Lukas opens his mouth, but is silenced by Genny’s raised hand. “And the meaning of our names is ridiculously on point. Like, totally meant to be.” She begins to count on her fingers.
“Genesis. I am ‘the Beginning.’ The founder of this group. So, inherently, I’m Wildflower Number One.”
She looks at Adam. “Clearly, ‘Genesis’ and ‘Adam’ go together. Consequently, ‘Adam’ means ‘Son of the Earth.’ Seeing as I met you first, my vision for this group found root in your existence. You, my dear, are The Second Wildflower.”
“Chloe”—she points at me—“your name means ‘green shoot’ and ‘fresh bloom.’ You are just beginning to blossom. And as you find root, bloom beautifully you shall. That makes you Wildflower Number Three.”
She then turns to Lukas. “And you. Well, the biblical meaning of ‘Luke,’ or ‘Lukas,’ is ‘light giving.’ You are our light, our sustenance so to speak. And that’s why you have been named The Fourth, and Final, Wildflower.”
Lukas pauses mid-chew, eyes Genesis warily, then swallows. “I’ve been called a lot of shit. ‘Light,’ however, has never been mentioned.”
Our smiles become frowns. I grit my teeth and clamp my jaw shut, but the truth frees itself, clawing its way up my throat before launching off my tongue. “That’s because you’ve never really been seen.”
The words come out in a rush, and I watch Lukas’s dark brows form two perfect arches in response. Warmth begins to seep into my cheeks, again, and I look skyward, avoiding further eye contact. When a lucid image forms in my mind, I say, “Right now, you’re a storm. You thunder and strike to frighten those who don’t understand you, but we do, and you don’t scare us. So, we give you the time you need, because one day your clouds will break, and eventually, you will shine.”
I have no idea if Genesis and Adam see what I see, but I blunder on. “So, yeah, I think Genny is spot on with the meaning of your name. Because with the right people, those who truly understand you, a light as strong as yours is felt long before it’s seen.” With every single cell in my body, I know she’s right. He is our sustenance, our light. Something tells me a smile from Lukas White would be enough to sustain a thousand broken souls. Mine included.
As soon as the words are freed, everything shifts. Lukas looks at me with a slight tilt of his head, eyes narrowed. Adam swallows the last of his sandwich while nodding in understanding. And Genny, well, she’s Genny. She responds with a vibrant, “Exactly. What she said.” Her thumb flies in my direction. “Now, we just need the ceremony.”
“Ceremony?” Lukas inquires, brows raised.
“But not until he’s ready,” she adds ominously.
I nudge him gently with my shoulder, swallowing my heart. “It’s mandatory. And it’s harmless.” I grin while rising, tray in hand. “For the most part.”
As I make my way to the trashcan, Genny falls in next to me, muttering under her breath, “Totally making him a headdress full of flowers. Just because I can.”
I laugh while she disappears into her own mind, most likely thinking up said floral headdress, which will undoubtedly serve no purpose other than embarrassing the shit out of Lukas White.
“You’re such a bitch,” I remark, shaking my head and dumping my trash into the bin.
“That I am, my friend.”
I giggle, knowing the ceremony, while harmless in nature, is a life-changing event. Three hundred and eighty days ago, I was a shell. Alone. Consumed by darkness. But Genny found me. Took me in…with my scars, and my darkness, and my hopelessness. She and Adam brought me into the Wildflowers, truly welcomed me, and gave me a sense of…acceptance. I’m not fully healed. Hell, who knows if I ever will be? But their welcome was a simple yet significant accomplishment. They saw I was more than nothing. Just like now we see more in Lukas.
And now…it’s his time.
3
Hefting my backpack onto my shoulder, I shuffle through the usual crowd, ignoring the snickers and guffaws clearly directed my way while walking to the bus. I’ll never understand the need for people to ridicule others. People who deem lives other than their own unworthy.
Lives like ours.
As much as I try to exercise my inner strength, to be like Genesis with her zero fucks to give about, well, pretty much anything, I cannot get over my own need for approval. And I have no idea why.
Well, actually, I do. We’ve covered it in therapy at Sacred Heart a million times. Yet as much as I understand it, I can’t seem to gather the courage necessary to stand up for myself. Every day on this campus I’m a witness to my own goddamn failure.
An eerie sensation washes over me all of a sudden, and I feel the hairs on my neck begin to rise. Shit.
I look up just in time to see the “W” of the “West High School” insignia and realize I’ve unknowingly landed myself smack-dab in the middle of an angry hornet’s nest.
Like, literally.
Our mascot is the hornet. And these girls, with their thigh-high pleated skirts lined in black and yellow, are our cheerleaders.
I try to block out their buzzing, but the cruel murmurs always get through. Sweat beads along my upper lip, and as always, I keep my focus fixed on the ground, redirecting an instant surge of nervous energy to my legs to walk faster.
“Oh my God,” Leah Allen gasps theatrically.
Breathe in deeply, stay calm. Breathe in—
“Is that…my shirt?”
The shame chokes me, making it impossible to breathe. My throat clamps shut and the blood previously driving my legs seems to suddenly flood my face, stalling my forward movement.
As laughter begins to echo around me, I feel exposed. Vulnerable.
Breathe.
“It totally is. I remember that blouse. I threw it out last year when I donated it to ‘those less fortunate,’ as my mother phrased it. Looks like it landed in exactly the right hands.” More cackling from the group. “How ironic, rejected trash wearing someone else’s rejected trash. It’s kind of sad, actually.”
And to think I actually felt pretty when I put it on this morning. Now, I want nothing more than to rip the floral tunic from my body. Instead, I’m stuck where I stand, my only movement the rapid rise and fall of my chest. The wind takes pity on me, lifting the ends of my dark blonde hair and whipping it across my face, obscuring tears as they brim in my light brown eyes.
I refuse to look up, knowing I’ll see the mocking stares of those watching, and their fake grins, and their fake pity. My eyes stay locked on the gravel beneath my sandals.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Genny’s sarcastic tone fills the air, and the crushing weight on me lessens. I inhale my first decent breath. “The only sad thing about this situation is you, Leah. Your toxic presence is infecting the precious air entering our lungs. Quite possibly with some undiscovered strain of airborne STD.”
Genny shudders theatrically beside me. “It’s gross. You’re gross.” She shoos Leah and her cheer posse with her hands. “You can go away now.”
I finally find the courage to lift my gaze. Leah’s mouth is open, her eyes wide with shock. Seconds tick by, then her perfectly glossed lips pucker as she begins to speak. Genesis just gives her a stern shake of her head and puts her hand up. “Just don’t. We both know I’ll run you into the ground in front of your precious entourage. I’m feeling rather benevolent today, so I’d hate to ruin that by announcing to the world that you’re fucking Cody Manton. As in the boyfriend of Amy here.” Genesis jerks her head in Amy’s direction before concluding, “I mean, that would be in really poor taste, but I’ll do it if I have to.”