Blossom

Mara stood at the end of her street, waiting

for the bus that would take her to school. Her
breath puffed in chilled clouds before her face,
the icy wind snatching them away before they
could dissipate. She shifted her Jan sport
backpack from one shoulder to the other; its
heavy weight seemed to push her ratty
sneakers deeper into the muddy February slush
covering the ground. Someone had made a
futile attempt to shovel most of it to either side
of the road and grimy piles of the stuff rose up
at the edges of the street, culminating in two
especially deep masses of snow that refused to
melt.
Someone snickered behind her, three boys
and a girl were coming down the street. The
latter was dressed in a ridiculously brief
pleated, plaid skirt and varsity team jacket.
They stood a little ways away from her, nearer
the stop sign. The girl seemed to be very
uncomfortable and wrapped her arms around
the tallest boy, he looked to be the oldest as
well. He had Viking blond hair that wanted
cutting and a proud roman nose stood up over
lips curled into an unpleasant smirk. His white
shirt was un-tucked from the grey plaid slacks
that all the boys at their school wore.

Mara shifted uncomfortably under the

smirks of the other two boys who seemed to be
the Vikings cronies. Her own grey plaid skirt
fell well past her knees, and her black socks
disappeared beneath them. She would have to
change her shoes in the bathroom when she
got to school, but there was no way she was
going to wear the little leather flats outside in
this weather. She looked at her watch, flipping
the reflective metal cover from the watch face.
7:22. She prayed that the bus came soon. She
started to snap the cover back over the watch
and caught a glimpse of herself in the shiny
metal. Straight hair the color of mud dangled in
a single braid over her right shoulder, held with
a plaid scrunchy that matched her uniform.
Dull grey eyes peeked from beneath twin mudbrown arches of eyebrow and lashes of the
same color. She had a small nose and a full
lower lip, her chin was stubborn. Her thin
shoulders were made bulky by the old beat-up
leather jacket that used to belong to her
brother, just like the watch.
She snapped the watch closed as the bus
pulled to the curb, its white strobe light
flashing dreamily in the foggy morning air, the
door swung open with a hydraulic hiss. The
short skirted girl flounced up the steps into the
warm interior, and settled with a bounce and a
toss of her platinum hair into her rightful place

in the front seat. The Viking boy slid in beside

her with his cronies slumping into the seat just
behind. Mara, however, peered down the aisle
a moment to find an empty seat nearer the
back and made her way there. She sat down
two seats from the long back bench on the
opposite side of the bus from the elite. Digging
into her backpack, Mara pulled out a tattered
copy of The Blue Sword, and settled down for
the forty-minute ride to Levine High School.
Mara.
Her own name whispered past her ear,
carried by a warm breath of air. A hand stroked
the back of her head, and she whipped around
angrily in her seat to confront whoever was
bugging her. She glared at an empty seat. Mara
looked around at the seat across from her, but
it too was empty. Unnerved, she shook her
head to clear the chill that tickled her scalp,
deciding that she must have dozed off. She
looked out the window and exhaled. Her breath
formed a roughly round patch of foggy
moisture, absently she doodled a happy face.
She looked at her watch 7:40.
She lowered her head once more to her
book, and thumbed through the pages to find
her place. She found her page easily and
opened the book, several withered white petals

fell from the book into her lap. The pages they
had been pressed between were damp and the
scent of gardenias wafted up to her from the
crumpled remains of the flower. Mara delicately
picked up one white petal, the faintest touch of
wilting brown graced its edges and she rubbed
it between her fingers thoughtfully, the
crawling sensation returning to dance over her
scalp and down her neck to raise the hair on
her arms beneath her coat.
Trembling slightly, she dried the slightly
damp petals on her skirt and placed them back
between the pages of her book and slipped it
back into her backpack. How had the flowers
gotten into a book she had been holding closed
in her lap? Where had they come from and who
had placed them there? The husky whisper
floated back through her mind, and she tugged
on her braid as she looked over her shoulder
one more time. Feeling foolish, she nervously
pulled her feet up and tucked them under
herself as if she were a child afraid of the
monster lurking beneath her bed.
She spent the rest of the ride curled up in
her seat with her backpack clutched in her lap
like a security blanket and fled the bus the
moment the aisle cleared
@@

