JOANNA - My Best Friend

I love him.

Plucking the petals of the rose he bought me confirmed that I love him. Or is it because I started off with "I Love Him"? But then again, why was I plucking the petals of the rose he gave me? Why did I accept it in the first place?

After I dumped my boyfriend and maybe got rejected once or twice, I told myself not to believe in love again. But he somehow still managed to sweep me of my feet. Or at least that's what they say.

I wasn't head over heels about him, but I definitely cared for him. And I'm sure he cared for me, too. I remember how we called each other names and end up not talking to each other the rest of the day; I remember how he would push me on the swing when I demanded to go higher; I remember how we could find fun in just running around in the porch; I remember how he borrowed his shoulder for me to lean on when I cried; I remember how I would react after he explained the solution to an algebra question. I was dumb; I was mischievous; I was a brat. Yet, he cared for me.

Things were so simple then. We were innocent, vulnerable......naive. But when puberty hit, we both realised that we're not of the same species. Things changed, but we were still close friends.

When I started dating guys, things got even worse. We stopped talking, stopped sitting together during lunch and even stopped acknowledging each other's existence. I don't know why, it just happened. And then I realised it was the cupid's dirty job when I found out he was secretly in love with me. It was because of the innocent four-letter word -- love.

After learning the truth, I decided to completely isolate myself from him. I made sure that I wasn't in the same bus as he is; I made every arrangement I could to make sure he wasn't in the same class as I am; I would avoid the hallway if he was there. I made every effort I could to disappear from his life. He is my best friend. He was my best friend. I couldn't love him that way. I didn't want to love him that way! I never did believe in childhood sweethearts.

Rumours spread that he was dating a freshman when we were sophomores. I was glad. Happy that he found someone who loves him back that way too; happy that I need not break his heart.

Everything was perfectly fine after that. We both somehow moved on to more mature conversations and no-nonsense jokes. Yes, it took me a whole lot of courage to face him and since then, we were buds again. Definitely no more mischievous antics, childish tantrums and pulling pranks on our not-so-favourite teacher. Things were undeniably more careful.

I still borrowed his shoulder once or twice; we still talk on the phone occasionally till late at night until someone dozes off first; he was still the more intellectual one and I was still the more rebellious one. Sometimes I wonder how did I end up being his best friend. We were total opposites, yet, the bestest mates one could ever imagine.

I guess he never did got over me. When I committed myself to my first relationship, he wasn't at all pleased. He didn't like the idea of me having two favourite guys. He wanted to be my one and only favourite guy. It only took me two seconds to realise that he was still in love with me.

God only knows why I broke up with my boyfriend to be with him. I wasn't in love with him at all. I knew I wasn't in love with him at all! But I felt oblige to feel so, we went through so much thick and thin!

The wind blew away the petals that were scattered on the table. I was still holding the stem. I held it to my heart. I let my heartbeat slow. Listening to the rhythm my heart beating, my breathing slowed eventually.

My conscience and I both agreed that he wasn't the one.

I went to my room, picked up the phone and dialled his number.

This is going to be a long night.

-End-

JOANNA

SUMITRA - White Roses

Liam feels the shiny keys of the grand piano with his long fingers. Slowly, he takes a deep breath. And he begins. Soft music fills the room, filling its empty spaces with sound. Liam closes his eyes and lets his soul flow through his fingers. With every high note, Rosalie’s heart skips a beat. Liam’s hands moved so gracefully, so swiftly -like they were dancing. Sitting there, next to him, witnessing such beauty, Rosalie didn’t want to be anywhere else. As the music slowed, so does her heartbeat. The music stops and she catches her breath.

“What d’you think, Rosie?” Liam asks, practically gasping for air. Her smirk returns, however. “Eh, not bad” she shrugs.

“You thought it was fantastic, didn’t you?”

“Did not!”

“Did to! Look, your cheeks ‘ave gone red just listening to it!”

“Oh,” Rosalie gasped, covering both sides of her face with her hands, “Stop it, Liam!” And he does. For a moment, Liam glanced up to the ceiling and then, into Rosalie’s deep blue eyes. “You inspired me, you know” he says, almost whispering. “What?” she exclaims, now trying to hide her burning face more than ever. “The song, it’s called White Roses.” Liam answers, shifting in his seat. “Why call a song ‘White Roses’?” Rosalie asked, wondering how she could be related to a flower. Liam hesitates for a while and begins rubbing his sweaty palms together but finally says, “Well, you know, last summer, we were helping mum plant white roses in the back, and you told her how much you loved them and how they were your favourite so I…I thought it would be OK to make something special out of that bit of information, like a song -for you.” Rosalie could hardly believe her ears. All sorts of emotions were rushing through her, emotions she couldn’t fathom. “You thought it would be OK?”she croaked.

The room went silent. Liam could literally feel a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. And then, he felt soft lips pressed gently against the right side of his cheek.

***


It was summer and both children were in Miami with their families on a long holiday. “Did you take my goggles, Liam?” yelled Rosalie in her bathing suit, from across the hotel room.

“‘Course not, silly Rosie! Look, if you can’t find ‘em, go get new ones”

“But where?”

“Bet there’s plenty of ‘em in all those stalls down by the beach”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah”

“I suppose I will then”

“D’you want me to tag along?”

Rosalie scoffs, “What for?”

“You know,” he scratches the side of his head, “to make sure you’re safe…”

Rosalie laughs. “There’s no need, really. I’ll be 15 minutes.”

“Alright, meet me near the showers by the pool and we’ll do some laps. I’ll have you know, my backstroke’s improved!”

“We’ll see” she says as she reaches her hand out to turn the door knob. “Oh, Rosie, don’t you want to inform mum and-” But it’s too late. The door slams. Liam only shrugs, grabs his trunks and heads into the bathroom to change.
***


Rosalie crosses the street and makes her way to the colourful stalls. “Great galloping grandmothers, Liam was right! But I don’t see any goggles, perhaps I should keep looking?” she thinks as she explores deeper into the busy market. She searched everywhere, walking from stall to stall but nobody sold goggles there. “Stupid, Liam!” she exclaimed. Just as she was about to stomp back to the hotel, a tall, dark-eyed man blocked her way. “Hey, what’s a sexy girl like you doing here all alone?” he said. “Uh, excuse me, I really need to get back” she replied hurriedly, trying to move past him. But it was no use -he had friends. “Whoa, whoa, slow down there, missy, we can get you there in no time!” Rosalie hesitates, but then she thinks of poor Liam who’s waiting for her. “You wouldn’t mind?” she asks. Both ends of the man’s lips slowly curve upwards into an ugly smirk. “No,” he says, “Not at all.”

***


Liam waited and waited. He never even stepped into the pool. He just sat there by the water. Whenever someone passed by, or whenever he felt someone’s presence, he would turn his head to look, but every time he did, it wasn’t Rosalie. When it got dark, -and when the only person at the pool was Liam- his parents, including Rosalie’s went looking for him. When they finally found him, they questioned Rosalie’s whereabouts.

The police showed up a few minutes after that. Liam was questioned and they set out to search for Rosalie. When the search party reached the noisy marketplace, Rosie wasn’t there. But they kept looking, just hoping to find her. With every step he took, Liam hated himself more and more. Eventually, he stopped at a stall that had buckets and buckets of flowers and plants. He stopped at the sight of a white rose that had somehow, fallen onto the ground. He watched as a passerby stepped on it, leaving its beautiful white petals blemished with dirt and crushed by impact.

“ROSIE!” he yelled suddenly, in the middle of the crowd. “ROSALIE GIBBS! It’s Liam! We were friends ever since preschool, remember?! I make fun of you a lot! We built sandcastles, sang nursery rhymes real horribly and played hide and seek together. We used to wake up really early on Saturdays just to watch our favourite cartoons. You’re my best friend! And I’ve never told you this before but I think I might have feelings for you! I’ve been feeling this way for as long as I can remember! We’ve been looking all over for you and I’m really hungry so you better show yourself!” His voice softens, “I wrote a song for you, Rosie. Took me months to perfect it for you. Where are you, Rosalie?”

Liam fell on his knees, his face buried in his hands, weeping his heart out. Rosalie was gone. Suddenly, he felt something tap his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder and saw Mrs. Gibbs, standing behind him, tears streaming down her face. She put her arms around him and held him tight. But Liam broke free. He started running, and kept running as fast as his legs could take him. “Rosie” he thought.