Marigold by Heather Manheim (best books for 8th graders .TXT) 📕

thoughtlessly chewed it. She snapped back and realized she had been staring at the kids. They had got their looks from their mom. Cheery, happy, plump apples for cheeks. Lovely, shiny chestnut brown hair. And adorable round non-cleft chins. They both smiled at her but didn’t speak. After a moment, Davis asked another question she had been pondering.

“So, there is another thing that I’ve been thinking about. Why do some people have the names regulated by the government, like myself and Quinn? The government prohibits any first names and allows only certain surnames, but you guys have first names,” said Davis, remembering the day she turned fifteen, and they showed her the list of approved surnames. The government assigned children without parents their names, and she, like many others, simply chose to keep the name they gave her when she was born. There were only about a hundred to pick from as President Everett said it fostered community spirit and togetherness for people to have similar names. But since there had been so many orphans with assigned names that had little to do with actual ancestry or familial relation, a Davis could easily marry another Davis. The government kept pretty extensive records, and genetic testing before marriage ensured you were not too closely related.

Audrey answered, “Well, here, we pick our names. Some people have decided to keep their government names, like Quinn. Others, like Ringo and myself, picked our own and chose names for our kids. The important thing here is people have that choice. And actually, our kids did too. Ana named her son ‘Russell,’ but on his own, he decided he liked the sound of Russell W. So, he added the W, and we all call him by the full name that he picked, Russell W.”

“What does your name mean, Ringo?” asked Davis. “Ringo? I’ve never heard anything like that.”

“I picked my name from someone who was a famous drummer at one time, a long time ago. A lot of people didn’t consider him a great drummer. I do, but regardless, what you can’t deny is that he was revolutionary. Different, creative, but not a show-off or pretentious. He played meticulously and tinkered endlessly.” Davis noticed that Ringo had started drumming his long slender fingers on the table as he talked about this man. “But, while I drum a little for fun, it’s not why I picked the name. It’s because I strive to work my computers, inventions, and electronics the way he played drums.” Ringo had a shy little laugh, seeming to be a bit embarrassed talking so highly of a man he had never met, or maybe he was ashamed to compare himself to a person he obviously admired.

Davis wasn’t entirely sure she understood what Ringo meant by playing his computers and inventions like drums. Audrey saw the confusion on her face. “Before we moved down here, Ringo brought computers, monitors, different components, circuit boards, wires—you name it. Boxes and boxes of wires, tools, programming software. All his things to tinker with and repair any computer program or electronic. But they’re getting old, getting worn down, and we don’t always have enough power. Sometimes he has to get very creative to get things done, coax results out. But, no matter what amazing things he does or what records he accesses to help us, you’ll never hear him brag. He’s beyond humble.”

The whole time, Ringo was looking down, obviously very shy and modest about the words that his wife was speaking about him. He didn’t have to think about it long because soon Quinn was coming out with Ana, bringing in food.

Following behind Ana was someone Davis knew. In fact, she would recognize his face anywhere. He had the same sandy blonde hair that was just a little sticky-up. His eyes were still expressive and green, and they told you he could figure out your deepest, darkest secret with a wink. She remembered everything from his still-boyish, slightly lopsided grin to the birthmark above his right eye and to the scar he had on his left wrist, a mark that somewhat resembled an arrow and pointed to his middle finger. Davis felt her heart quicken, and her temperature rise. “This is Brookshire,” started Quinn when she recognized a look. “Oh, do you guys know each other?”

“Yes,” replied Brookshire before Davis could utter a word. “We went to school together. We were…well, we were best friends,” he finished with that lopsided smile and a shy glance downward.

Davis blushed and took a step back, and with a more devilish grin than Quinn thought possible of her, and replied, “Yes, close friends.”

~

Brookshire spoke first. “I can barely believe you are here, Davis. I mean, I heard, of course, but I couldn’t believe it until I saw you. And I was out until this morning.”

“It’s nice to see you again, too. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I ever would. Where were you this morning? I didn’t even realize people left here.”

Quinn piped in. “Yes, well, this might be a little too much for right now, but we have people who are on, uh, both sides?” she said it like a question. She was also looking at Ringo and Audrey and making eye contact, clearly unsure if she should be saying anything. Ringo gave a slight nod, an indication to continue. “So, Namaguchi, who you met briefly, and Brookshire here are double agents, for lack of a better word. Both work for President Everett, but both are also members of our secret group.” Quinn paused for a moment and took a breath. She had been speaking very fast like she still wasn’t sure if she should be talking about this. “Duffy and Hernandez, who you haven’t met yet, are too. Hernandez is a nurse, and Duffy is a doctor. They both checked in on you several times when you were sick, but you probably were asleep or not aware.”

Davis was not quite sure what to think. It was a lot