Thorns of a Rose

It was a clear day in the later part of spring, and I was on my way home from school.  The days seemed to be long, and the nights alone with my family seemed even longer.  Being such a 'loser' as I am, according to the other kids at school, I don't really have many friends.  By that, I mean I have none.  The doctor says I have depression, but I couldn't care less what he says.

The closest thing that I have to a friend is my little sister.  She is thirteen years old, and annoying like you wouldn't believe.  She thinks that everything that is in magazines and on TV is how she should be, so she changes every few days.  It doesn't help that we have almost no money, but she some how manages to get new cloths and new stuff all the time.  This means that she has friends, and likes to rub it in my face as much as she can.

Taking this walk home always seems to be to short.  This is the only time I get to be alone, and not have to worry about what people say or think about me.  The jocks at school treat me like a punching bag, and my parents treat me like I barely exist.  So really, what do I have to look forward to?

I turned the corner on to our block, and caught the scent of fresh roses and lilac bushes on the breeze.  Something about the smell of the roses calms me down.  It is so relaxing.  I continued to walk down our block, closer and closer to the last house on the street.  I passed six or seven houses of class mates, and could hear their laughing from the yards.

I was almost home when I looked up to see a large moving truck in the street.  It was parked across the street, and there was a group of men taking things off the truck and bringing it all into the house that, up until today, was vacant across the street from us.

"Great."  I thought to myself, "Another person to treat me like garbage on the block.  And by the looks of all the people helping them, I would say either old or really rich."

I took a deep breath, and continued the last few feet to our house.  My house wasn't big by any means.  It was, by far, the smallest house on the block.  We had a single level house with three bedrooms, and two bath rooms.  My sister and I shared a bathroom, and my parents had their own attached to their room.  I walked up to the front door, expecting to hear my parents yelling at each other as soon as I walked in.  Instead of yelling, I heard a quiet laugh coming from the kitchen.

"Oh, that's so funny!"  An unfamiliar voice said, with a small and old sounding laugh.

"Yes, and then he walked into the house dripping with mud, and started balling in the middle of the kitchen.  Right over there!"  My mother's voice said trying to contain the laughter.

It was with that last line that I knew what story my mother was telling.  When I was eight years old the neighbor boy, Will Donalds who was fifteen at the time, had come into our lawn one day after it had rained.  I was just playing a game with my sister when he came up behind me, and started to wrestle me into the mud.  Seeing as he was on the wrestling team, I wasn't much of a match for him.

I stepped into the kitchen, and stood in the door for a second before I waved to my mom.  "Hey mom, I'm home.  I got some work to do... so I'm just gonna go and get it done before dinner."

My mother was at the table with an elderly lady dressed in jeans and a button up flannel shirt.  She had to be pretty old by the looks of her.  She had gray hair, a wrinkled face, and very deep wrinkles around her eyes, and lips.  It looked like she smiled a lot, and seeing that made me think maybe she wouldn't treat me like a child all the time.

"Hi Neal.  This is our new neighbor, Mrs. Bloom.  Mrs. Bloom, this is my oldest child, Neal.  Have you seen your sister yet Neal?  Ashley is my youngest, and should be home shortly."  My mother said before I could leave.

Mrs. Rose looked at me, and smiled the warmest smile I have ever seen.  "It's nice to meet you Neal.  You know, you look to be about the same age as my grand daughter.  You're what, sixteen?  Well, if you want to meet her before you start your school work, she should be our back yard."  She concluded with a great big smile.

"Yeah, why don't you go meet her Neal?  It would be good for her to know some one on her first day of school this week."  My mother chided, sounding like she just wanted me out of the house for a little while.

I stood there for a second, contemplating weather I wanted to do home work or go meet some one completely random.  Naturally, against my better instincts, I said "Sure, I'll head over there right now.  It was very nice to meet you Mrs. Bloom."  I said as I shook her hand and left the room and headed across the street.

As I got closer butterflies started to flutter in the pit of my stomach.  The closer I got, the stronger they got until it was a swarm of angry wasps trying to get out.  I walked up the driveway, passing by several big and burly movers.  They didn't pay any attention as I crossed the driveway into the back yard.  The yard was kind of small, but it had a nice patch of fresh dirt in the back left corner, where a girl was on her knees crouching over something.

She had long, light brown hair that was straight and tied up into a pony tail.  She had a pair of jeans on that had holes all over the place, patches from bands that I have never heard of on the back pockets, and marker drawings around the holes.  She wore a pale yellow t-shirt that conformed to her attractive form.

I walked slowly up behind her, not even aware that I was staring at how pretty she looked even from the back of her head.  She didn't notice that I was there until I was pretty much standing over her shoulder, trying to see what she was doing.

She looked back at me, and fell side ways with a jump.  "You scared me!"  She said as a smile curled around her lips.

Now that I could see her face, the crazy swarm of wasps in my stomach began to get even worse.  She had shockingly blue eyes, and perfect features.  She was in all respects beautiful.

"Sorry," I stammered "I didn't mean to scare you.  My name is Neal, I live across the street."  I finished nervously, holding out my hand to help her up.

She laughed a little, and took my hand.  I helped her up, and she shook my hand at the same time.  "My name is Rose.  As you can tell, we just moved in."

"It's nice to meet you Rose.  What are you up to our here?"  I asked pointing to the small patch of dirt.

"Planting some flowers."  She said with a smile.

With out saying anything, I knelt down with her and began to dig little holes with my fingers and started planting flower seeds with her.  The swarm of wasps in my stomach slowly dissipated, and a sense of very calm energy washed over me.  The energy seemed to flow off of Rose as we planted the flowers silently.

Writer's note:
This is just the start.  I intend to write more, so if you like it keep an eye out for more.