The Amaryllis

by Alyssa Adamson

  The Bronwyn I didn’t yet have a name for stood at McKinnon’s desk, taking a pink slip of paper and a textbook from his hands. His overwhelming height meant he not only towered over our teacher, he had to bend over him, looking into his bald head like one might look into another’s eyes.

  “Just hold onto this. It’s eighty bucks to replace it, you don’t need that nonsense.” McKinnon found me around the new guy’s tapered waist and beckoned me into the room. “Move one chair to the right, Eden. We’ve got to make room for Phillip.”

  I glanced between the newcomer and the teacher. Violet eyes met mine and held them. Through a sudden, grey haze taking over my mind, I made out the undeniable urge to walk. An invisible rope had tethered itself to my navel and seemed to give a few well-placed tugs in his direction. Helpless, I succumbed to its pull.

  “Alright, class—” Phillip looked away as McKinnon spoke and the haze lifted. My legs locked, frozen at the front of the room. “We don’t have to make this difficult. Just move one seat to the right.”

  I ducked to hide the red filling my face. What the hell, Eden, what was that? As Phillip tried to catch my eye again, I rushed the other way, dropping unceremoniously into the second row. My strict attention to McKinnon’s back wavered when he directed New Guy to the spot in front of me. I could feel myself sweat.

  As the compulsion to look at him grew too heavy to resist, I picked a tile on the wall and imagined all manner of illusions in the grime caked on it, a technique I’d used growing up when my anxiety grew too heavy. Or, in this case, when I really, really needed to distract myself.

  Phillip’s neighbor tried no such tricks. He stared fully and unabashedly with an expression of growing unease. Against my better judgement, I looked and instantly knew the cause.

  Like his sister, the Bronwyn sat very still. Violet eyes focused unblinkingly on the board. Crackling energy wafted off him, hitting me again and again like an electric current.

  It wasn’t natural.

  If I’d hoped my few words with Phillip would make him more apt to speak to me, I was sorely disappointed.

  But I wasn’t disappointed, because I hadn’t been hoping anything of the sort.

  If anything, he avoided making eye contact with me even more. I suspected he’d even moved his seat to the furthest end of the room in Astronomy class, just to be as far from me as possible.

  Except, that didn’t make any sense.

  Things had gotten a little weird at the shop, but I didn’t think they’d been particularly bad. Certainly not bad enough to warrant evasion at any rate. I tried not to care, but that would’ve been very out of Eden-fashion. Eden liked to overthink. Eden liked to suffer.

  Eden liked to blame herself.

  I knew whatever had turned him away had to be of my doing. For the life of me, though, I couldn’t figure out what that could be.

  Maybe it was just the unfortunate product of a bad day. The morning had begun with a rejection from California Polytechnic. Anything that came after was doomed before it began.

  The bell rang. Don’t look at him, Eden. Do not look at him. It came as no surprise that I lost that battle. Even if I could pin my disobedient eyes to the floor until he packed up and left, it was a long walk to gym. I didn’t invest a bit of confidence in my resolve not to sneak a glance in the halls.

  I gave up, chancing a peek while he shoved his notebooks into his bag. He’d dressed simply: a White Snake t-shirt and jeans. The tendrils of flaxen hair fell shamelessly into his eyes while he stood bent over. He looked like he’d come straight from my dreams.

  Because he had. Just the whisper of his voice in my head had kept me up all night. In what sparse opportunities I’d been afforded sleep, every unconscious thought I’d had, had been of his face.

  On the one hand, I enjoyed the exhaustion. It meant I thought less. But on the other…the day absolutely dragged. For every three minutes of intrigue came hours of muddled grey.

  Gym class passed in much the same way. Slowly. Mercilessly. And yet, with a distinct awareness of Phillip Bronwyn’s presence in the bleachers as he took care not to watch the game of kickball I suffered through down here. Another thing I swore he did on purpose.

  How conceited of you… Phillip Bronwyn had already forgotten my existence. He couldn’t be avoiding my stare. That would mean he gave a crap, one way or the other.

