DEDICATION: To my saviour, @Iydiamartin, for coming to the rescue by putting the sunflowers in the hand of Dylan/Devon in the photo at the side! Also for the wonderful cover which is currently in use :) Thank you so much!
Chapter Twenty Two - Wilted Sunflowers
"Do you know where Devon is, Katie? I can't see him anywhere!" I asked, frantically, as I sat down next to Katie, who was holding Ryan's hand. He was stroking the back of it with his thumb, making my heart leap sadly, with a certain amount of longing. Devon had done that yesterday, the clutch of it warm and comforting. Not knowing where Devon was, and the fact he hadn't texted me telling me saying that he was ill or something important had cropped up, scared me. After all, it was our presentation day and I really did not want to do it on my own. It would be awful on my own. Not to mention difficult and embarrassing. After we were found two days ago and our baby had been rescued–Mrs Kampe had told us we had definitely not done well on this challenge, as if managing to get our child taped to the rafters was a bad thing–we had gone home and gone our separate ways, only seeing each other as we spent the entirety of Thursday just doing our journal in the gym. Now it was Friday Devon hadn't even texted me, not even a new bunch of random emoticons in one go, which he had done quite often lately.
"I'm sure he's just running late. He'll be here, I swear." Katie said, looking over at me. She gently took my journal from my hands; I hadn't noticed how tightly I had been holding it to my chest, causing my knuckles to go white and to ache. "You're panicking over nothing. Devon wouldn't leave you to do something without him, not for anything. He just loves making a fool out of you." Katie was smiling, her rosy lips looking slightly funny. Was it just the light, or did she look worried?
"If you say so. My parents are up there. I just don't want to embarrass myself in front of them and the entire body of Year Eleven. I would prefer Devon to turn up late in a banana costume than not turning up at all." I said, fiddling with my fingers in my lap, twirling the end of my black skirt. Katie smiled and Ryan leaned over, putting his large hand on my knee. His watch glinted on his wrist.
"Holland Clarke, it's going to be okay. Just persevere." He said, removing his hand and entwining it back with Katie's. I took a deep breath, sighing. I came to the conclusion that Devon probably was just late. After all, he had lots to do. He probably had to walk Lily to school and then come here. It was much easier to breathe, I found, when I thought of it like that. "You look really pretty today, and I don't think Devon would want to miss it." He smiled. I looked down at my scruffy converse, at my laddered black tights and dark purple, wool jumper and black and purple floral skirt, which floated down to above my knee. Despite it being summer, I wore the jumper and the tights, but really, the jumper was breezy and the ladders in the tights prevented me from overheating and dying. I didn't really look different from usual, the only exception being my hair being braided over my shoulder. Besides that, nothing. Ryan smiled, Katie brushed a strand of hair from his face, and then a strand from mine, before leaning back in her chair, smiling.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Katie put a hand on my arm. Mrs Kampe had walked out from the side of the stage, standing in the middle. She held a microphone in one hand and wore a smile. Because I was in the second row, I could see her clearly...and her smile was actually really pretty, making laugh lines appear at the sides of her eyes. It was enough to make me feel happier and much less worried.
"Welcome, students, parents and couples alike! I am sad to say that today is the final day of Operation Marriage. This year has definitely been the best year I have seen complete the challenge, and throughout it we have seen many friendships and relationships between the students blossom, and it truly has been quite beautiful. Initially, we weren't going to have a prom like most Year Elevens do because of funding issues...but because of the wonderful outcome of Operation Marriage, we have decided to schedule one for Sunday evening, as a way to say goodbye to any of the students leaving us, and to say good luck to any of the students staying on for our Sixth Form courses here!" Mrs Kampe said. Most of the students started cheering. I clapped slowly, smiling. Mrs Kampe beamed around at everyone, something we had all never seen before, "Now. The students are going to present their marriages in their couples to all of us. Their journals may be placed under the projector and the pages will be shown on the screen behind me. After each couple has presented, they will collect their yearbook of A to Z Animals from Mr Alfaro. I am looking forward to finding out how the students have found this whole project. Thank you very much!" She then looked at a small piece of paper in her hand, which I presumed to be the list of couple names, "Now, the first couple was literally the first couple! Mark Smith and Amelia Hakings–come on, up you two get!"
