dyad | ᵇᵒᵒᵏ ᵒⁿᵉ

⁵ ⁻ ʲᵃᶜᵏᵉᵗˢ.

                              ⁵ ⁻ ʲᵃᶜᵏᵉᵗˢ. 

After dinner, I helped Mary wash and put away the dishes. I also gave King a bath, an put him to sleep. As much as I tried to forget it, it was impossible to simply haze over the event from dinner. Thomas had taken everyone by surprise. He was usually a loner, he never really talked to the other boys in the home. Every once in a while I saw him reading a book, and I sometimes brought a book for him. I was a little worried about him, and I took upon myself to see if he was open to talk. Coming to his room, the door was open, Thomas sitting on his bed reading a book. 

I knocked on his door softly, and he looked up at me, closing his book. "Hi, Thomas," I smiled, "can I come in?" He nodded, and I entered his room, closing the door behind me. He put his book aside, and I sat on the edge of his bed. I pondered how to go about this, but maybe going at it head on would be best. "Thomas, what you said at dinner, was something wrong?" I asked, watching him as he closed his eyes, letting a deep breath out. 

"I'm jealous, okay?" He told me, quietly. 

Thomas sighed, and opened his eyes, "I have a crush on Tiffany. I know she doesn't like me back, but I'm jealous of that boy in her class, Aiden. He's all she ever talks about anymore, and I can't stand it." 

I rubbed his arm, "That doesn't give you the right to say what you said to her, T. That wasn't fair." 

"I know, I know.."

I lifted up his head so he could look at me, and smiled at him. "Crushes are just a phase. Tiffany's going to have a lot of crushes as she grows up, and you will too. You never know, she might like you too." His face lit up, and his cheeks flushed red. "T-Thanks, Monroe," he started to smile. "No problem," I pulled him in for a small hug, and left him to get back to his book.

I had sympathy for Thomas. He was the last one to enter the home, the last one to bond with the other kids, and the last one to be picked for generally..anything. He was always so pessimistic, and it was understandable, to me at least. His Dad was Bloom, and his mother was a Wilt. Thomas had told me that the only reason that he was born was because his father had taken advantage of his mother, leading her on, and left her alone, to take care of him. Mary found Thomas one freezing winter night, as he was wandering the streets. The only reason he was here was because his mother had died from pneumonia. He essentially had no guidance, nothing to be optimistic about.

Thomas's words still carried on with me to school the next day. I was going to try my best to make him feel comfortable. 

School was a breeze for me. It was actually the only thing that I enjoyed, besides taking care of King. I was never one of those kids who hated school; I wanted to make something better of myself, so I studied hard and tried to pass all my classes. I didn't cause much trouble, as I tried to steer clear off all the Blooms. I was absolutely nervous around them, their clean, flashy clothes bearing no resemblance to my dingy shirt and skirt. I simply didn't compare to them. They didn't pay me much attention, and I was glad for that. I preferred to stay as much under the radar as possible..but it wasn't like they'd pay me loads of attention anyway. 

I went to a mixed school, much like the other ones in the state. There were Wilt-only schools in the state, but I didn't live close enough to them, and had no way to get to it. I enjoyed going here, as I was fascinated with how pretty everything was on this side of town. It was a drastic change from where I lived. Everything was colorful; clean. I passed by the school sign, a concrete, stone slab with the words Amaryllis School of the Mixed.

I kept my head down, hugging my books to my chest as I walked along the paved, brownstone path. I tried walking as far to the right as I could, without falling into the thick shrubbery. There were little buds growing from within the plant, and they would soon blossom into vibrant purple, red, and yellow flowers. Once in a while, I would bring them to Mary so we could plant them in the front yard, but eventually the poor flowers are forgotten. There was a few buds that had already bloomed, into small, white flowers.