The Girl and the Stars

When she saw him for the first time, he was on his way back from school.

She could tell he was coming back from school because he was carrying a backpack and wearing khaki pants. It wasn't unusual for him to pass by her house, and it certainly wasn't unusual for him to steal from her garden. Usually, she didn't mind. She was young, and he was young and good looking. And, to be quite honest, she thought the bold attitude of stealing flowers was rather dashing. Whomever was on the receiving end of his escapades was rather lucky, in her opinion.

So she watched. And she waited. She wanted his first impression of her to be just right.

It was on a cold November day that she finally made her move. If you could call it that. He usually took a flower or two, but there wasn't much to take anymore. It was rainy and miserable, and the garden was dead.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. She did have one Amaryllis. She had to grow it from a bulb, and not just any bulb, but one specially imported from tropical rainforests of Africa and South America. It was a pale pale yellow. She had put a case over it, so that no obnoxious snot-nosed thieving boys would snatch it up. It was very rare and very expensive, and if some rude flower picker hadn't come along and picked it, it should have been a long-lasting and dramatic plant.

She should have known that he was going to pick it. But it was still a shock when he leaned over her fence, removed the globe and grabbed it.

She couldn't help herself. She ran outside. Immediately, he dropped the flower and looked at her in alarm.

"Well if you're going to pick the best flower in my garden you better have a damn good reason." Her whole body was trembling.

"I, um, I do." He cleared his throat. "Yes, yes I do."

"You take a flower from my garden every day."

"Yes, ma'am." He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, refusing to make eye contact.

"What do you do with it?" She asked suspiciously. As he bent over to pick it up, she snatched it before he could. "I asked you what you do with them. Do you give them to a girl?" She demanded, planting her hands on her hips, and moving her head to make eye contact.

"Um. Yeah, kind of, yeah." He smiled at her crookedly, peeling his lips back to test how angry she was at the offence. She didn't smile back.

"I want to meet her."

"You... what?"

"I said I want to meet whoever you're giving the flower to. It's my flower and that's my condition. Considering the price and effort I put into growing it, I don't think I'm being unreasonable." He was still refusing to make eye contact, and it was annoying her to no end.

"Okay, um, sorry for picking it. I won't come back, I just-"

"Am I going to have to call the police for thievery and trespassing or am I going to come with you?"

"Okay, alright, you can come. You're not going to like it."

"Why?"

He made sudden eye contact, and she noticed his eyes weren't black as she originally thought, rather a dark brown. "Because you won't, okay?"

"Okay. Lead the way." He started to walk away at a clip, and she huffed as she jogged to keep up. The cement was cold on her feet, and she realised that in her haste to leave the house she hadn't grabbed a pair of shoes. "What's your name?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Okay, well tell me something that does matter then."

"Um-"