Roses and Thorns
The Seed Sprouts
Life from then went about as you would expect. That is, not very well at all. I digress, much of the information on what happened after the events that transpired before is secondhand information. Who expects a baby to remember things of that nature? Yet here I am sitting on the front porch steps of the newest foster family to take me in. I've always been quiet, much to the chagrin of the families that took me in over the years. Why speak if there is nothing to say? At least that's how I felt. All to often those around me would talk and talk. For some reason I found I just preferred to listen. If I was a girl then I guess that would be a highly prized trait. There is comfort to be had in silence.
"Rowan it is time to go to school. Get in the car already." Ah yes. That would be my older foster brother, Cameron. He is always impatient since he discovered his quirk. It's not like anything impressive either. He has the ability to make his eyes glow. I nod my head and follow the glorified flashlight that makes up my foster brother. The 'car' is in fact a station wagon. Old beat up and living through most likely voodoo or witchcraft. Not that I would tell my foster parents Dan and Marcy. I get into the back seat and look out the window. One of the best things about going for a car ride is looking out the window and imagining a shadowy figure, like a ninja or something, running beside the car and doing tricks and flips. Of course it does mean I don't talk to any of my new foster family members on the way to school, but honestly ninjas are more fun to watch.
I can tell that my foster parents and sibling are talking for a while, tuning them out is second nature at this point. If they want my attention, then they use my name. After a while I see we are pulling up to the school when I feel a poke on my back. I sigh and turn to see who it is. Cameron is giving me his usual dumb look as if he was expecting me to say something.
"yes?" I ask, feeling the eyes of my new family members upon me.
"Rowan, will you be okay? I know it's like the middle of the school year dude but if you want I can walk you to your class?" Cameron is like that. Always happy to look out for others. At least from what I can tell during my time with them so far. He always seems a little.. too nice. At least to me.
"No thanks, I can find my class, okay." I stated simply to him. It's a new personal record for me though. Saying a sentence more than four words. I like to keep things short and sweet so as soon as we pull up to the front of the school, I hop out wordlessly dragging my book bag behind me.
You might be wondering or asking by now, if my foster brother has a quirk then do I? Probably, I do not have the joint in the pinky toe according to the doctor at my last physical. Maybe I just have not needed to use it yet. Or maybe I don't have one at all. Who's to say. That being said it doesn't stop my new classmates from gushing over their own quirks loudly when I enter the classroom. Nor does it stop the teacher from giving praise to them. I take my seat wordlessly only for the teacher to then call me to the front of the classroom.
"Alright everyone meet your new classmate! Go on introduce yourself!" I look out over my new classmates and take a short breath before speaking.
"I am Rowan Noland." Perfect short and sweet. The way all things should…
"DO YOU LIKE CARS!"
"What's your favorite color!"
"Why is your hair green! That's such an ugly color!"
Questions zipped left and right at me. Their voices talking over each other until each word and voice became like an amalgamation of discord. Instead of answering any of them I decided to just stare. Once everyone settled down, I answered one question.
"blue,"
At which point I unceremoniously left the front of the classroom and took my seat. Beside me was a boy who by the looks of it was a nervous wreck. I opted to not talk to him either and instead do my best to pay attention to the teacher for the rest of the class. You see dear reader, I am not necessarily shy or soft spoken. I just don't feel the need to express myself vocally. That is the start of the crux of the matter. The first opening of the door that had led to my own personal hell. What I could have done, to change and be safer, was to socialize. To encourage conversation and find others to be with. But my young mind felt it knew better. That even though I had not had my quirk yet, I knew better then my peers and adults around me. I digress, that is the fallacy of youth. Could things have been different if I had just spoken to the boy beside me? Could I have changed the way that I looked at the world and tried to connect with my new foster family? It does no good to look at the what if. To expect that different choices would lead to different consequences. That is not how the world works though. I made my choices. I closed myself off. With that I became more and more of a vulnerable target.
As the time in class wore on, and the spelling and math work swam in my head I became oblivious to my surroundings. The constant chatter of my classmates as they drone on and on about their adventures and their plans. I failed to notice a new person in the room. A man by the name of Jack Samael. This man is the groundskeeper for the school. While I might not have noticed him, he surely noticed me. The school day wore on and I wrapped myself in the cozy lackluster warmth of loneliness. Occasionally my eyes would settle outside on a shed hidden by large rose bushes. The flowers were practically calling to me. I could see the velvety petals, and almost imagine the coy scent of the roses. You see above all else I was always fascinated by flowers and plants. To see such a fine specimen so close but so far saddened me and made my resolve to go to them once the school day had ended.
