The Flowers Aren't Young Anymore (Chap1)

Aspen’s green eyes popped open as her mom’s voice echoed up the stairwell. Her alarm clock told her it was 6:45 in the morning. She stretched a leg out of the covers and shivered as the cold air hit her skin.

“Coming, mom,” she called, her voice full of sleep.

She stretched her feet onto the royal blue carpet of her bedroom and giggled as the strands tickled her feet. She was quite lucky her parents allowed her to design her bedroom however she wanted. Some of the kids that went to Redford High School with her and her brother had parents decorating their rooms for them.

She trotted over to her closet and smiled up at the Beatle’s poster hanging right next to it. Her ten-year-old self had been beyond ecstatic when her parents bought tickets to go see the Beatles back in 1966. She still told people Paul was her favorite Beatle.

She opened her closet door and started running her hands along the clothing she stored inside. Getting dressed for school was one of Aspen’s favorite parts of the day. This year, she had to be extra picky, if she wanted to impress some boys.

Finally, she decided on a tie-dye knee length dress. She pulled the turquoise, yellow, and white dress over her head and did a twirl, giggling to herself. Then, she selected a pair of white Converse and then her denim jacket. She did another twirl in the full-length mirror behind her door and smiled in it.

Fifteen minutes later, Aspen bounded down the stairs and skipped into the kitchen.

“Good morning, mama! Good morning, papa!”

Aspen’s father, a tall, dark-haired man, looked up from his morning paper to smile at his daughter.

“Good morning, daughter dearest. Are you excited for your first day of high school?”

Aspen’s cheeks reddened as she leaned down to kiss her father’s cheek.

“Oh yes, papa, I’m excited. I heard that Redford has a great tennis team. I hope I can make it.”

A soft chuckle and the click of heels on the hard-wood floor signaled that Aspen’s mother had entered the kitchen. Her hair was tied back with a red-and-white hair scarf as she set a plate of hot eggs and sausage in front of Aspen.

“They have a Varsity team and a Junior Varsity team, dear. Maybe you will be the first freshman to make the team.”

Aspen’s thoughts began to spin as she ate her breakfast and allowed her mother t0 tie a head-scarf around her hair. Tennis had been Aspen’s passion for as long as she could think back too, just as football had been a passion of her brother, Arlo.

“Where is Arlo,” Aspen questioned as she took another bite of sausage and let her eyes wander around the table.

Her father took a sip of his coffee and looked at her over the rim of his cup.

“He spent the night at his friends, remember? He’ll meet you at school.”

Aspen hurriedly finished her meal and stood up to take her plate to the sink.

“He has so many friends, it can be hard for me to remember them all,” she commented, rinsing her plate and placing it in the sink.

Her mother clucked her tongue and shook her head.

“You had better go brush your teeth, dear. The bus will be here any moment.”
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Aspen carefully stepped off the bus and looked for any signs of Arlo. The nerves that hadn’t been in her stomach eating breakfast were rolling in like fast waves. She’d driven past Redford High many times before, but now that she’d be going here, it looked bigger than she remembered.

She followed the crowd and kept her eyes up, searching for her brother. She relaxed when he ran towards her, followed by two of his childhood friends.

“Mom called Dustin’s house just before we got on the bus. I promised her I’d meet you here.”

Arlo’s voice had gotten lower over the summer. He sounded so much like their father now that Aspen often got confused when one of them yelled for her.

She eyed the kids clamoring up the steps and scooted closer to her brother, biting her lower lip.

“We share History together, Aspen. Come along, let’s get inside before the crowd swallows us.”

Arlo wrapped a strong arm around Aspen’s shoulders and steered her up the steps, ignoring the yells from behind him. Being the captain of the football team made him very popular, but he had no time to talk today. Aspen was his number one priority.

Aspen’s eyes flickered up towards the banner of blue and gold that said “Welcome To Redford High” and smiled a little. She’d seen the banner often when she came to Arlo’s football games but now it would be her banner. Her welcome sign for the next four years.

The hand on her shoulder steered Aspen to the right and she froze as she came face-to-face with a door marked “History.” Her mouth turned dry as the Sahara Desert and she licked her lips faster than normal.

“Hey, Aspen, you are okay. Mr. Fraser is one of the best teachers. He really knows his stuff.”

