by Keya Jay
Chapter 2
Azalea had never found a need for a cell phone; for starters she never had anyone to call, but right about now she felt as though she needed a cell phone, she needed one bad. She felt it more difficult than she had originally thought and couldn’t hold her worries in anymore and the fact that Llorel was her only go to source; well that was all the more reason for a cell phone.
After grabbing her lunch and sitting at Lea’s table all eyes were on her. There goes that strange feeling of being new to this school all over again, she thought to herself.
“Azalea these are my friends Jordin and Debby—”
“And I’m her brother Jaiden” Lea’s brother had interrupted, giving Azalea a cocky grin.
“Well it’s nice to meet yall,” she said as she pushed her tray away from her before taking her seat. She was not in the mood for eating right now.
“So tell us a little about you Azalea?” Lea’s brother had asked. Azalea could tell he probably really wanted to know something about her but there really wasn’t anything much to tell, she barely knew much about herself. She looked up at Jaiden and answered him the best way she could, without giving away too much—she loved being a mystery to people.
“My name’s Azalea, I’m 17, and I am in the 12th grade, the rest is pretty much undiscovered.” Jaiden seemed to be strangely satisfied with the answer she had given him.
“Well nothing stays undiscovered for long,” was his response as he looked at her with that cocky grin pasted onto his face, but what she failed to realize was that she was smiling back.
“Sorry to interrupt whatever the hell is going on here…” Lea started, “but don’t you have detention?” Lea gave her brother a look that none of the people around the table quite knew the meaning of. After a minute of their unspoken communication, Jaiden got up to leave.
“It was nice meeting you Azalea,” he gave her a smile before he left the cafeteria. Debby gave her a look of utter disgust but Azalea paid her little to no attention as she started to listen to the conversations around her.
By the time Biology had come Azalea was more than ready to go home. She questioned Lea’s dislike toward Stacy-Ann and her friends, but now that was no longer being questioned. Stacy-Ann got Azalea’s blood pumping, it wasn’t because she scared her because she doesn’t scare easy but it was more of a ‘we’re going to have problem this school year’ and Azalea’s body knew it. Stacy-Ann has an I-don’t-give-a-fuck type attitude and truthfully it made Azalea sick. But Maria, she was no more than an afterthought when it came to Stacy-Ann and Stacy-Ann knew it. She could care less what Maria did as long as she wasn’t interfering with whatever it was Stacie-Ann was planning. Azalea had never been this happy to get to her next class. She was pretty sure it had nothing to do with Mrs. Ross or the effect she was having over Stacie-Ann and Maria, but every time Mrs. Ross approached her with the mere mention of her last name it caused a laughing fit between Stacy-Ann and Maria.
While Azalea was nearly skipping into her art class so happy to see Stacie-Ann and Maria enter a whole other class she had knocked into a wall… Ok well it wasn’t a wall but that’s what it felt like, but it was more like a wall of muscles.
Azalea looked up after he had grabbed her shoulders in order to steady her and prevent her from tipping over.
“Are you ok?” he asked with a deep, husky hypnotic kind of voice. His hair was long enough for a ponytail and his shoulders were broad enough for football gear. His eyes were the brightest brown Azalea had ever seen. It wasn’t until he had shaken her that she had noticed that he had asked her a question.
“Yea I’m sorry I should have been watching where I was going, my fault.” Azalea cradled her biology book in her arms and sat at one of the easels. He followed close behind her and sat at the easel on the other side of her, which instantly made her look to her right and of course who did she find sitting at her left? No other than Llorel. Azalea could feel his eyes on her but it took everything she had not to turn around.
The teacher walked in and introduced himself as Q; he looked like he just hit his 20’s maybe. He gave them very simple instructions to draw a symbol symbolizing what described them. Everyone picked up their utensils and started their sketches before adding the paint. Azalea got her blues and greens ready for when she was ready to start painting.
40 minutes into class everyone had finished their sketches and had started to add color. Q started circling the classroom checking out everyone’s progress. Azalea was too involved into her sketch that she hadn’t even realized that he was coming over toward their row.
“How’s everything going? Just wanted to let you all know that I’m expecting at least one person from each group to present their piece to the class, but if yall all want to present then that’s fine too.” He walked past their row to tell the row behind then the same thing. There’s only three people per group and lucky for Azalea her group consist of one person she barely know but nearly ran over and her flower killer who knows more about her life than she does and she doubted either one of them would want to present.
Azalea looked over to see what each of them had done. The man to her right had done the universal smile now cry later symbol and she was curious as to how the phrase or picture represented him in any way. She looked over toward Llorel’s and it looked creatively confusing, like a giant maze with a figure in the middle, painted to look like a target.
“How do I…” Llorel had started before ending on a sigh. “Maybe I should just keep it white… but that’s too plain…”
“Do you need some help?” Azalea’s mouth had asked before her brain could clearly register what was coming out of her mouth. He looked at her a bit confused.
“With what?” he asked with all seriousness. Azalea mentally rolled her eyes.
