Together
Silver
Abby never properly figured out whether it was psychic powers, or that Sam had spies crouching in every dark corner, or just her good luck. Her favourite of the silly reasons she had made up was that between their feet there was a tiny silver chain, almost impossible to see except when they stood together and it glinted in the sun.
But whatever it was, Sam had known what was happening. Abby hadn’t deliberately set it up to be a secret, but she hadn’t wanted to mention it to Sam. After all, it was a confession of love that she was planning, not a surprise birthday party where finding out in advance is just a bit disappointing. And it was definitely going to be unexpected; they had been friends with similar shoes for years, but a mention of love hadn’t passed either of their lips, apart from the fact that Sam was owner of a heart that had once been broken and Abby had been dreaming for a while of something more interesting to happen in her life than wondering about love.
She hadn’t known much about flowers before buying the bunch for Sam. One or two foxtail lilies were in it, bright yellow and orange things that stuck up out of the bunch of flowers like flames, and dahlias in the same kinds of colours made up most of it. It had to be orange; she had known that even before seeing the flowers, firstly because Sam loved autumn colours, and secondly because Sam was a redhead. The striking kind, with freckles, blue eyes and almost white skin, and proud of it. Flowers matching the red hair would at least get a smile, even if the romantic aspect of the plan was a failure.
Maybe Sam hadn’t known about the flowers in advance, but Abby didn’t see much surprise. Just happiness. But before it came to giving the flowers there were further steps to be taken as the silver chain twinkled behind Abby’s feet. She planned out an entire song, a poem in her love’s honour, and threw them both away. The bigger she made this the more awkward it would be if it went wrong, she realised. And music wasn’t one of her talents, so getting a random friend to learn the song and come with her with a guitar on the day was her only option and not really an option at all.
She’d planned to go into Sam’s treehouse (she still found that hard to believe; she’d never known anybody who actually had a treehouse, let alone a 15-year old who had one), send a text that she was there and wait for Sam to come. Sam never went up there except every now and then for a birthday party. Abby went up there more often, making sure it wasn’t falling apart because of its neglect, that the collection of music boxes on the treehouse’s shelf was still dust-free and organised according to height and that there wasn’t anybody living there without Sam’s knowledge.
The clouds must have chosen to leave the sun alone that day, just to confuse matters. Sam sometimes went up to the treehouse when it was unusually sunny, just for some shade. So was that why Abby wasn’t greeted at the top of the treehouse ladder by a particularly neat music box collection, but by a grinning freckly face that nearly scared her off the ladder? For some reason she thought there was more behind the blue eyes than that, that her visit had been expected. The face had moved out of the way for her to be able to climb up, sit on the orange and pink rug on the floor and rush her way through a profession of love so quickly that it barely made sense. It wasn’t questioned except by a slightly curious look in the blue eyes, and the flowers were taken without any hesitation, but she wasn’t sure what to do next without any real response.
Sam hopped up from sitting on the floor and started climbing down the ladder without saying anything. When Sam was out of view Abby kicked the treehouse wall, telling herself that she knew from the start she’d be rejected. The flowers had been a waste of time, the song and poem even more of a waste than she had already thought. She wasn’t loved.
“Aren’t you coming inside? Or are you going to stay in the tree until I let you live here?” Sam’s head appeared once again at the top of the ladder, the smile not having disappeared. Sam winked, took the flowers and went back down the ladder, followed immediately by Abby who couldn’t stop herself smiling either. Sam had probably known that Abby was going to come to the treehouse, alerted through whatever it was that linked them.
They went into the house linking arms, the silver chain now uselessly long as it trailed behind their nearly-matching shoes. It would be better if they made it simpler and just tied their shoelaces together, they thought. Except that the silver chain made a much prettier sight, shining in the daylight.
But whatever it was, Sam had known what was happening. Abby hadn’t deliberately set it up to be a secret, but she hadn’t wanted to mention it to Sam. After all, it was a confession of love that she was planning, not a surprise birthday party where finding out in advance is just a bit disappointing. And it was definitely going to be unexpected; they had been friends with similar shoes for years, but a mention of love hadn’t passed either of their lips, apart from the fact that Sam was owner of a heart that had once been broken and Abby had been dreaming for a while of something more interesting to happen in her life than wondering about love.
She hadn’t known much about flowers before buying the bunch for Sam. One or two foxtail lilies were in it, bright yellow and orange things that stuck up out of the bunch of flowers like flames, and dahlias in the same kinds of colours made up most of it. It had to be orange; she had known that even before seeing the flowers, firstly because Sam loved autumn colours, and secondly because Sam was a redhead. The striking kind, with freckles, blue eyes and almost white skin, and proud of it. Flowers matching the red hair would at least get a smile, even if the romantic aspect of the plan was a failure.
Maybe Sam hadn’t known about the flowers in advance, but Abby didn’t see much surprise. Just happiness. But before it came to giving the flowers there were further steps to be taken as the silver chain twinkled behind Abby’s feet. She planned out an entire song, a poem in her love’s honour, and threw them both away. The bigger she made this the more awkward it would be if it went wrong, she realised. And music wasn’t one of her talents, so getting a random friend to learn the song and come with her with a guitar on the day was her only option and not really an option at all.
She’d planned to go into Sam’s treehouse (she still found that hard to believe; she’d never known anybody who actually had a treehouse, let alone a 15-year old who had one), send a text that she was there and wait for Sam to come. Sam never went up there except every now and then for a birthday party. Abby went up there more often, making sure it wasn’t falling apart because of its neglect, that the collection of music boxes on the treehouse’s shelf was still dust-free and organised according to height and that there wasn’t anybody living there without Sam’s knowledge.
The clouds must have chosen to leave the sun alone that day, just to confuse matters. Sam sometimes went up to the treehouse when it was unusually sunny, just for some shade. So was that why Abby wasn’t greeted at the top of the treehouse ladder by a particularly neat music box collection, but by a grinning freckly face that nearly scared her off the ladder? For some reason she thought there was more behind the blue eyes than that, that her visit had been expected. The face had moved out of the way for her to be able to climb up, sit on the orange and pink rug on the floor and rush her way through a profession of love so quickly that it barely made sense. It wasn’t questioned except by a slightly curious look in the blue eyes, and the flowers were taken without any hesitation, but she wasn’t sure what to do next without any real response.
Sam hopped up from sitting on the floor and started climbing down the ladder without saying anything. When Sam was out of view Abby kicked the treehouse wall, telling herself that she knew from the start she’d be rejected. The flowers had been a waste of time, the song and poem even more of a waste than she had already thought. She wasn’t loved.
“Aren’t you coming inside? Or are you going to stay in the tree until I let you live here?” Sam’s head appeared once again at the top of the ladder, the smile not having disappeared. Sam winked, took the flowers and went back down the ladder, followed immediately by Abby who couldn’t stop herself smiling either. Sam had probably known that Abby was going to come to the treehouse, alerted through whatever it was that linked them.
They went into the house linking arms, the silver chain now uselessly long as it trailed behind their nearly-matching shoes. It would be better if they made it simpler and just tied their shoelaces together, they thought. Except that the silver chain made a much prettier sight, shining in the daylight.