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The school’s class should count twenty heads. Though, more often than not, it was only eighteen heads that showed to class. When it did number twenty, it hadn’t been long before the bathroom set it back down to eighteen.
The class never felt complete without that round, even twenty. A girl with white hair and her favorite yellow dress sleepily laid her fist into her cheek, unable to stop the teacher’s words from slurring into foamy nothingness. Gardenia’d heard this before; she’d done it before; at home, at school, she really would’ve preferred it if the lesson might pick up the pace a little.
Suppressing a yawn, Gardenia’s head drifted in the clouds. Papa always told her that ‘what goes around, comes around,’ and that even the most minute thing she did could have some unforeseen ramification years down the line, far past a young teenager’s foresight.
So Gardenia sat in that uncomfortable wooden chair, elbows on the table as she half-heartedly solved problems she already knew. She really didn’t have any care for linguistics. It gave her enough of a headache having to sit beside her Papa when he talked to the men in business suits, and he had her read over dizzyingly long contracts with numbers she couldn’t comprehend.
Papa told her that there wasn’t any need to know the specifics of those documents now, as she was only a girl, but she should know how to manage the house once she grows older.
Gardenia much preferred history or mathematics. When Papa donned his white double-breasted jacket and opened the cabinets with a flurry of metal clanking, most ears might scrunch - but Gardenia’s picked up, and she always trotted to the side and helped him pick out the “rooooundest” of their frying pans, as she frenziedly dug into their fridge to help him make dinner.
When vegetables sizzled, Papa sometimes told her the origins and the native habitats of the more unfamiliar ones, and how time and culture affected places today and the food they ate. When she and Papa travelled, they always tried something outside their comfort zone; at least, when she held her stomach with something not-so-palatable, usually the feeling was mutual. Sometimes, her Papa pulled out papers with more numbers than words, and explained how the numbers corresponded to ingredients and how to maximize the value of food.
Papa taught her a lot of lessons about maximizing with the minimal. Papa was a wise man, but she knew that with each day, he could keep up less with his sunny daughter’s bountiful energy. It mattered not; Gardenia loved her father, and he loved her. It only took these two to create Gardenia’s happy universe.
“Ah. Good to see you, Mr. Seager. At a fashionably inconvenient time, as always.”
Gardenia sloppily looked to the entrance hall, realizing that she’d almost fallen asleep in class. It was becoming a bad habit of hers, but really, who could blame her when she already knew the material for the week; not to mention the whole next two months? Why couldn’t she just skip a grade or two?
Gardenia lost herself in that reverie again, only perking up when that Russell Seager claimed his unkempt seat next to hers. Nobody even mentioned his presence, despite him wearing a bright-red vest.
To the class, Russell deserved the unfortunate classification of ‘weird kid.’. Gardenia understood that well; she’s only heard his voice a scant few times, every word of it muffled by noise as he spoke to his friend, Chris. His eyes, though a nearly identical blue as hers, seemed dull. Gardenia wondered if they were like geodes; cloudy and yet sparkly on the inside.
Russell, despite his cloudy and bleak look, never flinched an emotion on his face. He tended to look alerted and restless at all times, scanning for something that Gardenia couldn’t see. While Gardenia lazily gazed at him from her seat, only just taking in his facial features, Russell looked over the room thrice in an instant, and sunk into his chair a little.
“Is your friend with you, Mr. Seager?” the teacher asked. No one looked back at him. Russell, for his part, shook his head without an ounce of hesitation or emotion. Truthfully, that almost robotic shake of the head felt a little creepy. She thought he might’ve installed a bunch of pulleys and ropes inside his body to force him through the day.
The teacher nodded. “Well, I understand you two get along. The bathroom’s always available, if you’d like.”
Russell peered at Gardenia, who continued to lazily stare at him. She doesn’t think there are any thoughts in her head - oh, wait, except that one. Well, maybe another - where was Chris? If Russell was at school, so was Chris.
Gardenia had only paid so much attention to him in the first place because of what the teacher said - that the ‘bathroom was always available.’ Chris and Russell frequently excused themselves to go there, and never returned. Just what did those boys get up to? Gardenia certainly, kind of, maybe just a little, wanted to see what those two mysterious boys got up to in their free time. She felt a little excited at the idea of leaving class… getting away from all this monotony, and going on a little travel-trip.
She realized, with a flush of indignant embarrassment, that one of his eyes had warily met hers for maybe a minute now. Gardenia sprouted up to an upright position, clasping her hands politely, before waving them apologetically.
