he grabbed the pot and held it in front of his face. “This thing was dead.”
I tried to think of some excuse for its hardiness that sounded halfway true. “Cacti are pretty resilient. They can go without water for a really long time.”
“Yeah, but it was all brown and shriveled up.”
The cactus moved toward me slightly. I did’t think he saw, but I turned and walked away immediately.
“I’m sure I can find this place if you don’t want to take me,” I called over my shoulder.
He quickly set the plant down and locked the door. He jogged to catch up with me as I power walked away from the shop. “I’m Karter, by the way.”
“Briseis.”
“Oh. That’s pretty,” he said.
“Thanks.” His voice was soft and he was a little awkward. It was kind of nice. It didn’t feel like he was trying to be anybody but himself. I wished I knew what that was like.
My phone buzzed. Mo was waiting at Ginger’s with Mom.
“This way,” Karter said. Making a quick right turn, we cut through an alleyway between two shops. All along the ground were plants in terracotta pots. Karter walked ahead and I tried to pretend like I didn’t see the lemongrass and lavender growing fuller. I bumped into him as we emerged from the alley.
He turned and smiled at me. “Here we go.”
Ginger’s was a hole-in-the-wall place tucked away off the tourist route. I hoped that meant it would be good.
“You coming in?” I asked.
“Oh,” Karter said, his eyebrows pushing up. “I wanted to show you where to go. I don’t wanna bother you.”
“If you don’t want to—”
“I do!” Karter said, louder than he needed to. “I mean—I’d like to.”
“C’mon,” I said.
Karter opened the door for me and I stepped into the magical little place. It smelled like warm cornbread and the familiar vinegary aroma that went with greens stewed in a pot for hours. That smell, the laughter coming from the kitchen, the woman who poked her head out that looked like my grandma—it all felt like home.
Mom and Mo sat at a table near the front window. Mo beamed at Mom as she tilted her head back and laughed. They seemed really happy in that moment, which made everything else that had happened feel less important. Mom’s face lit up as she caught sight of me and Karter.
I turned to him before walking over. “Just so you know, my parents are mad extra.”
“How extra?” Karter asked. “My mom’s like that too.”
Mo snagged a chair for Karter. “Have a seat,” she said, a little too eagerly.
Karter sat and stuck out his hand. “I’m Karter. I work in the bookstore up the block. It’s nice to meet you.”
“He’s so polite,” Mom said, like he wasn’t sitting right there. She reached out to shake his hand. Splotches of ointment dotted her forearm. “Don’t you worry about that. I’m not contagious. Some poison ivy got me.” She drew her arm back. “I’m itchy in places I didn’t even know existed.”
I could feel the heat rising in my face. I was hoping they’d wait until we ate to start embarrassing me.
“We practically had to use a paintbrush to put on the ointment,” Mo said as she nonchalantly scanned the menu.
I sank deeper into my seat. Karter grinned.
Mo whistled. “Lookin’ like a young Trevante Rhodes, so handsome.”
Mom nodded in agreement and I looked into my lap. This was so much worse than I imagined.
“So, Karter, what’s good here?” Mo asked.
“Everything,” he said. He was trying very hard not to laugh.
Mom opened her mouth to speak, and I shook my head. “Please. Don’t.” I didn’t even know what she was going to say, but I knew it would be embarrassing.
She smiled, pressing her lips together. We ordered and since it was nearly lunch, Mom got catfish and greens and Mo got the same thing, but with baked mac ’n’ cheese on the side.
“If there are breadcrumbs on top, I’m gonna lose it,” Mo said.
“Breadcrumbs?” Karter asked. “That should be illegal. They’d never do that here.”
“Ooh, I like him so much,” said Mo, nudging my shoulder.
“I found some field guides at the bookstore,” I said, trying to change the subject. “The old ones with the bright covers. Perfect condition, too.”
“Oh yeah?” said Mom. She turned to Karter. “We run a flower shop back home, so Briseis has a love for plants.”
“Really?” Karter asked. “That’s what’s up. What’s it called?”
“Bri’s,” Mom said, beaming at me.
I’d always thought it was sweet, naming the shop after me. It