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Fern Verdant      
"Why couldn't you have just given me a normal name?" Fern Verdant had asked her mother ever since she was very small. "You have no idea what it's like being a modern child!"   "Normal? What exactly do you think normal is?" Fern's mother, Lily, would ask, and then she would answer her own question. "Normal is a myth perpetrated by people afraid of the unique." Fern's father, Olivier Verdant, would nod in agreement.   "That's a very nice philosophy," said Fern, "but you try living my life."   Olivier Verdant was a French botanist who specialized in ferns. He adored ferns. He was a frequent contributor to the American Fern Journal, and spent his days conducting fern research in a massive greenhouse in the Verdants' backyard. It was his ideato name Fern, Fern. Every night as the Verdants ate dinner in their greenhouse, the ferns swayed and drooped around them, reminding Fern of her awful burden.   Fern's mother was also a botanist, as if one in the family wasn't enough! At first Fern was happy that ferns weren't her mother's specialty, but as she grew older she wished they were. Lily Verdant traipsed around the globe saving endangered plants. Ifthere was a last languishing lotus flower in Udaipur or a fatally failing tea tree in Australia--Lily was there to save it. Once she had gone all the way to Peru to revive the sole survivor of an exotic strain of poppy. At least Fern knew she could always findher father huddled in the greenhouse studying his ferns, while her mother could be off anywhere in the whole world. Fern suspected that her parents might be guilty of neglect.   Lily and Olivier were very happy together. They'd met when Olivier was an exchange student from Paris, France. It was true love, spurred by a mutual and feverish fascination for botany. They botanied their way through college and they botanied their wayinto marriage. Fern was their only child. She hated plants as much as her parents loved them. It was because of botany that the family now lived in the miserable town of Nedlaw, Oregon.   The Verdants had once lived in a different town where Fern had had a best friend. It was the home of a university with the most important botany school in the world. Students from around the globe came to study there. The Verdants had many friends amongthe faculty, and the many friends each had one child because they were all far too busy researching to have more. Fern's best friend was Ivy Friedrichs. Ivy's father was also a botanist. Fern and Ivy both wished their parents were something more normal thanbotanists, like doctors or lawyers.   One day, while poring over specimens, Olivier Verdant discovered a brand-new fern. Its natural habitat was in the Pacific Northwest near the town of Nedlaw.   "I think we should move there so you can properly study your fern," suggested Lily, who was very supportive of Olivier's career. Fern was miserable. Not only did she have to say goodbye to Ivy, she now had to compete for her parents' affection with theVerdant Fern. It was like having an evil twin.   "One day you'll understand," Lily said to her daughter. "You'll love plants just as much as we do." Fern couldn't believe how little her mother knew her.   The day they moved to Nedlaw was the saddest day of Fern's life. Ivy and Fern clung to each other and cried their eyes out. Their parents placed comforting arms on their daughters' quivering shoulders, but exchanged knowing glances that said "They'll getover it soon." The Verdants arrived in Nedlaw, home of the Verdant Fern, and the bleakest, grayest, most horrible place Fern had ever seen.   Nedlaw had a quaint, old, recently renovated main street with three Starbuckses. It was surrounded by sprawling subdivisions with snaking arms that reached out like the asphalt veins in a witch's hand. Beyond the town, thick forests made their way downto sheer cliffs that dropped off into the black ocean. Fern wondered what the point of being near an ocean was if you couldn't even swim in it because the weather was so cold and wet all the time.   "All the better for ferns," said Olivier, smiling happily. Outside of town, near the forest, the Verdants bought a hundred-year-old red brick farmhouse. Behind it they built the greenhouse.   Fern was enrolled at Joan Baez Middle School. When Nedlaw was just a village, the singer had passed through, and loved the town so much that she performed a concert to raise money for the local school. The townsfolk renamed the school in her honor. Mostof the kids at Baez were the children of commuters. Every morning hundreds of fathers in crisp suits took the train to the city. Fern wished her own father would take a train somewhere like all the others. They had real jobs. Instead, Olivier walked aroundin dirty boots, wearing a thoughtful expression. Fern couldn't understand how studying a plant was a proper job.   