  He had company. The trend of the more done-up girls ‘forgetting’ their gym clothes to get out of physical activity had seen a spike in popularity. A coincidence?

  They occupied him with conversation, drawing easy smiles and the occasional chuckle. One girl with pink and blue hair reached out to touch his cheek with her face pulled together in a seductive pout. I threw myself back into the game. Focus shifting away from the sting of envy, I narrowly avoided taking a ball to the face. If I let myself care about every girl that talked to Phillip, I’d lose my mind. Quickly.

  “Ugh!”

  The whole class looked up into the bleachers to find that the girl with the pastel hair stood apart from him, half-enveloped in her friend’s embrace.

  And the object of her affection remained fixed in his seat, smiles long gone now. That blank look had taken over as he stared at the girl like the simple act would strike her down. Dead.

  “What do I need with a freak, anyway,” she snarled, venomous gaze flickering between Phillip and the friend at her side. “The guy feels like a snake! And he thinks he’s going to do better than me?”

  His face sunk deeper, blankness erring more on the side of dangerous. With all the dignity of a man unperturbed, he stood, sweeping by the girls with head held high, and vanished through the door.

  3. Gifts

  As I dressed in the locker room, I could still see Phillip’s face in the gaudy yellow of the wall. My face burned on his behalf, imagining all those eyes around the gym if they’d been directed at me. The thought made my stomach flip.

  At least he seemed relatively unscathed. His personal business had been aired in front of the largest audience one could get on a normal school day and he hadn’t bat an eyelash. Not in front of us, anyway. Another unwelcome tendril of empathy slithered through my stomach. He’d made it clear enough that the move had been hard on one, if not all, of them. Public shaming couldn’t be helping in any measure.

  I shook off those unpleasant feelings; I couldn’t help it that other people were cruel. I couldn’t help it that they’d moved here of all places. And I certainly couldn’t help that Phillip didn’t like me.

  I’d probably torment myself over it, anyway.

  Yanking my shirt on with enough force that the stitches protested, I sighed. Dad hadn’t asked, but I expected to be working the register after work. For once, I minded. As much as I loved the store and the flowers and the greenhouse, I loved sleep more. And I was desperately in need.

  If I rushed, I could catch a thirty-minute nap. Hauling my bag over my shoulder, I leapt for the door. There wasn’t a moment to lose. Zach had to be standing on the other side by now. He didn’t want to stick around anymore than I did…

  The soft thwack of leather on concrete stopped me up short. One of my father’s gloves peeked out of my jacket pocket. The other lay on the floor.

  I recalled the instant Phillip’s hand touched mine with startling clarity. Never had it occurred to me that he felt ‘like a snake,’ although, I had to concede, the texture hadn’t been at the top of my priorities. What was wrong with either of them? That he’d have reptilian skin? That she’d even care?

  And what was wrong with me? How had I gone from quasi-accepting my new classmate’s indifference to considering…?

  Retrieving the glove, I kicked myself. There goes Eden Graves. Torturing herself again.

  Zach stood on the other side of the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet. I hardly saw him. My stare zeroed in across the gym, on a backpack left abandoned in the bleachers. Any reservations I’d had melted away.

  “Oh my god, E’!” You’ll never—
!”

  I grimaced. “Just hold on a second, okay? Could I meet you at your locker, say, ten minutes?”

  His eyes widened, feet already moving to follow. “But, Edy, you’re not going to believe—”

  “Ten minutes, okay? I promise.”

  I didn’t wait for an answer before I ate up the length of the gym, collecting Phillip’s abandoned backpack and the sketchbook headlined with Mrs. Brown’s name and a minor addition stating that he saw her for third period, rather than first with me and Lily. The extra weight of Phillip’s bag buckled my knees. Regret pulsed through me like a second heartbeat.

  But I was all in now. Unfortunately.

  I stopped short in the hall. Despite the trickle of people around the corners, the only thing I saw was Phillip, sitting up against the glass of the trophy case. Legs extended before him, hands folded atop his knee, he looked the picture of ease.

  “Um…Phillip?”

  He went rigid. Head tilting up toward me, he forced a strange little smile that slipped away all too quickly. “Eden. To what do I owe this surprise?”

