Our Little Cherry Blossoms

two. dubiety

ＡＵＧＵＳＴ (( ＣＡＳＥ ))

Vibrant, brilliant, yet desolate. Like a verdurous forest without its sunshine. Someone needed to water those great pine trees and shed light onto those insipid shrubs. I knew this, but didn't do anything. I passed her by, just like I would any other girl, brushing her off as insignificant even with those beautiful emeralds resting in the whites of her eyes. I was almost attracted to the girl, with her wavy, shoulder-length chocolate brown locks and how it so perfectly contrasted with those rich, viridescent irises. It amused me, the way she ignored my friends, yet she still held the gate open for them. I couldn't understand whether she actually disliked them or not. I had never really come to know this girl, one of the very few memories I have of her is that she was in my Grade 6 homeroom. My memory is not one to admire, I admit. Thanking her, I trailed after my friends, our little encounter swiftly slipping to the back of my mind.

...the blossoms are hiding...

The ebullient summer sun filtered through the classroom's clear window panes, its golden blaze illuminating those who touched it. Our teacher was walking to and fro in the front of the room, lecturing us about commentary writing and how to analyse properly in addition to passionately jotting down a variety of vocabulary on the whiteboard. She is Indian by the way, and a very fine teacher at that. I juggled my phone between my hands, the vague presence of the girl I met yesterday gently radiating beside me. It was oddly comforting, even though she hardly paid any attention to me. At one point during individual reading time, she muttered about how smelly I was. And I do have strong cologne. If I recall correctly, her words were this: 'Stinks.' She then pointedly shifted away from me, facing the other way. I won't lie, I thought she was a rude, spoiled brat for saying something like that out loud.

"Case! Are you listening?"

A purposeful exclamation from the teacher reached my ears, slightly surprising me as I had fumbled about with my phone and evidently dropped it onto the cold floor. Nodding to her with a sheepish smile, I bent down to retrieve the device when I heard a muffled snicker next to me. It was that girl; she sat beside me and I still didn't know her name. I stole a glance at her and found something that shocked me even more than our dominant teacher. A smile. I almost couldn't believe my eyes. For the second time I was intrigued by this girl, for I had never seen her put on such an expression. In fact, it warmed my heart just a little to know that I was the cause of it. Especially since her zealous, emerald eyes were trained on me as she smiled. I couldn't help but return the favour, or should I say gift, back to her. There was a flicker in those lush irises that disappeared so quickly that I hadn't even the chance to understand what that flicker was. The clutching warmth in my chest immediately brought me to my senses. What was wrong with me? How could I fancy someone like her? I only go for those within our 'group,' our 'clique.' Never before had I ever gotten to socialise with the quieter bunch, let alone become friends. And I knew why; their personalities weren't as exciting as of those in their 'group.' Not to mention they weren't as good-looking. Not giving it much thought, I sat back in my chair and allowed the warmth to dissipate, and slowly but surely, it disappeared.

"You will be in the same group as those who are reading the same book, so find your members!"

My book choice was Catcher in the Rye. The rest of the choices were far too boring for me to read, this one was the only one about a teenage boy, and that alone piqued my interest. Alas, no one else had chosen the same book I had, which ultimately leads to me managing the end presentation about the book by myself. Of course the teacher didn't want this to happen, so she stood in the middle of the classroom for a while, contemplating her options when the most unexpected thing happened. From the corner of my eye, I watched as an arm was raised beside me and I turned to stare at the girl. She had chosen the Joy Luck Club, but not anymore it seemed.

"I can switch over to Catcher in the Rye if you want."

The girl hadn't so much as given me a knowing look or even glanced at me to hint a sort of subtle alliance, she only volunteered to 'join' my group. The teacher looked relieved, inevitably accepting the offer with an appreciative nod of her head and a word of gratitude.

"Thank you, Lark."

My gaze softened as I heard her name being spoken from the teachers lips, still taken aback by her 'kindness.' I watched her nod in reply and settle back down into her seat, glancing at me swiftly, emotionlessly, before observing the whiteboard once again. So that is her name, I thought.

...'not yet,' they whisper...