Short Stories from the Teenage Mind

May Flowers

The grass was green and damp, thriving in the late days of April. There was a mild breeze breathing life into the overcast day. Between the playground and parking lot, lay a girl with her head in the lap of another, entwining flower stems into a crown. A boy balanced on top of the bleachers, occasionally hitting the metal with a damp stick. He had found the stick at the far tree line, close to the picnic tables. The banging was the only sound in the park beside the rustling of leaves.

"Do you mind? That banging is rattling my skull," insisted Aubrey. She was careful not to disturb the girl in her lap as she turned to glare at the boy.

"Anything for you, Aubrey," he said, "Anything for you, but not for May."

The girl weaving flowers stopped a moment and looked up to Aubrey. Aubrey rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"May is a wonderful girl. Kind and beautiful. Unlike you, James."

James hopped down from the bleacher, stick in hand.

"You may say that, but you know her, I don't. I know you." He walked over to the girls and sat on the ground. When he leaned back on Aubrey she rolled her eyes again.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment. May continued on her flower crown. Aubrey watched May and occasionally looked out across the field. A few deer at a time came out onto the grass. James stared down the baseball field, tapping the stick on his shoe. He was thinking.

"I know you, Aubrey," he said after a while, "I've known you for a long time. This is the first time I met May."

"How very insightful," said Aubrey.

"You say she's your friend. I'm your friend too, and I've been your friend for a long time," said James. He hadn't heard Aubrey. "If the three of us were to split up into couples, May would be the third wheel."

May froze again. She looked at Aubrey who shook her head. There was another moment of nothing. It did not last long.

"I left my phone at the picnic tables," said James. He pushed off of Aubrey's back and started to walk away.

"He's a bit presumptuous, don't you think?" said May, sitting up.

"Yes." Aubrey picked at a flower. It was a white clover, like the ones May had been weaving. "I'm sorry."

"I gather you haven't told him," said May.

"No. I'm not sure how."

"I understand. He thinks he knows all of you. Telling him something like this will make him reevaluate your entire relationship."

"I feel like he expects something different from me. I don't want to hurt him."

"Your feelings matter too."

Aubrey smiled. She shifted herself sideways and began braiding flowers into May's hair. James started walking back and Aubrey paused.

"Would it be okay if I wait?" she asked.

May smiled. "Of course."