The warmth of the sun was rejuvenating, letting everyone know they had survived another harsh winter in this northern clime; the reward was this brief kiss of sunshine as a promise of spring. She’d read that somewhere once. They were talking about Alaska, but it seemed to fit here today. Mina watched kids playing games: hopscotch and jump rope. A large group of older boys played Frisbee in the middle of the playground. As usual, clusters of kids stood around talking. From what Mina had overheard in the past, the usual topics were television, teachers, and who liked who. Blair Whitman chaired one of these groups, and if at all possible, Mina avoided whatever section of the playground they anchored themselves to.

  It’s so nice out. I bet no one’s in the covered area; it’ll be quiet. She was wrong. Sam Miller sat on the pavement of the covered area, leaning against the brick wall of the building, while Blair Whitman’s group was parked not more than twenty feet away.

  Oh great. I don’t need this. Mina was about to turn around and go the other way when she noticed what Sam had in his hands. The Phantom Tollbooth. He scowled as he studied the pages. He’s trying to find the answer to Mrs. McIntosh’s question. Sam leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, defeat written on his face.

  Without thinking, she started forward, only to stop when she heard Blair’s high pitched and very loud laugh. Mina expected some derogatory remark, but none was forthcoming. What? Has she run out of things to say? It was then Mina realized she was shielded by the scraggly hedge, and Blair hadn’t noticed her. Yet. Mina took another step to the right, in hopes of more protection from the leafless shrub, and bumped into a rubber dodge ball. She watched it roll a couple of inches away.

  Blair laughed again. She’s trying to get his attention. Mina looked back and forth between the two. It doesn’t seem to be working. He hasn’t moved a muscle. Mina turned away and took several steps only to stop. Don’t do it, the voice in her head begged. He’s nothing to you. You don’t do things like this. Blair had already staked a claim on Sam Miller, to go near him would only bring trouble, but Mina kept seeing the look on his face. Fine. You’re such a glutton for punishment. She took a deep breath and wheeled back around to scoop up the ball. Don’t you even think about crying the next time she calls you Fatty or Jumbo or Butter Ball. Still out of sight, Mina hurled the ball as hard as she could. It smacked the wall within a foot of Sam Miller’s head.

  The book forgotten, Sam was on his feet in a second, tension evident in his tall frame. He grabbed the ball and looked around, searching for the culprit.

  You’re so nuts. He could pound you into the ground. This is going to be his fourth trip to the office, and you’ll be going right along with him. You can’t back out now. Go. Mina trotted onto the covered area, her steps accompanied by giggles and a whispered, “What a dork...” More giggles. “Shh, quiet. This is going to be good.”

  She slowed to a walk. “Sorry.” Mina made sure her voice was loud enough for the group behind them to hear. “The ball bounced off the end of my foot,” she croaked with a shrug, moving closer still. More snickers. Staring down at her, Sam’s scowl said he didn’t buy her story. Her throat dry, Mina had to swallow before she could speak. “The answer to Mrs. McIntosh’s question is, even if something seems boring, look again. You might find something exciting. Use your imagination,” Mina said in a rush. He looked confused. “The Phantom Tollbooth? That’s what Milo needs to do to get moving again and leave the Doldrums,” she added, unable to maintain eye contact any longer, her voice low. “Got it? Use your imagination.”

  Mina hesitantly took the ball from Sam and tucked it under her arm before exiting the area, unable to hear what Blair’s group had to say, her heartbeat pulsing in her ears. Around the corner, she stopped to lean against the brick wall, her knees shaking. With an exhale, Mina dropped the ball. I did it. Allowing herself a small smile, Mina headed toward the class room as the bell rang.

  Twenty minutes later, after everyone had been allowed trips to the water fountain due to the unseasonably warm weather, Mrs. McIntosh rai
sed her hand for quiet. She stood in this position until, one by one, the kids raised their hands too, and everyone was quiet. “Okay, let’s finish The Phantom Tollbooth assignment, and then it’ll be time to move on to math. We were on the last question.” She read the question again. “The watchdog said Milo could escape the Doldrums simply by putting his mind to work. What do you think he meant by that?” The teacher tossed the paper on her desk. “Sam, did you have an answer for us?”

  He sat there for a moment. Mina held her breath. Come on, say it.

  Sam turned toward Mina. His stare was hard; his eyes narrowed.

  What’s he looking at me like that for? I gave him the answer. Uncomfortable under his intense gaze, she focused on the desk in front of her.

  “Knock it off.”

  Is he talking to me? Mina glanced his way only to find him staring at Blair.

  “I’m sorry. My foot slipped. It was an accident.”

  Blair’s using the goodness and light voice. It worked well on boys and sometimes adults, if she was in trouble.

  “Yeah, right.” Sam shook his head and turned his scrutiny back to Mina. “Imagination. He meant use your imagination.”

  “Absolutely. Good job, Sam.”

  Mina sighed with relief.

  Mina sat on a pile of mats in the gym, sliding forward so her legs wouldn’t stick to the vinyl in an effort to get comfortable. She wanted to continue reading. The hard tile floor was cool, but the A-line dress she wore didn’t allow for sitting on the floor without it riding up her thighs. I wish Ma would let us wear blue jeans to school, not that I’d want to wear the ones she makes anyway. Their mother was very old-fashioned and believed denim, as she referred to it, was for home and chores. Am I going to get beat up when I go to the high school? Next year there’d be new kids from other towns. Maybe. Emma sat next to her on the mats. “Em, it’s too hot. Please don’t lean on me.”

  “Can we go out on the playground? All the other kids are out there,” Emma complained. “The buses just left. They aren’t going to be back for a while.” There were too many kids and only three buses, so the buses ran two trips. Mina and Emma were on the second run. It was okay with Mina…it gave her a little more time to do homework or read.