Free Revolution Baby by Alison Anderson, Joanna Gruda

had to pull the uglier plants out to give the others a chance to bloom, that you had to separate the babies from their mother and that you had to rethink the entire disposition of the garden on a regular basis, depending on the color, shape, and height of the plants. That was the part I liked best, when Gros Pierre would stand back and look at his garden then lean to one side and examine it from every angle, knitting his brows, chewing with great concentration on his right thumbnail. It was as if I could see the plants changing position in his head, like pieces on a chessboard.
    Feller and Gros Pierre, with great pomp, called a meeting among all the children who had signed up for the L’Avenir Social in Bloom contest. There were a dozen of us who came, only four boys among them: Bernard, my first friend at the AS, whom I had found much less interesting once I was able to understand everything he said; Philippe, the intellectual of the group of older boys, not always popular, but whose sense of the ridiculous made me laugh; Marcel, the braggart; and me, Jules. The rest were girls, particularly the older ones I didn’t know well at all, but there was also beautiful, shy Rolande, who was eight years old like me and had long brown curls: her presence sufficed to explain Marcel’s participation in the contest.
    â€œI’m very happy to see there are so many of you who are interested in the little contest that Pierre and I have devised. This will be a nice way for you to do something useful and have fun at the same time. You will acquire some notions of biology and natural sciences, and everyone at L’Avenir Social will be able to enjoy the beauty of our enhanced flower garden. Pierre, would you like to explain the rules of the contest to our young enthusiasts?”
    Marcel was trying to make Rolande laugh by imitating Feller’s big eyes and his excessive exuberance. At first Rolande blushed, then she gave him a very stern look, but Marcel seemed to interpret it as an invitation to continue.
    â€œMarcel! This contest is open to everyone who wants to look after a garden. I must confess I have reason to doubt your motivation. Am I right?”
    â€œUh, no, I really like flowers.”
    â€œA garden takes a lot of work, my boy, you really have to want to do it.”
    â€œWell, yeah, I do want to do it.”
    Some of the children giggled. Philippe rolled his eyes skyward. Gros Pierre tried to get back to more serious things.
    â€œFeller, I could start by explaining the rules of the contest, and then the children will see if they want to take part, what do you think?”
    â€œYes, of course, go ahead.”
    â€œSo, here we go. We will start by preparing a plot of land in the park near the pond, where everyone will have their own plot of roughly twelve square meters. Obviously, you will all help to prepare the terrain. In roughly three weeks, you’ll be able to start sowing and planting. Before that, you’ll have to come to me with your questions and read books about gardening. I have a few right here. I will provide the fertilizer, the soil, and the garden tools. I should have a few plants I can share at the beginning of spring and some bulbs and seeds I don’t need, so there will be enough for everyone. Feller, do you have anything to add?”
    â€œNo. What about you, children, do you have any questions?”
    â€œI was wondering if it would be possible to take normal plants . . . well, what I mean is, the wild plants that grow on the property here, or in the ditches along the roadside?” asked Rolande in her quiet voice.
    â€œI don’t see why not. What do you think, Feller?”
    â€œOn the grounds of the orphanage, that’s fine. Plants from outside, that might be more difficult. But then, why not? Though I wouldn’t like to see you heading off with a huge shovel every time we leave the grounds on an excursion. Is that clear?”
    We nodded.