Part Sixteen:

I looked behind me before walking into the office-like room. There was a desk with a lamp in here. Chairs and bookcases. All kinds of things. I walked to the desk first, of course. Curiousity was killing me. There were all kinds of papers spreaded on the desk. I sat down on the chair and started stifling through it dully. Bills, junk mail, bill, bill, letter from a girl name Claire, junk mail, ect. ect.

I started through the desk drawers. The bottom one was locked. I smirked and looked around once again. I looked at the locked drawer and frowned. "Wonder what's in there,"I asked myself. I grabbed the lock and tried to see if it would just simply unlock. Instead, my vision blurred around the edges. I shot my glance around and suddenly Daviel literally sat on me. Of course, I was like a ghost, but this has got to be the creepiest moment of my life.

Daviel locked the lock I was trying to get through with a key. Then I watched as he hid it in a small, almost invisible, container just under the desk. Suddenly, Daviel disappeared and my vision was normal again. I nearly choked on my own breath. Holy barking duck! It's ok, Ivy, it's ok. That could have been just a hallucination. It will be proven if the key is where I saw it go. I looked down at the desk and reached for the container.

Just like I saw, the container was there with the key inside of it safely. I gasped at this and shook my head. Maybe they were right about my sight thingy. That or I know I'm definitly insane. OR I could have just had a lucky guess. I continued to convince myself that nothing was wrong, that I was just fine and saw no vision. During this time, I used the key to unlock the lock and open the drawer. I blinked at the sight of just a book labeled "Poems-Jestin Julie Orome".

I grabbed the book, still confused as to why Daviel would treasure it so much. I glanced around and stood up with the book. Moving to the chair next to the bookcase, I sat down in the lamp light and flipped to a random page. I wasn't the kind of person for Poetry. It didn't make sense to me what-so-ever. It was just a coded story of another language, for all I could tell. If you got ME to write a poem, it would consist of:

"I have toes on my feet.

What cool toes I have on my feet."

So talented am I, huh? I swear, if I hadn't begged for extra credit in English, I would have failed the Poetry Semester in that class. Especially Shakespeare. The teacher had to tell word for word what she thought it meant. When it came to me, it would be something like this:

"What do you think of the Romeo and Juliet passage: Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo. Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn, my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet?" (Well, if I guessed that passage right, go me)

My reply,"Where are you Romeo? I hate your father and your name, they're ugly? But don't worry, I hate my name, too?" Zero grade for me! Turns out 'wherefore' means 'why'. What the hell? Why can't they say why? Oh, I'm sorry, I meant WHEREFORE can't they say why? ANYWAYS, I was startled at Jestin's poem. It sounded sad to me, but let's see:

FAKE FLOWER:

Like a bleeding flower.
Thoughts that soon devour

words you think I think I hear.

Paper cuts so simple

pounds my pulsing temple.

Fearing things not needed to fear.

Don't scream, I will wilt

at the weight of the guilt.

Only time will soon enough be told.

The panic seeds so sprout

seek for no way out.

My sun can only be so cold.

The stem of my ways,

thorned throughout the days,

drown in the everlasting shower.

The pedal of all I feel,

I realize it's not real.

Oh, the tricks of the paper flower.

Underneath was the signature of Jestin. I hesitated and read this poem again, once again not getting it at all. How can a flower bleed? I know I've screamed at one once and it didn't wilt. HOW CAN IT BE WEIGHTED WITH GUILT? What the fuck can a flower DO to be full of guilt? ESPECIALLY if it's a PAPER flower! I starred at the poem, one out of loads in this book, and didn't even notice the door to the office opening.

That is, until I felt I firm, cold hand grip my shoulder roughly. "Oh I'm sorry, I wasn't under the impression of allowing you to nose around my room,"Daviel growled into my ear. I looked over my shoulder at him and shrugged,"I was only looking for a towel." Hey, it was half-way true. Before he could point out the fact that I possessed a poem book that was locked inside his desk instead of a towel, I interupted him swiftly.

"I don't get this poem,"I stated quickly, pointing at the flower poem. Daviel looked at it from over my shoulder in distraction and said,"HOW DID YOU-" I interupted,"How can a flower be-" He interupted,"I had that locked up in my-" I intercepted,"It makes no sen-" Daviel,"I should just stab you in the-" Me,"I was only curiou-" Daviel,"The key was hid-" ME,"IT'S A PAPER FLO-" Him,"GIVE IT BACK RIG-" Me,"Not until you expla-" Him,"Hand it ov-"

Me, of course,"YOU'RE JUST SELFISH!" And I glared at him as he fumed in rage. Then he laughed dryly,"I'm selfish? What kind of insult is that?" I snorted,"I only want to know why she wrote this dumb poem." Daviel glared at me and I glared back. After a moment of silent war, Daviel sighed melodramatically and stomped over to the book. He snatched it out of my hand and flipped it over for him to see the poem I was reading.