Mark and Amelia walked down to the stage from the row behind me. They clambered onto the stage, Amelia pushing their journal underneath the projector. The first page came up. It was neat, containg a lot of writing with a single photo placed to the side.
"Our marriage has been good from the very start, to be honest." Mark said. Amelia flipped the page, zooming in and out of the page. Their presentation was cute, but short. It was what you would call short and sweet. To finish Amelia explained how they have now become close friends, and were going to go to prom together. With much clapping they left the stage and Mrs Kampe walked back on, before announcing the next couple. It was definitely a pleasant morning, as all of the couples so far said how they had either become friends or even ended up in a relationship. One couple, the one that had shared an overly passionate and supposedly 'romantic' kiss, was the only couple so far to let everybody down. They ended up arguing with quite a lot of profanity, and stalking off the stage in different directions, their journal torn in two in the middle of the stage. From what I could see of the crumpled pages, there wasn't much written down in the first place.
"Right," Mrs Kampe said as she scurried over and picked up the ruined journal, "It's not as if these journals were expensive to buy and personalise or anything..." After Mrs Kampe had handed the journal to Mr Alfaro, who stood in front of the stage next to a table with piles of white books the size of an annual, she straightened up and checked the list she held in her hand. "Now, this couple started because of a love triangle! A metal one to be exact. Ryan Warren and Katie Summers!" I smiled and patted Katie on the arm as she got up, still holding hands with Ryan, who was holding their journal. I could tell glitter glue was going to rub off on the projector or something, because from what I had seen of the journal, they had used a lot.
Ryan helped Katie up onto the stage, earning them a collective sigh from the parents. Ryan then clambered onto the stage and stuck the journal underneath the projector. Katie stepped in towards him and opened the journal. The first page was just covered in glitter glue flowers and pictures. The title, 'The Love Triangle!', was written in silver glitter glue.
"Our marriage has been the best marriage I could have ever asked for as a sixteen year old. It has been an amazing experience and I couldn't have asked for anything to be different." Katie said as Ryan turned the page, showing pictures of their wedding day. Katie looked beautiful in her 'wedding dress', and Ryan looked so happy in the pictures.
"We have learned many things. I for one have learned to truly accept myself as I am, because someone out there will look past your flaws and think you to be beautiful as you are. You don't need to change anything about yourself because every flaw and imperfection are perfections in someone else's eyes." Ryan said, beaming over at Katie. Katie smiled, turning the page of the journal.
"And I learned that someone you may not believe to be perfect when you first lay eyes on them can turn out to be the most kind, funny and beautiful person you will ever meet. And I know, Ryan, that you sometimes feel like you're not perfect, and that you may think your waistline defines you, or that you don't like your hair, or your laugh, or you are ashamed of your completely die hard obsession with glitter glue...but those are things that make you and I love you for that. You are you and I wouldn't change anything about you...because being you sounds like a pretty good and beautiful person to be." They had reached the end of their journal, which had a picture of the two of them sat on some rusty old swings at a park, holding hands and smiling at the camera. I was beaming at the two of them, blinking back tears and smiling like a lunatic. Underneath the picture, in a cursive font I recognised to be a transcript written by Devon, read: Two imperfect people, both sat in an old and rusty place. What could possibly be more perfect in this beautiful world? Nothing.
"Thank you, and basically our marriage was a path to self love. The moral of our story is that you are beautiful, boys and girls alike, and that if you don't love yourself...make sure you know that somebody else does." Ryan finished. The whole crowd started clapping. I could hear crying coming from some people behind me, but I could't really see as my vision was a little bit blurry from the tears. Katie shut the journal and kissed Ryan softly on the lips, before they both clambered down the stage, collected their books from Mr Alfaro, and walked back and sat next to me. I hugged Katie as she sat down, laughing quietly in between my small sobs.
"Come on, Holland," She said as the next couple was called up, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, "You need to look less teary eyed for Devon." Devon. I suddenly sat up, causing the person behind me to give my chair a sharp kick of annoyance.
"Where is he?" I hissed, grabbing Katie's arm so hard she must have thought I was trying to give her a Chinese burn or something, "He still hasn't arrived!" Katie managed to wriggle her arm out of my grip and put a hand on my arm instead.
"Don't worry. I am sure that he will be here." Katie said, squeezing my upper arm. I held our journal to my chest and sighed.