Aspen’s shoulders relaxed slightly. History being her favorite subject and one she was exceptional at, Aspen needed a teacher who was passionate. From Arlo’s statement, Mr. Fraser would become a favorite.

Arlo pushed open the door and Aspen took a huge gulp of air into her lungs before stepping inside.

Most classrooms Aspen had been in; the desks were set in rows, usually four in each row. Mr. Fraser, however, took a different approach, and set the desks in a semi-circle.

“Ah, good morning, Arlo. I’m guessing this is your sister?”

Aspen took her eyes away from the desks and straightened up as Mr. Fraser, a man who looked to be about forty, wearing a gray suit and tie, sauntered over to them. He wore round glasses and his hazel eyes twinkled as he took in the siblings.

“Yes, sir,” Arlo replied, straightening in a movement similar to Aspen’s, “it’s her first day.”

Mr. Fraser took a step closer to Aspen and held out his hand. Aspen’s own hand trembled slightly as she shook it.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir. History is my favorite subject.”

She did not think she had ever seen someone light up faster than Mr. Fraser.

“Is it really?”

Aspen grinned and moved towards one of the desks. Arlo, she noticed, had taken a seat with a few of his friends.

“Yes, sir,” she began, setting her book-bag down with a loud thud, “it is the most fascinating subject I have ever taken.”

Mr. Fraser didn’t get the chance to reply to her remarks as more students poured into the classroom.

Aspen sat and watched them, keeping an eye out for someone who looked friendly enough to strike up a conversation with. She’d lost several friends over the summer due to various reasons and she needed someone other than Arlo to hang out with.
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Aspen followed Arlo out the school doors and let out a breath of relief. Her first day of high school was over with. It had not been as bad as she had been expecting.

“Not as bad as you thought, right, Aspen,” Arlo questioned, nudging her side as he did so.

Aspen absentmindedly straightened out her head scarf and shook her head.

“No. I didn’t make any friends though,” she admitted, sounding dejected as her eyes scanned the group of kids rushing from the building.

Arlo hummed sympathetically and tucked an arm around her shoulders as they headed down the steps.

“You will get there eventually, Aspen. I did not make any friends my first day of school either.”

Aspen played with the clasp of her bag and tucked her lip in-between her teeth.

“Mr. Fraser was great, was he not,” Arlo continued, grinning down at Aspen, “you really enjoyed his class.”

Aspen’s lips twitched with amusement.

“He really did,” she squeaked, her eyes dancing with delight, “especially about the Civil War! I can’t wait to be in more of his classes.”

Arlo began to laugh loudly as she pranced about, ranting on about all the history she hoped they’d uncover in his class.

“Alright, Alright, Aspen, here’s our bus,” he gasped out, grasping her arms to slow down her movement.

Aspen scampered onto the bus after Arlo, still giggling and talking to herself about Mr. Fraser.

Arlo playfully told her to hush and rolled his eyes as she hit his arm.

“Not nice, little sister,” he scolded, grabbing her hand before she could smack him again.

Aspen pouted and wiggled her hand out of her brother’s grip, her green eyes shimmering with laughter.

“Maybe I do not want to, big brother,” she teased, her voice rising only slightly above acceptable level. The bus, to no one’s surprise, was too noisy for the driver to really notice Aspen’s loud voice.

Arlo snuck his hand into Aspen’s hair and untied her head scarf, pulling it off her head and letting out giggles at her offended gasp.

“Arlo! Did you really take my scarf,” she whined, hitting him none-to-gently on his shoulder with one of her books.

“Yes! Yes I did,” he whispered triumphantly, holding the scarf above Aspen’s reach.

She scowled and climbed up onto his lap, grabbing at his wrist and trying to yank her scarf out of his hand. He had too tight of a grip, however, so Aspen resorted to poking him in the side and slapping at his arm.

“You are not being a good big brother right now, Arlo,” she complained, but she couldn’t continue her sentence before the bus came to a sudden stop and she went flying into the back of the seat.

Arlo forgot about the scarf and reached down to grasp Aspen’s hand, his forehead furrowing as he helped her up.

Aspen winced, more in shock than in pain, and rasped out a thank you as Arlo grabbed their bags.

“You might want to lay down when we get inside, Aspen. That was quite a hit you took there.”