Butterfly Kisses | ✓

04 | periwinkle

P E R I W I N K L E

[vinca minor] ➳ beginning.  

YES AND NO WARRED WITHIN ME, but I had more pressing questions on my mind.

"How do you know my name?" I demanded, pointing the board at him. Isaac chuckled as I stepped back. "And what are you doing?"

He shrugged, tucking his thumbs into his belt loops. "You first."

I scowled, pulling testily at the curls of my hair. The length of my skateboard between us, I looked him dead in the eye. "Yes, I am stalking you."

Isaac burst out laughing, and needed to press his knuckle against his forehead to quiet down. Unimpressed, I jutted my chin. "Your turn now," I told him. "Answer my questions."

Once his shoulders stopped shaking, he lifted his head again. He paused then nodded, lips twisted into a knowing smirk. "Okay," he said. "I will. But I'm about to miss my bus. Can we walk and talk?"

I narrowed my eyes and pointed behind me. "The bus is that way."

"No, not that one. You know the 187?" When I shook my head, he scoffed. "I keep forgetting you're not from around here. Come on. I'll show you."

I hesitated, feeling for my phone in my right pocket and my keys in my left. Running from him in jean shorts and tennis shoes wouldn't have been too bad, but he was much taller than me, even though I was five-eight. If he lied, caught me off guard and tried to overpower me as we walked, I was dead.

Seeming to sense my reluctance, Isaac took out his own phone and showed me what he had been looking at: the bus schedule.

"Fine," I said, lips pursed. "But you have to give me answers, or I'm going report you for stealing — again."

"Okay, okay," Isaac said, pivoting slightly so he faced our uphill trek again. "Jesus. Are you always like this?"

I caught up to him, a thrill running through me at the thought of walking with him, side by side. "Only to people who burglarize my backyard."

"That's fair." He lowered his eyes from the sun. It was a little chilly, the breeze running between trees and tickling my exposed collarbones. "Well, if it helps, you're the only person I've ever burglarized."

Wincing, I lifted my skateboard again, holding it between us with one arm. "Thanks," I said sarcastically, not believing him for a second. "So? Time's a wasting. How'd you figure out who I am?"

"Oh." Isaac grinned, and I glanced sideways at him as we walked, at the bridge of his nose and the moles that dotted his cheekbone. "I found your Instagram account."

"You — what?" I stopped, turning to face him as my face rapidly grew hot. "You looked me up?"

"No." He ran his fingers through his hair, slowing down but still pacing ahead of me. "I didn't know your name. But it turns out you're the only person in a forty-mile radius who cares enough to tag species of flowers."

I swore very loudly.

"You go to church with that mouth?" he asked, eyes crinkling as I caught up to him, my mind flashing back to every semi-embarrassing photograph I'd ever posted of myself with my cousins in our Sunday best. He laughed again. "I'm kidding. But you're really into it, right?"

"Church or flowers?" I quipped, my blush not subsiding as I toyed with the strap of my backpack. But it was obvious he meant the latter — since our move, I'd posted countless of progress photos of the garden, ranging from packets of seeds in my hands to close-ups of seedlings poking out of soil.

Now, in May, I mostly updated my hometown friends with pictures of myself, dressed up in front of rose bushes or sunflower pots. I had been proud of how pretty it all looked, but now I wanted the sidewalk to swallow me whole.

"Flowers, obviously." Isaac gazed at me curiously. "But isn't this kind of a shit town for that fairy tale stuff, Renata Santos?"

"Ren. And it's none of your business," I said briskly. I knew what he was getting at — the fact that my endless grid of happy selfies and birthday wishes had abruptly cut off in January, and that there was no explanation for our move from the city to the hellish suburb of Newberry, where I immediately replaced my social life with botany.

I looked away, his green-eyed squint beginning to unsettle me. "Alright, getting to know me was not part of the deal," I reminded him. "You still haven't answered the second part. What are you doing with my flowers? Those are mine, right?"

I pointed my skateboard at the white tulips sticking out of his backpack. Their stems were all squished up, tops bouncing weakly with the wind as we walked. I noticed belatedly that they matched his shirt.

Isaac twisted his head around to look at the flowers too, but said nothing for a long time. Then he pointed ahead to a tall sign in front of us amidst wildflowers in the ground.

"This is where the bus stops," he told me, sticking his hand back into his pocket. He bit his lip, looking mildly nervous for the first time since he'd caught me stalking him. The expression was foreign on his face, like he'd been stuck in cheeky flower thief mode for too long and was having trouble reverting back to a regular person.

I placed a hand on my hip and waited.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Isaac said very quickly, words sliding into one another like dominoes.

Frowning, I watched him approach the sign, shoulders hunched and his arms square to his sides. "You can't just keep dodging the question like that, Isaac Marshall," I said, wrinkling my nose.

"No, you don't get it." His eyes went wide and I reeled around to see the bus turning up our way. "I'm on my way to —" He cut himself off, waving down the driver and taking a dramatic breath. "Are you coming or not?"

The bus stopped in front of us and Isaac climbed up the purple steps. Sometime between moments, my brain stopped whirring and I instinctively followed, hugging my board to my chest. I swung my lanyard out of my pocket and tapped in my transit pass, my head and heart both pounding, my feet unsteady as the bus swayed into motion.

Isaac lowered his eyelashes as I settled beside him in the middle aisle. 

I had no idea where we were going, or how to get home from wherever that was. And I still didn't trust him one bit, not even when he leaned over, holding onto the grab handle. "Welcome aboard," he said, that tense smile stuck on his face.

I didn't need the whole bus — which was filled with adults and the elderly and none of our fellow classmates — to know I had never taken this route before, or that I had boarded alongside a stranger, so I kept my mouth firmly shut.

Ten minutes later, my arms were stiff. Isaac lightly touched my back and I flinched as the bus rolled to a stop.

He exited through the back door and I did the same, sweat pooling between my hands and my phone and my skateboard. Since his chest was around eye level, I reasoned that, with some effort, I could smack his right shoulder and then his head, which would probably disable him long enough for me to scream for help.

But there wasn't a single person in sight. As the bus pulled away, I gawked at the scene before us, noticing immediately that the nearest building was a block from where I stood. Trees loomed ominously over the sidewalk, swallowing our shadows and rivalling Isaac in their terror.

Weeds poked out of the cracks in the pavement, which lead down a battered path toward an iron fence. I sucked in my breath.

"Well," said Isaac, eyes glazed over. He was clearly aware of the cold front travelling the length of my spine and gave a hesitant laugh. "Not sure if this is what you were hoping for, but..."

I held up my skateboard. 

"Isaac," I hissed, trying to appear as though I was measuring out each word rather than keeping my voice from shaking. "You have exactly five seconds to explain why we're at a graveyard before I knock you out cold."