The Beard

Chapter One

Flowers come from the same family, yet each is different in its own special way. What they represent... most people never care to discover. I'm sure most don't even know that every flower symbolizes a lot more than just pretty colors and a pleasant fragrance. Purity, joyfulness, beauty. Each flower is so much despite being so simple.

My eyes stay trained on the hot pink begonias in bloom outside. We're sitting close enough to the door for me to make out how beautiful they are, yet they stand for something so negative. Begonias are a warning about future misfortunes and the bloom is a reminder to be cautious about new situations.

An eyelash pokes me in the eye, and I blink sporadically. Lifting a hand, I rub at my eye as I refocus on my two friends. The hustle and bustle of our school cafeteria doesn't distract me from the conversation.

"It wasn't great," Jenny states with a dismissive shrug. Taking a packet of French dressing, she tears the top off. Her nimble fingers squeeze the contents onto her salad before she sets it aside. Concentrating, she mixes the green leaves, oblivious to the bombshell she had just dropped.

"Well, duh! You were a virgin, and it's Greg we're talking about." Micah rolls her eyes. "I'm surprised he even knew where to stick it in."

Jenny gives Micah a blank look, plastic fork clenched in her right hand. I know she hates it when people make jokes about Greg being dim. He's a sweetheart, really, just not as smart as others. Not to mention, Jenny has been head over heels for Greg since the last day of sixth grade when he wished her a happy summer and kissed her cheek. I stood right next to them and had witnessed both their cheeks turn red. It was love at first sight.

"Shut up, Micah. You know that Greg was also a virgin, and not everyone is as experienced as you," Jenny snaps back, stabbing the lettuce before shoving the pieces into her mouth.

Jenny and Micah are natural-born frenemies. They're nice to each other when they want to be, but mostly end up fighting. They like to call their odd relationship 'friendship with constructive criticism'.

I have known Jenny Braxton since we were kids. We were in the same kindergarten class and have been classmates almost every year after that. That's usually what happens in small towns. It was only normal that we ended up becoming the best of friends halfway through elementary school.

I can still remember what we were wearing when Jenny came up to me during lunch in second grade. She wore a unicorn shirt that I was so jealous of, a pair of white shorts, and black Toms. Her jet black hair was intricately braided into individual ponytails with colorful barrettes clipped on them. I was wearing a white floral dress and ivory sandals. My hair, blonde at the time, was left down. I'll never forget those outfits because they had marked our friendship as soon as Jenny said, "I like your dress. Wanna be friends?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Micah's loud question pulls me back to the present.

I look over at the raven-haired beauty. Micah joined our school years later in eighth grade, halfway through the school year. Her dad received some kind of promotion which forced them to move to our small and conservative town. Everyone thought that was also strange because no one moves from the city to here unless they are elderly.

"Nothing!" Jenny shrugs again, an innocent smile on her face. "It's just that you know, that we all know what you've been doing."

"Jesus, just call me a slut, why don't you?" Micah grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Your words, not mine."

Micah thundered into our lives like an enraged bull looking for a fight. Back then, she was the 'emo' girl. Her wardrobe mostly composed of black with dashes of inky purple, indigo, or cobalt blue. She was mean and scary, yet we clicked. This dark, mysterious girl and me, a colorful little thing. Despite my best efforts, Micah and Jenny never vibe as much as I do with them individually. A pity, really, because it still makes sleepovers awkward.