"I honestly hope so–"
"Now, this couple definitely is a popular one among staff. You could say they saw red whenever they were together for a little while...but it would be more appropriate to say they now, at long last, see yellow whenever they are with each other now. You know who you are! Come on up, Devon Jones and Holland Clarke!" Mrs Kampe called out. My heart suddenly did a huge leap, threatening to jump out of my throat and run away on its aorta...which would be the closest thing it had to legs.
"That wasn't a very long time." I said, frozen in my chair. "I don't want to–" But Katie had grabbed my arm and pulled me upwards forcefully, pushing me sideways so I stumbled over the legs of the people in my row. I apologised as I staggered about and tripped, extremely gracefully, into the aisle of steps. With pink cheeks and probably still with pink eyes from crying, I climbed up onto the stage and pushed my journal awkwardly underneath the the projector. I turned towards the crowd, feeling awkward and uncomfortable as everybody stared at me. "Um, hi." I said, before mentally slapping myself. "Er, so it looks like Devon isn't here today. Which is quite, er, embarrassing and rather sad. So...I guess I'll just have to do this without him." I stepped towards the projector and opened the journal. "As you can see, from the journal, our marriage didn't get off to the best start. We hadn't been the best of friends since an early age...and I guess we really didn't like the, er, idea of getting married for three weeks, let alone actually doing it."
I saw Katie give me an encouraging smile from our row, offering me a thumbs up, showing that I was doing a good job. I took a breath and continued, turning the page, "And so we did it. Devon and Holland Jones. At first, it sucked. It really, honestly did. He gave me these massive sunflowers on our wedding day and our vows, as you can see, weren't exactly loving nor appropriate for a wedding, no matter how fake." I smiled, remembering the memory three weeks ago. Thinking about how ridiculous we were to each other made me feel more comfortable. "Looking back it makes me laugh, but it makes me appreciate the fact that Devon ended up opening himself up to me, showing me the genuine and lovely Devon Jones, the butterfly boy. The fact that, in less than three weeks, he trusted me enough to do that was just phenomenal. And I am so grateful that we stopped hating each other pretty quickly." I turned the page. "We soon developed this friendship...but don't worry, the teasing never stopped. It just became less mean, and more for the fun of it. So, this friendship. It was trusting, caring and fun. We did stupid things. We went on a pretend honeymoon, for goodness' sake, and of course Devon, being typical Devon, dropped me in the sea–"
"But I must add, supreme loser, that you tried to drown me afterwards. You never say that when talking about it." Devon said loudly as he crashed into the theatre, not wearing his glasses and holding a bunch of slightly wilted sunflowers. He jogged over and clambered onto the stage, tripping over a couple of times while coughing. "God, I hate running." He said as calmly as he could in between heavy gasps for air.
"Devon!" I exclaimed, "Where were you?" I grabbed the butterfly boy into a tight hug, so thankful for him being here, and glad he wasn't wearing a banana costume. Devon wrapped his arms around my neck and stayed there, taking deep breaths. He smelt like cleanliness, his long sleeved, dark blue t-shirt reeking of it. He wore light grey jeans, his slim trainers bright white and cleaner than any other pair of shoes I had ever seen him wear. I pulled away, reluctantly, and looked up at him. "Why aren't you wearing your glasses? Can you see?"
"Lily got sick overnight and she had gotten even worse this morning. She had a seriously high temperature and kept throwing up, like, every few minutes. I had to take her to the hospital it was that bad. I forgot to put on my glasses or put in contacts. I had to clean my shoes and have a really quick shower so I was clean when I took her there. And no, I can't see. You are currently a blurry mess." Devon said, his breath more or less back to normal. The audience just stared at us, everyone completely silent. I grabbed Devon's arms, as if to steady him, my heart suddenly beating very fast.
"Is Lily okay?" I demanded. Devon nodded, smiling slightly.
"She's fine, she's just been given medication and will have to stay off school. But she's going to be okay."
I breathed a sigh of relief, almost a laugh of joy. "That's good, thank goodness. But about your lack of sight, I am usually a blurry mess, so it's okay if you don't have your extra eyes on. You just need to concentrate on walking in the right direction." I said, laughing at my own joke, still sighing out of sheer relief. This time it was Devon's turn to grab my arms.
