Chapter One, Omile

Yellow rays of light shone through the foggy windows of an empty flower shop. The inside seemed to have no light source but people passing by, bundling themselves up in their light coats to block from the chilly air, could clearly see the small bursts of color sitting in brown planter pots and on cluttered wooden shelves, that have probably seen better days, with sliding glass doors, closed and locked, from the incoming rays light. Everything in the area was still, apart from the bits of dust floating in the air, only visible when light made an effort to show them off. A soft click and small chime of a bell hanging above a green door came from the front of the shop and was followed in by a petite young female, only sixteen years old, with long brown hair blossoming out of the top of her round head. She quickly and quietly closed the door, to avoid waking the flowers, locking it again, and hurriedly tiptoed to the back of the building. She opened a splintering light brown door, the loud creaking of the old door breaking the quietness of the room, and shuffled into an area with winding metal stairs speckled with blotches of rust, quickly closing the door behind her. She hopped up the faded grey stairs, her brown mary-janes smacking against each step with a loud clanking sound. Half way up she was met by a light brown, white, and dark orange calico cat meowing at her loudly saying, feed me...love me. She bent down and picked up the mass of fluff, who pushed his head up into her chin while closing his eyes and purring softly, and continued up the stairs.

As usual, she set the cat down on the wooden floor of the kitchen and rushed over to the food and then to the water bowls, messily filling them both up. A soft patting sound of toe beans on plastic wood followed her quickly into the cramped area and over to the wall next to the sink where two bowls sat. Omile watched as her two cats twirled around the bowls until they got comfortable and started eating then quickly walked over to a white door, kicking her shoes off in the process, and pushed it open.

She rushed over to her closet, pulling off her brown school sweater vest and tossing it to the side where it fell into a hamper that was already half full. She undid her black tie and opened the closet door, draping the tie on the the top of the door. She quickly unbuttoned her white blouse and tossed it into the nearby hamper as well, soon followed by her blue pleated school skirt and black knee high socks. She grabbed a kournikova yellow top that resembled her white button up, only with short sleeves and a chest pocket, and a lilac cardigan, putting both on quickly. She pulled on a pair of black tights and then a light teal skirt with a cherry blossom’s sprinkling down the teal sea of the fabric.

The frantic girl checked her alarm clock sitting on her white cluttered desk, the red light faintly beeping the time, and quickly threw her hair up into a messy bun, brown and lavender colored hair sticking out everywhere, and ran out of her room. She grabbed a pair of honey-flower purple flats and shoved them onto her feet as she ran down the stairs. On a hook next to the door was a dark green apron that she plucked off and wrapped around her waist quickly, adjusting it so that it was moved to underneath her cardigan. She opened the door and rushed out into the shop, gradually slowing her pace to a calm walk, and slid an old silver key into the lock, turning it to the side and then pulling it out, as she flattened out her apron and placed the key back into one of the aprons side pockets and flipped the sign from “Sorry, we’re closed” to “Hello, we’re open!” She reached into her cardigan pocket and pulled out her phone, whispering “yeesss” and then put it back in the pocket, causing the right side to droop a bit lower than the left. Four o'clock exactly.

Omile quickly got herself together and let out a few breaths to calm her breathing as he she made her way over to the neatly organized counter, full of potted plants, papers, and a cash register, and grabbed a plastic yellow watering can with painted flowers on it and then walked around the store to  give life to all the still sleeping flowers.

She danced her way to all the different flower stations and tipped the can over just enough for water to sprinkle out of the spout and onto the flowers below, smiling as they perked up and beamed at her. Half an hour later she had finished watering all the plants, of course, she was occasionally stopped by a customer who needed her assistance on gardening tips or to ring someone up at the cash register, but that was her fault for sleeping in that morning and not watering the flowers before she left, like usual. She hurried back to the counter and reached up to a small set of splintering white cabinets and pulled out a mug. She turned on the tap water and stuck the mug under the sputtering water spout, watching the water fill up to just under the edge of the handle. She then opened the microwave door sitting on a shelf next to the cabinets and placed the mug in, pressing the usual 1, 3, and 0 buttons and then watching the mug slowly spin as the water was heating up. The microwave beeped quietly and she pulled out the hot mug and carefully set it down on the counter. Omile reached up to a shelf over the sink and pulled down a small clay pot with a lid that had a round ball handle on it. She pulled out a tea bag that was vanilla caramel flavored and dipped it into the steaming water, watching the liquid slowly fade into a dark brown color. The bell on the door chimed and Omile looked over to the green door. A taller girl with long black-violet hair that was cut straight across at the bottom of her back and straight bangs that hung over her eyebrows stood at the door. Omile smiled and waved at her to come closer to the counter. The girls hips swayed as she walked, her hair swaying back and forth, and she adjusted the bag over her shoulder.

