the whiteboard: Gasser. Noun. Something that is extraordinarily pleasing or successful, especially a funny joke. Violet smiles, knowing that Katie-Rose would find the word “gasser” particularly pleasing. “Did you hear the gasser I told Milla before class started?” she’d say, trying it out. “Hilarious. I about split my gut from laughing so hard!”

Even if Katie-Rose hadn’t told Milla a gasser, she’d say that. Katie-Rose doesn’t care if something’s real or make-believe, just as long as it’s entertaining and involves Katie-Rose in a starring role. Oh, and one other small detail: just as long as the FFFs (and for the most part no one else) are her audience.

Katie-Rose adores her tribe of flower friends forever, and she’s fiercely loyal to the friends as a foursome. She has little need for other people, however, and she has strong opinions about not allowing others into their circle. She’s afraid they’ll mess up the mix, that’s what Violet thinks. But she also thinks, Sorry, Charlie. Sometimes we all have to share.

Mr. Emerson turns and faces his students. “Someone use ‘gasser’ in a sentence, please.”

“That gasser was so stinky it about blew my leg off!” Thomas calls out. People laugh.

“N-n-no,” Mr. Emerson says. “Read the definition first.”

“‘Don’t light a match around a gasser or you’ll blow your head off?” Thomas says.

Mr. Emerson pushes his hand through his hair. “Thomas. If I go to the trouble of giving you a word of the day, a glorious word of the day, then you will use that word of the day properly. You will rehearse and absorb and practice that word until it is part of you. Do you understand?”

“It’s already part of me,” Thomas says. “The gas part, anyway.” He looks from student to student, egging them to laugh. “Am I right? I’m right, right?”

“Your wit delights us all,” Mr. Emerson tells Thomas. “Write down a sentence using the word ‘gasser,’ everyone. On a piece of paper, using a writing utensil of your choice.”

Thomas tries to speak.

“Thank you, but no,” Mr. Emerson says. “Write. Your. Sentence. And after you’ve done that, pull out your ‘Where I’m From’ poems and work on those.”

Kids bend over their notebooks. Violet intends to do the same, but a movement at the door catches her attention. It’s Yasaman, again, hovering just inside Mr. Emerson’s classroom for the third morning in a row.

Is she bringing Mr. E another note? She is. Violet can see the scrap of paper between Yaz’s clenched fingers.

“Yasaman, my little flower,” Mr. Emerson says. “Do you come bearing good tidings?”

Yaz shoots Violet a quick smile before going to him. While Yaz and Mr. Emerson speak in whispers, Violet quickly composes not just one but three word-of-the-day sentences, each using “gasser” in the right way:

1) Did you hear the gasser Katie-Rose told Milla? I about split my gut from laughing so hard!

2) I wonder if Yasaman thinks it’s a gasser when Mr. E calls her a little flower.

3) Thomas’s gassers aren’t as funny as he thinks they are, but they’re not totally un-funny, either.

With that out of the way, she tears a clean piece of notebook paper out of her spiral. If Mr. Emerson and Ms. Perez can pass notes in class—because that’s what they’re basically doing, right? With Yaz as their messenger?—then so can Violet.

She taps her chin with her pen, then scribbles this message:

Hayley—

Want to eat lunch with me today? With me and my friends?

Violet (the girl sitting next to you)

She folds the note into a triangle and tosses it at Hayley’s desk. Hayley glances at it, then glances at Violet.

At the front of the room, Mr. E claps Yaz’s shoulder in a wrapping-things-up sort of way. Yaz heads out, waving at Violet as she passes.

“Bye,” Violet mouths.

She turns back to Hayley, but … huh. Violet’s note is gone. The note is gone, and Hayley is plugging away at her sentences or her poem, one or the other. Red curls hang in front of Hayley’s eyes, making it hard for Violet to see Hayley’s expression.

Violet swallows. Where is the note?? Why does Violet feel so naked all of a sudden???

Hayley continues to write, but as she writes, she jerks her head in a very deliberate sort of way. A look down, silly sort of way.

Violet does, and her muscles relax. There’s the note, right on top of Violet’s spiral. Only it’s still in its triangle shape. Did Hayley even read it?

One way to find out, she tells herself. She slides the note onto her lap and unfolds it using small, deft movements. Hayley did read it! She read it and wrote Violet a reply, too.

Sure, it says below Violet’s lunch invitation. Sounds fun.

Oh. Wait.

Sounds like a GASSER, that is.

—H

A grin stretches across Violet’s face. It starts off small and keeps growing.