Homeroom passed without incident. The

Pledge was recited over the intercom, the
school creed was also read, and the boys who
sat at the back of the room made snarky
comments and changed the words around.
Everything was fairly normal.
Mara was going to be late for her first
class, biology. Her homeroom teacher had
stopped her after class, asking after her health.
Mrs. Phillips had worried about her pale, tense
face when she arrived. Mara had assured her
that she was fine, and no there was nothing the
matter at home. She was halfway down the
stairs when the final bell rang, and was on her
way to get a pass from the office. At least Mrs.
Phillips had given her a note for the secretary,
since it was her fault Mara was late.
She had to go all the way down to the first
floor. The office was near the main entrance
hall, and her homeroom class was on the third
floor. Her biology class was in a different wing
entirely. Mara moaned softly as she jogged
down the steps and caught a look out the
windows, rain was pouring down in icy sheets
from the steel gray clouds. She was careful to
walk the rest of the way to the office, lest she
be caught running in the hall and given
demerits on top of everything else.

She forced a smile at the elderly secretary

who slowly and carefully wrote out Maras
name and homeroom number, along with the
excuse for her tardiness, then stamped it with
the school crest of a sword wrapped in
flowering vines. Beneath the sword and vine
was the word Valor. She thanked the secretary
and left the office at a more or less leisurely
pace, after all she had her hall pass. If she took
her time she could get to class at the very end,
and not have to sit through a thrilling lesson on
the amphibian anatomy; never mind that she
would have to make it up later.
Mara took a different staircase to the
second floor since it was closer to her locker.
She paused at the top of the stairs and
watched the water stream down the steamed
up windows. Thunder rumbled softly above and
she looked at her watch. Her little detour had
only taken seventeen minutes, which left fortythree minutes left in her least favorite class.
She shoved her hall pass into her notebook and
decided to skip the class altogether.
Opening her locker, Mara grabbed her
English book along with the novel she had
been reading on the bus. She held the volume
for a minute, her slender fingers white against
the bright blue cover. She withdrew the book
and placed it on top of her textbook and closed

the door of her locker with a muted snap. Still,

the faint scent of gardenia enveloped her, and
followed her down the hallway.
Two snack machines and a soda machine
were tucked into a recessed alcove about
halfway down the hallway. Mara ducked into
the badly lit niche. The only light was from a
big bay window, but this was dimmed by the
overcast sky and clouded glass. She curled up
with her back to the window, facing towards
the hideous brown side of the candy machine.
There was just enough light to read by, and
even if someone came to buy a soda and a bag
of chips it was very unlikely they would look
into this dusty corner other than the off chance
they dropped their change.
She let herself be absorbed into the
familiar world of a treasured book, the
gardenias petals lying softly in her lap. They
were an enigma to be unraveled on another
rainy day, as creepy as their presence were,
they smelled much more pleasant than the
underside of the candy machine, and refreshed
the air around her at least. The rain beating
against the window accompanied by the warm
air creeping down the wall from a vent in the
ceiling soon lulled her to sleep.

In truth, she had been lying to Mrs. Phillips.

Everything was not alright at home. Her
brother Jeremy had joined the air force at the
behest of their father, and had left for boot
camp soon after New Years. Their mother had
been furious at her husband and now they
rarely spoke to one another. The house was
eerily silent during the day, her parents going
about their lives in the house as if the other
was not there. At night, she was besieged and
awakened by nightmare after nightmare. She
herself had been devastated by her brothers
departure. They had been unusually close, he
was two years older than her and had been her
protector of sorts in elementary school. She
had been excited to join him in High School,
and she had fully planned to follow her hero all
the way to college.
He hadnt confided in her about his
decision to join the military, and she was
terrified for him. Every night she dreamt of him
crashing, or being wounded. She hadnt had a
good nights sleep in weeks, what little sleep
she managed to grasp was both short and
uneven.
She woke to near pitch darkness. She
started and blinked several times to adjust
herself to the little bit of light filtering in the
window from the parking lot below. She started

to lever herself up from the hard linoleum, but

her hand touched something soft and slippery.
Yelping, she pulled her hand away and peered
at what she had touched. She had to blink
again and close her eyes for a moment before
she could make out what covered the floor
around her. She shook her head and something
fluttered down from her hair to slip down the
front of her blouse into her lap. The grey
pleated fabric was obscured in the same white
substance that coated the floor.
For a wild, fleeting moment, she thought
she and the floor were covered with snow, but
she was warm and her hand was not wet.
Neither had her hand made any sort of
impression where it had rested, it had only
shifted the stuff aside a little bit. A familiar,
heady scent rose around her, and she scooped
up the white petals disbelievingly, her initial
awe crashing into a wave of stifling fear.
Whoever had contrived to press flowers into
her book had found her little hiding place, and
covered her in flowers.
When she stood up, shaking, petals rained
from her dress and hair in a shimmering white
waterfall, the smell of the flowers clung to her
bare arms, several petals clung to the collar of
her blouse, their perfume seemed to be
permanently washed into her hair.