With the final bell for the day I gathered my belongings and set out to go to the rose bushes. I avoided the eyes of my classmates and kept my head low. No sense in talking with them now. I was on a mission. A mission to go to the rose bushes. Yes I understand looking back now that it is an idiotic mission, but give me credit, I was just a child. My feet carried me to them, the scent noticeable as I got close. I did what any other kid would do. I stuck my nose into the rose and took a deep breath. Now that, that truly brought a smile to my face. These roses were perfect. They were large and bountiful. Elegant and sweet. I reached a hand to the stem, not to pluck it but to test the strength of the stem. I pricked my finger deeply on a hidden thorn, but so transfixed was I that I couldn't care less. You see, plants are very different from people. They are like me. When something is wrong a plant wont talk and tell you, it will show you. It will wilt when it lacks water. The stems grow weak when they lack nutrients. When taken care of, like these rose bushes, they will grow strong and beautiful. Reaching for the sky and soaking in the suns lights silently. My eyes remained transfixed even as heavy footsteps fell behind me. A gentle hand touched my shoulder.
"Hey kid, your one of Mrs. Lowries boys right?"
I felt as if I had been woken from my stupor. I took my hand off of the stem, a gentle trickle of blood flowed from the sight on my thumb where the thorn had pricked it. I silently turned and looked up into the eyes of a much older man.
"Listen kid you got to be careful with roses, they have thorns. Here let me get a bandage for that. I'm Jack Samael by the way, the groundskeeper. I see you like my roses?"
I nod as I watch him dig a bandage out from a pocket. I held my wound to him and took in the sight for the first time. I had pricked my finger deeply. With how I held my hand the blood had pooled into my palm. The red ichor gently trickling.
"Damn kid, you got yourself good."
He wrapped my finger and applied pressure. Gentle yet firm, much like the roses.
"Sir, you have nice roses"
The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Mr. Samael spared me a glance.
"Thanks kid. Looks like you enjoy plants too. Nature is a good way at looking at the world around you. How about this, you mind helping me out after school and ill teach you what I know. If you do good then maybe ill let you take home your own rose bush this year."
Between his kind eyes and the gentle pain from him putting pressure on my finger I decided to take a leap of faith. There is a lot that can be learned from an adult, especially one who has taken care of plants all of his life. Who cares if I get a quirk or not, I would be happy to be left alone with plants just like Mr. Samael is.
"Okay, I'll do it."
The old man smiled and finished wrapping up my finger.
"First though you need to get cleaned up."
With that he led me into the school. At this point much of the other students had already left. That being said teachers and a few students could be seen here and there as Mr. Samael led me to the bathroom to clean my hand. The water a soap stung and of course the bandage was useless but that didn't seem to bother Mr. Samel. It was as if he was used to such things, I am sure mostly from his time at work. Once I was cleaned up he rewrapped my hand with a new bandage.
"Sir, is there anything I can help with today? I could maybe…"
"No, no, forget about that for now. You head on home and get that spot healed, alright?"
He kindly interrupted me. A bit of an oxymoron, but that is what he did. So I shouldered my bag and gave him a nod before heading out of the school. Cameron does sports so it's not like the foster parents will be here to pick either of us up soon. I make my way to the practice field where Cameron is running around the track. He is more boring to watch then a care race. Honestly, what is he going to do? Make another left handed turn…. Yay…
I find a spot and sit. I look up at the sky and wish it would rain. It's almost cathartic you know? To be out in the rain. It feels as if the rain will wash away all that is troubling you. Plus it gets cold. Today though, there is hardly even a cloud in the sky. Each one that I see moves lazily lacking any dark qualities of a coming storm. After a while Cameron comes and sits with me. He's quiet at first. As if he too is enjoying the simple silence of a calm day with me.
"Hey, uhh, Rowan. How was your first day back at school?"
Ah, he definitely noticed the bandage on my hand.
"It was okay. I got to see the rose bushes. They are really nice. Plus I met the groundskeeper, Mr. Samael. I think I'm going to help him out after school with the plants."