"It makes clear sense, you just have to look beneath the words,"Daviel said sceptically. This advice being told to the girl who couldn't think of a better poem except feet and toes. Daviel seemed to notice this and he said,"Scoot over, then." I scooted over in the chair best I could and he nearly squashed me. "What are you doing,"I snapped irritatably. "You want me to explain it,"Daviel snapped just as annoyed. We glared at each other some more and he smacked me in the back of the head.

"Owww,"I complained furiously. He seemed pleased with this and pointed at the flower poem. "What does it tell you,"he asked mysteriously. I read over it again and said,"That the flower is mutant and made from trees." I smiled at my reply, happy I came up with a reasonable explaination myself. "No,"Daviel snapped seriously and I stopped smiling. He sighed and I rolled my eyes. "Fine, what does it mean,"I retorted impatiently.

"Bleeding Christ,"he muttered at my stupidity,"Let's start with the first line. First, you've got to look further than the word 'flower'. A flower is usually given to people for all kinds of reason. Get well, death, love, friendship...all in all, Life. So if you review flower as life, then the first line would be a bleeding life. Bleeding would be the source of living, right? So if you're bleeding, you're losing your source. Therefore, bleeding flower would be a losing life, lost life."

I blinked at this information, impressed how he would come up with THAT. He read on,"Thoughts that soon devour words you think I think I hear... In another words, that's listening. That means she's hearing words he says, especially the ones he wants to be heard. Paper cuts so simple... Those cuts that are so unharmful, yet sting all the same. Pulsing temple, that would be like a headache." I absorbed this and said,"So she's losing her life by hearing words from someone that...like...stings and gives her a headache?"

Daviel smirked,"Close enough. Fearing things not needed to fear; that's common sense. Don't scream, I will wilt at the weight of the guilt. That means simply that when a flower wilts, it's breaking down or dying. So she hears the screams that make her guilty and will break her down or kill her. Time be told, that means that only in time will she know of what will become of her. The panic seeds so sprout seek for no way out..."

Daviel hesitated and glanced at me. I waited for him to go on. "Seeds...they're like the beggining, but in this it says 'so sprout'. Which would mean more like the past. When it seeks for no way out, that means the past wants to reveal itself, but it can't. My sun can only be so cold. First you've got to understand what the sun is. Sun is more of happiness, reason. So it's saying her happiness or reason is cold. It doesn't warm her like it would others,"Daviel explained.

"The stem of my ways, thorned throughout the days, drown in the everlasting shower. The stem would stand for the path of life. If it's thorned, it's pain to whoever touches it. So her path is painful, and the drowning shower means for her feelings or tears,"Daviel stated. "Her path is painful and it's full of tears,"I said, hoping I was grasping what he was saying.

"Sure,"he said and I frowned in disappointment as he went on,"The pedal of all I feel...This would be the pedal area. Umm, we said the flower was her life. So on a flower, the pedal would be the area of beauty. So in this part, the pedal would be the beauty of her life...which would be the one she love." He cut off bitterly and I was automatically curious. But he went on,"I realize it's not real...that means that the love for her loved one isn't real. Oh, the tricks of the paper flower."

I could understand the last one without help. Paper isn't real. Flower is life. So the tricks of a fake life. One that seems real, but isn't. "Jestin wrote this,"I asked, suddenly feeling guilty. Daviel closed the book and looked at me. "Yes...and it's beautiful,"he stated defensively. I was suddenly aware of how close we were. For a moment, I just stared at him and he stared back.

It was odd, actually. I mean, I don't know what was wrong. It felt like SOMETHING was wrong, but I wasn't familiar with it. I felt sick, in a way, and my heart was pulsing way to abnormal for me. Then Daviel suddenly stood up and said,"Don't come in here ever again." He locked the book in the desk and sat behind the desk.

Then he put his elbows on the desktop and put his hands in prayer, resting his chin on his thumbs. After a second of staring at me, Daviel said,"You know, that was an open request for you to leave." I stood up quickly,"Oh...uh...oh." Then I walked out of the office and out of the room. Once I walked a long way away, I stopped and leaned against the wall. I let out a breath of air.

I swear, in those moments in that chair with Daviel, I thought he was going to kiss me. The thing that bothered me the most at the moment was one fact:

I was going to kiss him back.