A sweet and delicate scent emanated from the boy as he weaved his way past backpacks, lockers, and clusters of students on the way to his homeroom classroom. Giddy applause spilled into the sunlit hallway as he stumbled through, leaving a trail of leaves in lieu of his clumsy movements. The cheers were replaced with the sound of echoing disaster when he crashed head-on into the steadfast door of Room 506, but the cheering promptly resumed when the door opened and he disappeared inside.
“Philo, you’re late!” exclaimed the injured door, or rather, an impatient voice behind the door. Philo turned around as the door slammed shut, revealing the familiar face of his childhood friend, Cassia Anolade. With her crossed arms and frigid gaze, most people would’ve turned to an icicle at the sight of the restless brunette. Philo, however, knew that she only meant well and that it wasn’t her fault that her face contorted into such a manner (mean faces ran in the Anolade family, but her family was well-known as “the pillars of Lake Mahalia” for their charitable contributions in building the small community).
“Sorry Cass, these rhododendrons were harder to pick than I thought!” Philo nodded towards the bouquet of bright pink flowers that snugly occupied his arms. The sheer number of blossoms made the bouquet look more like a bush. “Geez, the branches were so thick that I had to climb the tree with a pair of scissors! Ms. Mayumi looked like she was going to pass out while she was supervising m-”
“Never mind that!” Cassia interrupted. She knew that Philo wouldn’t stop rambling otherwise, and time was running short to put their plan into motion. “She’ll be here in five minutes, so you gotta hurry! The class already made the necessary preparations for you, now’s your chance!” She gestured towards Desk #15, where an ornate glass vase with a sleek pink ribbon tied around its neck was awaiting him.
Philo remembered the plan and shuffled his way over to Desk #15, tripping over the occasional chair leg and textbook. All of his classmates were staring at him with anticipation and excitement. He received the occasional “you’ve got this!” and encouraging pats on the back as he passed by. Not a minute later was he standing in front of his destination in the middle of the room.
The desk itself was only a few months old, but it was still impressive how polished and clean the wooden surface appeared. The water inside the vase was clear and warm, and it was evident that the caretaker of the vase had properly rinsed it to maintain its pristine appearance. The base and lip of the vase were decorated with simple glass flowers that caught and refracted the early-morning sunlight swirling around the classroom. Not bad for a bunch of 14 year-olds. Philo gently placed each of his prized clusters of rhododendrons in the vase. He took some time to rearrange the bell-shaped flowers so each individual blossom was clearly visible, stamens and all. The class admired Philo’s work while Cassia fussed with his curly chestnut hair, which sported small twigs from his trip up the rhododendron tree.
“She’s coming!” squeaked the meek Carl Coreek from the doorway. Everyone shifted in their seats and pulled out their notebooks while Philo and Cassia took their seats in the two desks next to Desk #15. The pair gave each other a quick high-five for good luck before settling down.
The door creaked open and a small girl slipped through. She had her wavy brown hair wrapped into a messy bun, the occasional wisps of hair escaping their confinement. While the other girls wore a blue collared shirt with a khaki skirt (the school uniform), she wore a soft, light brown cardigan with a long, mahogany skirt (a.k.a not the school uniform). In her right hand, she carried a leather journal, of which no one knew the contents, and on her wrist, she bore a bracelet with a small yellow flower.
Ah, yes. Narra Bituin, the transfer student.
Clueless curiosity donned Narra’s face at the sight of the flowers on her desk and she rushed over. Philo watched as she carefully pushed aside leaves and petals with the eraser of her pencil, as though running a quality check on them. He forced himself to stare straight ahead at the chalkboard in an attempt to be indifferent to Narra’s desk beside him, but he could feel his neck twitching as he resisted turning, and the hem of his shirt became dank as he clutched it with his sweaty palms. He could hear his own heartbeat as the silence in the room became almost deafening. He could hear Cassia fiddling with her braids to his right. He could hear the girl in front of him anxiously tapping her finger on her desk. He could hear Carl Coreek’s shaky breathing behind him. Most importantly-
He could sense Narra wasn’t getting the message.