When Lily wasn't off rescuing disappearing dahlias or vanishing violets, she drove Fern to school. Lily was beautiful, but she dressed with no regard for fashion. She wore shoes with heels that went down instead of up, and clothes that were baggy and bland.Lily had to know exactly how each person who made her clothes was treated at their place of work. How much were they paid? Were the working conditions safe and sanitary? Lily needed to know that they were treated fairly in order to buy their goods. Shoppingwith Lily was excruciatingly embarrassing for Fern.   Many of the other mothers in Nedlaw also worked, but when they dropped their daughters off at school they wore tall stiletto heels that made them look like lanky blue-suited gazelles. Their hair was straight and shiny, as was their daughters'. They alllooked perfect. Lily's hair looked like birds were nesting in it. She barely ever cut it, and jet-black curls shot out of her head like startled slinky toys. Her skin was tawny from being outdoors. Her eyes were piercing blue. She definitely stood out in acrowd. Fern looked exactly like Lily; they were two peas in a pod.   Being the new kid at school is bad, but being the new kid in baggy organic cotton clothing made by well-paid Peruvian seamstresses with full health benefits and child care, and being dropped curbside by Lily Verdant's beat-up blue Volvo station wagon,was miserable. The kids at Joan Baez Middle School looked at Fern like she was a freak. These same kids would all graduate into high school together. Fern figured she'd be in college before she ever had a friend again.   One day, shortly after they'd arrived in Nedlaw, Lily received a telephone call from a man named Claude Hubris. He told her he had a desperately ill rose. Among Claude's prized cultivations were roses as blue as the sky, as green as limes, as black asthe night, and so yellow that like the sun it hurt if you looked at them. Hubris roses were world-renowned; some sold for thousands of dollars. Once Claude had sold a rose to an Indian prince for a million rupees, which is a lot of money, but not nearly asmuch as you'd think. The ailing rose was a Silver Rose, the only one of its kind in the world. Claude told Lily the Silver Rose was on its last petals, and begged her to come and heal it.   Lily picked up Fern from school, and told her she was leaving town the next day on some botany business. That evening they prepared a special farewell dinner together. It was raining outside, but the kitchen was warm. A symphony of lids rattled on simmeringpots and pans. Moisture drizzled down the windows, fogging out the rest of the world. Cooking with Lily was always a challenge because she only ate fruits, nuts, and certain vegetables. It amazed Fern that Lily could make such delicious dishes from so little.   They ate dinner in the greenhouse. When they had finished, Lily asked Fern to take the dirty dishes into the kitchen. She leaned over and whispered to Olivier, "I feel badly about having to leave again. Fern's not very happy here in Nedlaw, and she hasn'tmade many friends yet, but I have to go."   "She'll be fine," Olivier tried to comfort his wife. "We'll be fine." He put his arm around her.   After dinner Fern and Lily went for a walk down to the steep cliffs that loomed along the coastline. They listened to the waves crash against the rocks and looked out over the never-ending nothingness of the sea.   "Just imagine," Lily said, smiling, "across that ocean Chinese people are having tomorrow, yaks are climbing Tibetan mountain peaks, Arabian horses are galloping across sandy dunes . . . and a beautiful teal tulip is blooming in a Tunisian garden. Isn'tit wonderful?" But all Fern saw were dark, bleak waves.   "It looks like the end of the world to me." Fern was quiet for a moment, then she said something that had been on her mind for a long time. "I don't understand why you and Dad bothered to have a kid when you love plants so much better."   Lily looked at Fern, startled. She drew her daughter close to her. "That's not true. I love you so much it hurts my heart sometimes. I love plants in an entirely different way. Just wait, one day you will, too, and it will be something special we can share."   Later that night, as Fern was about to fall asleep, Lily came into her room with a flowerpot. In the flowerpot was dark, rich soil and a seed.   "I brought you a present. It's a very special seed. You must care for it and keep it near." All Fern saw was a stupid pot of soil.   "Don't worry, I won't be gone long." Lily kissed her daughter on the forehead and switched off the light. Fern got out of bed and looked at the "present" on her bedside table. She was furious. What kind of mother could think that a pot of dirt would makeher feel better? Most mothers would get their daughter a dress, something pretty, not a pot of dirt. To Fern this was further proof that her mother didn't care for her at all.   "I really do have unfit parents," cried Fern. She opened her bedroom window and angrily threw the flowerpot outside. The pot hit a large weeping willow, gashing the tree. The broken shards scattered on the ground. Fern fell onto her bed and cried.   The next morning she sulked her way downstairs to breakfast. Olivier made some marvelous French toast with blackberries, and they all ate in the greenhouse. Fern only picked at her food. Lily's suitcase was brought downstairs and loaded into the trunkof the car. It was gray and misty outside, as usual. They all drove to the train station together. Fern barely spoke the whole way there. She stared sullenly out the window. At the station Lily hugged Fern tightly, but Fern refused to hug Lily back. Lily kissedher husband goodbye and boarded the train. She stuck her head out the compartment window as the train pulled out of the Nedlaw station. The mist clung to her curls and glistened. Lily waved and Olivier waved back. Fern stared angrily down at her feet.   Neither Olivier nor Fern could have guessed that Lily would not return to them.         Lily's Nightmare     When Lily Verdant's train pulled into a small station near the house of the Hubrises, a purple car that looked like a speeding bruise screeched into the parking lot. The driver stepped out to greet Lily. He had a shock of bright green hair, like fuzzylichen. Lily was not prejudiced against anyone with colored hair. In fact, a very good friend of Lily's from college had dyed her hair red and blue and orange, and Lily loved it. This green hair was not dyed. It was real. The driver looked like a giant ChiaPet or a Chia Man.   Lily tried not to be rude, but it was hard not to stare. She said she'd prefer to walk, but the Chia Man said it was too far. He hustled her into the car, and then tore down the dark dirt road toward the Hubris home. Lily looked anxiously out the windowsat the forbidding landscape. Sharp cliffs protruded over a frantic sea. If the Silver Rose hadn't been in trouble, Lily wouldn't have been caught dead in this place.   Claude and Luella Hubris greeted Lily at the door of their enormous Victorian home. The house heaved in the gusting wind, like it was trying to spit something out. Claude was so deeply tanned it was distracting. The tan made his teeth look wickedly white.He wore a white linen suit and a Panama hat, like he'd woken up on a Caribbean island but had somehow ended up here. His fingernails were manicured and shiny. He smiled and shook Lily's hand.   Luella was strange. Her alabaster skin looked as though it had never seen the sun. A smile like a fat red lightning bolt was smeared across the bottom of her face. Her eyes screeched back toward her ears, as though they were fleeing her nose. Around herbony shoulders she wore a finely woven fuzzy black shawl made from live caterpillars, their little heads hanging down like a forlorn fringe. A knee-length red leather skirt hugged Luella's narrow hips, revealing green stockings woven from spiderwebs. She teeteredon a pair of blue snakeskin stilettos. There wasn't a thing on her that hadn't once been, or wasn't still, alive, including the two Monarch butterfly barrettes that held her thick blond hair in place. The butterflies flapped their wings, their wide eyes beggingfor freedom. Her entire appearance was very disturbing. If it hadn't been for the rose, Lily would have fled.   Lily asked to see the flower immediately, but the Hubrises insisted on chatting. They gave her tea, which she did not drink, and inquired in great detail about her work. They poked and prodded and probed, but Lily ignored their questions and insisted shebe taken to the Rose. She felt as though she were being interrogated. Finally, the Hubrises led her down a long hallway to a massive domed greenhouse. The Silver Rose was the only plant in the whole greenhouse. It sat forlornly on a marble pedestal.   Lily had never ever seen anything like it. The Rose appeared to be made of real silver. Its petals were a metallic gray that looked like mother-of-pearl, only badly tarnished. The Rose drooped sadly. Lily opened up her black plant-doctor's bag and removedher equipment. She took the flower's temperature and examined its leaves. She checked the air, the soil, and anything else that could possibly be affecting the Rose's general health. The Hubrises watched. As Lily performed a thorough examination of her patient,she heard a whisper: "Please . . .   I beg you . . . let me die." Lily gasped.   "What? What?" probed the Hubrises.   They had not heard the Rose. In fact, no one could hear the Rose, no one except for Lily Verdant, who was appalled by its wretched condition.