Short Stories

A Perfect Flower

Unlike every other 17 year old girl in existence, I had never received a flower before. Bouquet or single petal, no one had given me one. My birthday was always during the holidays so people used that excuse to never get me anything; I never had a flower to call mine. Sad, I know. Boo Hoo to me.

All throughout school until my final year I had never received a flower. I began to doubt I would ever get a petal to represent the friendship between myself and another. I'd see all my friends receive flowers from their friends; I've even given out a few! But none returned the same curtesy to me. None, until I received a single red rose in the most cliché way.

I forgot all about my 'lack-of-flowers' dilemma all through my final year of Year 12. I became focused on my studies and drowning myself in YouTube videos. I fell into a routine; get up, complain, go to school, complain, lunch, end of school, watch videos, dinner, dessert, complain about no more dessert, and then bed.

When my church offered a week long study camp in the freezing cold month of July, I had to take it. I was falling behind in studies and I knew I had to do something. So, I forked out $482 and drove with two friends to Port Hacking and was swarmed by a whole new atmosphere.

It was stress-free. There were large paddocks, sunshine, and so much food! It was heavenly in my eyes. The fresh cooked bread woke me up in the mornings with the crisp crackle of bacon. If there was any perfect breakfast in my eyes, it was a bacon sarnie. The crunch, the smell, the taste, it was instantly a great day. It still is.

I was part of a group that was assigned to help serve out the glorious traditional breakfast. I was behind the counter with a scratchy hairnet and stiff gloves with a huge smile on my face as I inhaled the bacon. Little did I know that something else was going on as well...

By the time I sat back at my table with my plate of bacon, everyone else was finished. I was mid-bite when I caught a few people on the table staring at me with weird looks. My best friend was next to me drinking his orange juice innocently, one of the leaders was opposite me with a weird smirk, and one of the other girls further down the table was trying to hide her grin. I frowned but just as I was about to confront them on their suspicious ways, I heard silence from behind me.

Turning, I spotted one of the boys on the other table, Jake, standing with a deck of cards in his hand. He flicked his thick dark hair behind him and smirked with a sense of cheek. Jake's eyes, dotted with a green haze, were flying across the room as he brought the breakfast to silence. One word was going through everyone's heads.

Proposal.

One thing that the study camp factored in was the 'Proposals'. It was a tradition, supposedly. I mean, I expected only one proposal in my life which would be with my future husband, but now I'd have two. The tradition was; for the last night dance, all the boys would have to ask the girls to the dance, called a Proposal. Of course there were conditions; it had to be extravagant, a leader must bear witness, and it had to be in public (no being a chicken bitch).

So when Jake stood up in the breakfast hall, all the girls were alert and wondering what was happening. They were quietly whispering to each other and trying to narrow down who it could be... I wasn't – I had a mouth full of bacon and I wasn't going to rush. It was bacon!

He'd brought silence to the sandwich hall, announcing he needed a volunteer for his card trick. At this point, I thought he was faking it and was just playing us all. I mean, a card trick? I enjoyed them, yes, it was a secret love I had. But to ask out a girl to a dance, how was he playing it??

I was tempted to volunteer as tribute but another girl beat me to it. Genevieve, one of the camp leaders, drew out a card from Jake's shiny deck and revealed a Jack of Hearts. Jake hadn't seen the card as Genevieve showed it around the room. The 'Ooh's!' were real.