Accidents Happen

“Attention students: Valentines Day is fast approaching, so get your flowers now. Send them to your friends, your special someone. Send them to yourself, if you please. On sale during lunch, a dollar a rose.” One student announced in the over head speakers. I felt something sharp jabbing into my side and I looked around, realizing I’d just been elbowed.

“You gonna send me one?” Gavin asked.

“And why would I do that?” I asked flatly.

“Because.” He started, motioning between us. “We’re friends now.”

“I’m not sending anyone one. I don’t like the flower thing.” I replied. “All the beautiful people get like a bazillion and then all the other people feel bad.”

I remembered spending my past few years of high school in bitter resentment of the beautiful people who walked around with too many flowers to carry while my hands were empty. I wondered why I had no secret admirer or boyfriend to send me one but I promised myself I wouldn’t let it get to me. I wasn’t the flirty, skinny, amazingly pretty girl that all the guys sent flowers to in hopes of winning her heart.

Nope, I was the girl who wore contacts on weekdays, but ugly black glasses on the weekends. The girl who could walk in a straight line without injuring herself. The girl who was suspicious of others, but could care less if they liked her or not. The invisible girl who never got flowers.

“I’ll send you one.” Gavin shrugged.

“No thanks.” I laughed, tucking my hair behind my ear nervously. Gavin’s kindness got my heart beating harshly and he didn’t even know it.

“Aw, get in the spirit, Malone.” He punched my shoulder playfully. I rubbed the sore spot tenderly; I had a low tolerance for pain. How I managed to get doubles in my ears, a nose and lip piercing was still kind of beyond me.

“Valentines day is just for girls to get mad at their boyfriends for not getting them anything and for big chocolate and jewelry companies to get you to buy their products unnecessarily.” I said bitterly, crossing my arms.

“Note to self: Fiona is very opinionated.” Gavin mumbled.

Gavin’s POV:

“I’m home!” I exclaimed pointlessly into my house, slinging my backpack to the floor. I stood there for a second, wondering what I should do until mom called me down for dinner.

“Hey, buddy.” Gideon greeted, ruffling my hair like I was a small child. I swatted his hand away, earning a chuckle. “You learn anything interesting today?”

“Just that Fiona doesn’t want any flowers for Valentines day.” I replied, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

“I’m going to send her a whole bouquet then.” He stated. “Get her back for this,” he added, pointing to his eye which was now lined with a yellow and purple bruise.

“Seems like you got what you deserved.” I shrugged. “Fiona isn’t one to just sit back and let things like that happen.”

“That’s what you think.” He chortled, eyes going dark like he was thinking about something.

***

I sat in my room, trying to complete my math, but I couldn’t do it. Difficulty wasn’t a problem, like I told Mr. Matthews, I’d learned this stuff a couple years ago. I couldn’t get my mind off Fiona.

She didn’t want me to send her flowers because she didn’t want the other girls to feel left out and something told me that she had personal experience with that sort of thing, the way she talked about it. A soft sigh escaped my lips just thinking about her. She was so completely different from other girls, but I loved it. She challenged me, she fought with me, and possibly even hated me a little.

I could see the way she held herself too, so uncertain. Even her looks were different. Most of the girls in this town looked like they had a strict diet of breadcrumbs and water, but not Fiona; she had curves.

Stupid Gavin, I thought. You’re falling. What happened to the you that wouldn’t even give girls like her a second glance? The you that wanted the breadcrumb-and-water girls? You’ve gone soft for a girl who probably wants some artsy, deep guy who can write her poetry and paint her pictures and wears converse, just like her.

And those scars, all up and down her arms. I was so curious about them, but I was too afraid to ask her what they were from. What if it was a sensitive subject? I hoped to God that she wasn’t being abused at home. I shivered at the thought.

“Gavin, dinner is ready.” My mom informed through the intercom. I stared at the stupid black box on my wall. I really wish it wasn’t there, that our house wasn’t so big my mom couldn’t just walk up some stairs and tell me in person. I wanted to be normal.

But instead of complain about how I’d never had to work for a thing in my life, I embraced it. Everyone thought having money was cool, so I flaunted it. I found the nicest car I could and asked my parents to buy it for me for my 16th birthday. I only wore name brands, thinking that if people could see that I was rich, they’d want to hang out with me.

I hated all of it though. Having a house it took you over a week to learn, having people only like you for your money. Having your dad at work all that time just to pay the bills on all this expensive crap your family didn’t need. I wanted to just sit down with my mom, dad, and Gideon and watch a football game. I wanted my parents to watch and laugh as I got excited about my presents on Christmas, too tired to care about the mess because I woke them before the crack of dawn.

I set my books aside, hopping off the bed. My stomach growled loudly and I clutched it, chuckling lightly. I caught my reflection in my mirror in the corner of my room, stopping for a moment to stare distastefully at my appearance. My cropped hair was dark brown, some sticking up, some laying flat, and a few strands in my face. My eyes were bright green and reminded me of radioactive things, not something you want to be reminded of. My lips were thin and red, like I’d been wearing lipstick even though I never had. And my clothes, they all screamed money. Fiona would never like me, I thought with a solemn sigh.

I left my room, mood even darker than before. I made my way to the kitchen without getting lost this time.

“Hello Gavin.” My dad greeted from the table, fork raised to his mouth.

“You started without me.” I observed.

“I have to leave in fifteen minutes for a meeting.” He explained. “So I have to eat really fast and then go.”

“So who is this Fiona girl I heard you and your brother discussing?” My mom asked bluntly as I sat down, spooning some mashed potatoes on my plate.

“A girl from school.” I replied.

“The girl who gave me this.” Gideon added, pointing at his injured eye.

“Well I’m sure you deserved it.” My dad assured with a smirk.