“For most of a decade I’d spent every spare moment memorizing the meanings and scientific descriptions of individual flowers, but the knowledge went mostly unutilized. I used the same flowers again and again: a bouquet of marigold, grief; a bucket of thistle, misanthropy; a pinch of dried basil, hate. Only occasionally did my communication vary: a pocketful of red carnations for the judge when I realized I would never go back to the vineyard, a peony for Meredith, as often as I could find it. Now, searching Market Street for a florist, I scoured my mental dictionary.”

As Victoria searches for flowers to communicate a message to the other girls at her group home, she introduces the idea of the language of flowers—which serves as the novel’s title. The flowers that she references allude to her experiences as a child growing up in the foster care system.

“I would look for a job; I knew I needed to. But for the first time in my life I had my own bedroom with a locking door, and no one telling me where to be or what to do. Before I started searching for work, I decided, I would grow a garden.”

When faced with freedom for the first time, Victoria devotes herself to creating something beautiful for herself. She understands that her behavior falls outside of convention, but her independence and desire to express herself outweigh her social impulses.

“‘Do you feel better?’

‘No,’ I said, though it was not the truth. I couldn’t remember the last home that allowed me to use a bathtub; Jackie may have had one upstairs, but kids were not permitted on the second floor.”

Victoria carries with her years of abuse that cause her to repress her feelings and thoughts. In denying that she enjoyed a bath, she prevents Elizabeth from potentially using it as a punishment—which has become her expectation in foster homes. This foreshadows her future trauma-driven behavior.