A whisper of a smile crossed Narra’s face as she scribbled something in her journal, her confused naivete apparent. She promptly shut her journal with a snap! and sat down, then took the vase and placed it on the floor next to her desk. With that, all the tension in the room turned to disappointed frustration. Philo even heard a kid in the back slam their head on their desk.
A note bearing Cassia’s scribbly handwriting appeared on Philo’s desk. Sorry Philly, it read. We really thought today would be the day. We’ll have a class meeting after school, we need to take more extreme measures. Philo stuffed the note in his pocket as the teacher entered the classroom.
As the final bell of the day rang, the students of Room 506 gawked as Narra packed up her things, picked up the vase of rhododendrons, and exited the classroom without a word. When the door slammed shut and they were certain she was gone, everyone rushed over to Philo, who was paralyzed in his seat.
“Sorry man!” yelled one boy.
“She really is a tough cookie!” said another girl, hugging him sympathetically.
“You’ll get her next time!” came a peep from Carl Coreek.
Words of encouragement and sympathy drowned in Philo’s mind as he tried to process what was going on. He could feel his thoughts struggle to float on the sea of voices around him. Why isn’t this working? he thought to himself. How come she still doesn’t get it?
Cassia’s voice came sailing along. “Guys, give him some space!” she said, nudging people aside as though making a perimeter around a crime scene. The children quickly dispersed, isolating Philo in the middle of the circle. Philo let out a sigh as he was dragged out of his head and into the daily class meeting.
“Great, now we can start,” Cassia said as she pulled out her trusty notepad. “So. Hiraya, Percy, and Aurelia were on decor duty today, Arwyn and Lilith were on vase duty, Gus was on water duty, Carl Coreek was on watch for the week, and Philo was on flower duty…”
Ah yes, it was Philo’s turn to bring the flowers today. He was also in charge of choosing the flowers every day, a duty delegated to him by the class after he made the mistake of proposing the idea at a meeting four months ago.
Every day since Narra arrived, she has found full bouquets on her desk every morning. From cyclamens to begonias, chrysanthemums to petunias, hand-picked flowers were specially chosen and carefully placed on her desk without fail. To most people, it would be easy to mistake Narra for a popular girl. After all, wouldn’t it be pretty romantic to receive anonymous bouquets every morning? Imagine how many secret admirers she had in the room! To the residents of the small town of Lake Mahalia, however…
Well, let’s just say it meant they wanted her gone.
In the past, the citizens of Lake Mahalia never took well to outsiders. The town had been isolated for the past hundred years, and the citizens (often with the leadership of the Anolade family) always drove away any outsiders that drew near because they feared that outsiders would threaten their ways of life. As such, this fear had become a tradition passed down for generations, and now it was Room 506’s turn to drive Narra out. Philo had purposely suggested the most passive method he could think of: flower language. “Philo, why did you choose rhododendrons today?” Cassia inquired. “That was new.”
“Since today was our last chance to drive her out, I tried to take emergency measures,” Philo began to explain. Today was indeed their last chance; Narra’s four-month anniversary would be tomorrow, and at that time she would be legally considered a citizen of Lake Mahalia. Not good. “Rhododendrons mean ‘we’re out to get you,’ so I thought it would be a perfect last stand.” He let out a sigh of resignation.
“Okay well it seems like she didn’t get that,” Cassia said, taking a seat at the desk next to Philo and glaring at her notebook. “I don’t think she understands flower language, so I think we should be more straightforward and just tell her to leave.”
Philo felt a knot form in his throat. While he didn’t want to let the town down by letting Narra stay, he wasn’t a fan of confrontations nor being direct. He was used to dancing around topics, and since he’d known everyone around him since birth, they usually caught on and finished his thoughts for him.
“How do you plan to do that?” he asked, unsure. He wished Narra could’ve gotten his message the first time around.
