The Beginning of Always

by Sophia Mae Todd

  Florence stood up and shook her hair like a dog. Three leaves floated out. Florence tilted her head as she combed her fingers through the tangles.

  “Come onnnnn! You promised at school!”

  I rubbed my face with my palms and muttered, “Yeah, I guess.”

  Florence had cornered me as I emerged from Geometry and proceeded to pester me all the way to the gym. I’d finally agreed just to get rid of her. She’d beamed at me before skipping off to last period.

  Florence had been annoying me ever since she got to sixth grade. We hadn’t been in the same school for two years, and now that we were under the same roof again, she’d taken to following me around. Kevin and some of the other eighth-grade guys were giving me shit that a sixth-grader was hanging on, so I tried to shake her. Not that I gave a shit about what Kevin thought. I didn’t give a shit about what anyone in this stupid town thought. But it was getting annoying having Florence shadowing me everywhere, especially with her noisy group of airheads following her.

  Every time I walked down the hallway, they’d burst into peals of hyena laughter at the sight of me. If Florence was with them, they’d quickly jam their makeup-caked faces to her ear and whisper furiously. Florence would laugh at them, then turn to give me a wave.

  “Don’t you have friends or other people or something?” Florence was popular. Besides her hyena pack, she always had people sitting next to her during lunch, and in the halls, she was always smiling and laughing with a crowd. In contrast, I spent most of my time slumped over in the corner by myself while Kevin and the others were out back getting high.

  “You’re my friend! I want to go look with you. It’s the season, and I have chosen you as my hunting buddy.” She sat down beneath the window, her legs crossed, and watched me as I dragged myself out of bed. “I choose you.” She pointed and her finger followed me across the room like an arrow.

  “Lucky me.”

  Florence’s eyes widened slightly, and it was a split second before I realized I had slept without a shirt. All I had on were sweatpants that had slid down during the night and now the top of my boxer briefs were showing. I quickly turned away from her. Thank God there was no boner. I’d been waking up with a lot of those lately.

  The last thing I wanted was for Florence to be in my room while I was sporting a woody.

  I stamped those thoughts out and snatched at a hoodie and t-shirt draped over a chair. I gave a quick sniff to see if they were decent, then I tugged them on quickly and pulled on some jeans lying on the floor.

  The shirt was a bit tight in the chest and I stretched my shoulders up to loosen it. Puberty had hit me recently and I was still growing. Working out was easier now and I was building more muscle and weight. I was still a bit scrawny, but soon I’d be as big as the high school kids.

  As I laced up my shoes, Florence stood up and swung her backpack on. Again, a clinking sound emitted from the bag. She’d probably brought some mason jars to hold the things in. I never knew why she bothered. They freaking died in two or three days; it wasn’t worth the trouble.

  “Ready?” Florence asked, her voice laced with excitement.

  I crammed a Cubs cap over my hair and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

  A white-toothed grin. “Awesome!”

  Florence went first and heaved herself out the window to shimmy down the tree. I followed, secretly marveling at how she was able to climb these things. Despite this being a farm town, most the girls here refused to muss up their overly pruned hair or chip their nail polish.

  I landed on the grass with a soft thump and straightened up. Florence was bouncing up on the balls of her heels, still grinning like an idiot. She rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand, and a smudge of dirt streaked across her cheekbone.

  “Same place?” Florence asked, gesturing eastward with a cant of her head.

  “Sure, why not?” I said, bored.

  We trotted off to the side of the house, passing the deflated tire swing and the barn where Bill’s animals were sleeping. A chicken clucked groggily when we stomped through the fresh fields of green beans and eggplant that Sandy had planted close to the house. The larger stretches of cucumbers and onions were further behind the house and we waded through, careful not to crush anything for fear of Bill’s wrath. We could have walked around the fields, but it was faster to cut through.

  We walked in silence, both of us concentrating on our task, and when we finally tripped out on the other side, Florence slipped her soft hand into mine and pulled me along.

  I allowed it.

