Willow. That is my name. My mother had this romantic idea of her daughter to grow up like the Willow tree and somehow, I am growing up to be like one. My hair is long and straight, like the leaves and vines of the said tree. Even my body can be described as ‘willowy’; slender (those evil boys in school described me as “flat as a airport runway”, while others had actually mistaken me for a boy). I was born on a Wednesday, the day of the Willow. And even my personality is like that of the tree. Do you understand what I mean? I guess not. I am a quiet girl. People say that I am a ‘dreamer’. But I am not. My head is always never in the clouds. Maybe midway. If I am there, I am there. If I am not there, then I am not there.
I do not really take things that seriously. But I do only for the tests and exams. You can hardly find me paying attention to the latest fashion trends or the most good-looking actor on the current scene. I guess that trait of mine was what brought me to this problem I am in. A little more of that later. As I was saying, if I can have my way, I will be wearing jeans and tees everyday, holed up in my room painting or out in the mountains photographing. Yes. I like Nature art, but not the airy-fairy kind. I am more into trees and plants. Maybe it was because of my interest in trees that got me into the school’s Horticulture club, where we are in-charged of the school’s plants; grass, shrubs, flowers and trees. We also plant fruits and vegetables in the back gardens (which we sell to the Home Ec club for a small amount). Did I mention that the club plants flowers too? We provide flowers for the Flower Arranging club. When I went through all of these ‘extra’ activities the club does, the first thought that came to me was, “Wow! We are like a small company! It’s either we provide a service or we are whole-sellers!” LOL.
About this problem I have. However, before I begin, you must understand this. I am now a second year student in high school. School is an ordinary, mostly middle-class partially private co-ed. I have been in the Hort club (Horticulture club for short) since I started school. Due to an illness, I was more-out than in school during my first year, hence, I became a ‘phantom’ club member. But I am back now, much better, thanks to a new medicine and lots of rest.
About this problem now. Well, it started about three days ago, after school hours. I was the last of the few volunteered club members clearing up the tree planting activity earlier on. As I was keeping the tools and gathering my backpack in the tool shed, I heard a noise behind me. Remember, I was the last one, so I was more than surprised to hear a person’s throat-clearing sound behind me at 6-odd p.m. I turned around, and there at the doorway stood this really tall guy, with the setting sun behind him, causing me to squint at him. Without introducing himself, he barked out angrily, “Where were the flowers I ordered with you yesterday? Make sure this doesn’t happen again. I expect double the order tomorrow, or else…” With that, he turned on his heels and left. I was standing there gaping. ‘Or else, what?What’s up with the rude guy??? And, who is he???’ With the sun in my eyes, how was I supposed to recognise his face? And he did not leave his name. Great. I was left with only a memory of his body outline, and it looked like a really good physique to me. I took out my mobilephone and rang up Michelle, our club’s chairman.
“Hello, Michelle? It’s me, Willow. Sorry to disturb you. Are you free now?”
“Yeah, I am. What’s up?”
“It’s like this. Did the club owe anyone flowers recently?”
“Flowers? Owe? Hmmm… Let me think… OH MY GOD!!!! Today! What is it??”
I replied her, “Tuesday.”
“TUESDAY!!! YES!!!! Aargh…!!! I forgot all about it!!!”
“Errr… Michelle… Chill. So, who-”
“The Terror of Greendale High, chairman of the Flower Arranging Club, Flower Arranging genius, the Flower Prince, Tylor Merchants!!!”
“Right. I see. So, we just send the flowers, double, to him tomorrow-”
“Hang on, girlfriend. It’s not that simple. We normally deliver two basket-worth. So, double it will be four-times. Do we have that many flowers???”
Realisation hit me. We had given our last basket of flowers to the Elders Home Centre. “Oh. No.”
“Exactly. And you will be filling in for me as the club’s chairman ‘cos I will be grounded in the hospital all thanks to this ankle. All the best!”
“Wait-!!” And the line was dead. Dread filled me to the core. I knew nothing about flowers as I was put in-charged of the trees. Sigh. And Michelle is in hospital due to a broken ankle after she slipped and fell down the stairs in school, being distracted by a, quote and unquote, “really gorgeous male” (little did I know that the said “gorgeous male” was none other than the fan-dubbed “Flower Prince”). I was in trouble.
