Rose Petal Kisses

Beep beep beep beep be-

I slam my hand on the noisy alarm and roll over, feigning off awareness of the surroundings around me. Flashing images of Stormy kissing me flickered behind my eyelids like quick-burst snapshots. A faint smile touches my lips, a thin line of cold rolls down my cheek, snapping me awake.

“Shit! Shit shit!” Lurching out of bed, I grab my rumpled pants on the ground, and pull them on as I run out the door, tugging on my jacket and backpack, all at once.

If I had left when I wanted to, I wouldn’t have slipped on the large patch of ice, slamming the back of my head on the hard surface, but I also wouldn’t have had a chance encounter with-

“Yeh alright?”

My vision blurred, making the pale face hovering over me featureless, the eyes like dark pits. Long, locks of hair tickled my forehead and I let out a quiet moan in pain. My hand grabbed at the back of my head, a trickle of wet warmed my fingers, and I pulled away, focusing on the red that stained them. Again, I glanced up at the person above, only this time I was able to concentrate on their face and I let out a whimper of surprise.

“You’re bleeding, lemme find something that’ll ‘opefully help,” Stormy set her shoulder-bag on the ground next to me, and started rummaging through it. Woozy from the fall, I couldn’t imagine what she could have to help me. I laid sprawled out on the freezing sidewalk, trying to keep my brain focused on the bare tree hanging above us like brown, skeletal fingers.

“Aha!” She breathed, “‘ere, hold this to the back of your head. It should soak up most of th’blood. Thankfully, it doesn’t look like you’re bleeding too much.”

Sitting up, shakily, I grab the gauze that she’s holding out and press it against the raw wound. I take in a sharp breath from the touch, “thanks…” for some reason I can’t get myself to say her name. If I do, I know that I wouldn’t be able to keep myself back from admitting my feelings to her; possibly slipping in a kiss, running my fingers through her full, faded aquamarine hair.

Stormy’s warm breath is feathering my cheek as she crouches beside me, a pensive smile on her lips, “M’glad I could help. I’d better get goin’ though, don’t wanna keep Lisa waiting.” Regretfully, she stands up and pulls her shoulder-bag back on. Adjusting her beanie, Stormy’s smile doesn’t falter as she waves good-bye to me.

I exhale noisily and clamber to my feet, this time taking the run to a slow jog.

When I reach school, nearly everyone has already gone to class, so I’m left getting what I need from my locker, alone. Honestly, this is a huge relief, because I won’t have to deal with the questioning stares, and mutterings of students as I dab at my wound, which has nearly stopped bleeding. I figure I should go to the nurses office to be checked up on, plus it would delay having to go to class. I grab the necessities, shove them in my pack and head down the corridor to the nurses office.

The room is oddly warmer than the rest of the building and I take a sweep of my surroundings: everything is neatly placed, dull and monotonous. Mrs. Umbern perked up as soon as I stepped into her office, a worn smile on her face as she greeted me, “What’s the matter, dear?”

“Er…” I start off stupidly, glancing from my left to my right quickly, before answering, “well, I uh, slid on some ice an’ hit the back of my ‘ead on the sidewalk. I was wonderin’ if yeh could check it out?”

“Of course, of course,” she lumbers over to me and asks me to sit down. Her fingers move my hair adroitly out of the way, and she lets out a noise that I’m not quite sure how to decipher. Mrs. Umbern then disappears into another room filled, from what I can see, with supplies that are practically falling out of their shelves. She waddles back holding a tube and a small flashlight in her hands, the same faded smile on her face, “I’ve got some ointment for yeh. The bleeding ‘as pretty much stopped, but this will keep from any infection happening. Obviously.” She lets out a soft laugh, I give a sympathetic smile, “M’gonna check your pupil dilation. Yeh may ‘ave to go back home.”

Mrs. Umbern spreads some of the stinging ointment on my gash, she hands me a fresh gauze and begins checking my eyes.

“Well, yeh seem alright,” she pauses, “what’s yeh full name and the day?”

“Oliver Scott Sykes and uh… November nineteenth.”

“Okay, good,” she smiles, shuffles behind her desk and starts scribbling on a piece of paper, “‘ere’s a pass t’class. Jus’ take it easy, a’right?”

I nod and hurry out the door, much to a dismayed sigh from Mrs. Umbern. The pass read that I didn’t have to go to first hour immediately, so I hung out by a stairwell. Rarely did teachers bother with this staircase; a lot of kids strayed to it when they felt the need to be alone or skip class, which was made especially more easy since there is an exit right near by. The smokers, like Matt’s posse, will leave and hide behind the huge dumpsters by the school, and since they’re covered by a clump of pine trees, passing cars wouldn’t be able to make the observation of teenagers smoking during school hours.

Sighing, I sit down on the bottom step and gently press the new gauze against my wound. There’s only specks of blood now.

The loud clopping sound of footsteps echo down the stairs, with a mixture of quiet female giggling. I stand up and press myself under the stairwell, waiting for them to run down the hallway or out the exit door. Three girls run by and fly out the door, their faux fur hoods fluttering in the breeze that floods around me and leaves me standing there, chilly. Grabbing my backpack, I head to class, whistling softly to myself.



At the end of the day, I hide out by the same stairwell as earlier, waiting for everyone to clear out. I was sure to kiss Sarah good-bye before I disappeared, so she didn’t try and go looking for me after class. Matt was still at home sick with the flu and Charlie refused to acknowledge my existence.

Once I was sure that the majority of the students had cleared out, I hurriedly located Stormy’s locker, keeping on the look-out the entire time. Digging around in my backpack, I pulled out a plastic baggy holding a handful of nearly dried out rose petals. They looked like globs of blood settled at the bottom of the bag. I rubbed the petal gently between my index finger ad thumb, kissed it and pressed it through one of the slots at the top of her locker.

Tomorrow I would do the same, and I would keep on doing this. Honestly, I don’t know why this plan seemed so amazing to me at the time, but I had a crazy urge to do this. No matter how weird or creepy it was. My mind kept swirling back to the note with the black-capped chickadee on it and the orange ribbon; they infested my mind, because I had no idea what they stood for.

As I left school, I realized that my birthday was tomorrow and the only people who would remember were Matt, Tom and… maybe my parents, if they would take a break from arguing. Tomorrow was also Friday. For the first time, the thought of a two day break from school, sounded blasphemous.