"No. You're not usually a blurry mess. Only in the mornings and when I can't see. I'm sure you look very pretty today. Y'know, like always." Devon said. A breath got caught in my throat, not sure if I had heard him correctly. Devon then let go of me and turned towards the crowd. "I can't see any of you, but I presume I'm looking in the right direction. Anyway, I have no idea how much yellow tips over there has waffled on, but I am going to overtake now and say a few things." My heart was thudding still, but no longer out of the original fear for his ill little sister. It was beating heavily out of the shock of being called pretty, with all sincerity, by Devon Jones, who was now speaking to the audience, "So, our marriage started off okay-ish. We weren't close and we weren't up for getting along. What we were up for, mind, was picking on each other and making sure our marriage would end in a divorce or something. We were competitive, mean and just basically not a good couple. Well, that is until I made a realisation. This realisation wasn't an Archimedes 'Eureka!' moment, nor was it an Isaac Newton. This is because the realisation had been staring me right in the face the whole damn time, and I was stupid enough not to notice it."
"Devon, we should be following the journ–"
"And," Devon said, even louder and with more force, as he cut me off on purpose, "This realisation took the shape of Holland Clarke." Mutters ran through the audience as I just gawked at Devon, not really sure what he was trying to say. He then turned to me and gestured for me to come to him. I did and he took one of my hands with his free one. "Holland, I know how you feel about all things cliché, but you're just going to have to forget about that pet peeve, because it probably can't get more cliché than it is going to be right now."
"Devon." I said, firmly.
"Listen. You, for some wild and weird reason, effect me. You were the one who somehow persuaded me to wear glasses and to embrace the side of me I wasn't really proud of. As teen movie as this may sound, I..." He drifted off, looking at the ground. The crowd seemed to be waiting with baited breath...but I wasn't going to wait any longer.
"I love you, too, you idiot." I quickly said. Devon's head snapped up so fast that I was afraid he was going to give himself whiplash or something. We just stared at each other, the silence getting longer and longer, but less and less awkward even so. And then Devon put his free hand on my cheek, his fingers just brushing my hairline. And then I didn't care about anything else. Because, as he slowly leaned in, his nose brushing mine in front of the entirety of Year Eleven and their parents, all that mattered was the fact that it just me and him and hopefully our first kiss.
"Holland Clarke, supreme loser, will you go to prom with me?" He whispered. I could feel my heart thumping inside of my chest, and would not have been surprised if my parents at the back could hear it. "Will you go to prom with me even though these sunflowers are wilting and I can barely see you? Because, you know, I literally had no money so I just had to get the cheapest sunflowers I could find in the hospital shop."
"Devon Jones, ultimate jerkface, you really don't have to ask." I said as he pressed the bunch of sunflowers into my hands. I took them, the feel of the stalks underneath my hands the best feeling in the world. His nose and breath felt so warm, his breath so fresh, that it was soothing. "And I would rather have one single, wilting sunflower from you then one hundred thousand ripe and red roses from any other boy."
"Good, because I'm not getting you any roses. Way too expensive." He whispered, before finally he closed the short distance between us. It was just us, the wilting sunflowers, the clapping and cheering of the crowd, and our first kiss. It was soft and warm, the feeling sweet as sparks crackled in my fingetips and the warmth spread everywhere, even to the yellow ends of my hair. As soon as Devon and I pulled away from each other, I could feel the warmth in my cheeks spreading into a blush. Devon stroked my warm cheek. "I love you, too, you idiot." He said, copying me, causing me to smile widely. Even though he had been taking the mick, I could tell he was being sincere. He then pulled his caramel coloured eyes away from me and turned towards the stunned crowd. "Now...what was I saying about our marriage? Because I can't remember for the life of me."
I fondled the petals of the sunflower as the crowd clapped once more. I could see Katie, grinning at me with an 'I told you so' expression, and knew my mother had probably taken about one hundred and three pictures. As Devon carried on talking about our marriage, this time explaining the yellow hair, I watched him. He was so unbelievably handsome, and his words were so wonderfully spoken...but the fact we had kissed and had a cliché, teen movie style love confession still did not change my opinion of him at all; he was still a dorky idiot who had once cocooned himself stupidly in a duvet at a fancy hotel. And that was the reason, albeit with many others, I loved him.