KISS ME (J.P.)

CHAPTER FOUR (2/3)

Stepping into the square felt like an enclosed room. With a door from a massive weeping willow's vines. Walls of natural disarray and indigenous varieties.

The fountain was tall, taller than the imagined, stout in the center was a scene of a mythological fable. A unicorn engraved on the statue's bowl, told the story of the unicorn which purifies the water of the fountain poisoned by the snake wrapped around the tiers pillar in the middle, making a sign of the cross enabling all the creature to quench their thirst.

A thick layer of leaves and weeds covered the floor. Ivy and bramble canopied it and honey suckles connected every conifer holly tree.

Doe was looking at a garnish of vines, purple and red, that looked like imitations of cherries. Pretty.

"Those are akebia quinata vines. They are actually pretty rare." James turned to her, wiggling his eyebrows. "We really found a secret garden."

Jane felt offput at how James could tell what she was thinking of. "How would you know that?"

"I'm in a herbology class. Alnwick has a few greenhouses."

Jane always felt inferior to James when it came to education. Like she was five and at a sleepover of a friend's who had a nicer doll than she could ever reasonably ask for. But its hair was tangled and its clothes dirty. And she knew if she was ever given the chance, her doll's hair would be combed every night just like hers and the clothes would stay clean and ironed soft.

Doe knew she was smart, but when it came to the spoiled mind of the average man James was, he in many aspects would always know more, be ahead.

"Herboblogy." Doe muttered. a few greenhouses.

Her school had two electives, gym, and language studies. The only language offered was French, that had a non-french speaking sub as a teacher for the last four years.

She kicked around the layer of leafs covering the floor, stopping as she felt ridges of the usually flat cement. She brushed all the leaves to see the pattern. Doe called James over. "They've got hopscotch on the cement."

James came overlooking at the collection of squares, a little swirling line, then back to squares. "What is hopscotch?"

She smirked, childish liker inferiority to not recognizing a vine. It made her grin, knowing the conditionally regal boy didn't know a simple childhood game. She imagined five-year-old James playing chess and sipping tea as a substitute.

She giggled, tilting her head. "You've never played hopscotch?"

"No...?" James tried to read her expression. Usually when Doe was smiling at him it meant she had found something he did was because she found something he did ridiculous or was queuing up to make an ego damaging comment.
"Is that bad?"

Doe moved her head from side to side, eyes looking at the sky to mock thought. "It's not good."

She settled on him, squinting her eyes. "I just thought you were a little more boyish."

Boyish? James thought. Was that good or bad? Judging by the squint, he figured that was her prepared insult. "Boyish? I'm bo-"

She shushed him turning around. "I have to show you how it's done."

Moving quickly, one leg up on the single squares, two on the doubles, stopping before the looping line.

Doe turned around. James looked so surprised by the game. "Go on, do it, if you believe you're so boyish."

James tried to copy her, counting out each skip. Going much slower, with much less balance, when he reached the looped line, he tried to follow it with his legs like a drunk dancer. Tripping out of the line, Doe stood in front of him.

"No, you Prince." The doe stood up, her long legs starting it again, carefully walking the line like a princess with a stack of books on her head.

At the end of the square pattern, she turned, facing James and the blank vines, the fountain, the weeping willow. The candalescent smell of honeysuckle, sounds of beetles left her heavy in heart.

Like she was seeing a family member after a long time, and could see the corners of their eyes starting to dols, their hair gray more fragile, but in the end it had been so long she couldn't really picture what they looked like before time caught them.

It clicked after she finished the game of hopscotch. She had done it before like a frail retired ballerina stepping back onto a stage, hearing the same classic they once danced to, and they could count every step, and name every absurd french move.

She could almost faintly hear her father calling her over, away from the fountain to eat her lunch. Doe never found much time or use for it, even at an early age.

"Princess, come over, eat your lunch." Little Jane could hear her father calling from a bench. He sat their hands on knees, knuckles white, like he was straining to stay awake or still, but he looked happy to her, happy compared to usual.

The fountain was practically a water park for toddlers, and a small girl for her age was wringing wet from following the sprinkling fountain's rain. She'd go in between sitting under the unicorn fountain and timing how long it took her to finish the hopscotch game, and after she'd steal honeysuckles and bring some to her father, pulling out the stem and letting him taste the sap.

Running to the bench, and into his lap, Jane remebered how he would never scold her about something that endeared him, like the fact she was soaking her father's work pants.

He brought the food into her lap. Doe ignored the sandwich and only ate the packages of cherries like a little bunny in tiny bites.

"You like it here, lady? How bout we come here anytime I have a day off, huh?" Her father asked, using his pocketknife to skin an apple, knowing the little girl hated the skin.

Jane just smiled at her dad. When she was younger, she barely spoke, so little many thought she was mute. But her father would always rave about how punctual she was when she chose to.

"I know there haven't been many free days, but I promise, princess, I'll try to be better." She remebered how tired her father always looked, worn like he was in need of a bed. He was tall, but quite skinny for a man working in a factory. His voice sounded half awake and a little sad.

Before Ellie came along, her and her dad lived in a trailer on the edge of town, by the lake. Just the two of them against the world. Her mother was never spoken about, unless from her grandmother, who would curse her son for still being in love with a woman who left them. Before they had to live with her grandparents, her father would keep framed photos of her mother and him on the plastic walls.

"Huh? What do you say, princess Jane? Would you like that?" He asked, tickling her sides as she burst out laughing, trying the escape him.