BlossomMara stood at the end of her street, waiting

for the bus that would take her to school. Her breath puffed in chilled clouds before her face, the icy wind snatching them away before they could dissipate. She shifted her Jan sport backpack from one shoulder to the other; its heavy weight seemed to push her ratty sneakers deeper into the muddy February slush covering the ground. Someone had made a futile attempt to shovel most of it to either side of the road and grimy piles of the stuff rose up at the edges of the street, culminating in two especially deep masses of snow that refused to melt.

Someone snickered behind her, three boys and a girl were coming down the street. The latter was dressed in a ridiculously brief pleated, plaid skirt and varsity team jacket. They stood a little ways away from her, nearer the stop sign. The girl seemed to be very uncomfortable and wrapped her arms around the tallest boy, he looked to be the oldest as well. He had Viking blond hair that wanted cutting and a proud roman nose stood up over lips curled into an unpleasant smirk. His white shirt was un-tucked from the grey plaid slacks that all the boys at their school wore.

Mara shifted uncomfortably under the smirks of the other two boys who seemed to be the Viking’s cronies. Her own grey plaid skirt fell well past her knees, and her black socks disappeared beneath them. She would have to change her shoes in the bathroom when she got to school, but there was no way she was going to wear the little leather flats outside in this weather. She looked at her watch, flipping the reflective metal cover from the watch face. 7:22. She prayed that the bus came soon. She started to snap the cover back over the watch and caught a glimpse of herself in the shiny metal. Straight hair the color of mud dangled in a single braid over her right shoulder, held with a plaid scrunchy that matched her uniform. Dull grey eyes peeked from beneath twin mud-brown arches of eyebrow and lashes of the same color. She had a small nose and a full lower lip, her chin was stubborn. Her thin shoulders were made bulky by the old beat-up leather jacket that used to belong to her brother, just like the watch.

She snapped the watch closed as the bus pulled to the curb, its white strobe light flashing dreamily in the foggy morning air, the door swung open with a hydraulic hiss. The short skirted girl flounced up the steps into the warm interior, and settled with a bounce and a toss of her platinum hair into her rightful place

in the front seat. The Viking boy slid in beside her with his cronies slumping into the seat just behind. Mara, however, peered down the aisle a moment to find an empty seat nearer the back and made her way there. She sat down two seats from the long back bench on the opposite side of the bus from the elite. Digging into her backpack, Mara pulled out a tattered copy of The Blue Sword, and settled down for the forty-minute ride to Levine High School.

“Mara.” Her own name whispered past her ear,

carried by a warm breath of air. A hand stroked the back of her head, and she whipped around angrily in her seat to confront whoever was bugging her. She glared at an empty seat. Mara looked around at the seat across from her, but it too was empty. Unnerved, she shook her head to clear the chill that tickled her scalp, deciding that she must have dozed off. She looked out the window and exhaled. Her breath formed a roughly round patch of foggy moisture, absently she doodled a happy face. She looked at her watch 7:40.

She lowered her head once more to her book, and thumbed through the pages to find her place. She found her page easily and opened the book, several withered white petals

fell from the book into her lap. The pages they had been pressed between were damp and the scent of gardenias wafted up to her from the crumpled remains of the flower. Mara delicately picked up one white petal, the faintest touch of wilting brown graced it’s edges and she rubbed it between her fingers thoughtfully, the crawling sensation returning to dance over her scalp and down her neck to raise the hair on her arms beneath her coat.

Trembling slightly, she dried the slightly damp petals on her skirt and placed them back between the pages of her book and slipped it back into her backpack. How had the flowers gotten into a book she had been holding closed in her lap? Where had they come from and who had placed them there? The husky whisper floated back through her mind, and she tugged on her braid as she looked over her shoulder one more time. Feeling foolish, she nervously pulled her feet up and tucked them under herself as if she were a child afraid of the monster lurking beneath her bed.

She spent the rest of the ride curled up in her seat with her backpack clutched in her lap like a security blanket and fled the bus the moment the aisle cleared…

@@

Homeroom passed without incident. The Pledge was recited over the intercom, the school creed was also read, and the boys who sat at the back of the room made snarky comments and changed the words around. Everything was fairly normal.

