matter what happens, we’ll always find each other, I finished in my head.
Florence faced me and smiled, her lips curling softly in secret understanding, in this beautifully shared moment. Exclusive to us, exclusive to now.
“Thank you.”
I nodded stupidly, not trusting my mouth.
Florence gazed up again. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Wishes are for idiots,” I said. Stupid , I silently cursed myself. Why did you say that?
Florence brushed her hair off her face and said gently, “That’s why you make wishes.”
“Why bother? They never come true.”
“Well, you never know, unless you try.”
The moment was shattered by my idiocy, and that rankled me. I snapped, “You’re stupid.”
Florence shrugged, giving a small grin. “I’m okay with that.”
“Why are you so nice to me?” I asked. Then I changed my mind. “Never mind, dumb question. You’re nice to everyone.”
Florence tilted her head and considered me. “We’re friends.”
“Uh-huh,” I said in a bored tone.
I wasn’t even sure why I was saying this, why I’d bothered to bring it up. Ever since she’d first trailed behind me down that road, I’d seen her almost every day. She came over whether she was invited or not. A couple months after meeting her, I’d stopped telling her to go away. She was a boomerang that kept returning no matter how hard I threw it.
But we were getting older. She had a lot more friends, and I … well, I was just me. Kevin and his little pack were company, not friends.
Florence inched closer until our knees practically touched, both of us sinking slightly into the damp ground. “I like you, Alistair. You’re funny.”
That didn’t make me feel any better. “Great. I’m a clown.”
Florence gave a short burst of laughter, but then her voice went low and quiet, all serious business. “No. You make me laugh, but you’re not a clown. You’re so mean, but you just pretend.” She reached up and pinched my cheek. “You’re not so bad.”
I swatted her hand away with a scowl and she grinned in return.
“Renee says you’re weird.”
My mood soured at the name of her pissy little hyena friend. Renee laughed the loudest whenever I was around, her overly large teeth on display. “I am weird,” I snapped.
Florence regarded me for a moment, her smile faltering, the corners dipping down by intervals. Her eyes were so blue, they sparkled even in the dark light.
Those eyes always confused me. They made me feel things I never knew I could feel.
As if they held the secrets to everything.
As if hope was possible and maybe, just maybe, happiness could be guaranteed.
Florence blinked and our connection broke. Then, she fell backwards onto the grass, staring upwards at the fireflies flitting above.
I watched her watch them, and it was a while before she spoke.
“Then I’m weird too. I’m weirder,” she said aloft to the heavens.
I furrowed my brow. Florence? Weird? Don’t make me laugh.
“You’re really freaking normal.”
At my words, disappointment etched her features. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not. I’m the same as you, you know that. I’m just better at pretending.”
Florence threw an arm over her forehead and continued in a hushed tone. “You know, that’s why I think you’re so great. You don’t care about other people, you just act like yourself. I can’t do that, so I act how everyone thinks I should.” Her voice dipped so low I had to strain to hear her. “I’m a liar. And a fake. I’m nothing like what people think I am.”
Words escaped me for a moment and we both remained silent. Then I answered, “Those are deep words for a little girl.”
Florence gave a sad laugh that sent freezing pain into my soul. She was tortured. Anguished. Older than her years.
“I lie to everyone. I lie to myself that I’m happy, that everything is okay, that I can go through life being nice. I’m not. But I can be honest with you. You don’t judge me for being me.”
Florence faced me and smiled, her lips curling softly in secret understanding, in this beautifully shared moment. Exclusive to us, exclusive to now.
“Thank you.”
I nodded stupidly, not trusting my mouth.
Florence gazed up again. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Wishes are for idiots,” I said. Stupid , I silently cursed myself. Why did you say that?
Florence brushed her hair off her face and said gently, “That’s why you make wishes.”
“Why bother? They never come true.”
“Well, you never know, unless you try.”
The moment was shattered by my idiocy, and that rankled me. I snapped, “You’re stupid.”
Florence shrugged, giving a small grin. “I’m okay with that.”
“Why are you so nice to me?” I asked. Then I changed my mind. “Never mind, dumb question. You’re nice to everyone.”
Florence tilted her head and considered me. “We’re friends.”
“Uh-huh,” I said in a bored tone.
I wasn’t even sure why I was saying this, why I’d bothered to bring it up. Ever since she’d first trailed behind me down that road, I’d seen her almost every day. She came over whether she was invited or not. A couple months after meeting her, I’d stopped telling her to go away. She was a boomerang that kept returning no matter how hard I threw it.
But we were getting older. She had a lot more friends, and I … well, I was just me. Kevin and his little pack were company, not friends.
Florence inched closer until our knees practically touched, both of us sinking slightly into the damp ground. “I like you, Alistair. You’re funny.”
That didn’t make me feel any better. “Great. I’m a clown.”
Florence gave a short burst of laughter, but then her voice went low and quiet, all serious business. “No. You make me laugh, but you’re not a clown. You’re so mean, but you just pretend.” She reached up and pinched my cheek. “You’re not so bad.”
I swatted her hand away with a scowl and she grinned in return.
“Renee says you’re weird.”
My mood soured at the name of her pissy little hyena friend. Renee laughed the loudest whenever I was around, her overly large teeth on display. “I am weird,” I snapped.
Florence regarded me for a moment, her smile faltering, the corners dipping down by intervals. Her eyes were so blue, they sparkled even in the dark light.
Those eyes always confused me. They made me feel things I never knew I could feel.
As if they held the secrets to everything.
As if hope was possible and maybe, just maybe, happiness could be guaranteed.
Florence blinked and our connection broke. Then, she fell backwards onto the grass, staring upwards at the fireflies flitting above.
I watched her watch them, and it was a while before she spoke.
“Then I’m weird too. I’m weirder,” she said aloft to the heavens.
I furrowed my brow. Florence? Weird? Don’t make me laugh.
“You’re really freaking normal.”
At my words, disappointment etched her features. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not. I’m the same as you, you know that. I’m just better at pretending.”
Florence threw an arm over her forehead and continued in a hushed tone. “You know, that’s why I think you’re so great. You don’t care about other people, you just act like yourself. I can’t do that, so I act how everyone thinks I should.” Her voice dipped so low I had to strain to hear her. “I’m a liar. And a fake. I’m nothing like what people think I am.”
Words escaped me for a moment and we both remained silent. Then I answered, “Those are deep words for a little girl.”
Florence gave a sad laugh that sent freezing pain into my soul. She was tortured. Anguished. Older than her years.
“I lie to everyone. I lie to myself that I’m happy, that everything is okay, that I can go through life being nice. I’m not. But I can be honest with you. You don’t judge me for being me.”
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