Lilac and Ash

                                                              By Siren7   

 

       Lilac never understood it. The complication of human emotion.

  “Why can’t we all just be free?” she would ask. “Why let our insecurities confine us into hiding ourselves? When you speak, speak truth, or don’t bother speaking at all.”

 

            She always felt the world would be a better place if only everyone would be completely truthful, express exactly what they were feeling all the time. I couldn’t easily say I agreed with her.

 

            “Milk life for all it’s worth.” she would say. “If you feel like hugging or kissing someone, do it. If you feel like falling to your knees and praising God, do it. Nothing is holding you back but your own fear.”

            She has actually done that, too. I could never. I hate attracting attention. I once told her that she could afford to live this way because she was beautiful.

            “Afford to?” she said, “I couldn’t afford not to! You’re as beautiful as anyone else, Elsa. All you have to do is release your spirit. The day you finally do I will dance and sing in the streets!”

            “Please don’t.” I replied in mock mortification. We both laughed and breathed deeply the fresh spring air. I raised my head and abruptly stopped.

 

            Ash was walking toward the picnic table we sat upon with frightening speed. Even from the distance I could see that warning gleam in his eye, that flicker of nearly evil mischief he was capable of that terrified me to my very core. He was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. I could feel all the color draining from my face.

 

            I had no idea why he scared me so much. It wasn’t as though I thought he was capable of any physical violence.

            He wouldn’t hurt a fly, I knew; once on a sweltering summer day a teacher raised a fly swatter to kill one on his desk as she passed. With cat-quick reflexes, he had grabbed the swatter and stared her down for a whole minute while the class gaped in stunned silence. She sent him to the office but the disciplinarian had laughed.

            I touched Lilac’s arm. She looked up and a malicious smile grew on her lips.

 

            “Good morning, O fair ones.” he said. He bent down on one knee and kissed my hand. I half-giggled ridiculously and felt my face turn red. Why did he do this to me? He knew I had advanced male-interaction paranoia. I wasn’t the sort of girl guys lingered around all day. Ash was torture.

            “Where’s my kiss?” pouted Lilac. Oh, no. He stood and turned to her.

Oh, no.

            “Your kiss?” he breathed silkily. “Your kiss?” He put his hands on her hips and she draped her arms on his shoulders. “Your kiss is right-”

            I must have made some kind of involuntary noise, because when their lips were about a centimeter apart, she shoved him away and said, “I’m spent.”

            He laughed in that way of his that makes me wish I were brave and beautiful like Lilac.

 

            “Fresh out of English, I presume.” she said.                                                                           “Ah, yes. Sir William Shakespeare was especially inspiring today.”

            “So what have you for us today, O bearer of obnoxious news?”

            “Nothing much.” he sighed regretfully. “ Krissy Marduks has collapsed in hysterics again, and, though he isn’t yet aware of it, Larry Tracker is having a party tonight.”

            “Your doing?” she accused.

            “Of course.” he stated proudly. “Larry has been spreading some rather unflattering rumors lately. He needs to be put back in line.”

 

              Ash was supposedly as much a crusader of truth as Lilac is; he just has a more despicable way of going about it.

 

            “I don’t suppose you ladies would consider joining me?”

            “We don’t do parties.” Lilac quickly replied.

 I was mildly disappointed but greatly relieved.

 

            I had never been to a true high school party. Sad, I know, but I was terrified of social situations without Lilac. Even with Lilac. Also, my thick glasses and stringy blond hair didn’t exactly make me cool. Lilac’s thick, wavy, dark chocolate hair and intense green eyes made her one of the most beautiful girls in school, but she wasn’t popular in the cheerleader/jock sense, though she knew many more people than they did.

            This is mostly due to the fact that she pissed them off a lot. However, Ash was arrogant enough to be worshipped and loud enough to be entertaining.

 

            “Will you refuse me forever?” he asked forlornly.

            “Probably.” she replied brightly. He moaned.

            “Our last date was eleven years ago.”

            “And it will stay that way.”

 

            They grew up together, Ash and Lilac. Their houses are right next to each other. Ash and Lilac’s bedroom windows face each other with a tree between. The branches are just so that it is easy to move through the tree and into the other window. It’s like a walkway between the two houses, connecting them on many levels. They thought about building a tree house once, or even just a walkway, but Lilac said she didn’t like the idea of trying to improve God’s perfection.

