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

Even crazier was when Ana looked Quinn in the eye—it felt to her like it was straight in the eye, but Quinn was a bit tipsy—and gave her a crooked smile and then planted a kiss right on her lips. Quinn, for a moment, returned the kiss but abruptly broke away, gasping. “We can’t do this; what if someone sees us? This. Is. Not. A. Good. Idea.” Quinn was fighting all her instincts to do what she wanted to do, which was kiss her back passionately.

“I don’t care who sees!” exclaimed Ana.

“Well, I do,” said Quinn, getting up from the table. “Please, I’m sorry, Ana.”

“Please don’t say anything else. Just go,” Ana started to cry a little, breaking Quinn’s heart with each tear that began to fall. Quinn reached out to put her hand on Ana’s shoulder, but Ana had quickly put her head down on the table and nestled her head in the crook of her arm. Quinn thought better than saying anything at all and promptly left the room, apologizing again as she walked away, and her own tears started to sting her eyes.

September 18, 2056 –

Davis Returns to Her Room

When Davis finally returned to her room, there was something under her door. It was an envelope with a note clipped to it. Looking at it, Davis saw the letter was from Duffy. Davis glanced at the clock and noticed it was a little past 3 a.m. She was tired, her head hurt, and she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to read it right then. However, remembering she was supposed to leave the bunker at about 7 a.m. today, she figured no time like the present and read the note.

Davis,

I know this will seem blunt, and I apologize for that, but I got back this evening and wanted to give this to you before you left. However, you were busy tonight—which is excellent; I hope you had a fun evening with the girls.

At any rate, your mom gave me this note a long time ago, after you were born, but before she had been told you died. I did read it, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t know if we’d ever meet you or when. And, I wanted to make sure there was no valuable information we needed.

She had named you “Amelia,” so that is how she addressed the letter. She wrote it after the cure for Lombardi Plague was introduced, but the brain control hadn’t been introduced yet. That wasn’t until a few more months down the line. Currently, your mom is very much under the power of the brain control drug. The person who wrote this letter would not write it now. You need to know that. I also think it’s important for you to know that the Marigold Injection was initially called the Everett Cure. Early on, it was changed to the Marigold Injection, so that is all most people remember.

All my best,

Duffy

Davis reread the letter from Duffy before opening the envelope. Her hand was shaking as she opened it; her hand was trembling so much that she couldn’t even get the letter out on her first try. Davis decided to sit on the bed while reading because there was dizziness in her brain. She took a deep breath before forcing her eyes open, although that wasn’t too difficult as she was suddenly wide awake.

Dear Amelia:

My beautiful daughter! I am thrilled that I was able to stay healthy enough to bring you into the world. And now, we have both been cured of the Lombardi Plague! That cure opens so much possibility for you. I know already how smart you are—you’re so alert when you look at me, and your little sticky-up tufts of golden hair look like sparks of brilliance to me. Regardless, now you have the chance to LIVE. Have a life to create a story that is remarkable and uniquely yours.

I never knew I could love someone so much as you; from the instant I saw you, you were my favorite person in the world. I do wish your father could have met you; I know he would have been crazy about you too. Honestly, I don’t understand how anyone wouldn’t be crazy about you. You’re so cute, little, innocent, and sweet. I could stare at just your chubby, perfect little toes for hours.

There is something you must know, my dear. I do not fully trust Dr. Everett. I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel there might be something malicious happening. Again, nothing specific, so maybe I shouldn’t be so nitpicky. After all, he did save our lives! And for that, I’ll always respect and admire him—he saved my baby daughter’s life. But I’ve heard murmurs, grumblings, things that have made me uncomfortable. He seems to have a bad temper with the staff, which is never good, in my opinion. So, I have created a “password” for you, of sorts. In case something happens and we get separated somehow. I’m sure I’m worrying over nothing—new mom jitters—but just in case, this makes me feel better.

The password is “marigold.” My father, your grandfather, used to call me his Little Marigold. Not because of the golden hair that adorns the women in our family, although he said that was a fun coincidence. He always said marigold flowers are associated with the brave and courageous lion. That he always knew I could be brave and courageous, knowing that I will have the support and love of my family. That I could accomplish anything that I set my mind to do. And I want to impart not just this “safety password” onto you but also that same strength, courage, hope, and love. You have courage, my daughter. Courage isn’t doing something brave and strong—although I know you are brave and strong too—courage merely is doing the right thing, even if it isn’t easy. And I can see in your eyes; you will always