She gathered her fallen books and ran out

into the hallway, which was slightly brighter
due to the circles of light that fell from the
lights that automatically came on when the
power failed. The storm must have knocked out
the electricity. She held onto that belief,
otherwise she would have to force back
hysterical laughter at the clich horror novel
she seemed to be trapped in.
When she reached her locker she hesitated
and looked around. The hall was silent, no
heavy footfalls or ominous breathing was
evident in the still chill night air, broken only by
faint rumbles of thunder outside the thick
walls. Quickly, she twisted the combination
lock and opened the door. For a moment, she
wondered if she had somehow managed to
open someone elses locker. The books were
neatly arranged and her jacket was neatly
folded in an inexplicable manner she could
never have copied. She had stuffed it in the
small space with her backpack that morning,
and had merely dug underneath it for her
English book several hours ago.
Her hands shook violently as she withdrew
a folded piece of paper from where it lay atop
her possessions. The paper was from her own
notebook, but the script was neat and flowing,

written with a calligraphy pen. She held the

note up to the light to read it:
Mara,
I hope you liked your flowers, I knew you
were fond of gardenias. There is a candle on
your nightstand with the scent, and I was sure
you would enjoy them. Did you know that
gardenias are symbolic of secret love? I know
you are probably frightened, you have every
right to be, in fact you should be.
She paused as she read this line and bit off
a choked whimper that lodged itself in her
throat merely waiting to be released.
Ive been watching you for quite awhile,
but I think I only fell in love with you just
recently. I have hated watching your pain at
home, and you stumble through your classes
as though half asleep. I am very glad that you
got a little rest today, you can thank me for
that later. I hope your dreams were pleasant.
With all of my love,
Gentian
The whimper escaped past her lips as
warm hands fell on her shoulders, holding her
gently and pressing her against a broad chest.
Slowly, she turned to look up at the most

handsome man she had ever seen in her life.

His hair was as black as a crows wing, and his
eyes were the color of lapis-lazuli. His lips
curved up ever so slightly in a gentle smile that
held no trace of mockery or malice. A long
black jacket hung open over a charcoal gray
sweater. He had hands an artist or a pickpocket
would kill for. One of these hands rose to brush
a strand of hair from her face.
She breathed in sharply, but made no
move to pull away. She had read a lot of
novels, not much had to be explained to her
save for one thing, why her? He was beautiful,
his name was Gentian, and he was a vampire.
In a small shaking voice she asked this one
question.
Why me? Im not pretty, or graceful, or
any of those things that youre attracted to in
books and movies. Was he just toying with
her? Would he drain her dry and kill her, the
death of her dreams merely a perk in his weird
plan? Or would he really get her out of this
emotional hell she was trapped in? Mara
supposed she had more than one question
after all.
Gentian chuckled softly, You are beautiful
blossom. You are the pale flower among the
roses with their biting thorns, overlooked

amongst their tawdriness. He smiled, a mere

flash of teeth in the darkness, cold and warm
at once. His fathomless eyes danced merrily as
he lowered his face to hers.
She rested her fingers lightly on his chest
as he kissed her lips, it was a new and
breathtaking experience. She had never been
kissed, but she was sure that if she had been,
any other kiss would have been completely
blown away. Gentian tasted like peppermint
and night air, his hands held her close,
caressing her back and her shoulders, then
tugging her hair free of its braid to run his
fingers through it roughly.
She moaned softly against his mouth
causing him to chuckle again. He seemed
inordinately pleased with himself. Mara was
breathless when his lips broke from hers and
could only clutch at his sweater when his
mouth caressed her jaw. She let out a painful
gasp as he bit into her throat. It wasnt that she
hadnt expected it, it was just that she hadnt
expected it to hurt so much. Every inch of her
skin felt as though it was on pins and needles,
she closed her eyes and bit her own lip till it
bled.
It seemed like hours later when he released
her. She was only dimly aware of his bleeding

wrist pressing against her lips, and warmth

running into her mouth and down her throat
before the world tilted sideways. The world
went grey, then black as she fainted. She
wasnt aware of when her own heart stopped,
or of when Gentian gathered her into his arms
and calmly walked down the stairs and out the
front doors of the school. She was floating in a
sea of white gardenias.