I don't look at Cameron but I know that he is nodding his head. He looks like a chicken when he does that. Bobbing up and down instead of tilting his head up and down.
"They will be here soon to pick us up, did you do your homework?"
I shook my head. Homework should be done at home anyways. It's not like there are many plants there.
"Cameron, what do you think my quirk will be?"
I finally turn to look at him to see what he will say. Its not all too often that you have to wait for your quirk to show anyways. Usually they just happen. He looks excited though with my question. I guess I do avoid talking to anyone about anything. Maybe he is a good person. The kind that I could have as a friend.
"I bet your going to have fire breath. Or even flying!"
"Fire breath? That would be horrible. I wouldn't be able to have any plants then. What if I sneeze? Boom, hours of waiting and work are gone."
"Well what about like…. Shrinking? Or even doing what I do! Shoot light out of your eyes!"
Oh boy, now he is excited. I don't know which is worse. A quirk that would ruin my hobby, or a useless quirk that would turn me into basically a walking flashlight. I don't give him an answer this time. Our ride has shown up. Marcy is on the phone while her husband Dan is driving. It definitely looks like my foster mother is working again. She always is working. On her phone, at the house, in the car. Not that Dan is any better. Just as much as Marcy is working, he is always reading. I guess that's why he is a good librarian. I don't really bother to listen to the conversation that Marcy my foster mother is having on the phone. She's always trying to sell something. How dull do you have to be to have a job just selling things. I would rather just be left to my plants.
We pull up to the house. It is your basic all American cookie cutter type. White picket fence, and a yard of nothing but grass. I wordlessly get out of the car. Dan and Marcy have accepted that I will only talk when I want to. So they don't really try to bother talking to me. I move through the house and to my room wordlessly. It is a pretty nice room to be honest. Much better then the last foster family. I had to sleep on the floor on a mat with them. This time I get a bed and a desk. I set my bag down and pull out one of the few possessions that I have. It's an old CD player. Portable to. I open it and put in one of the two CDs that I own. Turning it on I am met with the brassy and wonderful sounds of Piotr Ilich Tchaikovsky. I may not have that CD anymore, but listening to him always brings back memories of days like this. Being a kid and listening to the orchestral music as I worked on math or writing.
I take my time doing my homework. Simply just enjoying the solitude and letting the music surround me. Every now and then reading a question out loud and answering myself. It was times like that that I did not feel lonely. The mad Russian composer soothing my soul and mind as I solved the problems. I celebrate my completion of work I make sure to play by far his greatest masterpiece, 1812 overture. The music uplifting my spirits until I hear a knock at my door.
"Rowan, hun, it's time for dinner."
Marcy is like that. Everyone is hun, or honey, to her. I guess you could say she is very southern. At least as far as the USA goes. I turn off the CD player and shuffle my way out of the room. Dinner is always an affair with this family. Everyone eats together. I guess its my new foster parents way of trying to make the foster children feel more welcome and at home. To me though it is one of contempt. Dan is by far the worst cook imaginable. With out a doubt every meal he makes comes from a box, or the freezer. At least he tries though. Marcy and Cameron always compliment him on it. To me though, nothing tasted fresh. In America you could eat every single meal out of your freezer, or from a box. It would be nice though if he added a vegetable or even something new to it. I digress, food is food. I learned a long time ago that you eat what you get and you don't complain.
So there I sat in silence again. My mind still thinking of the notes of music playing in my head from the mad Russian composer. You might say I am being spoiled. That these lovely people took me into their home and are doing their best. You would be right. The child that I was back then though would rather shut himself out. Its too easy to have to change foster homes. Why make friends or even find a family if you had to move yet again. So, silence was preferable. Being alone was preferable. Can't miss people if they never truly got close to you. Once dinner was over I headed back to my room and took the time to turn back on my music before laying down. Even if I had to move again, at least Tchaikovsky would be able to come with me.
Thank you for reading this chapter. This is the first story that I have truly started to work on. Much of what I have done in the past has been short stories. I will do my best to post every Friday, but bear in mind I am an adult and do have work and what not to deal with. For now the perspective of the story will be introspective. What you are seeing will be Rowan's past. Who he is, what he has been through, and how he will fit into the over arching story of MHA. A fun little question for you dear readers. I will mention your name at the top of the next chapter if you are the first person to comment the answer to this question.
What is the unusual instrument used in Piotr Ilich Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture?