Hibiscus - 1. The Beginning

Stone…

“Fag,” they yelled as they pulled me away from my book.

Everyone knew that I ate lunch in the greenhouse. They all knew about my phobia…they just didn’t know why it was there. I felt the intense painful shivers that erupted in my mind as I felt my tormentors touching my body.

My book was tossed away like trash and I was treated the same. Soil from the hibiscus plants above me stained my uniform as I curled up on the ground. Tears spilled out from under my black lashes and I simply wished for nothing more than death. My tormentors continued to laugh and ruff me about. This was a normal routine for them, but they had never bothered me here in my haven. I always felt safe when I was here…it was the only place I had felt safe in a very long time.

I felt someone administer a sharp kick to my ribs before they left me alone with my thoughts. After awhile I picked myself up from the dirt covered concrete and retrieved my book from the dirt. I looked at it for a moment before I laid it down beside of the hibiscus plants, and threw my brown paper bag, which held my untouched bologna sandwich, in the trash.

I still had ten minutes before lunch was over, but I needed to stop by the art room. I preferred to travel the halls during times when other students were occupied with classes or food. Walking through a crowded hall was like asking for a panic attack. So many people jam packed all together…ugh.

I entered the art room and went to my station. I looked at my unfinished painting. It was a self portrait to fulfill the current class assignment. My teacher had always referred to me as the most talented. I never understood why. My lighting seemed to always be off, and my precision just worsened as the project continued. My brushes and paints were always scattered about wherever I had left them so that I could pick up right where I left off. Today I picked them up and placed them in their respected places in my art set. I took the wooden box and sat it at the station of a fellow student. His work was good but nothing unique. His talent was his greenhouse. I took my canvas off the easel and sat it in the corner of the room beside the trash can. No reason why people should have to clean up my mess for me. I had five minutes until the end of lunch.

I headed toward my locker. I took out all of my books and placed them in my backpack. My locker didn’t hold anything except those vessels of information. I headed to my next to last class of the day, calculus. I particularly hated this class. I sat beside one of my more frequent tormentors. I am sure people who sat around me could see my hands shake when I reached for my calculator or passed a paper down the row. It was always hushed threats that were made, but those alone were enough to frighten me.

Today he wasn’t present in class. His absence sent a feeling of calm through my body. Death was the right decision. Everything would end on a good note…a preferred note. When the bell rang ending class, I waited as nearly everyone had left before standing and gathering my things. When the teacher wasn’t looking I placed my text book on the self where it had sat before it was assigned to me. I placed my calculator and notebook beside it. I left the class room and began making my way toward each class I had during the day, placing my books on the shelves.

My last task was to place my backpack in the lost and found. With that done I walked out the back door of the school. I entered the greenhouse one last time. I began walking through the rows of flowers, gently touching the petals. I saved the hibiscus plants for last. I took one last deep breath and turned to leave the greenhouse for good. As much as I would have liked to die in peace there I would not allow myself to taint the place he had worked so hard to create. I would find another place…somewhere that wasn’t import to people.

Jason…

The greenhouse was my baby. I had created it three years ago and if anything ever happened to it I would simply go insane. True, I had only been a sophomore at the time, but I protested and begged for the funding. The board agreed but only if I took sole responsibility for the project. It was not a huge greenhouse but it was not small either. I had successfully grown twenty different breeds of flowers and ten different herbs. There was a bench in one of the center isles, but other than that it was all greenery.

My brother always made fun of me for spending all my time with plants instead of girls. I didn’t care. I was only interested guys, and thankfully I found someone to admire. At the beginning of this year a transfer student arrived. His name was Stone Cevaro and he was extremely secluded. He had art and calculus with me and never said a single word. The art teacher would always praise him for his exquisite work, but he would only frown and nod. I had a feeling he didn’t think to highly of his work, or his self for that matter.

He was a petite guy only reaching a height of around 5’7 and he was extremely slender. His hair was raven black and his eyebrows and eyes were competing for the next darkest shade. His lips were full and always sported a frown. His skin was tan and beautiful and I would almost bet money that he was from Greek descent. I had never heard his voice and I found myself wondering if he had a foreign accent. I found out he had been spending his lunch period in the greenhouse one day when I had to make an emergency visit to check on a certain hibiscus plant that hadn’t been getting enough sun.

When I entered I found him moving the very plant into the warm rays filtering in from the window. He turned abruptly when I entered, and I saw fear flash through his eyes. I continued to walk toward him and when I finally reached him I stuck my hand out for him to shake, but he flinched away as if I had planned to strike him.

"My name is Jason Chandler and I created this greenhouse,” I said gesturing to my baby. “Care to tell me why you are here?”

He shook his head with a look of hurt and stepped around me. He grabbed his black, backpack and began walking toward the door. Quickly, I began apologizing and I placed a hand on his shoulder. He recoiled and dropped to his knees. His breathing became labored and I began to panic myself. I dropped down in front of him and put my hands up.