  Soon, we were alongside the grove of trees that separated the farm from the rest of town. These weren’t the fruit trees that Bill had planted for harvest on the other end of the property, but portions of natural forest that Bill had retained for the sake of “posterity.” Animals and wild berries lurked around these parts, and Florence loved exploring the interior.

  “Hold on.” Florence finally spoke and broke her small hand out of mine. She shed her backpack and stooped down to rummage through it. The sudden rush of crisp cool air against my hand was freezing, and I frowned slightly as I rubbed the palm against my outer thigh.

  I didn’t like it.

  Suddenly a beam of yellow light pierced my vision and I threw up my forearms to block it.

  “Hey!”

  Florence laughed from her place on the ground and redirected her flashlight.

  “You’re so annoying,” I grunted.

  “You know you love it.”

  I sighed and sat down on my haunches to get eye level with Florence. “So, where are we going to go?”

  It was so dark I could barely make her out. She shined the light on her face to cast shadows under her cheeks and nose. “The pond is always a good place, with that grassy patch growing next to it.”

  I nodded. Fireflies liked damp areas and typically lived at the base of long grass growing next to warm, humid bodies of water. At night, they flew around and lit up to find their mates. The trick was finding a good number of them in one place, enough to make the hunt worthwhile.

  Florence stood up and I mirrored her. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she swung her backpack on. I marveled at her hair; it was the most enticing shade of brown and always hung perfectly in loose waves. When we were kids I’d pull it from time to time, always loving the way it flowed so soft and silky between my fingers. She never seemed to mind and would laugh, and then do something equally annoying in response. But once we got older, I stopped trying for excuses to yank her hair for fear of raising suspicion.

  My fingers twitched now as she readjusted the straps and combed her hair back so it fell around her face.

  Florence swept her flashlight through the dark woods around us, the light bouncing off and curving around the thick tree trunks. An owl hooted from the inside and some leaves crunched in an unseen, unknown corner.

  “You scared?” I said, sliding my gaze to her small form. Bill would kill us if he knew we were here. He always warned us away from the forests at night.

  Florence frowned slightly and swung her flashlight back and forth, sweeping the light around as if trying to catch sight of something. Then she looked at me with wide eyes. Eyes that were so wide and so blue, something in my chest caught.

  “Yeah, I’m scared,” Florence said. But she reached over and grasped my hand again. “That’s why you’re here. You’ll protect me, right?”

  “Since when did I sign up as your security detail?”

  “Come on, promise me it’ll be okay.” She squeezed my hand.

  Her skin was soft and smooth and despite it being small, her hand fit perfectly in mine. I stamped out thoughts and reorganized my brain.

  “You’ll be fine,” I said gruffly.

  Her voice was gentle and slightly pleading. “Alistair … promise me!”

  I sighed. “Okay, okay, I promise. Geez, man. I’ll watch your back.”

  Finally satisfied, Florence grinned at me and tugged my arm.

  “Y
ou’re the best. Let’s go.”

  We entered the darkness together, her fingers strong and sure around mine. We knew the forest like the backs of our hands, having spent countless hours in here when we were younger. But a nighttime forest was different. Predators and prey alike came out and there was subtle, constant movement all around. Big animals that could kill us were probably not close by, but I was fairly positive something in these woods could cause us damage. I heightened my senses to make sure nothing crept up.

  Florence turned the flashlight at me. “Oh, spooky,” Florence said in a ghastly voice. I rolled my eyes and she wiggled her eyebrows at me with a grin. We continued to plunge into the darkness, the only light coming from her small flashlight.

  I was wide awake now and wholly in tune with the fact that we were in a dark forest, together, alone. Somehow it seemed wrong that I was here with Florence. I was getting older and I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t starting to think about girls. There was something about Florence I couldn’t figure out yet – something that whispered to a place deep within me. The answer was at the tip of my tongue, at the edge of my brain. But I didn’t want to acknowledge it yet, didn’t want to accept it for what it was.

  Once I did, everything would change. Status quo was fine for now.

  We walked on for almost ten minutes, plunging deeper into the depths. The cool night air bit the back of my neck, sending shivers across my limbs. But still we moved on.

  I spotted them before Florence. In front of us, just beyond a bank of trees, one or two blinking yellow dots flickered. I watched them, barely daring to even blink, as I pulled Florence’s hand backwards to stop her.

  “What?” she said. “Do you see them?”

  “Shhh.” I reached over and pressed her flashlight down to point to the ground. “Quiet. Turn off the light.”

  We were plunged into sudden darkness with a click of the off button. My breath was coming out in quiet puffs and Florence’s breathing was slightly labored.

  “Where are they?” Florence whispered, taking a step closer to me until our shoulders touched.

  I ignored the flip my stomach made. “Right behind those trees in front of us.”

  We both waited with bated breath, neither of us moving. Then, just when I thought I had been mistaken, there they were again.

  Blink.

  Blink.

  A sputter of several dots of light emerged, fluttering around in random spirals.

  Fireflies.

  Florence’s breath caught and her hand tightened around mine. The sensation caused my whole body to jerk slightly and I frowned. I forgot we were still holding hands.

  “They’re there. Fairies.” Her voice quivered slightly.

  “They’re not fairies. They’re just bugs with lightbulbs on their butts,” I said.

  “Tscht!” Florence slapped my shoulder with her free hand. “Shut up! Don’t ruin this for me.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “Come on, you big sour jerk. Don’t crush them this time, there aren’t that many left.”

  “Christ, that was like one time. Let it go.” The first time we’d gone firefly hunting as kids, I had crushed one in between my thumb and index finger to see where the light came from. The immediate screech and the subsequent flow of tears that had poured from Florence wasn’t something I wanted to experience again.

  I followed Florence, allowing her to lead me slowly through the tall grass that gently swished about our knees. The blinking lights turned on and turned off, multiplying and fading. Soon we stood right by the tree, and in front of us, series of sparks went off all around the clearing.

  Florence let go of my hand and crouched down, inching forward until she was just below the fireflies.

  “They’re like stars. Like shooting stars,” she whispered.

  They were. The fireflies flicked around, catching up with each other, in no hurry to arrive at any destination or do anything except to find their mate.

  “Make a wish, Alistair,” Florence said, still looking up with wonder spread across her expression.

  “You don’t make wishes on fireflies.”

  Florence lowered her gaze to me. “Well, then, let’s pretend we caught a shooting star.”

  “You just can’t make these things up,” I protested. “It doesn’t work like that. You just can’t be making wishes on random things just because you feel like it.”

  Florence grinned at me. “Tonight, you can. Fairies can be anything.”

  “These aren’t fairies,” I insisted, but my protestations were lost. She brushed them aside with a shake of her head and an exhale. Then, she slowly unraveled her body, standing up breath by breath until her head peeked up into the crowd of lights buzzing above us. The fireflies swam around her hair, illuminating her features.

  I stared. Florence was ethereal. She inched her arms up until her hands were in the cloud of stars, gently cupping a firefly in between her hands, the light leaking from between her fingers. She gave me a secret smile and slowly lowered herself down again to bring her clasped hands before me.

  The light of the fireflies fluttering above radiated off her skin and she glowed. She glowed like something unearthly, a forest nymph or something so beautiful, she couldn’t possibly be of this world. The shimmer colored her pale skin with glitter and shadows, her eyes swimming with joy and wonder.

  My heart seized, enveloping itself in a moment so unfamiliar, yet filled with so much longing, all at the same time.

  “I caught one.” she whispered, so close that her breath puffed against my skin, spreading its heat tenderly across my cheeks. A caress.

  Goose bumps texturized my arms, and my fingers, palm pressed deep into the earth, clenched.

  “Make a wish, Alistair,” she said, the movements of her lips enthralling me with their beautiful angles and curves.

  Florence slid her eyelids closed, and inhaled deeply. She lifted her arms up and opened her palms. For a split second, a fear lingered in the air that the light had been extinguished, but then the freed firefly burst into a ray of yellow-white light, spiraling away.

  And despite myself, I made my wish.

  An honest wish, a wish that sprung from that indecipherable whisper that fluttered in my soul, circling and spiraling in haphazard paths.

  I wish … that you will always be with me.

  I wish we could always be together.

  That no 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 frie
nds.

  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.”