      “Victoria! Are you here for the stuff you ordered?” Omile lifted the tea bag in and
out of the water, small swirls contrasting the still water.

      “Yes, sorry I’m here so late I got held up after school.” Her voice was deep but still had a slight bubbly chime to it. Victoria glanced around the shop and then looked at

Omile’s hands. “Omile, you’re making tea in front of your customers? You really should talk to your mom about hiring more people if you don’t even have time to make tea on your off time, you’re going to work yourself breathless by the time you’re a senior.”

      Omile’s eyes piercingly looked into Victoria’s.

      “Right, sorry, I forgot….” Victoria tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

      “Well, you know my mom said the spot is always open to you.” She pulled down a container of sugar and sprinkled some into her tea, twirling her finger above the mug and the leaf water started to spin.

      “You know I don’t have time for a job, AP classes and all….” Victoria adjusted the brown sweater vest hugging her upper body nicely.

      “I know, I would really admire the help though.” She put the sugar away and then started walking towards the back of the small shop, Victoria following close behind her.

      Omile took a sip of her tea, turning her head from side to side to make sure no one was paying attention to them, and then held her finger in front of to the splintering door she had entered earlier, her cardigan sleeve covering most of her finger, and positioned it in front of the lock. A very faint purple bolt of light, almost like a lightning bolt, zapped out of her finger and into the lock on the door with a soft buzz. The door lock clicked and Omile opened it slightly then stepped in with Victoria right behind her. Omile flipped on a switch and yellow light flooded into the room while the door behind her closed with a soft thud. The metal stairs had disappeared and the area had became much bigger. The closet like space was now a small room that held even more plants and mostly herbs. The room resembled the look of an old cottage, wood walls and candle like lights to match. Omile felt it gave the room a more proper tone. Along the dusty walls were rows and rows of old cabinets and faded closets full of herbs and other various items. The two girls walked to the back of the room and Omile knelt down on one knee then opened one of the sliding glass doors against the wall and pulled out a brown paper bag with a white sticker label that read “Adrienne” and then pulled out each jar from inside the bag. She checked each of the now yellowish labels as she pulled out each one, making sure they were the right herbs. Rue, Hyssop, Vervain, Coriander, Woodruff, and Pennyroyal then closed the door and turned to face Victoria.

“Is there anything else you need?” Omile asked, standing up and handing the paper bag to Victoria. “Oh, and be sure to get the jar’s back to me as soon as possible. You’re lucky you’re my friend and I’m letting you just borrow the jars until you’re done.”

“Love you too boo. And no, I think I got it all.” Victoria cooed, opening her own  bag and mumbling to herself what she had and then added the crinkling paper bag to her arm of stuff to hold. “Cork, Thyme, and Bay leaves.”

“What spell is this again?” Omile questioned curiously, walking back to the door that lead into the shop.

“The Strega Herb Jar.” Victoria answered, walking out of the room and over to the counter ahead of Omile.

Omile sparked the lock again then walked to the front of the counter. “You got a jar at home? What about a gemstone?” Victoria placed the bag on the counter and Omile pulled out each jar and typed in the jar’s number on the bottom and then random numbers for the amount being taken home.

“I don’t need a gemstone. And yes, I have a jar at home.”

“Gemstones make it stronger…Why are you making this anyway? Someone coming over that you don’t trust?” She pointed to the screen that had the total on it for Victoria’s purchase.

Victoria dug into her school bag and pulled out a black clasp wallet. “No, my dad’s been acting weird lately so I’m putting this in my room just for safe measures.” Victoria went to go touch her cheek and then quickly pulled her hand away and handed Omile a worn twenty dollar bill.

“Two more dollars Vi.” Omile said taking the money, holding back from asking if Victoria
was okay.

“I’ll get those to you later. Thanks for all the stuff, see you in school!” Omile put the contents back into the crinkly paper bag and handed it to Victoria who smiled and walked over to the entrance, her blue skirt swishing back and forth to match the swaying of her hair long violet-black hair.

      At the door Victoria stopped and turned to face the counter to find Omile twirling a loose strand of lavender colored hair with her fingers and her other hand gripping the handle of her tea mug while looking off into the distance, a blank look in her viridian green eyes as her round glasses sat on the upturn of the tip of her button like nose. Victoria’s lips curled up into a faint smile and she put her hand on the oval shaped knob, pressing her finger against the designs carved into the metal.

“You going to homecoming?” Victoria suddenly asked, a small amount of hopefulness ringing off her normally calm and neutral voice.