“Sorry, ehehe…” she whispered. Her tongue made movements in her mouth, but that mouth didn’t open and neither did any words form in the first place. But Russell continued looking at her… so she uneasily returned the gaze. Russell usually kept his eyes on the scratches on his desk, maybe drawing something on a loose scrap of paper, or just glancing at his friend. Unusual was only the smallest qualifier to describe the feeling Gardenia got when his eyes scraped over her.
His eyebrows raised. The fluorescent light twinkled in his eye just a little. But then his sight clouded, dark and hazy, and he returned to the inviting surface of his desk as a lone watchman.
Gardenia furrowed her brows as her consciousness finally kicked into action and met with her subconscious, which was already going ahead with a plan she didn’t even vet yet!
Gardenia’s lunchbox was a well-sought commodity in the school. Her lunchbox’s contents were always hot, always impeccably lavish and spiced. Sometimes n’er-do-wells tried to snatch pieces of fish or lobster, but besides that, most either just hungrily gawked at her lunch or even paid her for a morsel, something which she was happy to do. After all, there was always more to cook at home. There always was a bit much in that kitchen for just two people…
But when Gardenia thought at lunch, and thought of going on a little adventure to the inner world of these two mysterious boys, she noticed something a little vexing.
Russell didn’t have a lunch box. Come to think of it, he never brought one. Papa always told Gardenia that a hearty lunch was the key to any growing child or teenager, and that food could heal not just the stomach, but the heart and the mind too. Russell’s desk looked even emptier once she realized that he didn’t have lunch… and he always wore the same clothes…
A perturbed look grew on Gardenia’s face as she thought more, sinking her face into her hand. Russell continued to stare at her, almost frowning. It wasn’t one of malice, but it looked uncertain.
“E-excuse me..!” Gardenia piped up quietly, rapping a knuckle on her desk. There was a class discussion going on now, but neither Gardenia nor Russell paid mind to it. For Gardenia, she saw a person like her who needed a light in some darkness.
Russell turned to face her. Her first thought was realizing that he looked really unkempt. Was he okay? Probably not… well, he always looked like that, she thought. Her hands curled into fists.
“You’re… Russell, right? You look a little pale… are you okay?”
Russell nodded unenthusiastically. Obvious lie, she reckoned, as she bared her teeth with a mildly toothy grin. “Did you bring a lunch?” His shoulders tensed at that, before he shook his head.
“...Do you want mine?”
Russell’s eyes widened a little bit, as Gardenia produced a floral and bright yellow lunch box. It had a cute little ribbon on it. She waggled it under the desk, as to not let other students know of this illicit deal.
“I’ll give you some… at lunch, okay? It’s not right to starve for a day.” Gardenia blinked off the last of her fatigue, trying to roll her energy into convincing Russell to take a bit of her food. As she looked for a response, his eyes were brighter. It was the same as when she apologized to him, but slightly more lively… and human.
But Russell shook his head, turning away, as to immerse himself in the desk.
“What if I give it to you now?” she blurted out, almost mortified that she’d just ran ahead like that. Papa would certainly give her a scolding about now; on how to talk politely and be friendly with others. She covered her mouth, almost a little fearful - no matter how polite she was, Gardenia never seemed to find luck with people.
They treated her kindly, but she felt a very invisible chasm between her and everyone else. It was like she was on a mountain of some kind, but Gardenia was really cold up there, and wanted to come down. Yet the constant blizzard was a little tough to navigate…
Gardenia opened the latches on her lunchbox, trying to show Russell what was inside to try and convince him. Food felt kind of like a cheap way to bribe someone… but it had helped before.
Russell’s eyes narrowed as he glanced to the teacher and the door.
“I’ve got to ‘go to the bathroom,’” Gardenia recited, mocking air quotes around the bathroom part. She jingled her lunchbox, unable to stop a smile as her insides worriedly flipped about going far ahead.
Russell… nodded. His lips turned a little up.
“Uh- wow…” Gardenia mumbled. “I kinda thought you’d say no… okay, just leave after me…”
Thus, Gardenia’s hand shot up into the air and waved for attention.
“Reitman?”
“May I go to the restroom, please?”
“You may. Mr. Seager, use the restroom how it’s supposed to be used… you could follow a good role model like Gardenia here.”
