Pink Petals

A tale of a young girl, a dysfunctional family, and a fateful encounter with a young boy.

PINK PETALS

The neighbourhood was loud today. The sun burned hot and all the children were out having fun. And then there was me, holding for dear life on to that pink flower. 

The pink petals of the tiny flower shone amongst the yellowness of the sun. Pink flowers were my favorite. I clutched the stem between my eight-year-old fingers and took a whiff of its scent. A small smile grew upon my lips.

My dark skirt fell in a heap around me as I knelt in the freshly-mowed grass of my front yard. I could faintly hear the echoes of the slamming doors and the clashing dishware. I could hear the screams, the underlying meanings to the awful words they yelled at each other.

I hated being in the house at these times. I didn’t like to stay quiet as they tortured each other, as if it was a game. It wasn’t a game.

Some days I wanted to open my mouth and scream. I longed to describe to them how I felt as they destroyed their lives.

My eyes welled up in tears. All of my friends had perfectly functional families. Why not me?

Stop! I tried to fight back as the salty droplets fell on to my lips. I didn’t want anyone to see me crying. It was embarrassing.

I ripped the petals off one by one as I muttered, “He loves her, he loves her not.”

Before I could rip apart the last petal, a commotion brought me out of my world.

A boy with black hair zoomed on to my yard on his bright red bicycle. The uneven grass caused the bike to shuffle and pushed him out of control. He fell hard and fast onto the grass as his bicycle trampled over my beloved pink flowers.

I ran to the garden and gasped. Not a single flower survived the wrath of the bicycle tire. I whipped around, crossed my arms over my chest and glared at the boy.

He laid on his butt and dusted off his elbows, which were dirty and stained green.

“You ruined my flowers!” I yelled at him. My lips curled downwards into an angry pout.

The boy’s head flipped up; his eyes widened in surprise.  It seemed that he hadn’t seen me until I raised my voice.

“Hi!” He exclaimed. He pushed himself off the ground and dusted off his knees. “I’m Levi!” His brown eyes glowed with excitement.

I frowned. Mom had always taught me that we should apologize for our mistakes. This boy didn’t seem to have learned that.

“What’s your name?” He continued, ignoring my angry stance. My eyes followed his smile as they revealed a single dimple on his left cheek.

“Evie.” I answered reluctantly.

The boy laughed. “Hey, our names rhyme. That’s cool.”

“You ruined my flowers.” I repeated, this time, not as harshly.

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Oh. I did? Oops.” He shuffled to the flowers and brushed off the dirt from his red bike.

I waited for an apology with my arms crossed, but I didn’t receive one.

“Do you know how to ride a bike?” He asked me instead.

I did, if I had someone holding me. But I’d never been on one by myself. And his bike looked taller and scarier.

“Yeah, who doesn’t?” I shrugged.

Levi smirked. “Do you want to ride mine?”

I looked back at my house and wondered if my parents would notice if I disappeared for a while. Probably not.

I dropped the pink flower in my hand.

Levi walked his bike to the sidewalk and I followed behind him. I couldn’t see over his lush, black hair. I also couldn’t climb on to his bike.

Levi laughed as he grabbed my waist and lifted me up onto the seat. One of his hands held on to the back of the seat, while the other grasped the left handle. I adjusted myself and placed both of my feet on to the pedals.  It was as if I was viewing the world from a different perspective. I felt so big, so large, and so powerful.

It was the best feeling in the world. The grin spread over my face before I could think of it. I searched for the hand brake, as my mom had taught me.

“Do you want me to teach you?” Levi asked.

I flipped my head and stared at him in wonder. “You knew?” I asked, my eyes large.

“I think that’s a yes. This bike is now ready for take-off. 3, 2, 1!”

And that was it. We were gone. He ran alongside me as I pedaled. He stayed by my side the entire time. He helped me press the brakes. He didn’t let go.

When my mother asked me about the garden the next day, I shrugged. I exclaimed that I had a new friend and ran out to meet Levi, who waited for me outside my house.

The last petal remained attached to the pink flower, untouched. The last petal was “he loves her not” but I never found that out. All because of Levi.

Reviews

[LSE Darwin]

I like this story. And I like the title. I think the haphazardness of Evie's and Levi's friendship is so characteristic of the way kids make friends that it makes helps the story entirely believable (I have no trouble seeing my six year old making friends exactly like that).

If you don't mind a suggestion? At points Evie sounds too old for the story. This is really the one spot it seems that way to me: "I hated being in the house in that atmosphere. I didn’t like to stay quiet as they ripped through each other, as they fought for victory, as if this was a game. It wasn’t a game." I don't hear kids talking about family discord this way. They talk about it, of course, but word choices like "atmosphere" or even "ripped through each other" all sound like an older child than I take Evie to be (maybe 12 or 13 at the youngest for this paragraph's language, but the rest of the story makes her seem more in the 6-8 range).

[Sebastian Romero]

Oh. My. God. The ending is just so powerful! Such a beautiful, beautiful story! And I realllyy like the way you kind of hide the story of divorce and burry it under this story of innosence and young love/friendship (you don't specify much but its really not so important). I really liked the ending, like that part that she didn't find out.
I think you should start with this frase:
The neighbourhood was loud today. The sun burned hot and all the children were out having fun. And then there was me, holding for dear life on to that pink flower.
Don't know why, I think that's a more appealing beginning, at least for me. I really like the title also. IDK its really such a good story.
I would recomend taking out this: But of course I lied to him... Because its understated, really, when she answers him.