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

to process; she started to trust and like these people she was meeting, but there were still many questions about why she was here. She felt a reserved apprehension about everything she was hearing. If everyone here was honorable, why should they have to hide things? Live underground? Have secret double agents, she thought.

Davis rested her head against her hand and closed her eyes. She was feeling overwhelmed and tired. Suddenly, Brookshire sat next to her and patted her other hand that was still on the table. “I know you’ve had a lot to think about and process. I want to let you know I’m here for you if you want to talk at all.”

“Thank you. You always were a good friend,” Davis said with a smile.

“Here, try some food,” Brookshire said, spooning her out a portion of oatmeal from the tureen in the center of the table. He took the steaming bowl and placed it on Davis’s placemat.

Davis took a small spoonful and held the spoon up, pausing and watching the steam rise off before she took a tentative first bite. “It’s good, thanks…” said Davis. “Hot.” She mostly added that because she couldn’t think of anything else to say, and everyone was staring at her. One thing she hated was people staring at her. However, her remark regarding temperature did nothing to quell the stares she was receiving.

Davis kept eating little bites hoping that someone would also eat or start a different conversation which had nothing to do with Brookshire, her, or Brookshire’s dimples. She realized, in all fairness, those dimples had only been brought up in her imagination so far, but she couldn’t envision they went unnoticed by everyone else.

After what felt like an eternity, the people at the table remembered their manners and started eating their food. Quinn piled a little lettuce with some shredded carrot on a plate and handed it to Davis. Taking it, she gave Quinn a silent smile of thanks. Davis couldn’t believe foods she had only seen in books and on television were on her plate. So far, the foods she tried had been okay, nothing awful, but sort of on the bland side. She suddenly desired this crisp looking lettuce and bright orange carrots. She took in the colors and the freshness of everything before taking a small bite. Cool. Refreshing. She had trouble thinking of adjectives to describe the food, having had nothing like it before. The lettuce didn’t have a lot of flavor, but she liked how crisp it was and the mildly sweet taste. The carrots confused her tongue further. Harder in texture with a slightly sweeter flavor than the lettuce but maybe moderately bitter and earthy.

As she was pondering, Quinn piped in and asked her what she thought of the salad. “It’s good, thank you,” replied Davis. “Interesting. I haven’t had anything like this before, but I enjoy it.”

“Maybe when you’re up to eating more foods, we can add a few tomatoes, cucumbers, toss it with a little olive oil and vinegar. Almost nothing better… Oh! You’ll have to try bell peppers in it too! That’s one of my favorite things in a salad…” And then Quinn was rambling on with her words just as Audrey had been minutes ago.

Davis realized that everyone was trying but that nobody knew what to say. There was an odd tension that hung in the air. They were trying to get to know each other without being too excited or, possibly worse, too blasé. She decided she wasn’t even that hungry anymore, and she decided to put everyone out of their misery. “I am sorry I can’t finish. I think I’ll just lie down; I’m not feeling too great. Thank you for everything.” She paused for a moment and looked around the table. “Ringo, I would very much appreciate it if we can have a real conversation tonight about why I’m here. I don’t care anymore how heavy or overwhelming it is. I need to know.”

“Of course,” Ringo said. “We will make time for that. Do you want Quinn or someone like Brookshire you know a little better here when we talk?”

“Yes, both would be great, thank you.” Davis made her way to the door when the large gray tabby walked in and once again considered her. “Oh, by the way, what is it with the cat?”

“That is Buster,” Quinn replied. “I found him outside one day, all straggly, dirty, and hungry. I didn’t think he would make it, but he somehow has. He’s a scrapper. He looks like a beast; he’s big and has such a loud, grumpy meow. But he’s so sweet. So friendly. He’ll sleep with you if you take him with you and put him on the bed.”

“Oh…wow. No, thank you. I’m not quite ready for a bedmate yet,” and then, to her embarrassment, she caught herself looking up to Brookshire and giving him a slight grin. She caught herself quickly and followed with, “I’m just so tired, and I’ve never slept with an animal.” She again caught her words in her throat and tried desperately not to look at Brookshire. She excused herself quickly before she said anything else dumb.

Davis made her way back to her room and lay down on her bed in the quiet dark. For the second time in a short period, she was desperate. She was desperate to calm her mind and get some rest. Desperate not to think of Brookshire. And desperate to explain to herself why she hadn’t tried to escape once.

~

Davis tried to clear her mind. But she could only think about what she needed to ask and what details she needed to clear up. Her mind kept wandering, and her heartbeat was racing. Even though she tried not to, she also kept thinking of Brookshire. They had started as friends in school. Many people thought he would eventually submit a request for marriage to Davis, but that never happened. They held hands once. It was at a