The Peony Chronicles

Chapter Five

Cynthia whatcha doin' in there?" Gael demanded, trying to locate the reason they were sitting in the corner area of her cramped bedroom whilst she fished around in her mahogany wardrobe. Their board game sat on the floor, the pieces scattered wildly, paper currency floating across the carpet like muted confetti. It appeared that they had given up. He sat in the little chair she had adjacent to her wooden cabinet, peering up at his friend rummage through the swishing of cotton linen.

"I'm lookin for somethin'!" she exclaimed back.

    "Whatcha lookin for?"

    "Hold your horses!" She bellowed in response, then sighing, her tongue clicked along with her frustration. "Where the hell is it?" she sounded partially annoyed.

    Gael was prompted to ask her again about whatever she was looking for but bit his tongue in reminder of Cynthia's fiery and easily frustrated temper. "Can I help?" he then asked instead, sitting up from the chair to move over to view what she was looking for. Inside was many a dresses of various colors. They squeezed against each other and wiggled frantically as Cynthia plowed her hands through each to create seething gaps in the search of the item of her affections.

    "Nah, thank you though-- Oh there it is." She reached into the back and yanked a hanger off of the rack pulling out a full dress from the contents. "Look at you bein' a good ole luck charm!"

She ruffled Gael's hair and then placed the dress on her bed. It was dyed a lilac hue, lace trailing at the bottom and around the collar. Three silver buttons trailed down the front, elastic snatching it at the waist to create an hourglass look without it even being worn.  Gael ogled at it, a hand reaching down to cradle the cotton fabric. "Whatcha need that for?" he then inquired. "It's mighty pretty but you're already wearin' a--"

    Cynthia held a finger up to him to motion for the request of silence. As much as she loved her dear friend, he would often break her concentration by berating her with a multitude of questions that were too strung together one after another to answer for there to be absolute clarity. Gael fell quiet immediately, knowing that she was in a focused mindset. He sat down at the edge of the bed and kicked his legs a bit impatiently.
    "It ain't for me, yah see." Cynthia then explained, moving over to rummage through her vanity drawers. She pulled out a barette, moving over to Gael to clip it in his hair. Gael pushed his hand up into his hair but Cynthia swatted it away immediately afterwards.

"Don't touch." She murmured, "It'll fall out."

"Oh, sorry." Gael mumbled a bit feverishly. "Didn't mean to."

    "It's alright hon'-- Here--" She began to unbutton his shirt. "Take this off will you?"

"Why?"

"Well," Cynthia smiled gently. "I figured we'd give you a new look, darlin. Make you real-- Uh- Pretty."

    With those words, something inside Gael illuminated as if sparks popped behind his eyelids. He jumped up on his feet and gasped loudly. "Really? You mean it?" His starry-eyed complexion beamed at Cynthia widely. "Oh that'd mean everything in the whole wide world!"

    "Well come on then," Cynthia encouraged, "Let's get you gussied up."

Her words were awkward and fumbled, as if she didn't exactly know how to say them, as if she couldn't process them completely for her own good. All she knew is that she was a kind friend to a boy with a very troubled homelife and if that didn't put her somewhere with positive karma she wouldn't know what to believe in anymore. What she attempted to positively create for Gael settled uneasily in her mind, as she knew what she worked on was unorthodox. Yet despite her unease, she pushed forward through the love she had for her friend.
    Clumsily, she helped Gael slip into the garment, his breath hitching at the feeling of the cotton slide tightly on his body. Cynthia then reached up to button his collar, tucking it in. She sat him down at her chromated vanity and reached into the drawer for her hair brush. Smoothly she ran the bristles through his unkempt, dark locks, a hand peevishly rested on his left shoulder.
    She then pulled out her prized possession, a warm palette of eyeshadows that she was gifted for her fifteenth birthday. Her eyes skimmed the colors brightly, almost giddy to share such a pleasantry with someone she cared about. It was funny, she never thought she'd share this gift with someone such as Gael, she always thought it'd be a matter of time before one of her peers at school would look past her headstrong and prideful nature enough to have a level of friendship that she desperately wished to relate to. Alas, she had gotten it in some form or another, as the smiling boy that sat beaming at Cynthia through the mirror was certainly enough for her.