Gardenia snickered at the irony as she trotted out the door, concealing her lunch box. She leaned against the wall for a few minutes, worrying if Russell would come along - it took time for students to leave a class just to skip and hang out. Time had to be taken and care exercised so that the timing didn’t look suspicious…
Two minutes later, the teacher started to speak again. “Okay, see you in two weeks, Mr. Seager. Have fun with Chris,” the teacher sounded from inside the wall. Magically, the blonde-haired blue-eyed boy appeared. His face looked a little red, and he was frowning. It looked like his eyes were a deep blue ocean, and many fish, characterizing innumerable thoughts, swam in that deep, hazy look.
When their eyes met, that frown disappeared. Gardenia smiled at him, if a little forcedly. “So… where do you boys run off to hide at?” She leaned towards him, looking around the halls, just to make sure no one had caught them.
“...Follow me,” Russell whispered. His voice was light, and aflush with shyness, but there came an unexpected surprise to Gardenia at the kindness in his voice. No, maybe the most surprising part was that he had spoken at all. As he began to walk off, beckoning for Gardenia to follow, she tried to take in more details from the mysterious 19th classmate. His footfalls were light, and he was indeed cautious. Too shy for his own good; he didn’t want to walk at Gardenia’s side, but only ahead.
“Hey, Russell,” Gardenia called as she sped up her pace. “Don’t be worried! Walk beside me!” So Russell returned to her side, evidently struggling with not speedwalking. Gardenia figured she’d use the small opening to try and talk.
“That teacher doesn’t have any right to be so mean,” she started. Russell nonchalantly shrugged. “A teacher is meant to support their students! They should try to reach out a hand to help all their students whenever possible.”
Gardenia waved her hands again, as she realized the implication she made. “Sorry… I don’t mean it like that! It-it’s just, you look a little hungry, and that’s not okay, and…”
As she carried herself away, babbling, Russell’s eyes had darkened again. He distinctly looked to hate being pitied, as evidenced by that look in his eyes. Gardenia briefly wondered if there was a look in his eyes in the first place, but decided to just keep talking.
“W-well, it’s just, sometimes I wonder where you two run off two every day! I kinda wish I could run off, you know? I don’t need to be cooped up in that stuffy classroom any longer, it’s all so samey!”
In those hazy blue eyes laid concentrated focus, he listened intently; he nodded, urging her to continue as he started to look more comfortable in the pace they were taking. Gardenia could see the stairs of the schoolhouse up ahead, and she confirmed mentally that Russell just ended up leaving school most days…
“Soooo, I guess I can say I’m a little jealous…” Gardenia laughed sheepishly, almost nervous as to why she herself was nervous. Was it because she hung out alone with a boy? Perhaps something else?
“...it is really cool! Having a friend to hang out with like that, I mean… ignoring all the responsibilities.” She coughed. “Remember, do as we say, not as we do… we should be responsible children, hanging out cordially with our friends after class, but… there’s a thrill to this, I think!”
Russell shrugged, but he was near-smiling again. Cheekily, Gardenia rubbed her own chin as she wondered if she could get a smile out of the boy by the end of the day. It wasn’t really an act of good will, she just thought it might be a funny challenge, is all.
They reached the staircase, a small spiral staircase, going to the ground floor of their small schoolhouse. Gardenia felt her feet stop in place as she realized Russell wasn’t beside her; she looked around. The air wafting through the ventilation could be heard rather obviously. The cold air distracted her wandering listless thoughts..
Russell took a deep breath behind her. Gardenia could hear him rapidly breathing, taking a step back, even; when she turned her head, his face looked a little pale.
“Are you okay..? You look pale…”
“I’m fine,” Russell whispered. “Ladies first… be careful.” Gardenia giggled as she bounded down the stairs. “I will be!” she returned, smiling. “We’ve gotta seize the day! And no silly stairs are gonna stop us on our grand, magnifique odyssey!” She bounced on her heels a little at the bottom, waiting for Russell to follow. There was an unplaced expression on his face, but he swallowed it down, meekly following her down the steps.
Gardenia checked her progress as Russell made it down the stairs. It was good progress to hear him talking, but she still felt a little distant. Gardenia heard some girls in the school call the others nicknames. Usually, this was done between close friends. If Gardenia found one for Russell, might it make bridge-building a little easier? A lot of uncertain thoughts were in Gardenia’s head… most of all, this act of stark rebellion she’s a little too happy to partake in. Doubtless as it would be that the teacher discovered she’d been skipping class. That infraction might be forwarded to her father, and concerning the fact that Gardenia knew he wouldn’t be happy in the slightest about Gardenia ‘foregoing her education.’ Not her fault it was booo-ring!
Russell, much more eager to get down the stairs, waited not for her. Gardenia puffed out her cheeks, taking the low-dangling fruit. “Aw… I thought you said ladies first!”