  My stomach flipped. I thought he would’ve forgotten.

  “You look sick,” he continued. “Rough night?”

  Peeling off the bag, I held it out to him in offering. “I’m super.”

  When he didn’t reply, glance darting between me and the bag, I thought I must’ve done something wrong again. Then, he sighed and rose, elegantly, to his feet. I couldn’t help but study his hands as they neared to take his things. Smooth skin.

  “What do you see?”

  I gasped, rearing back at the slap of being caught staring. “I…I’m sorry—”

  But he didn’t seem angry. To be frank, he didn’t seem happy though, either. “What do you see?”

  “I don’t…I don’t see anything.”

  He donned a pseudo-smile. “What did you expect? Scales?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “You haven’t.” Without warning, he took my hand between both of his. Gravity shifted and, unlike yesterday, no counter could stop me from staggering closer until his chest stood a mere breath away from mine. The entire world clouded over in a haze of violet. “What do you feel, Eden?” his voice continued from across a sea.

  I felt…perfectly relaxed. Content. And the heat wafting off Phillip’s body filled me with such a pleasant warmth that I thought only of fireplaces, my greenhouse, and him.

  But I didn’t think that was what he meant.

  “S…scales,” I admitted, feeling their rough exterior grate against my skin.

  He agreed, “Scales.”

  I knew I’d regret it, but the compulsion to look up into his face came over me like a tidal wave. He already stared down at me, eyes wide and prying. The shadow of pupils hid behind a milky layer of violet.

  Demon eyes.

  I yanked my hand away and put the width of the hallway between us in a single bound. The beautiful feelings left with my hold on Phillip, letting the panic wash through instead. My lungs ached like I hadn’t breathed all the while I’d been enraptured.

  With the violet haze dissipating, I felt a lot of other things, too. An ache in my joints. A pounding in my head. The unmistakable, irrepressible, and primal need to run.

  “Umm…” He had to notice how I glanced around for a way out. Grabbing my father’s gloves from my jacket pocket, I very nearly threw them at him. “I thought you might want something in case people asked.”

  He hesitated. Staring through me, he took each glove and donned them with an appreciative quirk of his brow. “That’s awfully kind of you, Eden.”

  “It’s no problem. They were my dad’s. They should fit.” Down the hall, Zach emerged from the gym and started in the way of his locker. He wasn’t alone. “Sorry, I’m meeting somebody. I’ll see you around, Phillip.”

  “Phil.”

  I halted my pursuit. “What?”

  He looked over the gloves. “I prefer Phil.”

  “Right. I’ll see you around, Phil.”

  Without another look, I fled, slowing only when I knew he’d be out of sight. A familiar laugh turned me toward a cluster of lockers at the end of the hall where my best friend stood beside Gregory Bronwyn.

  Like his brother, Gregory towered over my friend by almost a full foot, limbs long and wiry and caging Zach against his locker. The expression in his eyes looked like something I’d seen before, although I couldn’t, at the moment, think of where. He looked to be either mentally undressing my ginger, or looking to sink teeth into his jugular. I couldn’t tell which.

  Still, he was more attractive than anyone else could hope to be, barring his brother and no one else. Objectively, Gregory’s dark curls made him look like an angel from a master’s painting, and his face looked chiseled from the finest marble. He should’ve been the better-looking brother.

  But…something in those violet eyes—something in the predatory curve of his spine—made my stomach roil with nausea. Zach, on the other hand, must’ve been wholly oblivious because he looked up at the newcomer with eyes like full moons.

  “Z…Zach!”

  He pulled free of his stare with Gregory to turn a blinding grin on me. “Edy! You’re late.” Ducking under Gregory’s arm, he rushed ahead to sling an arm over my shoulder. “I don’t think you’ve met my new friend? Greg?”

  I just shook my head. Fixed under Gregory’s eyes, my throat went dry. Thousands of years of self-preservation instincts bred out of my doughy body rushed to the forefront.

  The guy didn’t look right.

  “Isn’t he an angel, Edy?” Zach whispered in my ear.