"Everything is fine. I’m not going to hit you. I’m not mad that you are here. In fact I’m glad. I came to move Jane over there into the sun but you already had. You can come here whenever you like…” He looked up at me with those dark eyes and I had to look down at my feet. “No one ever comes here except me so it is very secluded. Great place to hide?”

A slight smile crossed his lips and he stood. I followed suit and remembered to give him his space.

"I’m going to head back to class, but please make yourself at home and come and go as you like,” I said before leaving.

Ever since that day we haven’t interacted except for in art and even then it was only an occasional half smile or undecipherable look. I never saw him in the halls only in art and calculus. I noticed he seemed extremely nervous in math, always trembling. I figured he was simply a nervous person, but I was so horrible at math I always had to pay strict attention to the teacher to keep up.

Today after class I waited for him to leave first. When he first came in I noticed his uniform was dirty and he was slightly grabbing at his ribs. I was worried that he had fallen in the greenhouse or something. I had planned on asking him if he was alright, but as I was about to approach him he gathered his calculus supplies and placed them on the shelf. He looked tired and emotionally defeated as he left the room. I decided to follow him.

He went to all of his classes and placed his supplies in their original places. His last stop was to place his book bag in the lost and found. I had gone into every class and retrieved his things. When he left the office I took his backpack and placed the items where they belonged. I entered the art room expecting to see him working, but he wasn’t there. His station was empty, and I dropped his back pack at my own station as the art teacher, Mrs. Marcello, came to ask me if I knew why he had placed his art set at my station. I looked down and saw the old wooden box and then it hit me. I had suspected what he had been planning but it didn’t actually hit me until then. I looked toward the trash and found his unfinished yet nearly perfect painting.

I grabbed his box and his backpack and dashed out of the room only leaving Mrs. Marcello with the words, “I can’t lose him.”

I knew where he would be. I ran to the greenhouse and when I entered I found him standing in front of the hibiscus flowers. I sat his stuff on the bench and slowly came to stand a few feet behind him. When he turned around I saw the tears sliding down his cheeks.

Stone…

There he was looking worried and out of breath. I figured he must have heard about the incident at lunch and was there to tell me not to come back. It may have bothered me, but at that point I didn’t care about anything except the end. I could feel the tears leaking out of my eyes as I looked at him. He was so handsome with his blues eyes and his shaggy blond hair. He was toned, tall, and his skin was one step away from pale. If there was one person I wish I had never recoiled from it was him.

It shocked me when he touched me that day and I didn’t feel the painful shiver. Ever since then I had been wishing he would touch me again…even if it meant he would have been one of my tormentors. I would have endured a thousand beatings from him. But none of that mattered now; it would all be over soon. No more of my father visiting my bed at night or my mother not caring. No more moving when someone found out. I would be free of it all.

I smiled at him with that thought and moved to step around him. His voice made me look up at him.

"Please, don’t do it,” he said as he looked at me.

I looked at him in shock. How did you know?

"I saw you today in calculus and followed you…I,” he turned and walked to the bench.

When he came back I saw my backpack and my art set in his hand. He had undone all of my preparations. I looked at him and he had tears in his eyes.

"I don’t know why you want to and I don’t care. Don’t give up, let me help.”

I shook my head. You can’t help.

"I don’t know what is going on because I don’t see you except for art and calculus, but if someone is bothering you I can make it stop. If it is something at home,” he saw me flinch, “My mother is a lawyer, my other mom is a shrink, and my older brother just became a social worker.”

Maybe…

He sat down my things and stepped closer and kept moving until he was just inches away. He towered over me, but I didn’t feel scared.

"I don’t really know you and I have never heard you’re voice…you could be deaf or mute or hell you might not even speak English for all I know, but there is something about you that pulls me in. If I were to lose you it would be like losing this greenhouse. I would be devastated.”

"I’m not deaf or a mute, and English is my first language,” I said before I realized I was talking for the first time in years. “I just haven’t spoken in a very long time.”

"Why?” he asked. “It is a sin to deprive the world of your voice.”

I looked away from his eyes and reddened. I couldn’t believe I was about to tell him everything.

"A few years ago something happened…and it kept happening...is still happening…” and I told him everything while I stared at the hibiscus plant.

I waited for him to turn away disgusted but he never did. When I turned to look at him his blue eyes were drenched in tears, and before I knew it I was wrapped tightly in his embrace. I didn’t struggle and instead embraced him back.

"I promise everything will be okay from now on. Promise me you won’t take the easy way out,” he whispered in my ear.

He pulled back and looked into my eyes and then placed a kiss on my lips. I smiled as he kissed my temple and continued to hug me.

"Everything will work out,” he said.

Somehow I knew he was right.