“Snooze, you lose,” Russell replied with a smug look to his eyes. “Hey!” Gardenia teasingly smiled, returning to his side. “It’s not fair that the classes are just sooooo boring…” Russell agreed with that sentiment, leading the pair forward through the school. Russell thought a bit too much on his stomach. He smelled something positively delectable inside that little yellow present-box, wondering what was inside it. He could just get it now… but…
Russell’s face scrunched and fell downcast again. He felt sort of guilty. Well, not really. There wasn't any reason to feel that way. He knew it couldn’t be the right thing to think… and yet…
Gardenia happily walked at his side. Russell still felt a little pitiful, as this cute rich girl tottered around after him. He felt like he already cheated her out of life… he was a liar, a false prophet, leading her on.
Gardenia, for her part, glowed inside like the color of her dress. None of the girls in her class ever tried to do anything fun with her - it always had something to do with her wealth or her money. Gardenia didn’t think she was very scary, but she always had second thoughts when other girls rebuffed her efforts. Other girls in their gossip made frequent their envy of Gardenia’s nice clothes and the fancy trinkets she frequently carried.
Fortunately, Russell humored her, even willing to spend time with her. She wanted to say ‘friend,’ but it felt way too fast, impolite, and unprofessional…
Maybe a birthday party would help. Free food opens the heart and nourishes the soul, she recalled; if she invited the class to her birthday, might it make everyone a little more friendly? She’d have to ask Papa tonight. She clicked her shoes against the linoleum flooring. If their peers considered Russell a ‘scary person,’ then that’s probably why they were doing this right now. Two scary people trying to be a little less scared of the other.
Opposites attract, she’d heard - but she also knew that alike people tended to stick together.
“Here,” Russell whispered. This door, pale and worn, was indistinguishable from all the others. One of those unassuming doors that was either locked and made your mind wander with imagination as to what mildly mundane items would be inside, or it was unlocked, and you knew that whatever was in there was just too boring to pay any attention to. The door was plain. Like a stage prop.
“Oh… isn’t this… wait, the storage room?!”
Russell shushed her surprise, as he produced a pair of rusty pliers from his pockets. His hands patted his side, a confused grimace coming to his face. That grimace was the biggest show of emotion yet. Gardenia hid her shock at the old tool, wondering what she got herself into.
“Ah…” he mumbled… “...where is it?”
“What do you need?” Gardenia asked, leaning closer. Russell’s eyes went over her face and to her silvery hair, spying.
“Do you have a bobby pin or two, somewhere?”
“N-no, well, maybe!” Gardenia sweat a little at being asked so directly like that. “I usually keep my hair in this ribbon, so I never need one…” Gardenia thumbed at her small pouch that served as a purse, fishing around inside the fine, leathery compartment. She felt a distinctly smooth, shiny, and yet jagged piece of metal, with spherical ends. She forked it over to Russell, before snagging another and giving it to him, juggling it when she nearly failed to hold it.
“Thank you… uh… Gardenia…”
“What are you about to do?”
Russell’s hands, a little shaky when receiving the bobby pin, became almost like mechanisms as he precisely stuck the pin inside the door. With the pliers, he bent the bobby pin at a specific angle, eyes slanted as he worked the pins into a favorable position.
Russell stuck the other pin into the lock, getting on a kneel. Gardenia’s face partially blanched as the lock started to click, and she understood that he was attempting to lockpick the door.
“Uh, do we need to be– um, nevermind! Go on!” Secretly, it thrilled Gardenia to see what laid behind one of these doors. There are always stories in life worth seeing and listening to, but sometimes they are hidden just out of sight. This must’ve been part of Russell and Chris’ stories; how many times might she have walked past this very door, with her other two classmates talking about boy things in this room?
“Cool…” Gardenia breathed, blinking off weariness again. Maybe the storage room would make a nice place to sleep. “Where’d you learn to do this..?”
Russell squinted, trying to focus, but his body deflated after another visible bout of frustration. “Chris taught me,” he simply replied. Gardenia held her breath as Russell worked, feeling like she’d interrupted him.
The lock clicked and the door creaked open. Gardenia smelled something unpleasant, even foreign: dust. It wasn’t a scent that the maid liked her to breathe; they equated its danger to the common cold, and swatted at it with those feather-laden tools like it were a swarm of locusts.
Evidently, the scrunching of her face was very obvious. Russell gave her an unreadable look as he acquiesced to let her in first, something unplaceable in his eyes. He thought long and hard about something, maybe the very same thing in his earlier oceanic look.
