Short Stories

I love spring days, when everything is new and fresh, the flowers have not yet wilted in the summer heat, and the grass is lush and thick. Classes ended a half hour ago, and most of the school is sprawled out on the lawn, enjoying the first warm day of the year.

They are both set a bit apart from the rest of the crowd, their heads simultaneously bent over an unidentifiable book, bodies so close together that it's hard to tell where she ends and he begins. I'm used to that though, even though the three of us are "The Trio," and I'm his best friend, they have always clicked. She and I always have little spats over trivial things, and even though I love him like a brother, we're too alike. They contrast in a way that compliments each other, his dark to her light.

A sudden burst of laughter comes from their general direction and I glance over, a quiet observer unnoticed among the throng. She is now lying with her head in his lap, looking up at him, smiling and laughing while he pelts blades of grass at her. She reaches up to swat his hand away, and in a very deft movement, he drops a handful of the emerald shards down her shirt. She leaps up, frantically attempting to dislodge them from her clothes, while he howls with laughter, watching the frenzied dancing.

Suddenly, she swoops down and attacks him, leaving him shaking in mirth as she mercilessly tickles. Abruptly, the tickling ends, and she is lying half on him, her head being propped up by her arm, only inches away from each other. He reaches up and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind her left ear. She smiles softly down at him, and I turn my head away, leaving them to their private moment. For a girl who's so smart, and for a boy who's so brave, he certainly is shy around her, just as she is clueless around him. He constantly finds little ways to brush her arm or face whenever he can, and she thinks not of the ways she catches him looking at her sometimes, a look I've only seen shared between my mother and father when they think no one is watching. I have often been on the receiving end of looks from her; some in exasperation, every now and then in gratitude, often in friendship, but never the look I've seen her give him when he's not aware. That was the reason I broke up with her, though not the reason I gave to her. I've seen the way they react to each other, and the emotions that flit across their eyes when their masks of friendship slip. How could I interfere with that? Yet she thinks her feelings toward him are unrequited, while he is too timid to make the first move.

I take a quick glance back over and they have resumed their previous position. His legs are again a pillow for her lap. I smile to myself, taking my eyes off my two best friends. If I can't have her, then he would immediately be the one I would pick for her to grow old with. After all, spring is a time for fresh starts, and from every end comes a new one.

I lean back onto the green blanket of grass and let the pungent smell permeate my nose. Closing my eyes, I begin to drift off into sleep, the last sound to register in my brain the muted murmur of a new beginning.