The Boy Who Made Flowers Sing

1 | A Rhythmic Melancholy

VULGAR LANGUAGE WARNING:

"Here she is!" Lindsay squealed as Elena entered the familiar, disintegrating car that always smelled of burning plastic and alcohol.

She faintly smiled at all of her friends crowded in the car and hopped in, hearing the familiar mainstream music blaring from the car radio. Lindsay, as usual, was driving with a blunt loosely held in one hand. Her blonde dreadlocks made her oval face look longer and her yellowing teeth showed when she grinned. Her excessive black eyeliner made her look sleep-deprived. Elena slid in the back with Melissa, her tall, free-spirited, and caring friend who was usually in deep thought. She had a natural beauty that complemented her loving personality and soft, brown curls. Kennedy was in the passenger seat, already slightly intoxicated, and was usually volatile and dull. One second, she was absurdly ecstatic and the next second, she was screaming at a stranger.

Melissa sighed and looked out the window at the blinding streetlights as they rode further into downtown.

"How are you, Elena?" Her eyes were tired but communicated nothing but affection.

Elena had lost her father two months ago from cancer and was dealing with substance abuse. She mustered a small smile. Suddenly, Lindsay abruptly slammed the brakes and honked at the slow driver in front of them.

"Ugh! This guy is slow as molasses."

"Just take the other fucking lane!" Kennedy exclaimed, pointing at the busy road.

The banter between Kennedy and Lindsay was a staple ritual every weekend.

"I'm fine," Elena said to Melissa.

"No," Melissa calmly declared. "How are you, really?"

Kennedy snorted.

"What?" Melissa turned to her and spoke sharply.

Kennedy always had to comment on what Melissa said.

"You're not her fucking therapist," Kennedy's annoyed voice came from the front, glaring back at Melissa.

Melissa's smile fell off of her thoughtful face and she rolled her eyes at Kennedy.

Before Elena could say anything, Lindsay slammed the brakes again and huffed in frustration.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Kennedy yelled at Lindsay. "How the hell did you get your license?"

"Do you wanna drive?" Lindsay glared at her. "Oh wait. You don't have a license."

As usual, Elena and Melissa ignored their pointless quarrels.

"It's the same every day, isn't it?" Melissa looked past Elena at the tall, downtown buildings.

Elena knew what she meant. In the beginning, weekends were something to look forward to, but its appeal slowly faded as it became a rhythmic, almost melancholic experience every week.

"We should've come earlier," Lindsay muttered. "There's no parking anywhere."

"Maybe if you drove in the fast lane, we would've been here fucking earlier," Kennedy snapped.

"It's just a party!" Melissa argued.

Kennedy cut her words off by turning the music up and folding her arms in frustration.

"You know Lindsay hates driving in the fast lane!" Melissa yelled over the music.

"Thank you," Lindsay raised her hands off the steering wheel, appreciating Melissa standing up for her.