There might’ve been something in the dark, dimly-lit corners, so Gardenia made sure to poke her head in the room first. She didn’t see any monsters in wait, so she trotted in and spun to face Russell.
His eyes were glassy still; she likened them to an aquarium, thoughtful little fishes, and perhaps a carp or two in his eyes. He looked like he was fighting a battle somewhere far away; as if what was in front of him he really saw a window, and there outside fought a tantalizing and great joust, and the player he bet on was losing.
So Gardenia bared her jolly teeth at him, smiling, already noseblind to the dusty and dingy old room. If not dust, it smelled like fresh wood and cardboard; to children like themselves, it was a little familiar and welcoming.
Russell was perturbed; if not disturbed. Gardenia was like a little rabbit, happily bouncing into this dark room. He thought: what if a car hit her there, in the face? The cute Gardenia would be a pile of mincemeat on the floor, a perfect little soup for that lunchbox.
If the car’s headlights were off, would Gardenia’s sunny dress give her away? Might she be there a moment, and in the next be in the clouds? The room was perfectly dark, and it always was Chris who knew about all the little nooks and crannies for rascals like themselves.
“Come on!” Gardenia whispered, peering over Russell’s shoulder as he sauntered inside, shutting and locking the door again. “This place looks a little beat-up… how often does anyone even come here?”
“Don’t know,” came the response, then an addendum: “There’s plenty of boxes that we can hide inside, anyways.”
Gardenia surveyed the room again. Plain and industrial; it had a bunch of shelves, a token haphazard selection of unlabeled boxes, a nice selection of cobwebs, and even a desk. She found a nice, sturdy container on which to sit back against. She invited Russell over, patting the ground.
The lights flickered for a moment, encasing the room in shadow. Gardenia’s breathing hitched, a little frightful, and her hands dug into her dress’ fabric.
“What happened to the lights? Russell, where are the lights?”
Silence…
Gardenia’s nerves were a little jostled. There came the feeling that she shouldn’t be doing this again… and she gripped that lunch box tight, the only familiar anchor in the darkness.
“Russell? Hello? Stop messing with me…!”
“I’m not,” came the response. She should hear shuffling in the dark, as Russell moved closer and further to her at the same time. She jingled her lunch box, letting the handle hit the body of the lunchbox, to help guide him. Russell’s footstpes came closer… and closer…
…and then there was a hand grasping her face very, uncomfortably tightly.
Gardenia yelped, grasping the foreign thing, and tried to detach it. “Aah! Russell, that’s my face - eeee, don’t do that!”
Russell knew what he was doing. He felt constricted, and his nails pierced a little into her flesh. His other hand flexed its fingers.
A life is a fragile thing, like an old bulb. It could burn brightly for a long time, illuminating its surroundings with light. It might become dim and die out over a period of years, or it could be yanked from its home and smashed; its lifeline could be severed in an instant.
As he looked through his fingers, those bright blue eyes of hers burned bright. They had no dimness. He found a way to pity her, in that naïveté of hers.
In Gardenia’s eyes he saw many swimming thoughts, like a school of fish. This girl… he looked in the mirror once, a clean one, at his friend’s house - and once, he could see the fish too… but now, his ocean was so murky. It reminded him of something sickeningly sweet… something familiar.
His other hand stopped at an inch away from her throat. No, he couldn’t do that… no, no… Russell’s fingers loosened their vice grip. His friend met his eyes, and that lump came into his throat. Those eyes almost looked green.. her white hair almost a dull, elderly gray; for just a time, Gardenia looked small and lost, and wasn’t Gardenia.
He wondered where Chris was. With Gardenia… maybe she could let him climb on her shoulders, and screw in Chris’ lightbulb.
There was a mild gasp of surprise and shock, and the hand pulled back. “Ugh!” Gardenia wheezed, coughing. “I’m not usually so surprised, but a hand out of the darkness?! That was terrifying!” She uneasily chuckled, still unable to see anything, but the incandescent lightbulb at the center of the room faintly pulsed with orange light.
Gardenia hopped up, almost bumping into something soft and fleshy. She tried to tighten the lightbulb a little; her fingers stung at the heat, so she got on the tips of her toes and screwed in the bulb just that last moment with all her might.
As if pacified, the bulb hummed, that dingy orange glow coating the room again. There wasn’t a lot of light, but enough. Gardenia turned around to Russell, who merely gave her a thumbs-up. His eyes were open a little wide. It didn’t take long before that light felt a little brighter, and spread to their chests, as Gardenia popped open the cute yellow lunch-box, displaying lovingly handcrafted pieces of food. Most prominent was an assortment of stir-fried vegetables, topped with green onions; clearly a simple dish, but always something Gardenia treasured the flavor of.
