The secret of the rose

Part 1 Chapter 5

Days and weeks go by, and summer comes to an end. . Going back to school is right around the corner. I am excited to think that my ordeal will soon have a reprieve. I spent the summer doing my grandmother's wishes without blinking an eye. Going back to school will give me a break of her presence. I will finally get back my life as a teenager.

The city of Sandy Creek where I live, is small and there are not enough people to have schools. The closest school is North Brunswick High School in Brunswick County. I am excited to start a new school year. I might have the chance to make new friends. My days seem lighter when I think about that.

At church, I met young people of my age, but my grandmother watched the slightest of my actions which made my integration difficult. In reality, no one wanted to be my friend since I was the little girl of an ungrateful and hateful shrew. All feared her which did not make thingseasier to have friends. I always stayed away so I did not get into trouble. I did not speak to anyone and nobody dared to speak to me.

So, it is with nervousness, that the first day, I wait for the school bus at the edge of the property. The bus stops in front of me. This one is crowded with noisy and turbulent teenagers. When the door opens, I go up and gave my best smile to the driver. The bearded man at the wheel hastily diverts his eyes and closes the door behind me. I try to keep smiling by looking at the faces of my future classmates, but the laughter and the pointing fingers in my direction make me lower my head. I am embarrassed and especially hurt. I spot the first free bench and I sit hiding myself at the bottom. Sitting alone at the front of the vehicle, I look out the window and try not to pay attention to the gossip that is said about me.

-She's the granddaughter of the old witch, said a girl with dyed red hair.

- Where do you buy your clothes? In the basement of the church I suppose, scream a tall, black-skinned girl dressed in a cheerleading costume.

- You look like your old shrew, spit in my face a boy full of acne.

All start to laugh and stare at me nastily. I am outraged, I swallow my tears and hide my face with my hands. My grandmother's bad reputation follows me everywhere. I cannot believe we can be so mean; they do not even know me. I bury myself deeper in my seat and hide in my shell hoping to be forgotten. The journey of 25 minutes is endless. I almost jump from the bus as soon as I arrive in front of the school. I want to get away from these unpleasant teenagers as soon as possible. I have the need to escape, not to return, but I have nowhere to go .

I sneak between the students, trying to make myself as discreet as possible. Without success. They all seem to know me. I am singled out and the laughter is more and more intense. I walk quickly and head for my first class. I cannot find my classroom before the bell rings, which makes my classmates laugh at me when I arrive late. My enthusiasm of this morning has completely disappeared.

Being the stranger in my new school, I suffer from insults, petty looks and judgments about my appearance. My grandmother insists that I obey the strict rules of the Baptist religion. The wearing of the long skirt, the blouse that does not show an inch of skin, the naked face of any makeup and the neutral hairstyle of a ponytail is my everyday outfit. Quite the opposite of teenage girls attending the same school. I envy their fashionable clothes and their daring haircut.

I am the laughingstock of the other students; I try in vain to be discreet. I look down when they stare at me and I run away from the students who laugh and seem to have fun. From lack of confidence and especially not to provoke more mockery, I do not integrate into any school club. I do not feel strong enough to confront them. I go to my classes assiduously and answer when a teacher asks me a question, but nothing more. Nobody talks to me. Of fear of being humiliated and rejected, I prefer to sit on a bench in the back of the tiny garden of the school instead of following the other students in the cafeteria. I eat the same sandwiches, day after day, sitting on this bench watching the flowers. Among them, I feel peaceful and safe away from these naughty and ruthless teens. My mother's passion comforts me.

Every day, I do not speak to anyone, walk with my head down and wait for the endless minutes to pass. I am unhappy, but I dare not take the first steps to make friends. I had my share of trouble and misfortune.

Over the days, the other students end up tired of telling me nonsense absurdity. I am no longer the interesting attraction of the beginning of the year. I end up having a little relief, but I am bored out of my mind. Despite my depressing days, I know that when thenight falls, I will be able to have a little happiness because I will go backto my garden. The only place where I can finally let my emotions go.

On rainy days, I spend most of my time at the library, my sanctuary. While browsing the shelves, I come across books that speak of beautiful gardens around the world. I develop a passion for reading these books. This is how I often find myself alone in a dark corner to consume a book. In my protective bubble, I feel less anxious, less isolated. I read all the books about these gardens. It is my way to travel and I dream that one day I will be able to visit some of them.

One day, the guidance counselor, Mrs. Evelyne Frank, catches me captivated by a book at the bottom of a row. She is a pretty woman in her thirties, medium height and her brown hair is tied at the neck. Dressed in a skirt and a light blue jacket bought in a thrift shop, she displays calm and sincere. This counselor approached me with a delicate step and watched what I read over my shoulder.

- The garden of Lisse, it's my favorite. It's truly magnificent.

I jump, I thought I wasalone. By realizing that itis the guidance counselor, I feel relieved. At least she is not one of those ugly teenagers who like to laugh at me. Mrs. Frank is the person I appreciate the most in this establishment. She was the only person to welcome me. Despite her attempts, no one else showed me the least sign of attention. I have always been comfortable communicating with her.

- You are right. But my favorite is the one of Rhododendron in Germany, I said, turning the page that shows the picture of the garden in all its splendor.

- Indeed, Miss Parker you have the eye. This one is even more beautiful. Have you ever visited it?

- Unfortunately, no. Looking down to hide my sadness, I continue. It was one of our future trips to my mother and me. Now it's not possible anymore. But one day maybe?

I am sure Mrs. Frank read my file when I arrived at school. I know it because, she is not surprised by my answer and does not ask me any questions about it. She must know that my parents died recently. I am grateful that she does not dig deeper about my comment.

- Don't lose hope Jenny. Maybe one day your dream will come true. I hope you will bring me photographs.

- Thank you for your concern, but I don't think that will happens.

The bell rings, indicating that the classes start again. I put my books in my bag and greet Mrs. Frank with a nod. I rush out of the library trying to avoid as many students as possible heading to their classrooms.

- Come see me at my office, whenever you want and we can talk about the other gardens, shout the guidance counselor while watching me walk away.

I thank her by waving my hand without turning around and quickly leave the library to go to my classes. I cannot be late; this would give a good reason for the other students to make fun of me again. Luckily, I arrive at my classroom in time and sit at the very back, my usual place.

Apart from Mrs. Frank, I have no friend, no one to confide. Which brings me to be lonely. The more time passes, the more I shut down. I cannot rely on my grandmother to comfort me, listen to me or give me affection. This resentful old woman speaks only to give me tasks to do or to dictate me good conduct during religious services on Sundays.

The 14-year-old girl, once cheerful, confident and full of life, is slowly disappearing. The flame of life that burned in me slowly fades away little by little every day. Sometimes, when the days are harder, I wish I had been with my parents in the car. In this way, I would not feel the pain that consumes me. And I could be with them where they are. I would not feel lonely anymore.

I had a happy future at the time, now it looks miserable. If I succeed in passing through these four years without consequence, what will be my future? We often talk about university my parents and me. I wanted to live this experience without worrying about any difficulty. I knew my parents would be with me every step of the way. Now that they are gone, I cannot even hope to see that future. I do not have the money to pursue my dream. Even if I get a scholarship, it will not be enough. I cannot think of it anymore. Now, I must survive. To survive this hell, as unhappy as it is, I must do it for them.