  I didn’t answer. The brunette extended a hand for me to shake, but I feigned having my arms full: bag in one hand, coat in the other. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Edy. You’re all Zach talks about.”

  “And you’re all everyone else talks about.”

  “Am I?” Letting his dejected arm fall back to his side, he stepped closer. “Would you like a hand?”

  “No,” I snapped. At Zach’s look of disapproval, I amended, “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  “I was just telling him that we could hang out at the store. That is”—Zach appraised me like I was the stranger here— “if it’s okay with you?”

  I wanted to say no. My lips moved in anticipation of saying no. Then I looked at Zach, at the pleading edge to his face, and my head bobbed of its own accord. “Sure.”

  He lit up like a Christmas tree. “Awesome! Hope you don’t mind riding in the back, Ed!” He skipped toward the exit, vanishing into the land of white leftover from yesterday.

  I cursed him. Cursed his mother for having him. Cursed her mother for having her. Why the hell would he bring Gregory just to pawn him off on me?

  “That is a lovely name,” Gregory crooned. “Edy. Is it short for something?”

  My throat rebelled against answering. “Eden.”

  “Even lovelier. Is it a family name?”

  “Nope. My grandmother just liked gardens.”

  He looked down at me and his lip quirked into a smirk. “Are you sure you do not need help? That bag looks heavy.”

  I didn’t bother answering, though my legs moved quicker toward the exit where the Ferg Mobile pulled up alongside the curb, frame shaking in time with the music bleeding through its speakers.

  Gregory rushed ahead to open my door. “My lady.”

  My skin prickled. “Thanks.”

  I curled around my bag all the way home. It felt safer that way, just like it felt safer that Zach held Gregory’s attention through the whole drive. Only once or twice did those violet eyes find me in the rearview mirror, and each time I feigned ignorance of them, pushing myself further into the corner.

  The moment he put the car in park, I thrust myself out the door and breathed deeply of the air untainted by Gregory. The others didn’t make it out until I walked through the front door, but, by then, the sight of my mother at the register had already turned my thoughts to
worthier pastures.

  “Edy!” she cheered. “How was school? Make any friends? Draw any flowers?”

  The minor delusion of peace shattered. “School was good.” Seeing Zach and Gregory’s approach through the window, I backed toward the greenhouse. “Actually, I was on my way to draw some flowers, right now.”

  A loud giggle, courtesy of Zach, drew her gaze to the door and the pair on the other side. She lifted a brow. “New friend?”

  “Zach’s new friend.”

  As they stepped over the threshold, Gregory’s hand strayed close enough to Zach’s that their skin brushed together. “Hey, Mom!”

  She smiled indulgently. “Hello, Zach.” Then she saw Gregory and her eyes widened. Her breath hitched. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Oh! This is Greg. He’s new.”

  Mom did the diplomatic thing of nodding and smiling, but I could see her throat bob. “Good to meet you, Greg.”

  I took my leave.

  “Edy, try not to scare away any customers with those drawings, okay?”

  Sighing, I agreed. Truth be told, I’d really just hoped for an afternoon spent watering the plants, but, under her watch, I pulled my sketchbook from my bag. A few drawings wouldn’t kill me.

  Zach seized Gregory’s hand and yanked him toward the opposite enclosure, the one that housed the ferns and the sunflowers and the tulips… As much as I enjoyed what lay behind that glass, I ventured toward my true love. The roses.

  They didn’t disappoint. The petals began as white nearest the entrance and slowly became pink, then red, then orange, then yellow as they reached toward the rear of the room. My insistence had gotten a bench added to the décor and, thankfully, no customers wandered the aisles to take it from me. So much for all hands on deck.

  Breathing deeply, I tried my hand at drawing again, relishing in the silence. In the smell that lingered in the air.

  Gregory Bronwyn’s existence eased away. For a time, I forgot my aching joints. My throbbing headache. For a time, I found peace.

  Fingers moving over the page, I outlined the thorny stem of a yellow rose, barely released from its bulb. This assignment—draw what you love most—seemed flawed. I loved so many things. How was I supposed to know which one I loved most?