“Easy! We just show up at her house as a class and yell until she bolts out of town!” Cassia tore a page from her notebook and slammed it on Philo’s desk (much to his dismay), and the rest of the class gathered around. The page was a rough map of Lake Mahalia, with the lake in the center of the page, a scribbly forest near the top, the school on the far right, and rows of houses lining the bottom of the map. Philo could see his own house nestled beside Cassia’s house on the south side of the lakeshore. “I already did the necessary research. There was only one vacant house in the town’s records as of last year, and that’s here,” Cassia pointed out a lonely box near the top of the map. The other side of the lake, Philo thought to himself. Philo missed the box the first time around because it was so hard to see among Cassia’s… depiction of trees? “Therefore, this has to be where she lives.”
“Cass…isn’t there a better way to do this?” Philo said, staring blankly at the map. He didn’t like where this was going. “Taking the whole class sounds like too much…maybe we just need two or three people? Or maybe even better, maybe she really did get the message this time!”
Cassia sighed and put her hand on his shoulder. “Philly, you’re my best friend. I’m happy you suggested the flower idea, but it didn’t work. I know flower language is common here, but Narra’s an outsider and probably doesn’t know what they mean. Heck, we don’t even know what she does with all those flowers! It was a cool idea, but it’s time we get serious. The town is depending on us!” The class cheered at that, and Cassia turned to address them again. “If we meet up at Philo’s house around 5 p.m., we could easily walk to her house in ten minutes and be back home by dinnertime. Saving the town made simple by yours truly!” Cassia said triumphantly, giving a dramatic bow. The class began to applaud and cheer, and Philo watched as the kids carried Cassia out the classroom door.
Oh no…was Philo’s only thought as he gathered his belongings and chased after the squad of brainwashed revolutionaries.
5 p.m. arrived faster than welcome, and soon enough, Philo’s living room was swarming with children. He felt a minute sense of relief when he didn’t see any pitchforks, but he still couldn’t help but feel like Narra was about to be slaughtered. He watched as Cassia climbed onto the sofa and began to rile up the troops.
“Okay everyone, here’s the plan!” she yelled, one hand cupped like a megaphone, the other clutching a pink muffin-like rice cake made by Philo’s mom. “We’ll walk to the other side of the lake, then follow the trail through the woods to Narra’s house. The trail is small, so we’ll walk in a single-file line once we reach it. I’ll take the lead ‘cause I have the map, and Philo will take the end of the line.” Philo nodded hesitantly. “Once we’re there, we’ll yell at her to leave! Without further ado, to Narra’s house!”
“To Narra’s house!” responded the class, pumping their fists in the air as they made their way towards the back door. The forest was clearly visible from Philo’s back door; Philo could see the forest trail from across the lake. The sun glimmered in the water’s reflection, disturbed only by light ripples from the wind. Carl Coreek took the lead while Philo and Cassia fell in behind the group.
“Cass, do you really believe it when the adults say we need to drive out the outsiders?” Philo said, still disturbed by the events to follow.
“Not really,” Cassia said, looking down at her feet and kicking a chunk of dirt into the lake. Philo’s eyes widened and he felt a spark of hope, but before he could say anything, Cassia said, “but it’s not our choice to make. The town comes first.”
“But Narra doesn’t seem dangerous,” said Philo. “We’ve never heard her talk, so I don’t see how she could be a threat to our ways of life. We don’t even have as many traditions as the textbooks say we have, we just have flower language that’s easy to teach. Maybe we could-”
“Hey Cassia, what’s this?” shrieked Carl Coreek, his head peeking above the group as he yelled to her. Cassia left Philo’s side and made her way to the front of the group, where they were standing at the edge of the dense forest. To her surprise, the trail she visited the year before was wider than she remembered and was paved with stones.
“Narra changed the path that has been here for over one hundred years!” Cassia yelled to the group. “She won’t get away with this!” She ran back to Philo, grabbed him by the shoulders, and looked him in the eye. She began to whisper, sternly but sincerely. “Philly, this is what our parents expect of us. Our society. We can’t let them down, we can’t change tradition. If you really don’t want to participate, then feel free to stay back when we reach her house. I won’t tell your parents. That’s the most I can do for you.” She jogged to her post at the head of the line, and Philo felt like the ground was swallowing his feet as the group continued forward without him. He forced himself to follow them but maintained his distance.