Russell stared at the food for a second, continuing to do so even after Gardenia handed him a pair of chopsticks, a fork, and other common utensils from her box. She tried to not look at those tasty fried veggies; gosh, they were so delectable - but the poor boy just looked so nervous to even touch them, as if the vegetables would spring to life and chomp his fingers off.
“Take a bite!” Gardenia invited cheerily. “It’s delicious! I promise! You can have as much as you want, I don’t mind, really…!”
Russell’s trembling hands were at ease as he took a serving of rice and fried vegetables, gingerly taking a small spoonful and tasting it.
She saw… relief. Russell sank into the floor, none of his hairs on edge.
The kindly, shy boy relaxed, as the spoonfuls he took became larger and larger.
“This is tasty, but …I can’t eat all of this… it’s your lunch,” Russell murmured. There was something different about those words now. His tone of voice was far different now; softer, but more resolute.
“It’s an all-you-can-eat, Russ! I can make more at home, ehehe..!” Being called Russ wrapped his heart in a warm, homely feeling.
Gardenia pushed the lunchbox, watching a little rudely, as she played with her fingers nervously, trying to think of something to say before she got sleepy again. The darkness welcomed the notion of sleep; she could feel her eyes sagging, so she rubbed them and yawned.
“Sorry about that… I’ve gotten a bit of a bad habit lately,” she apologized, fighting to keep herself upright..
“It’s fine. I wish I could sleep like that.”
“Why can’t you?”
Whenever Gardenia tried to pry into the inner feelings of this shy boy, she repeatedly saw at least two things: uncertainty and sorrow. Perhaps there was fear there, too, but she couldn’t see deeper between the thick malaise she started to see. Now that she thought about it, maybe there was a deeper pain behind those eyes than just mere anti-social behavior…
Chris was a bit more talkative than Russell, Gardenia knew. Between the two of them, Chris usually went to the bathroom first, and he sometimes did try to participate in class, unlike the quiet Russell. Chris, too, was rather unknown boy, and the two boys kept to themselves, only known for their persistent, sad skipping. Chris sometimes tried to talk to Gardenia, but many times he just seemed to chicken out of the conversation, like all the other girls.
Russell bit off a piece of carrot, swirling it in his mouth as the gears in his head turned.
“It’s dangerous,” came the unsettling and unfulfilling response. Gardenia knew they’d only just had their first words to each other today, and maybe she jumped the gun a bit, but she only asked more questions as this day continued.
“Dangerous..?” Gardenia asked.
“You… you love your Papa, right?”
Gardenia nodded, smiling again. “Well, yeah! We usually spend a lot of time cooking together. He tends to get home late from work, though… so sometimes, we don’t end up cooking together. He’s very wise, though… always makes me want to learn more. Maybe too much, according to him…” Gardenia sheepishly laughed, wringing her nervous hands again. She yawned again, cocking her head at Russell.
“And you love your Mama, right?”
Gardenia froze solid, that bright smile becoming contrived and contorted as she tried her best to not show… whatever dirty emotion it was swirling in her gut. “Yeah… I do… well, girls never did like me, I guess, haha…” Gardenia looked away into the darkness. She could at least believe that there was nothing in front of her if she couldn’t see Russell…
Gardenia’s happy world was made of two; Gardenia herself and her father. She had no want for anything… or so she thought. She wanted for the boy who decided to spend a little of his time with her, the rich girl who bore an unfortunate burden; everyone thought she was so good, so lucky, that they just never even tried. She could see Russell down the slope of the mountain, and she felt the old desire to reach out bubble again…
Papa told her that money couldn’t buy happiness. When she looked at Russell, she knew that statement to be false in a way, but when she looked in the mirror, it was undoubtedly true. Sometimes Gardenia thought about her name; why wasn’t she a rafflesia? Maybe because she was stubborn to be Gardenia and not a rafflesia. That might’ve been a good thing, she reckoned.
Russell paused his lunch to move a little closer to her, instantly knowing what that quivering of the eyes and lips meant. He’s no stranger to a half-hearted lie, especially of that caliber. “What if,” he murmured, his fists curling up as he shook. Gardenia heard red, searing anger deep in that voice. His brows knitted and his heart opened.
“What if neither of your parents… did anything to deserve us calling them parents?”