Mara was going to be late for her first class, biology. Her homeroom teacher had stopped her after class, asking after her health. Mrs. Phillips had worried about her pale, tense face when she arrived. Mara had assured her that she was fine, and no there was nothing the matter at home. She was halfway down the stairs when the final bell rang, and was on her way to get a pass from the office. At least Mrs. Phillips had given her a note for the secretary, since it was her fault Mara was late.

She had to go all the way down to the first floor. The office was near the main entrance hall, and her homeroom class was on the third floor. Her biology class was in a different wing entirely. Mara moaned softly as she jogged down the steps and caught a look out the windows, rain was pouring down in icy sheets from the steel gray clouds. She was careful to walk the rest of the way to the office, lest she be caught running in the hall and given demerits on top of everything else.

She forced a smile at the elderly secretary who slowly and carefully wrote out Mara’s name and homeroom number, along with the excuse for her tardiness, then stamped it with the school crest of a sword wrapped in flowering vines. Beneath the sword and vine was the word Valor. She thanked the secretary and left the office at a more or less leisurely pace, after all she had her hall pass. If she took her time she could get to class at the very end, and not have to sit through a thrilling lesson on the amphibian anatomy; never mind that she would have to make it up later.

Mara took a different staircase to the second floor since it was closer to her locker. She paused at the top of the stairs and watched the water stream down the steamed up windows. Thunder rumbled softly above and she looked at her watch. Her little detour had only taken seventeen minutes, which left forty-three minutes left in her least favorite class. She shoved her hall pass into her notebook and decided to skip the class altogether.

Opening her locker, Mara grabbed her English book along with the novel she had been reading on the bus. She held the volume for a minute, her slender fingers white against the bright blue cover. She withdrew the book and placed it on top of her textbook and closed

the door of her locker with a muted snap. Still, the faint scent of gardenia enveloped her, and followed her down the hallway.

Two snack machines and a soda machine were tucked into a recessed alcove about halfway down the hallway. Mara ducked into the badly lit niche. The only light was from a big bay window, but this was dimmed by the overcast sky and clouded glass. She curled up with her back to the window, facing towards the hideous brown side of the candy machine. There was just enough light to read by, and even if someone came to buy a soda and a bag of chips it was very unlikely they would look into this dusty corner other than the off chance they dropped their change.

She let herself be absorbed into the familiar world of a treasured book, the gardenia’s petals lying softly in her lap. They were an enigma to be unraveled on another rainy day, as creepy as their presence were, they smelled much more pleasant than the underside of the candy machine, and refreshed the air around her at least. The rain beating against the window accompanied by the warm air creeping down the wall from a vent in the ceiling soon lulled her to sleep.

In truth, she had been lying to Mrs. Phillips. Everything was not alright at home. Her brother Jeremy had joined the air force at the behest of their father, and had left for boot camp soon after New Years. Their mother had been furious at her husband and now they rarely spoke to one another. The house was eerily silent during the day, her parents going about their lives in the house as if the other was not there. At night, she was besieged and awakened by nightmare after nightmare. She herself had been devastated by her brother’s departure. They had been unusually close, he was two years older than her and had been her protector of sorts in elementary school. She had been excited to join him in High School, and she had fully planned to follow her hero all the way to college.

He hadn’t confided in her about his decision to join the military, and she was terrified for him. Every night she dreamt of him crashing, or being wounded. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks, what little sleep she managed to grasp was both short and uneven.

She woke to near pitch darkness. She started and blinked several times to adjust herself to the little bit of light filtering in the window from the parking lot below. She started

to lever herself up from the hard linoleum, but her hand touched something soft and slippery. Yelping, she pulled her hand away and peered at what she had touched. She had to blink again and close her eyes for a moment before she could make out what covered the floor around her. She shook her head and something fluttered down from her hair to slip down the front of her blouse into her lap. The grey pleated fabric was obscured in the same white substance that coated the floor.

For a wild, fleeting moment, she thought she and the floor were covered with snow, but she was warm and her hand was not wet. Neither had her hand made any sort of impression where it had rested, it had only shifted the stuff aside a little bit. A familiar, heady scent rose around her, and she scooped up the white petals disbelievingly, her initial awe crashing into a wave of stifling fear. Whoever had contrived to press flowers into her book had found her little hiding place, and covered her in flowers.