The lake that Philo had grown up on seemed to vanish as he walked deeper into the forest. He never actually went into the forest before, since he never had a reason to visit the house there and everything he needed was already on the south side of the lake. Sunlight illuminated the leaves of the forest’s canopy with a wonderful golden glow. The stones forming the forest path were of various shapes, sizes, and colors, unlike anything he had ever seen within the town. Ferns and other foliage threatened to encroach upon the path, but it appeared that Narra had taken care of the path in a way that protected it from becoming overgrown. Philo could smell a light, sweet scent in the air, carried by the summer breeze. He found the hushed murmuring of Room 506’s students unsettling, but the chirping of the birds helped combat that feeling.
Not long after, the group arrived in front of Narra’s house. It was a humble yellow house with a tall wooden fence guarding the backyard. The sweet scent Philo smelled earlier seemed much stronger now.
“Narra, come out! We want to talk to you!” Cassia yelled, but she received no response. She tried the front door, but it was locked. She then tried the gate to the backyard, which swung open with ease. She signaled the group to go through, and as per Cassia’s instructions, Philo stayed behind. He watched as she closed the gate behind her, and waited for the yelling to begin.
Four, five, six minutes passed by in silence. Is Cass really solving this peacefully? Philo wondered to himself. He determined that the coast was clear due to the lack of yelling and made his way to the fence. With one hand on the handle, he took a few deep breaths before opening the gate. Well, attempting to anyway. There was something heavy blocking the gate, and he had to force the gate open.
As he stepped through, he realized that it was Cassia who was unintentionally blocking the gate in her shock. She wasn’t even phased by being pushed by the gate, nor were the other students, who all stood paralyzed, jaws agape.
Philo quickly joined them in their awe.
All around them was a thriving garden of flowers - the flowers they had been giving Narra every morning. Bright orange butterfly weeds sat happily alongside a fiery field of orange lilies. Blue and purple petunias pooled into the comfortable shade below a miniature sky of blue hydrangeas. White candytufts clustered together in clouds of soft white petals, while purple and pink candytufts in another plot swirled into cotton candy. Yellow chrysanthemums and yellow carnations formed their own little starbursts alongside the hydrangeas and candytufts. Purple cyclamens formed a ring around a circle of red begonias. In the center of the garden, there was a tall tree with yellow flowers that Philo didn’t recognize. Next to it, Narra was wearing an apron, wielding a trowel, and planting the blushing rhododendrons that Philo picked that morning.
They were standing in a garden of hatred.
“Hello!” Narra said, the sound of her voice pulling everyone out of their shock. They never heard her speak before; her voice was surprisingly melodic and amiable. “What brings you all here?”
Cassia remembered the mission and turned to snarkiness to mask her surprise. “What’s up with all the flowers, huh? You must not understand flowers if you think-”
“These flowers are supposed to mean you don’t like me and you want me to leave, correct?” Narra asked, cutting her off in a gentle manner. Cassia paused, then nodded slowly. “I come from a family of botanists. It’s kind of funny,” she said with a giggle, “you all aren’t as discreet about it as you think.” She pulled out her leather notebook from a pocket on her dirt-covered apron and handed it to Philo. He promptly opened it and began to flip through. Every single page was neatly filled with a date, student name, flower name, and location marked on a minimap.
“You know which of these flowers belonged to who?!” Philo exclaimed.
“As I said, you guys aren’t very discreet. A lot of you stained your shirts with the petals,” Narra said, gesturing to Philo’s shirt. He never realized there were new light blotches of pink blending with the blue. “Most of these flowers also have strong scents that cling to people,” Narra continued to explain. “That’s why sometimes you reek, Carl Coreek, ‘cause the butterfly weed. And sometimes Hiraya smells like melons, a signature smell from cyclamens. And sometimes Cassia smells like spices, similar to begonias.”
