Keyholes To Flowerage

VIII. Keyholes to Flowerage

VIII. Keyhole to Flowerage

THE SEMI-HAVOC reached its epilogue, we calmed ourselves and spent the rest of the day watching the movie of steam wafting from the four mugs of coffee. Right at that moment, I fought the silence to encourage them to rip off some résumés about themselves, we also agreed to document once a week since all of us had personal concerns other than this. With all the forewarning storm of arguments and clicks of the tongues, we were so certain it would take us a century to finally get used of each other's unique temperaments.

Carrying books that weighed a ton, I continued to walk despite the students travelling up and down the hallways. I turtle-ed my pace to eavesdrop to a cluster of girls gossiping about something that apparently concerned me. "You mean there really are guys from Urban?"

"Yeah. They wore different uniforms handsomely. They actually parked exactly at the ground. I think they are Mr. Cunningham's visitors or what."

I was distracted by abrupt nudged of someone. I was quick to bend down and pick up the book I unintentionally dropped. My hands gripped against the façade of the book, trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I sort of smelled clumsy today. Not had been wise to calculate my movements. She crossed her arms against her chest, eyes disclosing vast emptiness from within, she shook her head twice.

"April." I blinked, composing myself. "Hi, ahm, been awhile."

Waiting for her to respond, I stared into her eyes and pursed my lips together. I saw exhaustion. Red flames. Long-term grief. Charcoals. Knives and whines. I saw Mary Joy. Within her eyes. I exhorted my hands to touch her, she noticed my intention of giving her comfort and colors. Feared to be softened, she ballet-ed away from me. My body whirled after her, I couldn't understand the hate. I couldn't seem to find the right words to express the bafflement of her actions.

"Marceline!" I craned my head to see where it came from. I wasn't the only one who was filled with curiosity, other students who were passing by paused to find the voice as well. Composing myself, I watched the familiar figures approach me with huge beams on their faces.

"Carley?" She embraced me. A bulky figure snatched the books I was carrying, I decided not to debate over it anymore. Knowing how competitive Ruel was, the chance to win was hairline thin. From afar, there climbed out another figure from the car. His left eye was demi-close as he leaned against the door, yawning into his sleeve. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Fetching you." Ruel matched my pace. "Have you forgotten?"

"What about Gilman?" I motioned the library to Ruel.

On the flipside, Carley rolled her eyes and turned her gaze to where they left Gilman. "Don't mind him. He made it certain we're out of his league, remember?"

"Gage's just a kid, Carley. He's the youngest. Been there. He needs more understanding and patience." I twisted the doorknob for Ruel as we pushed our bodies inside the library, I clicked the lights on and helped him yap the books.

She roamed her fingers onto the edges of cupboards, winced when dusts enveloped her fingertips. "Not everyone is as understanding as you and as patient as Marceline though." Her leather jacket leaped so often when she moved her arms.

My fingers tucked some hair strands behind my ear. Milky sky caught up with us, myriads of clouds leaving the space vacant. Soft sighs travelled through the swirling wind. They exited from Carley. She tramped along my side, her head bowed to the side, her eyes glinted, mayhap admiring the poetic horizon. In that very moment, I learned to appreciate the existence of walking quietly with someone.

"YOUR SCHOOL is small," Gilman critiqued, tapping actively in his phone. The water droplets volume of his keyboard prompted my ears to take it as a compliment. A click of tongue made me bite the inside of my cheeks. One, two, three-