Week Two/Monday
WHO: Lily/Foxglove and The Ending WHAT: Lily meets The Ending and for the first time, becomes Foxglove. WHEN: Monday, just after school. WHERE: St. Marina’s greenhouse RATING: TBD The greenhouse doors swished open, allowing three girls still in uniform to enter. It didn’t take long for them to find their prey, who was carefully re-potting irises over by the right wall. The sun gleamed cheerfully, sparkling through the cheerful student additions of glass hangers that decorated some of the trellises and trees. Overall, the scene was happy, ready for giggling children, not for these three. Moving swiftly past the budding trees, bushes, pausing only to swat and break a branch or two, as they neared her.
Lily however was oblivious as always, her hope from the summer that her tormentors would be gone had gotten her through her first week of school with relative ease, dare she say happiness. It was definitely as happy as her life had been so far. She’d even met someone nice. Humming happily, she prepared the new pot, filling it to a third of the way full with soil. Little did she know that the absence of her tormentors hadn’t been a sign of good things to come, but simply a brief reprieve because they had been on vacation.
The three girls honed in behind her, moving almost as one unit, the leader moving deliberately forward.
“Look at the little flower geek,” Aubrey said laughing with her two friends as they pushed Lily violently into one of the tables. “I bet you really missed us didn’cha?”
One of the pots teetered and Lily frantically grabbed for it, but Karen stuck out her foot and pushed her, sending both Lily and the pot of irises to the floor. The three of them turned and left the school’s greenhouse cackling at their prank as Lily wiped tears from her eyes and began to pick up the fragments of the pot.
"We'll see you in class dearie!" Aubrey said, calling over her shoulder.
Lily stayed shocked on the floor, tears filling her eyes, pinging on the floor near the spilled soil. Picking herself up, she brushed the dirt off of her knees, wincing when she realized that her right knee was scraped up, blood picking with dirt. Ignoring it, she picked up the irises, cradling them in her arms.
“Look what they did to you, poor things,” she said, comforting the flowers, petting their petals and brushing dirt off of them. “Just ignore them, they do that sometimes.”
Laying them on the table, she went to the water spout to wash herself off. She grabbed a clean rag, dipped it into the water, and started wiping down her cuts.