Enigma.

Silver flakes drifted from the sky, glittering brilliantly in the full moon as Rowan stood at the bus stop waiting for her sister, Poppy, to come get her. Even as she paced back and forth she made sure to stay under the street light. She watched everything that went on around her while trying to calm her thoughts. Paranoia and logic fought for dominance. She knew her sister was aware that she was coming, and she was also aware that Poppy would never leave her there. Yet Rowan a feeling of abandonment was tugging at her. She tried to push away the feeling.

“She is on her way,” Rowan says to herself in an attempt to control her thoughts. “Poppy will be here any moment.”

Down the street on the corner there were a group of guys dressed in ripped clothes stood close together. When Rowan notices them, she stops pacing to watch them curiously. They seemed to be drinking, but other than that they seemed harmless. A tall, thin guy with spiky brown hair began horse playing with a shorter, thin guy with the spiky red hair. They push each other around until the shorter man falls. He lets out a strange chuckle before the tall guy helps him back up to his feet. The thing that stuck out to Rowan was that everyone in this little group of guys had a smile on their faces. She stood there watching them in almost a trance. She didn’t even notice that Poppy had pulled up beside her in an old, black car. The blonde girl that was driving made a comment about one of the guys on the corner, but she was interrupted by Poppy calling after her sister.

“Rowan, yoo-hoo,” Poppy says happily.

Rowan snaps back into reality and turns to her sister. She hears the guys mocking Poppy. Poppy seemed to know them. She waved happily, but Rowan quickly throws her bag in the car and slides in the car. The blonde starts driving down the street; Poppy waves at the guys again as they pass.

“Welcome to London,” Poppy says to Rowan. She sounded like a tour guide, but Rowan didn’t really mind. She mumbles a shy, “thanks.”

“This is my friend Reagan,” Poppy points to the blonde, “Reagan, this is my sister, Rowan.”

Reagan looks at Rowan in the rearview mirror and gives a hostile smile. She was ready to leave, obviously.

“I’m going to a party tonight in about twenty minutes,” she says, “I need my fix.”

As Reagan sped down the street the multi colored lights and snowflake patterns mesmerized Rowan, and in the mirror, she caught Reagan’s eyes, now soft and focused on the dark gray, sleeted road in front of them.

“You’re going to love it here, Rowan. I promise,” Poppy says.

“What were those opportunities you were telling me about?”

Reagan and Poppy look at each other and smile mischievously. After a moments silence, Reagan speaks up.

“I’ll show you tomorrow, in my garage. Okay? You’re gonna love this, and if everything goes right, so will we.”

“We? As in you and Poppy?”

“No, as in me, Gwendolyn and Adelaide. Adelaide is possessive, though, so try not to touch her stuff.”

“Right,” Rowan nods suspiciously, unsure of what to think of that statement. As usual, she seemed to have no say in anything that was happening to her.

Reagan abruptly stops in front of an old building. Rowan looks around in confusion until she sees Poppy hop out of the car.
“This is it,” Poppy says happily, “home sweet home.”

Rowan gathers her stuff and follows Poppy into the building where she is immediately led up three flights of stairs. They venture into a hallway where Poppy stops in front of a red door and fishes keys out of her bag. She finds the keys and then toys with the lock until she finally gets the door open. She opens up the door to a mess, two bedroom apartment. Clothes, books, magazines, and records were carelessly places in the most unexpected places. Poppy apologizes about the mess, but Rowan looked absolutely happy. It had been a long time since she had been in a room that wasn’t white and sterile and everything didn’t have a designated place.

***
“You invited a wack-job to be in our band?” Gwendolyn says to Reagan with a look of pure disgust.

“She’s not a ‘wack-job’, Gwendolyn. She’s bipolar.”

“She spent three years in a mental hospital, and that makes her a wack-job if you ask me,” Adelaide adds.

“Well nobody fucking asked you,” Reagan snaps, “This is my band, I formed it, and I say if she’s in.” Gwendolyn instantly grows silent. Before another argument has the chance to boil Poppy appears with Rowan following close behind carrying a battered guitar case.

“Hello,” Rowan says shyly. She was trying hard not to notice the strange looks Gwendolyn and Adelaide were giving her. Almost immediately felt like she didn’t really belong around any of these people. Reagan, Gwendolyn, Adelaide, and Poppy all dressed in the same fashion as the guys she had seen the night before did. They wore tattered shirts that were barely held together with pins, leather pants, and boots; and then there she was wearing blue jeans, a sweater, and sneakers. If there was ever a time for feeling like a socially awkward outcast, Rowan was in it at this very moment.

Anxiety and excitement and stage fright all surged through Rowan as she stepped up on the mini stage Reagan had set up for her the night before. She appeared to be the only one who was willing to give her a chance. Then again, that was probably due to Poppy, who was standing next to Reagan smiling.

As she strummed on her guitar, electricity shot through her body and the world, all except for Reagan and Poppy, seemed to disappear. She played with her heart and soul on her guitar strings, sending them out for the world to do with what they pleased. She felt powerful and confident.

When her song was finished, she wiped the sweat from her brow and looked at Reagan, full of hope.

“That’s it?” Gwendolyn asked Reagan. “We can always call Lenora back.”

“Next audition, please!” Adelaide shot.

Rowan’s heart stung. Reagan was silent, and she was dying for something, anything, to be said, some kind of hope. Was it really over before it began? Oh God, her mind was spinning. A squeal was trying to work its way out of her and it took everything to suppress it.

Then, Reagan squinted her eyes I disbelief at her band. She turned to face Rowan.

“No matter what they think, it really all boils down to me, and I loved it. I want you in my band, Rowan!” Reagan happily squealed and hugged her.