A Field of Dandelions

A Field of Dandelions

         Bob slowly picked the flowers from the soft ground.  There were about twenty laying at his knees, the only one’s he’d yet found that were perfect.  Each he picked was scrutinized, compared to the others; kept if it was good enough and if not thrown away.  The discarded pile of flowers had grown quite large since he’d begun, but he would not stop until he had the perfect bouquet of the perfect flowers.  Of course, most of the flowers he’d chosen were dandelions and looked exactly like the rest surrounding the little swing set tucked away in the forest of trees and bush – the same as any dandelions the little boy had ever seen.  However, that fact was lost to the young boy picking the flowers ever so carefully.  Besides, Bob reasoned, they were coming from their secret spot, surely that made them better than any others.

         The swing set that Bob knelt next to had been earlier claimed as his and the special little girl for whom he picked the flower’s secret spot.  Bob had found it while wandering the many paths around the lake and had immediately shared it with his older friend.  The two would sometimes sneak off to play on the swings, both proud of the find though it was rather old and rusty.  Just as she would be proud of the flowers, Bob told himself with a smile of confidence, even though they seemed rather ordinary.

         A few minutes later, finally satisfied with the flowers he’d picked – a little blue thing, he wasn’t sure what it was called, mixed in with the prettiest dandelions he could find – Bob gathered the bouquet into his hand and stood up.  Now was the hard part, actually giving them to her.  Did he have the courage to hand them over, he wondered.  But, mostly he worried that she wouldn’t be alone, that his step-sister would be with her.  God knows he wouldn’t last a second if the two girls were together.

         Slowly, Bob made his way to the path and from there down to the land.  The land was where they were camping – the Wilson’s and the Barry’s.  It was where they always camped together, sometimes a few other friends of the adults stopping by as well.  However, though the land was where they headed, it was the thick bush that Bob was most familiar with.  That was why he had no trouble navigating through it, always knowing exactly where to turn, never getting lost.  Soon enough he found himself wadding through the cars and heading towards the fire.

         But, she wasn’t there.

         Nor was she in the tents or the sandbox, playing badminton or ping pong.  She was, in fact, no where in sight.  Bob quickly pieced the scene together and there was no question in his mind where she’d gone – and with whom.  The only question left was whether he’d go.  It wasn’t smart, and probably not even safe, but, as he looked at the flowers in his hand, the flowers he’d hand picked so carefully, he decided to go.  There would be no more chickening out, Bob told himself holding his head up high.

         The boy’s little feet moved quickly through the grass – Bob had to move quickly or he knew he’d change his mind before reaching his destination.  The lush green slowly died, becoming scarce in the overwhelming brown dirt as he reached the path.  It was larger than the paths leading to the swing set, easier to find, easier to follow, and easier to keep track of.  As his light, quick steps found their way to the path Bob felt himself shiver a little.  He’d entered Girl Country.

         Bob couldn’t help looking over his shoulder from then on.  He didn’t know this part of the bush as well as the rest, but it was easy enough to find his way around.  He wasn’t afraid of getting lost – no, what truly frightened him was thinking of what would happen to him.  When a girl entered Boy Country the outcome was pretty much expected: they’d be yelled at, insulted, but easily listened to.  Of course, they were usually laughed at, but their words were still usually retained.  However, Bob had heard so many different tales from boys who had dared to enter the girl’s territory.  And the stories never ended well.

         As Bob crept along the path, each step bringing him closer to the girl for whom he searched and the place which he feared, the horror stories echoed through his mind.  What would they do to him?  Would they dress him up or would they tie him to a tree and make him play house.  He would, naturally, be at the disadvantage – two against one and away from any place which could be considered home.  But, surely as he’d brought a present with him they’d leave him in peace. However, he couldn’t be sure.

         The path ended abruptly, pointing out towards a small field.  Bob suddenly felt open and vulnerable, now out of the bush.  They must have done it on purpose when they’d chosen their territory – figured out the absolute best place to keep the boys from feeling comfortable.  He had been told so by the few boys he knew who had taken the risk he was taking now, but hadn’t believed them – now until this second.

         “What are you doing here?” asked the first girl who noticed the new presence, emphasizing the ‘you’ and looked towards the small, younger boy threateningly.  Catherine always acted this way to people she didn’t care for, and her step-brother topped that list.

         “Yeah,” started the other girl, eyes wide as she turned to see who had come.  Anne had expected it would have been Barbara, her younger sister, once more trying to play with the older girls, and was indeed surprised to find Bob there.  However, as he was in Girl Country he was not to be welcomed, so she continued as her friend had, “Why are you here, Robert?”

         Bob cringed at her words, not because they were mean, because they really weren’t all that mean, they were spoken more as a question than anything else.  He cringed because she had used his full first name.  Bob absolutely hated his full first name – though his complete name was even worse – as everyone knew, and would hurt anyone who used it.  But he didn’t even clench his first.  He couldn’t hurt Anne – he just couldn’t.

         “I just…” Bob started after a brief silence.  He didn’t know what to say.  He didn’t know what to do.  He shouldn’t have come.  He should have chickened out and stayed at the land when he’d had the chance.  It certainly would have been for the best.  But he’d made it this far, he couldn’t turn back now.  “I…”

         The two girls stared at the boy expectantly.  They were rather curious as to why he’d come, but neither wanted to hurry his departure up.  It was too much fun watching him squirm.  “You…” Anne said, trailing off as Bob had.  She itched to say more, but shut her mouth and waited.

         “I…” Bob started again, everything in his mind screaming at him to turn around and run.  But then he remembered why he’d come, and he remembered the flowers he’d instinctively hidden behind his back when he’d found the two girls.  He had to give them to her, he had to.

         And so, Bob quickly walked up to Anne, his hidden arm flinging at her, holding the flowers right under her nose.  “Here.” He said breathlessly, no other words coming from his lips.  His hand was sweaty and the flowers were already beginning to wilt, but he couldn’t do anything about it.  Bob looked shyly at his own feet, waiting to be dismissed.

         Anne looked at the flowers uneasily, but her expression quickly turned to its usual smile as she took the flowers and said, “Thanks.”  However, that was all she could say, for as soon as she said it Bob had turned and run off.  It seemed he couldn’t bare another second in Girl Country.  Anne continued to stare down at the flowers after he’d left, until she quite suddenly dropped them.

         “Ew, ew, ewww!” she shouted, jumping up and down over the flowers.  She trampled them under her feet, smashing the little yellow flowers into dandelion soup.  Her face screwed up in disgust as she continued jumping.

         “What?” asked Catherine, confused as to the sudden movement.  “Did he put bugs in it?  Because, if he did…” she trailed off into her usual threatening silence.  There were numerous possibilities as for what she could do if Bob had put bugs in the bouquet, and she hadn’t quite decided upon one at the moment.

         “No,” Anne replied, finally ceasing her hectic jumping.  Under her feet she could see the grass stained yellow, the only remains of the flowers that had been in her hand seconds earlier.  Amongst the sea of yellow, Anne spotted a little blue patch, though she barely noticed it as her eyes blinked madly and her mind came down from her previous hysterics.  “A boy gave me those.”