Left Behind

• Michelle Guo, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2021

“Excuse me, that’s MY spot.”
Jamie reluctantly opened his eyes from where he sat under the tree, only to see a child standing over him, arms crossed, tacky nametag flaunting ‘Caryl 3B’ in barely legible handwriting. The kid’s confidence was endearing, but her attempt at threatening someone with failing grades in his hand was not working. Mostly due to the afternoon sun spotlighting the buttercup flower stuck haphazardly in her hair.
“That’s great, kid. Go sit on the other side or something.”
“I can’t! You can’t see the roses on the other side. Yellow ones are mother’s favourite you know. We always came to see them. I was even named after those. Yellow ones mean joy. So does Caryl!”
“Not with your spelling it doesn’t.” Jamie was far too busy preparing himself for the scolding of a lifetime to deal with some assessment-free kid.
“Humph! Well, what’s your name anyways? I bet it isn’t as pretty as mine!”
Jamie stared at the kid, and she stared right back. A beat of silence passed before he forced out a “Not telling,” then closed his eyes again.
Not even a moment later, a tickling sensation forced his eyes open again, only to be blinded by a blob of yellow. Jamie gingerly pushed the blob away from his face and saw the buttercup the kid had in her shirt. He blinked at the offered flower then at her face. Then back to the flower again.
“Mother always said, ‘A flower to brighten a moment, and a smile to brighten a day’.”
Jamie looked at the kid who plopped onto the ground and is now beaming at him. Somehow, Caryl suddenly didn’t seem her age. He reached out a tentative hand and replaced his report with the slightly crumpled but still bright buttercup. Strangely enough, Caryl didn’t speak again. Jamie turned to examine the yellow roses that he didn’t even notice were there before. As the first rays of sun began to depart, Caryl’s – a mere child’s – stillness started to make Jamie fidget.
“Hey uh… this has been fun and all but, shouldn’t you, like, go home? Wouldn’t want your mother to worry, yeah?”
“Ah! You’re right. I should go see my mother!”
Jumping up, Caryl turned to him to give him one last smile, the kind only children who hadn’t experienced the world yet possessed. Somehow, it didn’t fit. Caryl carefully plucked a rose and ran off before Jamie could reply. His eyes followed the strange child until she was out of sight–
The realisation hit him like a truck. Where Caryl was headed wasn’t a place to see your mother, but more like your grandmother’s mother.
When the streetlights come on, Jamie finally pulls himself up. He moves to collect a rose as well but hesitates. They aren’t his to take. Even though it’s a weed, the buttercup will have to do. Caressing the fragile flower in his hands, Jamie finally head home.
In the dark, the rose Jamie reached for fell.