Cassia wasn’t exactly happy about this. “Okay, so you understand flowers and know who gave you what. If you knew what we were trying to say, then why are you still here?”
Narra hummed to herself for a bit before responding. “There are two reasons,” she said, holding her hand out like a peace sign. “First of all, you killed a ton of flowers by picking them for your little ‘messages.’ I understand the point was to make me leave, but if I left, all of these flowers would’ve died for no good reason. So, part of the reason I stayed was to take care of them in the face of your neglect. Look at them now, they’re thriving!” She did a dramatic twirl, but no one noticed because they were all staring at their feet in shame. “Second of all, even if these flowers had negative meanings, it doesn’t mean their lives are without value. Our interpretations of what these flowers are don’t change the fact that they’re flowers. Humans just have a bad tendency of thinking everything deserves a single label. Honestly, most of these flowers have positive meanings!”
Narra began to call out different parts of her garden. “Orange lilies can signify haughtiness, but they also symbolize confidence and enthusiasm. Yellow carnations can mean rejection or a desire for friendship. Chrysanthemums are often associated with death and sorrow, but they’re also common symbols of respect and sympathy!” She paused. “You guys really need to broaden your perspectives.”
The students of Room 506 were left speechless. One by one, the kids left and began to make their way home for dinner. No yelling, no celebrating, just a silent, shameful trudge home. Soon enough, Philo and Cassia were the only two left in Narra’s garden. Cassia offered an apology to Narra and stormed off, and Philo chased after her, leaving Narra alone with the flowers for company as the sun went to sleep.
“Cass, what are we gonna do?” Philo said when he caught up to her, matching her pace.
“We’re going to do what Lake Mahalia should’ve been doing along,” she said, her focus on the path ahead of her. “We’re going to accept Narra as a citizen. We’ll teach her our ways, and we’ll learn from hers.”
“What are the adults gonna say?”
“Doesn’t matter, they want to follow tradition. It’s up to us to show them there’s more to the world than tradition.”
The following day, Narra indeed became a citizen of Lake Mahalia. The tailor stopped stalling on her order for a school uniform. The teacher at school actually acknowledged Narra’s presence as part of the class and allowed her to participate. The students cheerfully asked Narra for her wisdom over lunch, to which she happily obliged. Daily life in Lake Mahalia didn’t change much, except now Narra was accepted as part of it (much to the dismay of the adults).
The students of Room 506 became crucial advocates for Narra’s presence in the town. Cassia faced the wrath of her family in the face of her failure, but she confidently fought back and challenged her family to open their eyes, as did many of the other students. By the time they became adults, rules excluding outsiders were abolished, and Lake Mahalia adopted a policy of hospitality towards visitors. Trade occurred with nearby towns, and Philo was overjoyed when new species of flowers were introduced to the environment.
By the time the children devolved into the wrinkly, elderly population, their contributions were almost forgotten altogether. Their grandchildren grew up without the exclusive traditions that Room 506 had been raised with, and their mission to broaden perspectives was complete. One by one, they passed away, and Narra sent the specific flowers from each student as bouquets for their funerals. When Narra’s time came, and Philo was the only person left from Room 506, instead of sending flowers, he buried her beneath the rhododendron tree, at the heart of the forgotten garden of optimism.
A little about this piece
I have an absolute obsession with flowers. Flowers are so pretty! I also think flower language is absolutely fascinating. The idea for sending flowers as a form of bullying was inspired by a practice I noticed in some Japanese animes, although I'm not certain it's a real practice. I wrote this story this year because I thought it would be interesting if someone took these flowers and grew them in a garden. I suppose my main message in this story is about how you perceive a situation.
Fun fact, "Narra" is a name for the national tree of the Philippines, which is where my parents are from! The narra tree, also referred to as Burmese rosewood or Philippine mahogany, blooms with yellow flowers between February and May, and the flowers fall to the ground really easily once pollinated by bees. The wood is prized for smelling like roses and is also a sturdy and steadfast material.
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