Gardenia swallowed thickly. She was already halfway there, no? Gardenia knew nothing of her Mama. She was Papa’s only ally in the world, and vice versa. She felt like she should’ve known something - a laugh, a smile, anything… but she knew nothing. Who was her Mama? She’d tried asking… but her father merely said that she ‘did all she could to save you.’
Gardenia had no idea what to make of that.
“I don’t want to stay with them…” came the continuation. Gardenia’s hands stopped playing with each other as she shifted closer, her heart cracking in two at the meek statement she understood all the meaning behind. What if Papa was scary? She found it so hard to imagine, but so scarily palpable… the knowledge that someone supposed to protect you hurt you… someone who didn’t fulfill the parental contract given down to them.
Is that someone who refused to sign that hallowed, necessary contract evil?
Her shoulder bumped his. “Umm…” Her lips clammed up, as she reached across that chasm and peered through the blizzard. She stuck her hand into the white-out, searching for some horizon beyond her view…
“I-I’m sorry you feel that way,” Gardenia could only settle. Her hands worked to his shoulders, one hand gently draping there as the boy’s appetite disappeared. His knees curled in closer to himself. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood… really…”
Russell shook his head.
“You know,” Gardenia continued, her fingers digging into that shoulder as an anchor, “I get how you feel here. It’s lonely, isn’t it? You see students laughing and talking, and sharing things with one another - you see them walk together… play together… and then there’s just you, right?”
Gardenia didn’t wait for a response, smiling bitterly. “It’s not like they’d ever want to play with us. I think I should just invite the class to my birthday. Maybe then, for just a day, I’d have friends… even if that friend makes my house a mess.”
Russell nodded understandingly, looking into her bright eyes with his own bright eyes. They’d reached a mutual consensus. “I’m really not that fortunate. People think I tower above them, like some imposing oak… but we’re all just flowers in a field, and I’m in the shade of the big tree.”
“And I’m the wilted one who lives in the snow,” Russell added sadly.
“You get it… aah, clumsy me… if only I’d done this sooner…” Little droplets pricked at Gardenia’s eyes; in one eye there dribbled sadness, and in the other unbridled joy as she held her friend’s shoulders.
“R-Russell, would you like to come to my birthday…? I… I want you too to know what the ‘Happy Birthday’ song sounds like… it’s, uh, next week… Friday…”
Russell’s eyes widened in shock. “O-okay… your birthday..?”
“It can be yours too,” Gardenia blurted. “I-I don’t know if you even have any birthdays…”
“Mine… too…?”
Gardenia saw it.
A smile, ever so slight, had crept onto his face. But he now couldn’t meet her eyes, his cheeks flushed and his heartbeat just a little faster.
“Yeah! When is your birthday, Russell? I’ll come to yours too…”
He nervously chuckled, that gentle smile growing just a little more. “Next week… Friday… same as you…!”
Gardenia’s heart melted, those little watery droplets trickling down her face. “Oh…! We share a birthday…? That… that makes us friends automatically, right? We’ve… just gotta have one, then!” Her breath held itself, her heart hammering in her chest. Russell sighed, and laid his hand on her shoulder. She felt his hand trembling on her shoulder again, but the rhythmic feel of it grounded her to the spot as she threw herself at him, moving hands from shoulders to back.
“Y-yeah…!” Russell sniffled. “I’ll go… that… makes us friends…?” Gardenia’s nails dug into his back, fingers quaking like loose icicles. When she heard that sacred word of bond and devotion, her arms constricted the boy as best she could, cradling him like a scoop of heaven that dazzlingly dissolved through her fingertips.
“It does! W-we’re friends now, yeah? I can… I can invite Chris, too! Let’s have a little party… the three of us… all friends, okay?” Gardenia sobbed into his shoulder, so overjoyed at the pain her heart felt. Sometimes, when Papa was sleepy, he told her about how much of a blessing it is to hurt for the past. Papa said that while you always have to move onwards… that pain in your heart can remind you and motivate you of a happy time. It was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Gardenia now loved, and she already thought she’d lost.
Friendship was so fickle for her, the only sparkles of it reflecting in the coins of her purse. But to see the twinkling invitation of camaraderie in a friend’s eyes… Gardenia tightened her hug, determined to try and burn out all of her friend’s woes.
“We’re… friends… but… I don’t know if Chris can make it…”
“W-why not? Russell, are you saying…”
“Chris… disappeared… and…”
Russell gasped for air. Gardenia forced his arms to reciprocate her hug with her forearms, nudging the boy slightly. She had the distinct experience of many eyes leering from the shadows as Russell struggled to find words.
