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This is my short story Rosebud, its entered in the LuneSparks youth writing contest, but they do say that I'm allowed to post it non-exclusively elsewhere. Thank you so much to anyone who takes time our of their day to read this, I hope you enjoy💕

Rosebud

“You know, it’s pairs night at the rink if you wanted to go” Serena proposed, letting her words take a leap of faith into the afternoon breeze and drawing in a sharp breath as waves of anticipation set in.

“You mean, as a couple?” The girl asked, watching out of hazel eyes as Serena flustered under her questioning stare.

“I mean… the rink refers to it as a pair?” The end of her sentence trailed off, in an almost questioning tone, as if she were baiting a hook she was too scared to cast. The other girl met her eyes with a soft smile and the scent of rosewater perfume filled the space between them, as if beckoning Serena closer to an invisible rosebush, one of which she couldn’t help but imagine the thorns.

“Well, you know I’ll never pass up an opportunity to dance.” The words fell from her lips still painted in a smile, as if thorns couldn’t possibly exist in the little rosebush at the forefront of her mind. Serena felt her heart beat a little faster at the thought that perhaps she wasn’t the only one out of the two who had flowers in their heart and butterflies in their stomach.

The girl left Serena breathing in a cloud of rosewater fog, the pair having reached their destination. It was just like all the other times the two had walked back from school. A few straggling kids, a few cars coughing out smoke, and a few little blades of grass wilting under the spring sun that had only recently begun to come out of hiding more frequently. Just like always Serena would bid the girl goodbye at her bus stop and walk away hesitantly, slowly putting one foot in front of the other and studying the sidewalk as if it were the most fascinating piece of art she had ever seen. By now she had learned every nook and cranny, she could find every crack and patch of dirt with her eyes closed, and her daily routine became absolutely extraordinary at the sight of a new piece of gum, or the bud of a flower between cement tiles. When she got to the end of the street she would shield herself slightly from view with the big oak tree that sat in front of the Smiths property and would glance over her shoulder, just to guarantee that the girl had gotten on the bus safely. It wasn’t stalkerish or creepy in the slightest, she was just looking out for her friend. She would do the same had she walked home regularly with anyone else. Or so she told herself.

This time however, her routine was rejuvenated. She drifted along her rosewater cloud nine, and smiled at all the little spring buds she saw in the dirt. She checked behind her shoulder at the end of the street as usual, only this time she wasn’t so careful as to hide behind the great tree. The girl saw her and broke into giggles, pearly teeth catching the sun. Although Serena was too far to hear, she swore she heard the bell chime of a laugh she was so familiar with, and flashed a comically large grin in return. The girl waved at her, before being rushed onto the bus by the impatient kid behind her. The last Serena saw of her was her jet black hair and lavender backpack disappearing onto the bus. Serena waved back, only far too late, and far too clumsily to be recognized. Break in routines can take some adjustment.

Serena had planned everything perfectly. She braided the two pieces of curly hair that fell near her eyes with pink ribbon to match the pink wheels of her skates. She put on her black bell bottoms because nothing says romance like a 70’s skating rink. She put golden hoops in her ears and dabbed shiny gloss on her lips. She stared at herself from every angle in the mirror on the back of her door. She soaked in encouragement and bathed in the gospel of the famous faces plastered on her walls. She had the greatest singers, greatest actors and characters. The greatest poets and the greatest lovers of all time. She emptied the jar on her desk and counted out exactly everything she could need. Enough for two straws and one milkshake and a quarter for the jukebox. She slid her favorite patchwork jacket on, not because she had any plan to be cold, but in case her companion was. A missed opportunity was a wasted one after all. She had everything perfected and everything planned from the bows in her hair to the polka-dot socks on her feet. The tiny rosebush covered in thorns had evolved into a whole palace garden in her mind and she could smell every petal, and eye every brilliant shade of red, with only the smallest inkling of a fear for thorns itching the back of her brain. But that was to be expected, you can’t reach into a rosebush without a risk of being scratched.

She walked all the way down to the shop at the edge of her street, right on the way to the rink. The deal was a dollar a rose, so it took only one of her perfectly enchanting grins and perfectly seasoned phrases for her to whittle the price down to 75 cents, leaving her the extra 25 for the jukebox. She left with one flower tucked into her back pocket- no thorns attached.

The soft neon glow of the rink illuminated dozens of faces. Laughter, giggles, and soft spoken phrases echoed through the room, accompanied by the bold sound of plastic skates striking polished wood. Serena felt herself grinning, and could only imagine what a lovesick fool she must appear to be, waiting on the black carpet outside the circular rink, rose whisked from her pocket and resting in her slightly sweaty palm. She could only imagine the couples inside right now, holding hands, maybe making a memory that would last them forever, with Whitney’s eternal love song playing as the perfect soundtrack. Serena could only imagine the song that would play and inevitably burn itself into her brain, to be played on repeat for the rest of her young life. A song that would play and cement itself forever with the neon lights and thinning crowd. She could only imagine the girl of her dreams walking through the door at any minute, floating on her cloud of rosewater perfume, a smile on her lips and light dancing through her eyes the way it always did.

Whitney transformed into Mariah and Mariah faded to Celine and still, all Serena could do was stand by the rink with her rose and imagine. Imagine the thorns, watch the little palace in her mind grow smaller and smaller, shrinking down to it’s one little rosebush that she began to regret planting. Countless songs had passed, enough to give a full movie a soundtrack. An entire movie Serena had spent, standing like a lovesick fool, blurring the lines between lovesickness, delusion, and heartbreak a little too much. Dozens of people shuffled out slowly, hand in hand, arm in arm, until she was the last one at the rink, being forced out by the tired employee.

Standing dejectedly under the harsh luminescence of street lights, Serena finally took out her cell phone, calling the first contact on her list. She listened to the monotonous ring, waiting some more as if she hadn’t already done that enough. The call went to voicemail, and the only words she could bear to speak slipped out, a frail sentence, a question that had already been answered clearly enough but still had to be asked, as if reeling in a hook one knew was empty, one knew they should never have cast. She whispered it softly, the brutally pale streetlights spotlighting the sad words of a young girl out of love, like the closing scene of a movie, devoid of music, deprived of a happy ending.

“Hey.” She spoke tentatively, “What happened? I thought- I thought you wanted to dance?”