But it turned out none of the boys

had ever heard of how the color of roses

was, according to Alison, supposed to be

the secret language of love.”

Nothing to Worry About

The flowers, including the extra flowers,

only have their rehearsals

after school on Tuesday and Thursday.

So I’m not going to be spending endless hours

watching other people practice their real parts,

wasting precious time I could have spent

helping the people on the Isle of Guernsey

save their dying language.

Besides

(though I can’t say this to Lizard

or to my mother),

it’s going to be fun being an extra flower.

We sing the same song

as the flowers-with-names.

We do the same dance,

all of the flowers together.

I’m going to have flower makeup

and wear a flower costume.

I can take off two afternoons a week

from saving Guernésiais, right?

I can take off two afternoons a week

from being Lizard’s friend, right?

I Turn Out to Be a Genius

“What are we going to do about

Zari, Veronica, and Zoey?”

Lizard asks me on Wednesday afternoon,

as we watch cartoons on Lizard’s TV

and eat an entire bag of Ruffles potato chips

with sour-cream-and-onion dip.

(Even Lizard needs a break

from language practice sometimes.)

“What are we going to do about them

about what?” I ask.

“About you-know-what,” Lizard says.

“If I knew what, I wouldn’t ask what.”

“About Guernésiais, dummy!

They couldn’t care less about it.

All they care about is the play,

the play, the stupid play!”

She glares at me because she knows

I care a lot about the play these days, too,

even though I’ve just been

to one rehearsal so far.

I try to think of something helpful

to say, but it’s hard.

“I don’t know.

Maybe we need to find some other people

to save it with us, people who would actually

want to save it, too.”

“Like who?” Lizard demands.

The two of us don’t exactly have

a million friends.

“Maybe we could start a club,

a Guernésiais-saving club,

and advertise it with posters in the halls

and a morning announcement,

so lots of kids would know about it and join.”

Then Lizard says something

I’ve never heard her say before:

“Bumble. You. Are. A. Genius.”

What It Takes to Make a Club

“You have to have a faculty adviser,”

Lizard says.

I have no idea how she knows this

since she’s the one who said when school started

that we shouldn’t be in any clubs

because clubs are dumb.

“When my sister Sara made her origami club,

she found a teacher to sponsor it.

When my sister Mojo wanted to make an Anti-Club Club

for all the kids who hate clubs,

she had to find a faculty sponsor, too.”

“Did she?” I ask. “Find one?”

“Of course not!”

“So who can we find

for our club?”