Omile flashed out of her daze like state and sat upright and then looked over at Victoria.
“I wasn’t planning on it, no one to really go with, you know?”

Victoria giggled a bit and rolled her eyes. “How bout you go with me? I’ll even pay for your ticket, make up for those two dollars that I owe you.”

“Well….actually you owe me somewhere around ten dollars at this point…” Omile said running her fingers along the same strand of hair that she had been twirling and pushed her round glasses up to where they belonged.

“Then I might as well pay for your ticket to pay you back. I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Bye.” Victoria’s smile widened a bit as she opened the door and elegantly walked out of the shop.

A small smile fell upon

Omile’s face and then a look of shock and surprise. Did she just get asked out on a date? By Victoria? By a girl every guy at school wants to date? By a girl?! Omile’s heart started beating faster and her mind started racing, her eyes going wide and her face turning the same shade as an oriental poppy flower. Dating people had never been a major interest for her, let alone a girl. In fact, she has had no experience of ever being on a date, it had never interested her enough to try and actually go out and be social, let alone going out on a date; and she was always too busy worrying about her flowers, and her cats, and herself. No way would she have enough time to worry about another person on top of all that. Luckily, with her nerdy looks and her obvious introvert like personality it hasn’t been that hard to avoid being in any relationship more than a small friendship or an ‘acquaintanceship’, seeing as nobody would want to ask her out; someone who is socially awkward and only talks about plants. In fact, to the naked eye she is a rather boring person with weird quirks and odd interests. But back to the matter at hand, she has no idea what someone is even supposed to do with a girl when she herself is a person of the female gender. The only romance she knows is between a cis boy and a cis girl, mainly because that’s what she grew up with. Every movie she has watched has had a female and male relationship, every tv show, every book. What are you supposed to do with a girl? Who does what? How does a relationship work in general? This is all too much for a girl who devotes all her time to flowers to be able to understand. In fact, it’s overwhelming to trouble herself over something so foolish, so stupid to even bother trying to fill her head with ways to treat a significant other when said girl has no intentions of ever being more than friends with another human being, or any other type of being. Of course, this can all be avoided if she didn’t blow things out of proportion and just went with the flow of things; but that’s not how Omiles mind works. Her mind just gets itself all worked up and just as it’s about to explode-Omile calms down a bit. It’s not a date. Victoria is just being friendly. Friends go to dances with each other all the time. It’s a normal situation that friends do. Calm down. Someone walked up to the counter and she sat upright, greeting them with a smiling face and scanned their items, mentally beeping along with the loud beeps coming from the machine.

For a while Omile had been mulling over if she should actually go to the dance with Victoria and if she was going to go what she would wear, but eventually she got side-tracked and was now worrying her mind with less important things. Small talk, are they talking to her? Yes, they are. Respond with small talk. It’s eight o’clock, now what does that mean? Oh that’s right, it’s closing time so that means she has to run through her list of things to do when the shop closes. Was the door locked? Yes. Did she switch the sign? Yes. Did she remember to change the door back to how it was? Yes. Okay good, now, dinner. What was for dinner? She pulled her hair out of the messy bun that was hanging by a few strands on the side of her head, scrunching her face as she yanked on hair strands that didn’t want to leave each other and ran her fingers through the mess to get rid of any tangles that might have been in the process of becoming a knot. She untied her apron and pulled it over her head, walking over to the door in the back of the shop, then opened it, and set her apron on the hook.

She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, but going out by herself was always upsetting and boring. Unless you’re used to it of course, which she is and does it quite often. ‘What if you bump into someone you know?’ she always asked herself, not that it has happened before. But what if? Deciding that it was too late to cook she hurried up the stairs and into her apartment to grab her bag and then left to go get dinner. Her brown bag was not big, in fact it could only hold her phone, wallet, and coin purse, but it served it’s purpose. Despite the pouch size being small. the handles made the pouch rest against Omile’s side as it was draped over the opposite shoulder of where the pouch was resting. She unzipped the leather bag, enjoying the sound of the zipper running along the track, and pulled out her flower patterned cloth wallet, unzipping it to see how much money she had. She decided that a few twenties and tens would be enough and zipped her wallet back up and put it back into her purse. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and put in in the bag as well then zipped up the small brown bag. She patted her cats heads softly as she left her room and went back downstairs and left the shop, double checking just to make sure she had the key and that the door was, indeed, locked.

