Flowers for Violet

Chapter 2- Too Soon to Tell

Everyone's voices hushed as Ms. Jacobs walked into class with a foreign face behind her.

"Class! Let me get your attention! We have a new student. She just moved to the state a couple weeks ago and settled in her new home just yesterday. Please welcome her and treat her nicely." Ms. Jacobs stepped aside to give spotlight to the new girl. The girl lifted her head up from the ground and I should've seen it coming.

"Hello. My name is Violet Lyndall. I just moved from Oregon so I hope you treat me well."

"Now, Violet. You have several options. You can sit with Raheem over there in the back near the bookshelves, with Will over there in the corner with the chocolate brown hair, or with Sofia right here in the front." Ms. Jacobs gestures at each of the options. Violet walks over to the seat beside me and I could hear groans and complaints accumulate as she gets closer to me. I wonder why, though. Nobody usually likes the new girl. Even if they're pretty which Violet definitely is.

"Hey." She elbows me and I smile. A genuine smile.

Violet's genial personality helped her make about seven friends in each of her classes which I fortunately am in. I sit in the courtyard by myself to eat lunch and Violet flees to me rather than the new friends she made. I won't lie. I do like it. We eat as she tells me about her day and when lunchtime is over, Violet takes me by surprise and interlocks arms with me as we head to class. After school, I decide to take Violet to a coffee shop that sells CDs and records that I go to whenever my emotions begin to swell up inside me, making me want to explode. We pass a vintage clothing store on our way there and eventually we approach said destination. Violet buys herself a sea-salt caramel latte and myself an iced caramel macchiato.

"Sea-salt caramel lattes are my favorite. Sea-salt caramel anything is my favorite." She informs me as she takes a seat beside me. Since we took the window counter seats, she takes the time to point out every single person passing by- which isn't many- and creates incredible stories about them ranging from being a fortuneteller who accidentally married a demon after reading a tarot card incorrectly to a former CEO of a company that won the lottery and squandered his money to bankruptcy. I watched as these stories took form from her mouth and how her hands moved whenever she got to the detailed parts and how bright her eyes would light up when it got to a heart-warming part. She truly has the charisma that'll hook anyone in and the wild imagination of a child's. After we finish our beverages, we exit the store and walk home and neither of us really say anything. We just enjoy the silence hanging in the air between us.

When we get home, Violet asks if she can do her homework with me in my room and I agree. Everything but a Michael Jackson record softly playing is quiet. No cars driving by. No clanging of the pots in the kitchen as my mom cooks dinner. No screaming from my dad at a TV show- he's quite the television fanatic. No talking. It has been like that since Violet and I arrived. I look over my shoulder and still see her doing her homework on my daybed. Her homework has been really occupying her. Then just like that, Violet drops her pencil on her notebook, creating a loud thud, and stretches.

"I'm finally done." She says and I let the breath I didn't know I've been holding, out. Violet looks at the clock sitting on my nightstand and says, "Oh it's that late already? I should get going." I look at the time and it's 10:45 p.m. She gathers her belongings and ruffles my hair as she walks out. I watch her leave. I don't even know what's with that girl but something about her gives me a good feeling about myself. About my life. About everything.

It's Thursday today and I have to volunteer at the dog shelter today like I do every Thursday which means I can't hang out with Violet today. This past week, Violet and I walk usually walk home together, do our homework in my room, and then hang around listening to my music collection. We go to town whenever there's time. Today, I can't do those things with her. Today, I'm going to have to scoop up piles of dog poop, wash and groom the dogs that can't cooperate and then have to feed the scary dogs. Don't get me wrong. I love dogs dearly it's just, I hate that Mrs. Donnel, the one in charge, gives me all the heavy duty. At least I don't have to communicate with those irritating dog owners who don't know how to stop talking and appreciate what's being done for their beloved dogs. Namely, it's 56-year-old Mr. Timmons who loves his precious teacup Yorkie Dottie who runs away from me every time I try to give her a bath, 33-year-old Ms. McKinley who owns a chihuahua that never stops yapping, and Mrs. Manning who is a 61-year-old lady who lives alone with her poodle Josie that isn't that bad but just is extremely hard to groom. It's such a relief that Mrs. Donnel handles talking to those owners and knows how to do it because if it were me, I'd be a stuttering mess and I would give in to everything they complained about despite the many preconceived arguments in my head.