“You looked like you were debating on what to do with your background… I mean you said maybe you should leave it white as if you had no other option, so I thought you might have needed a little bit of help deciding.” His confused looked turned to shock and then settled on curiosity.
“Ummm… yea I do need help.”
“Well truthfully your painting is a puzzle to me I can’t tell what your emotion is but if I had to choose I’d say a gray background would suit your painting very well.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked a bit defensively.
“I’m not trying to offend you but your painting suggests that your emotions are undecided. It’s not just black and white to you it’s more than that, which is why I thought of the color gray.” He looked at her for a while before mixing some colors to make that color she had suggested.
“Thanks Dr. Oz” he said sarcastically.
Azalea finished putting the final touches on her painting and started to wipe off the brushes.
“What about your painting?” Azalea dropped the paint brushes into the cup of water and leaned back to admire her art.
“What about it?” she asked.
“You know what I mean, why’d you paint it?” Azalea looked over at Llorel and answered him as honestly as she could.
“I love painting flowers; they are the only things I can paint to perfection.”
“Well you’re pretty crucial when it comes to criticizing, for someone who can’t paint much.”
“I never said that I couldn’t paint much, I just said I can paint flowers to perfection, everything else is… well mediocre, “she said taking a peek at his art. Azalea could tell by first glance that this was something he not only enjoyed doing but that he obviously did a lot of.
“This is more than a flower to you, correct?” How does he even come to that kind of conclusion? I mean he’s right it is more than a flower to me, but I couldn’t possibly explain why, she thought to herself.
“The instructions were to draw a symbol that symbolizes us, and I believe nothing symbolizes me more than this flower.”
“But there’s a message to this painting.” He didn’t ask it like it was some
kind of question, he stated it like it was that obvious; as if he knew there was a message behind it. “What’s the message?” he asked. Azalea laughed despite herself and her intentions to hate him, he was too freakin persistent, she thought.
“I don’t know I could come up with a hundred different little sayings or meaning for this painting.”
“I only asked for one.”
“Fine, ‘I am who I am’”
“And so you think your name describes you?”
“In a way, I painted an Azalea as the centerpiece of my painting,” she said looking back at the painting before she continued. “Seeing as though I was named after the flower, I thought that it would be the perfect symbol to symbolize me. I am an Azalea; I’m rare, not many of me around, I’m one of a kind, and I don’t need to be surrounded by a bunch of little me’s in order to stand out. This is why I’m surrounded by dandelions, roses, tulips, and daisies and a couple of other rare flowers—”
“Marigolds, Asters, Jonquils, Narcissus, and Rosemary.” Azalea looked over at Llorel as he named the rare flowers he could recognize.
“You know the names of those rare flowers?” she questioned curiously.
“You didn’t think you made them up did you?”
“Uh kind of, I don’t know I was just painting them but I’m pretty sure I’ve never actually seen one of these flowers before.” Trust me I would know seeing as though I have a garden and a greenhouse I would know whether or not any of these flowers were in it.
“Ok so you haven’t seen these flowers before, but have you ever heard of them?”
“No, I’ve heard of Rosemary but it’s more of a season in my pantry not a flower.”
“You never thought that maybe it was a flower too?”
“No, why would I think that? What reason would I have to even think about Rosemary as anything else but seasoning? I could have always asked my Rosemary, is that what you mean?”
“You know you are very stubborn I can tell right as much right now, and you get really sarcastic when you’re angry.”
“Wow, you learned all of that about me from our small talk in art, shoot if I didn’t know any better I’d say you might be psychic. Wait let’s see how much I know about you… You’re very weird, you know? I’m kind of getting that vibe. Umm let’s see what else… you’re a boy, I don’t know what really gave that away it could have been anything… and you look 20 but claim to only be 17. How did I do so far?”
“You do realize that you just proved my case.”
“Hmmm you know what I did not know that. You must know me better than I know myself.”
“You have no idea how true that statement really is.”
“I hate when people say that! What makes you so sure that you know me at all?”
“I don’t know I just get the feeling, but if you don’t think I do then educate me.”
“Ok well let’s see,” she said clapping her hands in a very agitated manner. “Ok here’s one, I am extremely angry with you… No pissed at you because you had the nerve to kill my flowers and disappear like nothing had happened, and then you appear at the same got dang school as me and act as though you weren’t just buried in my dang garden.” Azalea could tell that he wasn’t expecting her to say that by the dumbfounded expression on his face, but she wasn’t done yet. “Then you obviously slip up in the hallway by saying something about my mother thinking I wouldn’t notice. I tried to bring up the whole you being buried or whatever the freak happened in my backyard, conversation up casually, but there was no way in hell that that was a casual conversation. But that’s enough said, it’s not like you didn’t know that about me already.” Azalea picked up her paint brushes to clean them off in the sink before putting them away. Her and Llorel was talking for so long that the last row was already presenting their paintings, meaning their row was already called and the boy that was sitting with them must have went. Azalea noticed one of the presenters as Jordin one of Lea’s friends that had sat with them during lunch. When she was done presenting everyone clapped, packed up their things and began to file out of the classroom. Azalea continued to clean up her mess when she had realized that Llorel hadn’t moved, she could feel his eyes on her but she refused to say anything.
