Spring Flowers
Spring. The season of pink trees and allergies. Pointless after the egg festival, if you want my opinion. Don’t get me started on the flower dance. Stupid routine, stupid dresses, stupid how some of us are pushing 35 and still have to do it. Yoba, I’m only 23 and I’m sick of it. I guess dancing with Seb was ok. Still. Just another excuse for dad to make a profit and mum to remember what a shit husband she has. Not that she’d ever say it out loud. I think the whole village knows what a loveless marriage it is. Still, mum cares too much about tradition to let me skip it.
Thats what brings me here, I guess. Sitting lazily draped over the back of one of Sam’s kitchen chairs we’d dragged into his room. We’d managed to persuade Lewis into letting us organise it this year. Partially because my father brings in a lot of profit from the festivals, and partially because the old man doesn’t have the balls to argue with Mr.capitalism's scary goth daughter and her ratbag friends. Sam had the enthusiasm we needed, Sebastian was supposed to come, though he failed to show, he was supposed to be the brains. I had no struggled taking that role, though I guess he could deal with Sam far better than me.
”So, you wanna get started on this mess or just… mope around all day?” Sam got up, stretching out his back and running a hand through his fluffy, gel-streaked hair. I shot him a half-assed glare, rearranging the dance was his idea, not mine. He grabbed a grease-streaked bit of loose-leaf paper, quite a few ideas had been jotted down and scribbled out. I couldn’t read his handwriting on a good day, and half the stuff jotted down seemed to be silly doodles of pizza and guitars. There’s no way this man doesn’t have adhd.
”Yo, earth to Abigail? You there?” I did have a knack for zoning out. Most things weren’t worth listening to.
“Yeah, sorry dude. Bit spacey today.” I’d mutter, running my hands through my long, thick hair. I’d wince at the dryness of it, i knew bleaching it this many times had to be bad for it but still. It looked cool.
“Want a cola to get you going?” I’d screw my nose up at the offer, the can he held up looked as though it had been sitting in the bottom of the river for years. I wasn’t one to turn down a good joja cola, but that thing was unholy.
“…I’ll pass.” I made no effort to be polite, Sam didn’t care and i sure as hell didn’t either. He shrugged, and chugged the thing. I’d gag if i weren’t used to it.
“Your loss. Anyway, I was thinking, y’know, for the whole flower dance thing, we could try and involve the other townsfolk…” He’d trail off, Sam was always full of ideas, but rarely had the means to make things happen. I thought for a second, for once he had a do-able idea. I know mum would love to be involved in something, Pierre always made her hang back at festivals to help with the shop.
“What, so we all get to sit back and watch our mums perform?” I’d say, half sarcastically. He’d throw a pillow at me, i caught it with ease. It was a pizza pillow, which I’ll begrudgingly admit made me grin. Sam was such a man child, I loved him for it.
“No! I mean, sort of. More like a community dance, not some weird ritual-” I couldn’t help but chuckle at his voice crack on the ‘no’, earning myself another glare. “Y’know Abby, if we want to actually get something done you could help instead of insulting me.” As i was about to start a bickering match, a knock at the door pulled me back to reality. I was honestly expecting it to be Sebastian, so little Vincent standing there happily was not what i was expecting.
“Hey there little guy.” I’d greet before Sam could tell him to bugger off. He was like 5 or something, the dude couldn’t do any harm in being here.
“Sam!! Abby!! Whatchya doin?” He ran in with a cheeky grin, clambering up onto my lap. Sam ruffled Vince’s spiky ginger hair, accepting the fact that his brother was here to stay for now.
”Mayor Lewis is putting us in charge of the flower dance.” I’d say, shifting to get more comfortable with the additional weight.
“Woah!!” He said, his giant watery eyes filled with awe. “Wait does this mean I can be the flower queen this year-??” Little dude never failed to make me laugh. I’d once suggested to him that he could be the flower king, but he got all upset because no one was focusing on him. It made me wonder if i could finally convince the stubborn blonde to give up her title this year…
“Sure, buddy! But you have to join in the dance to have a chance at winning~” Sam sing-songed, to which i rolled my eyes. No shot Sam was a better dancer than Vince. The tiny guy had the energy and passion after all.
“A free-for all would be fun, I guess. I’d love to see someone egg Lewis into dancing with Marnie.” I’d snicker. Vince looked up at me with confusion.
“I like eggs!! But why’s Mr Mayor getting eggs and dancing with Miss Marnie?” His eyes were so wide i half-expected them to fall out.
“Don’t worry about it bud.” Sam ruffled his brother’s hair, a fondness in his eyes. Made me wonder what it would be like if i wasn’t an only child. The topic of the flower dance was quickly forgotten, Vincent more than eager to tell us both all about a weird beetle he found on one of the eggs from the egg festival. I partially zoned out, more than happy to let Vincent babble on.