Flowers are fragile little things that mother nature created. Most flowers die within a week in a person's home, but we still buy bouquets hoping they'd brighten up our sanctuary. Yet, a very small percentage of people appreciate weeds.

Don't weeds grow flowers too? Despite that, I was surrounded by fools who loved plucking dandelions not for their homes but for making futile wishes.

I was a fool too.

Nevertheless, Avery Wolfe was the most foolish girl I knew. She was also the most beautiful.

If I could describe Avery in one word, it'd be "Georgiana."

Maison life was quiet. Except for the ringing of the bell in the morning, before the masses, and an hour before curfew, all was always peacefully calm. Whenever I roamed the halls, I never had to worry about running into someone. It was big enough that we all had our space but not too big that I could get lost (though I had gotten lost my first week).

I was thankful for some of the busybodies that felt they needed to shepherd me to places my first couple days. I was also grateful for they never pried too much into my business just the same as I let them keep their secrets to themselves.

We were all sort of like comrades with a mission: to get better. At least, that's what I had deduced from watching them during the two meals we were all required to attend, breakfast and dinner. Lunch was up to us individually, but I found that everyone, for most of the part, attended that too.

As for the few individuals who ate out, I wasn't sure how some of them lived their day-to-day. Due to my contract with Father Peter, I busied myself with work. I assisted in the kitchen, outdoor chores, and I attended mass.

"And have you started painting?" Father Peter asked me once during my first week and again the following week.

Avery was an expert in telling lies. She taught me how to perfect mine.

"No," I answered truthfully.

Avery once told me, she got through life by lying. That was a lie. She was the most honest person I knew. If she liked something, it showed clearly on her face. If somehow she hated something, she'd say it. She'd be completely blunt and forward if it meant that she no longer had to deal with it. She was always quick to dismiss things she didn't deem worthy.

If someone wasn't to her liking, she'd say it to their faces.

She didn't like Lilly. She envied Lilly as I did. She liked Lilly.

It made her into a mess. The feelings she couldn't control, she hated them. Hating Lilly was like hating a bystander. It was undeserved. For Avery, an ungrounded hatred was toxic.

I was filled with toxicity.

Avery liked that I was harmful in a way that I couldn't control. Somehow, she thought it was fitting that we were both filled with darkness we couldn't understand, that we deserved it.

Everything Avery said to me, I said back to her. We were each other's reflection. We needed that because we couldn't look in a mirror. It's too scary to look at ourselves. Even though we told each other we were poisonous, we didn't want to confirm it. So we lied.

"What do you suppose is holding you back?"

I met Avery ten years ago. It was unexpected, meeting this girl whose world was so drastically different from mine. She lived a wonderful life, grew up in a rich home, and loved by so many. But the truth is, I grew up in a rich home too. 

We weren't swimming in money, but my father held a good position at work. We owned a car. We managed a bakery. Aunts and uncles surrounded and showered my siblings and me with an abundance of love. We had a home.

I was as spoiled as Avery but our worlds seemed so far apart.

She aspired to be a model or at least that's what I was told. She never really confirmed or denied. She was three inches taller than me, I think. Maybe it was four. She owned the most beautiful honey-brown locks and hazel eyes I’d ever seen. She walked with the grace of a princess but the mouth of a sailor. She was a dancer, singer, artist, writer, and whatever else she thought was fun at the moment.

I was uninspired by most things in life since I was four. I walked my life like a zombie with my dark hair and ever-growing dark eyes. I was tired even before I started.

For me, she would always be a dancer.

Whenever I tiptoed barefoot through the halls of the Maison, I saw her running her fingers across the wall as she danced her way to an empty room. She would sway her head to the beat of her music. I heard her humming a tune in the confines of my memory. Maybe I wanted to see her reflection in me as I ran my hand across the wall.

Avery fell in love once to a boy she'd known all her life.

He told her he would love her forever and then he fell for Lilly.

She liked Lilly. She envied Lilly the way I did. She didn’t like Lilly.