            When we were little they used to have a flashlight code and sneak over to each other’s houses. Now they watched each other when they thought the other one wasn’t looking and threw things into each other’s rooms. At least, that’s what they tell me.  I know they have something deeper, but neither will confess.

 

            If Lilac and I weren’t so close, I’d definitely feel left out, but the three of us have been friends since the first day of kindergarten. It was those six years of life before school that I couldn’t touch. In that time, they formed an unimaginable bond. I got closer to Lilac during middle school, when she and Ash had started feeling weird around each other, due to that thankfully temporary but maddeningly personal hell called puberty.

 

            By the middle of eighth grade, though, they were back together, inseparable again. The time apart had given them the opportunity to form their own identities, though they were more like each other than anything else. Now, sophomores, at sixteen, Ash was desperate to begin their inevitable and long awaited love affair, and Lilac was having immense fun keeping him an arm’s length away.

 

            “Lilac, you cannot keep me away forever. I am irresistible. Besides, I have easy access to your bedroom.”

            “Not anymore. I’m locking my window. You’re out of control.”

            “What!? You can’t kick me out!”

            “Oh yes, I can. It’s my house. And if your parents start yelling again, you can sleep on the floor.”

 That makes me wonder where he slept before.

            “If?”

 

            Ash’s parents haven’t been getting along for about the past five years. It has gotten to the point where Ash and his siblings pray for divorce. The kids often seek refuge by sneaking through the tree at night and sleeping in Lilac’s room. It isn’t much of a secret anymore. The Taylor children have their own drawer at the More house. In my opinion, they’ve always had two families. Sometimes things get so weird. I’m glad my parents don’t fight. Even if they don’t understand me.

  

            Lilac picked up her books, which was my signal to get my stuff as well. We stood up and she turned to me.

 

            “You sleeping at my house tonight?” she asked. It was Friday. Friday is stay-home-and-relax-night, usually consisting of pizza, ice cream, and old movies. Also known as lame chick night.

            Ash rarely made an appearance; Friday was his socialize-with-the-other-brain less-jerks-at-our-school-night, usually consisting of drunken parties with idiot girls and bad music. That was just fine with me.

            “Yeah.” I said. She turned to Ash.

            “I assume you’ll be at your justice party,” she said.

He was looking at us like a needy puppy.

            “I’ll lock the window,” she said.

 I giggled and he glared, which silenced me.

 

             What was my problem? I felt my face grow hot. I must be the biggest geek that ever lived. Here was Ash, who I had seen nearly every day since the first day of kindergarten, and still his every move invoked an overwhelming rush of emotions, some good, most bad. It scares me, because I do not want to be in love with him. Unfortunately, my body and my heart strongly disagree with my mind, which is constantly being torn in thousands of painful directions. Lilac says it’s because I’m a wildly romantic person, which is just a nice way of saying that I’m too exaggerative and look for extraordinary things in ordinary places. Oh, well. At least being “wildly romantic” is helpful in writing entertaining fiction.

            Writing is my passion, though it’s subtler than Lilac and Ash’s amazing acting. I often write things especially for them. Lilac says that someday the three of us will make it big in theater and film with their astounding talents and my genius writing. I have no doubt about them, but no matter how Lilac showers my work with compliments I always see it as too childish and unrealistic to make it in the world.

 

            We parted and went to our classes. It just so happened that Ash and I had the next class together, which meant he and I would walk together without Lilac, which meant my cardiovascular system would once again be tested to the limit. Just looking at him makes me want to pull my hair out at the shear aggravation of my battling body centers and overpowering emotions at war with each other. I hate irony. Ash seems to love it. He moved in front of me and turned to walk backwards. Great.

            “Elsa, please! Get Lilac to come to the party.”

            “Ash...”

 I am such a pushover.

            “Please.”

            “Ash...”

            “Please.”

            “But how...”

            “S’il vous plâit.”

            “No!”

 

            “Fine. I’ll leave you alone. I just... I don’t know... It’s weird. I’ve known her my whole life. I totally love her in a very real sense, and yet I still can’t...”                              “Understand the psychology of how to get her to Larry Tracker’s house?”

            “Yeah.”

