Hey, this Crown Jewels again with a new story! I don't know why, but I seem to write fics about stories which the general population hasn't read yet or don't want to read… no wonder I hardly get reviews. I'm sooooo masochist like that, lol.
Seedfolks, Kim, and Tio Juan belong to Paul Fleischman. I only own myself… hopefully.
Anyways, enjoy :)
It was raining. Lightning flashed across the sky, brilliant in its terrifying glory.
I have always loved the rain. I loved how the lightning would stretch and dance across the downcast sky. The gentle pitter patter of raindrops would always lull me to sleep like one of Brahms's or Mozart's lullabies.
But now, not even rain could distract me from my thoughts. How could it when I'm about to lose everything?
It only took four words.
Separately, the words would have meant little to me. But together, well, they could strike fear in just about everyone's hearts.
The night my mom broke the news to us that she had lost her job, the rest of the family didn't believe her. Who could blame us? She had a high paying job at the hospital and it didn't help that I was raised in the belief that the medical field would always be a stable career, knowing that people would get sick no matter what.
But deep down, I knew that she wasn't joking. How could she joke about this kind of thing, with the way the economy was? What would we do now? My dad was currently unemployed and both my siblings and I were too young to hold a job. I could only hope and pray that things would get better.
In the end, my family lost that battle. Mother couldn't find another job and we had no one else to turn to. The only other option now was to move away.
At first, I rejected that idea. Where would we go? Where would we live? Are we just going to leave everyone we knew behind?
But as our situation got worse, I resigned myself to the fact that if I wanted my family to stay together, we really had to move away from Florida. So with a heavy heart and a bit of bitterness, I didn't resist as my parents loaded what meager things we had left and my brother, sister, and I into our worn-out old van.
Where we would go now, I did not know. I bet my parents themselves didn't know either. But what I did know was that life would never be the same ever again.
I shivered in the corner of my room, my little puffs of breath coming out as steam in the frigid air. I looked around my room- my tiny dilapidated room, but still a room nonetheless. Bare white walls glared back at me and two narrow cots were shoved back against the furthest wall, one of them inhabiting my younger brother and sister. I stood up, my joints protesting against the sudden movement, and slowly shuffled over to the small window that illuminated the room with moon beams.
Looking straight down, I spied the very thing that baffled me ever since I moved to Cleveland with my family: the garden. Illuminated by the light of the moon and the flickering of a nearby street lamp, the garden seemed out of place in an area where drugs and gangs ruled with an iron fist; an area which the police wouldn't even touch.
I resolved to visit the garden tomorrow. Sleep sounded tempting right now, as a yawn escaped me. And besides, school's tomorrow.
The next day, I found myself standing across from the garden, debating whether or not to go in. The area was almost deserted, save for a little Asian girl working on her plants. My parents are always telling me to be more social; converse with people, make friends with others.
Well, this seems like the perfect opportunity.
So I crossed the street and walked over to her, tapping her shoulder to catch her attention. The girl whirled around in surprise, her eyes wide open. "Hello," I said with a smile on my face, hoping to not scare her off. "I saw that a few of the people here have started a garden, mind if I join?" "No, not at all," she says quite shyly. "Alright, thank you!" As I turned around to go, I caught sight of what she was planting. Lima beans. "Those are lima beans, right?" I questioned, peering around her to look at the plant. "Yes, they are what I am planting in this garden," she exclaimed with a bit of pride. After exchanging goodbyes, I left the garden with a thoughtful look on my face.
Beans, huh? Suddenly, an idea struck me. I knew exactly what to plant in the garden: mung beans. I remember how my mom would always make sweet little pastries filled with mung bean paste during special occasions like birthdays or holidays. To me, my mom's homemade hopia buns would taste better than any cake and ice cream. Yes, I thought to myself, I'll plant mung beans. A little nostalgia won't hurt.
The following week, I came back to the garden. Fortunately, I found a little plot of land positioned where I can look straight down and watch my beans grow from my window. But as I stood there with a spade in one hand and half a dozen mung beans in the other, I realized that I had no idea what to do. I wasn't exactly the green thumb of my family; that would be more or less my parents.
I must have excluded an aura of hopelessness because the next thing I know, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around in surprise and saw an old man with a white straw hat standing behind me. He gestured to my beans and babbled something incoherent in a language I couldn't understand. He repeated what he had said, looking at me expectantly. I just stood there, looking at him blankly.
Most people would have just left after a few moments of awkward silence. The man, however, just took my spade, one of my beans, and squatted down on my land. He began digging a shallow hole and once he had finished, placed the bean inside. As the man replaced the dug up earth over the bean, he started molding it like a mound and made a deep ring surrounding it. After fetching a watering can, he proceeded to sprinkle a few drops of water to fill the ring but not too much to cause it to flood.
It was then I realized that the man was actually teaching me, a complete stranger, how to plant my beans. After finishing the first one, he began working on the remaining five. Occasionally, he would allow me to try- whether it be digging or watering- so I could get a feel for it myself. When the last mung bean had been planted and watered, I turned to him with a smile, hoping to convey my gratitude for his help. It appeared that my smile had broken through our language barrier as his eyes crinkled slightly and a small smile was returned.
Its funny how quickly time seems to pass by once you find something that occupies your every thought. The current school year ended, and another began. Seasons changed; days when the air became filled with the overabundance of pollen and the daily appearances of rain showers were replaced by cooler weather and the shedding of multicolor leaves from their tree homes.
Looking out my window, I watched proudly as my now fully grown bean stalks stretched towards the sky, gently swaying in the wind.
Throughout my life, I have always been told that first appearances can be deceiving. But that particular saying had never really stuck with me until the day I moved to Cleveland. Before, I had thought of the neighborhood as an oyster; dirty, grimy, and otherwise overshadowed by its more beautiful surroundings.
But as time passed, I realized that what's inside is what sets it apart.
Inside, a pearl shines. And our garden is that pearl.
AN: So, a little background on this story: this was an assignment for one of my classes where we were one of the characters in the book. We had to move to Cleveland with a believable reason (Apparently Florida sinking wasn't a legit enough reason. C'mon people, 2012! Duh.) Other guidelines include two interactions with other characters and some other technicalities I won't bore you with.
As always; eat, pray, and review. Or I'll sic Sonni on you! She has violent tendencies, so I'm warning you.
Flamers will be laughed at. Severely.
Random Fact of the Day: If you lay all your veins on a table, you will die. That is scientifically proven.
(I always laugh at the fun facts that say 'if you lay all your veins/capillaries/etc. on blah, blah, blah, then it will wrap around the world some odd times. Well, what happens to the person who so graciously donated their veins/capillaries/etc.? The most logical reason seems to be that they died of major blood loss…)