Free Coming Up Roses by Catherine R. Daly Page B

explained.
    “Actually, if you grate some Ivory Soap and put it between the creaky boards the noise will go away,” he told me.
    “Um, thanks,” I replied.
    I opened the door to his room, and Nicholas surveyed his surroundings. Full-sized bed. Plenty of pillows. A bedside table and a lamp. What was he looking for? Finally, he nodded, satisfied.
    “Good outlet-to-square-foot ratio,” he said.
    “Um — great!” I replied.
    “Do I have my own bathroom?” he asked.
    “You’ll be sharing with your mom,” I told him. “It’s right across the hall.”
    “Acceptable,” he said. He looked at his watch. “Okay, time for bed if I want to get my eight and a half hours,” he told me, starting to shut the door. Then he poked his headout. “Del,” he said, “I’m really looking forward to going to school with you tomorrow morning. We can discuss what I should wear over breakfast. Good night,” he concluded, closing the door.
    I stood there, blinking. Looking forward to going
where
with me tomorrow? This had to be a joke!

Chapter Nine
    Unfortunately, it was not a joke at all.
    When I got to the breakfast table the next morning, there sat Nicholas, wrapped up in a plaid bathrobe, eating a bowl of cereal.
    “Today’s the day!” he said. “I can’t wait.”
    I didn’t know what to say. I walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice.
    “You want any?” I asked our houseguest.
    “Actually,” he said, “I prefer a glass of tomato juice first thing in the morning. You don’t happen to have any, do you?”
    I shook my head. “Sorry.” I picked up the box of cereal to discover it felt awfully light. I looked inside. Empty. Hmmm.
    Mom walked into the room, and I gave her the evileye. “Nicholas informed me that he’s coming to school with me today,” I told her, my voice rising.
    “Oh, that’s right!” Mom said cheerily. “Did I forget to tell you? I’ve arranged the whole thing with your school.” My mouth fell open, but Mom kept going. “Nicholas will be spending the morning with you, attending all your classes.”
    “I don’t get it,” I said.
    She turned to Nicholas. “And then I’ll pick you up right before lunch and you can help me out in the shop in the afternoon,” she finished.
    Wait — he was helping out at
Petal Pushers?
    “Sounds great,” he said.
    I turned to Nicholas. “But school is so boring! Wouldn’t you rather spend the day with your mom sightseeing?” I suggested. “Don’t forget — Tupperware!”
    “My mom had to go to Boston this morning for business,” he explained. “And actually, I’ve really been looking forward to seeing what middle school is like in New Hampshire! Your principal said I could bring my camera and take lots of pictures. I’m planning on doing a presentation when I get back to my school.”
    I shook my head. Was this really happening?
    He frowned. “So, should I wear my blue pullover or my red cardigan?” he asked me. “I’d like to blend in, you know. As a photojournalism.”
    “Um … pullover,” I said.
    “I assume jeans are okay?” He took one last spoonful of cereal and headed upstairs.
    As soon as he was gone, I glowered at my mom.
    “What?” she said over her mug of coffee. “Oh, come on, it’s not
that
big a deal, is it?”
    “Actually,”
I said. “It is.”
    That made her laugh. “All right,” she said with a sigh. “I owe you one.”
    “He ate the last bowl of Oatie-os,” I said. “You owe me
two.”
    I was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, as usual. Nicholas came down first in the red cardigan, a perfectly pressed white oxford shirt, and a blue-and-red-striped tie. He wore jeans and penny loafers. Worst of all, his big, geeky camera was slung around his neck. He was going to blend in at school about as easily as someone wearing a clown costume.
    Rose came down next. “Are you really planning on going to school dressed like that?” she asked.
    “Rose!” said Aster, who had