            “I just can’t. Lilac would kill me if she found out I was going behind her back. Especially with you.”

            “I know. I just thought you guys would have a lot of fun.”

            His acting was flawless, but I knew him too well. Poor boy had no idea how transparent he was. Not to mention incredibly sweet. I had to fight hard to prevent myself from melting into a puddle on the floor. He was really doing this to get me to the party. I suppose Lilac would make me look cool and then he’d introduce me to everyone and I’d finally come out of my shell.

 

            It wasn’t a bad idea. His plan was nearly perfect. Get me to think this was all for Lilac so I’d try to get her to go, so she would think I wanted to go and take me, then afterward Ash would be home free because Lilac would think I wanted to go and Ash would just say he was trying to get Lilac to go... Anyway, you get the idea.

            There was only one thing he hadn’t counted upon. I was smarter than that. He knew better than to enlist the help of Lilac, she wouldn’t do it. The whole thing was between him and me, so all I had to do was not say a word and enjoy my lame chick night. I love being smart.

             “Okay.” I said. “I’ll try.”

 

 

 

            Don’t ask me how, I don’t have the slightest clue, all I can tell you is that God is up there having the laugh of the century. Like I said, I hate irony. That’s why it picks on me. That’s why, for instance, I’m sitting in Lilac’s makeup less makeup chair (as she calls it) getting ready for the party. I hate irony.

 

            Our lame chick night started out innocently enough; we nearly lost our lives trying to make it the three miles to the video store for our weekly movies in Lilac’s old beat-up van with her menial driving skills, just like every week. And just like every week, Ronny, the cute, original, and really funny guy who works there had to flirt with Lilac audaciously. Lilac, of course, just had to flirt back, as was tradition. Hence, the conversation that dramatically changed the night’s events from relaxing to the anxiety event of the year.

 

                “Staying in again, ladies? I thought two lovelies like yourselves would be at Tracker’s party tonight.” Lilac decided to have fun with this one.

 

            She sighed regretfully. It was pretty realistic. “Oh, if I live a thousand years I will never desire anything more than I desire to be at the party tonight.” She draped herself on the counter with passionate sorrow. “Oh, woe is me! If only I could hear the distastefully loud music! Smell the cheap beer and sweaty bodies! Get hit on by stoned jerks who don’t know whom Elizabeth Barrett Browning is!” She writhed in despair. It was all Ronny could do to keep from peeing his pants. I looked at my watch impatiently.

            “You know, I’d be happy to take you as soon as my shift’s over.” he said as soon as he got a breath in. His voice was still wavering from the laughter.

            “Yes, I know.” she said indifferently. She was now sitting up proudly on the countertop.

 

            “What do you say?” he asked, holding up our movies, which consisted of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Face Off.

 “Is it an evening of action and comedy or 100%  Ronny?”

 

            “We’ll take the movies.” said Lilac coyly, “But you can pick me up at eight.”

 I smiled. This would be good.

 

            As we walked out to the van I decided to have mercy on Lilac and point out her mistake.

            “You’re not dating Ronny, are you?” I asked.

            “Of course not. He’ll go to the party but I won’t be there. I’ve been looking forward to Luke Perry all week.”

 

             “Might I point something out?” I could feel the grin sprouting on my face. I would never be an actress.

            “If you were planning to stand him up,” I said, now barely containing myself, “why did you tell him to pick you up!”

 I burst out laughing uncontrollably, complete with geeky snorts. I had no hope of sobering until Lilac said this:

 

             “Because he’s not picking me up. He’s picking you up.” I shut up.

            “What?!”

            “You heard me. You’re going to your first high school party with Ronny Bates.”

 

            This was not happening. How could she? What was she thinking? I’d make a total fool of myself! I’d die! I’d be laughed out of the school! I’d- Well it was this simple. I was not going. Lilac looked like she could see my entire thought process.

            “You are going.” How did she do that?

            “I’m not.”

            “You are.”

            “Are not.”

            “Are too.”

            “Are not.”

            “Are too.”

            “Are not.”

            “Are not.”

            “Are too.”

            “Gotcha.”

            I was such an idiot. That stupid trick worked on me every single time.

            “I’m not going.”

            “Get in the van, Elsa.” I climbed in “the tank” as Ash called it. It was our only transportation between the three of us. The drive home was silent, with Lilac smiling triumphantly.