“I… I don’t want to go home…! I hate it there…!”
Gardenia bit her cheek, rubbing circles into the boy’s back as she tried to stop her sniffles. It as a friend’s duty to hear out another and comfort them. She had to be polite and hear him out…
“I hate my parents! Everyone around me looks so fulfilled, so passionate… I don’t get it…!” Russell couldn’t nestle himself any deeper into Gardenia’s clutch, instead burying his face in the crook of her neck. She formed her lips into a wobbling line, a constant stream of tears leaking from her eyes. Another unrestrained sob let loose from her lips…
“I don’t know why I had to happen… I just… want everyone to disappear…!”
Gardenia continued rubbing circles into Russell’s back, even as his hands tried to press harder against her. “I’m sorry, Russell! I know how you feel…! D-do you ever think that, because you can’t have something, neither can anyone else?”
Russell made a strained affirmative. “I k-know how it feels…” Gardenia pouted, her muffled cries softened by the boy’s shoulder. “I don’t know where my Mama went… Sometimes, I wish I was born into a lesser family… so maybe people might be my friend. Everyone only wants me for my food and money…! It’s humiliating! Everyone thinks I’m some kind of… angel!”
“I’m not an angel..!” Gardenia coughed. “I want them to go away! They don’t want my friendship! I want them to leave me alone… and go back to their little cliques, where they gossip about the next hot thing and give people ugly stares that make my veins go cold! Sometimes I feel it’s better to not have friends at all… like the world is trying to protect me!”
Gardenia pulled her head out of Russell’s neck. Her hands clasped his shoulders tightly, crying eyes staring into watery ones. Gardenia saw carps swimming in those eyes of Russell when his gaze met hers.
“But.. Russ,” Gardenia smiled through her tears, shaking off those impossibly weighty feelings from her conscience.
“You taught me… it’s always worth it to keep trying. Maybe… Maybe… we should hold a birthday, for both of us… and… let’s try and make it up to everyone, okay?”
“I want everyone to love my cooking not because it just tastes delicious… but so that they can taste my love, effort, and care… I want them to know what kind of heart I put into my dish!”
“...I want to find Chris… because he is the only other friend I had.”
“Russ,” Gardenia cooed, her grin wobbling. “Let’s walk home. Let’s… ask Papa to help look for Chris, okay?”
Russell smiled again, but he tried to hide it. The bright red glow on his face gave away his feelings, though. Russell’s cheeks puffed up and so did his face, as he tried to suppress muffled cries, holding his face in his hands.
“I-I’m sorry for crying,” Russel stammered. “I won’t do it again.” Ruefully, Gardenia latched her fingers onto Russell’s, and effortlessly pulled his hands off his face.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Gardenia murmured, rubbing her eyes. “My Papa always told me that crying is just somebody’s second-to-last resort to getting their feelings out. He said that when someone cried, they were going through a… tight- ant- ick? Titanic? battle… and that we should always be understanding.”
“Papa told me that what goes around comes around…” Gardenia continued, trying to stagger to her feet with Russell. The boy stayed motionless, anchored firmly to the concrete as she feebly pulled on his hand. “Come on,” she whined. “You’ve come around because of what I gave you…”
Gardenia kicked her lunchbox to her feet, latching it tight, before playfully knocking him in the side with it. “Come ooon, I’m usually the sleepy one!” Her golden voice was yet again comparable to the sun, giggling with little drops of a rain shower. Her sunny smile showed its wonderful rays after an intense storm…
“Gardenia,” Russell began, head downcast.
“Y-yeah, Russ…? Whadd’ya need…? Is there something you want me to cook..?”
“You got… one thing… wrong…”
“Ehehe,” Gardenia stammered without making coherent sounds. “I’m just kinda remembering what Papa told me… so… it’s very possible I just forgot something important!”
“No,” Russell stated firmly. “An angel is someone who, according to God… is someone very kind, and who saves others… an angel is someone who is sent to give a warning or to convey a message…” He swung his head up, staggering to his feet as his eyes bored great tunnels into her heart…
On that day, two friends walked home together after school. In their hearts bubbled great pain, but through the connection they’d given each other, a friend soothed the other’s aches. Hand in hand, they regaled each other with many thoughts and feelings on that time’s first stroll. They wanted that little universe of happiness to reach a group of three, maybe four or more… and knew that by going around to search for that joy… that the dark would never claim them; and that maybe happy days, at last, might come one morning.
As one blew out the candles, he turned to the other and told her a simple truth.
“You are an angel, Gardenia.”