The afternoon sky emitted a pink salt color that blanketed the bustling little town during rush hour, giving the air a nice fall feel to it. The setting sun laid low in the air with a few wispy clouds comforting it’s loss of a bottom half. The tall city buildings casted long shadows along the many streets and sidewalks. Rays of the sun’s blinding light piercing anyone’s unprotected eyes, apart from Omile who found a nice pair of sunglasses in her bag and casually slipped them onto her face over her round glasses. She hummed a soft, happy tune as she walked along the sidewalk, a slight bounce on her steps to match her upbeat mood.

Omile’s mind had always been a cluttered mess of thoughts, no  different than right now. In her head currently she was rambling on about what new flowers she could purchase to put around her small house and make it seem more lively and open since it was rather small. Small would be an understatement. Her apartment is really more like a big room with a kitchen and bathroom, which that's exactly what it was supposed to be, yet she still loved it; there was something about the smallness that made her feel comfortable, at home. Safe. She was at home, it was her home...sorta.

Her mom had it set up so that her bank account would automatically pay the bills every month for Omile, along with the flower shop below, and send in weekly paychecks for Omile to actually make a living. For a while letters would come in with the paychecks. Each one would say how much she missed her honeyflower and how she wished she could be with her and Omile always felt a bit sad that her mom said she could try living on her own and working in the flower shop. At first she figured her mom was going to say no, and then when she said yes she thought her mom was going to make her pay for everything but when her mom said that she would help Omile as much as paying for practically everything Omile stood there speechless. It almost made her feel bad for actually leaving her mom and leaving her hometown. Maybe the reason her mom said yes was because she thought Omile would fall back on it like every other teenager would. No, that can’t be it. Omile’s mom knew that she wasn’t like liek that. She had been raised better. And although Omile was scared and depressed and lonely when she left, the first couple of months on her own she weren’t so bad. She was glad that she did it. Her mom’s letters did help her through the rough times though.

The shop she worked in was a family business that was owned by her mom’s side of the family. When her father had died of cancer Omile and her mom left the city, it was too much for her mom to live in. Luckily because of her mother's stuberness she never sold the building to anyone. It was closed for three years before Omile came back and re-opened it, which was the only reason her mom was okay with letting her go back. Upon re-opening it she had filled the small, quaint, shop with more flowers than their ever were to start with and renamed the shop from Anna’s Flower Garden to just The Flower Gardens; with her mom's permission of course. Anna was her great grandmother's name and Omile felt that it wasn’t needed anymore, seeing as no one in the town knew her grandmother personally, except for all the old ladies that stopped in to say hello to Omile, and Omile wasn’t too fond of having a name in a title of any sort for buildings or shops. It seemed unprofessional to her. Doesn’t help that she had a bad relationship with her grandmother on top of that….

Anyways, living on her own wasn't as hard as she thought it would be, in fact, it was actually quite fun. Granted, it was hard getting out of bed on her own, and buying food on her salary, and working while maintaining good grades in school. But overall it was fun. The idea of being independent and actually living by yourself was a fun experience altogether that she was glad she got to take part in early on in her life. The letters that her mother sent her were a big help with this as well. Normally she didn’t write back, not because she didn’t want to but simply because she was too busy and just didn’t have time between work and school, but on the few times she did write back she always talked about how the shop was doing. Endless paragraphs on the sales and the changes happening, who has been into the shop, and even about her special customers. Those were her mother's favorite letters.

But all that stopped a couple months ago, after her mother was taken by the greedy hands of cancer as well and she started making time for writing letters to her everyday, making up for the lost times she didn’t get to have with her mother. Never mailed of course. They were all sitting in a wooden box that used to be her mother's jewelry box on Omiles bed side table. Sometimes she did think about sending them to her. But the thought of anyone else reading them troubled her too much. She figured the house had already been resold to another person and that it would be weird to all the sudden receive a bunch  of letters in the mail from an address that they most likely didn’t know about.

Omile shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. Thinking of her mother put Omile down and that’s not what her mother would want. She would rather be forgotten by Omile than to see her remembering and being sad about it, not that she would want to be forgotten but it was better than seeing her daughter upset. Today is too nice of a day to be upset. The sun is out, the birds are chirping, there are no clouds in the sky apart from the few wisps swirling about the open blue sea like waves that don’t even feel like trying. Not the day to be thinking about her mother. Omile made herself perk up and plastered on a soft smile as she entered a small building attached to a bigger one on the corner of the street. The red door plastered a hanging “we’re open” sign in the window and the rectangular windows along the side that made up for the absence of a wall showed off all the people that were either sitting down at the tables or waiting in line to get a seat that was usually rarely available.

Author's Note

I know, I've reuploaded this many times I'm sorry please bare with me! Feedback is highkey encouraged and please please please critique me! I want to make this as good as possible!!!