When she stood up, shaking, petals rained from her dress and hair in a shimmering white waterfall, the smell of the flowers clung to her bare arms, several petals clung to the collar of her blouse, their perfume seemed to be permanently washed into her hair.

She gathered her fallen books and ran out into the hallway, which was slightly brighter due to the circles of light that fell from the lights that automatically came on when the power failed. The storm must have knocked out the electricity. She held onto that belief, otherwise she would have to force back hysterical laughter at the cliché horror novel she seemed to be trapped in.

When she reached her locker she hesitated and looked around. The hall was silent, no heavy footfalls or ominous breathing was evident in the still chill night air, broken only by faint rumbles of thunder outside the thick walls. Quickly, she twisted the combination lock and opened the door. For a moment, she wondered if she had somehow managed to open someone else’s locker. The books were neatly arranged and her jacket was neatly folded in an inexplicable manner she could never have copied. She had stuffed it in the small space with her backpack that morning, and had merely dug underneath it for her English book several hours ago.

Her hands shook violently as she withdrew a folded piece of paper from where it lay atop her possessions. The paper was from her own notebook, but the script was neat and flowing,

written with a calligraphy pen. She held the note up to the light to read it:

“Mara,I hope you liked your flowers, I knew you

were fond of gardenias. There is a candle on your nightstand with the scent, and I was sure you would enjoy them. Did you know that gardenias are symbolic of secret love? I know you are probably frightened, you have every right to be, in fact you should be.”

She paused as she read this line and bit off a choked whimper that lodged itself in her throat merely waiting to be released.

“I’ve been watching you for quite awhile, but I think I only fell in love with you just recently. I have hated watching your pain at home, and you stumble through your classes as though half asleep. I am very glad that you got a little rest today, you can thank me for that later. I hope your dreams were pleasant.

With all of my love,Gentian”The whimper escaped past her lips as

warm hands fell on her shoulders, holding her gently and pressing her against a broad chest. Slowly, she turned to look up at the most

handsome man she had ever seen in her life. His hair was as black as a crow’s wing, and his eyes were the color of lapis-lazuli. His lips curved up ever so slightly in a gentle smile that held no trace of mockery or malice. A long black jacket hung open over a charcoal gray sweater. He had hands an artist or a pickpocket would kill for. One of these hands rose to brush a strand of hair from her face.

She breathed in sharply, but made no move to pull away. She had read a lot of novels, not much had to be explained to her save for one thing, why her? He was beautiful, his name was Gentian, and he was a vampire. In a small shaking voice she asked this one question.

“Why me? I’m not pretty, or graceful, or any of those things that you’re attracted to in books and movies.” Was he just toying with her? Would he drain her dry and kill her, the death of her dreams merely a perk in his weird plan? Or would he really get her out of this emotional hell she was trapped in? Mara supposed she had more than one question after all.

Gentian chuckled softly, “You are beautiful blossom. You are the pale flower among the roses with their biting thorns, overlooked

amongst their tawdriness.” He smiled, a mere flash of teeth in the darkness, cold and warm at once. His fathomless eyes danced merrily as he lowered his face to hers.

She rested her fingers lightly on his chest as he kissed her lips, it was a new and breathtaking experience. She had never been kissed, but she was sure that if she had been, any other kiss would have been completely blown away. Gentian tasted like peppermint and night air, his hands held her close, caressing her back and her shoulders, then tugging her hair free of it’s braid to run his fingers through it roughly.

She moaned softly against his mouth causing him to chuckle again. He seemed inordinately pleased with himself. Mara was breathless when his lips broke from hers and could only clutch at his sweater when his mouth caressed her jaw. She let out a painful gasp as he bit into her throat. It wasn’t that she hadn’t expected it, it was just that she hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. Every inch of her skin felt as though it was on pins and needles, she closed her eyes and bit her own lip till it bled.

It seemed like hours later when he released her. She was only dimly aware of his

bleeding wrist pressing against her lips, and warmth running into her mouth and down her throat before the world tilted sideways. The world went grey, then black as she fainted. She wasn’t aware of when her own heart stopped, or of when Gentian gathered her into his arms and calmly walked down the stairs and out the front doors of the school. She was floating in a sea of white gardenias.