            When we got back she popped in Buffy and sat me down in front of her mirror.

             “I’m not going.”

            “Shut up, Elsa.”

            “Lilac! Stop ignoring me! I said I don’t want to go!”

            “Okay, fine. You don’t have to go. But let’s do this anyway. It’ll be fun.”

            “Fine.”

            I was actually kind of interested myself in how I would look with Lilac’s help. We hadn’t done this sort of thing since the seventh grade, and I’d changed considerably since then.

            She looked at me for a few minutes, then decided to start with hair. She washed it a few times then conditioned it, then slathered on some sticky goo that was supposed to stop frizz and “hold my style”. She did, however, promise not to use any hairspray or gel or anything gross like that. Nearly everything she owns is organic, including the shampoo and stuff.

 

            She quickly set my hair in “pin curls”, which hurt and I doubted anyone had used since the fifties. Then it was off to makeup. Lilac dragged a big bag out of her closet and dumped out more makeup than I had ever seen. It was in her closet because she rarely wore anything more than lipstick. That stuff was left over from middle school and countless bonuses her mother had given her over the years.

 

            Then, one last thing. My glasses. “I hope you brought your contacts.” she said. Ever the Girl Scout, I had always brought contacts with me overnight, just in case something happened to my glasses. I had never intended on wearing them, though. I had only worn my contacts a couple of times when swimming. It didn’t really bother me to wear them; I just preferred glasses. Besides, I think they make my eyes look small.

 

            I knew Lilac wouldn’t take no for an answer, though, so I put them in, a bit shakily.

 

            I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but in the end I nearly lost it. I was pretty.

            “I just brought out your natural good stuff and hid your not-so-good stuff.”

            I was still gaping when she went to her closet and pulled out a spaghetti-strap red dress that would hit at about my knees. I smiled, not bothering to argue. If there was only one good thing about my looks, it was my figure. I did have a nice body. After spending so much time working out I deserved to.

 

            The dress looked good. Amazing. I didn’t even feel like myself anymore. I felt... bolder. More confident. I felt more like what Lilac must feel like. As cool as I felt, though, I still wasn't going to the party. Lilac finally unwrapped my head and took out the pin curls. Blond spirals fell down my shoulders. I was speechless.

            “Lilac... how....” She just smiled and helped me put the shoes on.

 

            We watched a bit more of Buffy and the doorbell rang.

 

            “I wonder who that could be?” said Lilac guiltily. Ronny. I’d completely forgotten. I was smart enough not to go downstairs, though. I heard her open the door and talk to Ronny. She told him to go out to the car and that she’d be there in a minute.

            “Elsa!” she called up stairs. “I’m going to the party.”

             I heard the rustle of her putting on her coat.

            “Will you bring me my purse?”

             I saw it sitting on the bed and started down the stairs with it.

 

            Coming down, I saw her standing by the door, which was about five feet from the stairs. When I reached the bottom step I held out my hand to give her the purse. In one quick motion, she grabbed my outstretched arm, opened the door, and flung me outside. I couldn’t fight her, these shoes made it impossible to barely stand up.

            “Lilac!” I screamed. She slammed the door and locked it. I struck it once, hard.

 

            “Who are you?” I spun around at the sound of his voice and started to walk toward the car to apologize for Lilac. “Wow.” he said. I blushed. “Who are you?” I took a deep breath.

 

            “It’s me.” I said nervously. “Elsa.” He laughed. I wanted to die.

            “Elsa! Wow! You look amazing! I didn’t even recognize you! Where’s Lilac?”

  I looked back at the house.

            “Oh, um, I’m sorry. Lilac...” As if on cue, she opened the living room window and yelled out.

            “I’ve come down with a sudden allergy to parties and funny guys. Elsa will be my replacement.” He laughed again.

 

            “Cool.” he said. “Get in.”

            “Oh, well...” I looked back at the house desperately. Lilac was smiling and waving in the window.

 

“Come on.” said Ronny.

           

            I was on the verge of panicking when I looked down. I did look nice. And I did want to go to this party more than anything... It was my own fear holding me back, just like Lilac says. She was still waving and smiling at me, and Ronny had gotten out and was holding the door for me. She had woven a fairy tale I couldn’t resist. I got in.

 

 

To Be Continued…………….