“Hey, I’m glad you two stayed behind, I was impressed with your paintings and was hoping that yall would share with the class instead of with each other.” He gave them a knowing look before continuing. I wonder how much of our conversation he had overheard, Azalea thought as he continued. “Even though the class is over I would still like to hear the stories behind your paintings. I just might have a spot for them in our school’s showcase, so what do you say?”
“Umm… Sure but I really don’t want to be late for my next class, so I could be here after school if you want?” Azalea said gathering her biology book in the crook of her arm.
“Yes! Yes that would be great. How about you Mr. Jones?” Azalea started to leave the classroom before he said “I really don’t think that’s a good idea, so I’ll be here.” That made no sense to her and she wasn’t even going to waste time trying to force it to make sense either.
Azalea left the classroom in a rush to make it to civics on time. She hurried into the classroom a few seconds before the bell rang and accidently knocked into someone.
“We gotta stop meeting like this,” he said catching her in his arms.
“I’m sorry… again. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s cool, my names Dorian by the way, I thought maybe if you knew my name it would make this less awkward.”
“Well my name’s Azalea,” she said with a smile.
“Hey Azalea come sit with me!” Debby called from across the room; she was also one of Lea’s friends. Azalea walked around Dorian and made her way toward Debby’s table. “Hey!” she had the same bubbly personality as Lea, only difference being Lea’s was genuine, Debby’s was fake.
“Hey” Azalea said taking the seat next to hers.
Mr. Forman stood and addressed the class with a brief summary of Unit one. After class Azalea took both her Biology and civics book to her locker and pulled out her English book so she could get started on the home work when she got home.
When Azalea walked into the art room Llorel was already there, sitting in the same exact spot he was in when she left.
“Hey Azalea, I need you to sign your name at the right hand corner of your painting so that everyone can identify that you are the artist of this painting.” Azalea did as Q asked and sat for further instructions, she just wanted to get this over with.
“Azalea if you’re done can you come here please?” she got up and met Q at his desk. “If you don’t mind I would like you to start by telling us why you painted this painting and what it means to you, Mr. Jones refused to start until you got here.”
“Ok I can go first, that’s fine with me.”
“Thank you.” Azalea walked back over to where her artwork sat and Q joined her, standing over her shoulder to view her art.
“Ok so start with explaining why you painted the field of flowers?” When Azalea told him she tried to make her answer matched the one she had given to Llorel.
“So you were named after this flower here?” he said pointing to the blue and green Azalea flower.
“Yes.”
“Ok well here’s the problem if you wanted everyone to pay attention to the Azalea flower well that won’t be a problem because it’s vibrant and smack dab in the center but this flower here,” he said pointing to the Narcissus,” is just as big maybe bigger than the Azalea so some may pay more attention to that.”
‘But she’s right she does stand out,’ Azalea heard Llorel say.
“Is that you’re way of making up with me?” she asked addressing Llorel’s comment.
“Are you speaking to me Ms. Green?” Q asked seeming slightly confused.
“No I was talking to Llorel.”
“Really? Because he hasn’t said anything since he walked in here.”
“Uh yea Q I did say something to her a few minutes ago.” Azalea looked at Llorel even more confused than the way Q was staring at her.
“Ok well since you are apparently speaking now, maybe you can tell us about your painting?” Q asked. Llorel let out a big sigh before explaining his painting.
“This man here,” he said pointing to the shadowed figure, “explains me, probably better than I do. I feel like my body is a maze and I am trapped in the center of it, trying to find my way out before someone finds their way in.” the whole time he spoke it was like he was speaking only to her and not Q.
“What about the target?” she asked knowing that it had to be somewhat important to the painting or it wouldn’t have been there.
“Well that’s just how some people see me, as—a target.”
“I really do like the painting Llorel, but do you think that it’s something that you’d want to put on display, it seems a bit personal.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, because I don’t plan on putting it in the showcase,” Llorel said looking at Q as if he had just realized that he was in the room.
“Do you want to…?”
“Keep it here?” Llorel finished for Q. “No I want to take it with me.”
“Ok well hold on just a second; let me grade it for you, you more than deserve full credit for this.”
“I appreciate it but I have to go.”
“Me too,” Azalea spoke up.
“You don’t mind if I keep your painting here, do you Ms. Green?”
“No, not at all I’m perfectly fine with it.” Azalea gathered her English book and left the classroom.
“Hey” Llorel called grabbing her wrist in his hand.
“You really need to learn how to get my attention without touching me,” she said ripping her wrist out of the palm of his hand.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Home,” she said wondering why in the world he wanted to know.
“About your garden—”
“Don’t even worry about it, it’s fixed as if nothing ever happened because nothing did,” she said before walking away.
Walking up her driveway she couldn’t help but wander into her garden. She did fix it and place the flowers back the way she had them, she had to go out and purchase some of the flowers that had been destroyed but it truly did look as if nothing ever happened.
