Finally Spring

“Ow,” Julie said, “you’re pulling my hair.”

“Sorry,” Anne muttered, her mouth full of bobby pins. 

“Why do you have to French braid my hair, anyway?”

“Julie!” Anne exclaimed, the bobby pins falling out of her mouth, “You know why! All the boys in our grade will be seeing you for the first time in two months. Would you mind getting that pin for me? I can’t reach it.”

“I’ve seen them on Zoom,” Julie said, “and here’s your bobby pin.”

“Thank you,” Anne said, putting the bobby pins back in her teeth, “but Zoom does not count.”

Julie sighed, twisting in her seat, but let Anne resume braiding her hair. She dressed up purely to please her best friend, not to attract boys. Anne could pull, twist, and paint as much as she liked, but it was like shining a flashlight in the darkest depths of the ocean. No one was ever going to notice Julie just because her hair and lips were a little shiner than usual. 

“If I see Christopher,” Anne said, “Promise you’ll give us a few minutes alone.”

“I’ll give you plenty of time. Believe me, I don’t want to be there when he kisses you.”

“Julie!” Anne said, but she blushed and smiled, so Julie knew she wasn’t mad.

“Girls!” Anne’s father called, “Are you ready?”

The past two months had been, probably, the strangest months of Julie’s life. About six months ago, a new virus had emerged in Argentina, and quickly spread throughout the whole of South America. The rest of the world had watched with only vague alarm until cases began popping up on other continents. In the US, it had hit California first, but it was only a matter of weeks before it had spread to the East Coast. The whole world had come down with the virus. All schools and non-essential businesses had been closed for what seemed like forever. Julie couldn’t remember the last time she had been in a room full of people. But it had been getting better for some time now, and the US government had finally lifted the state of emergency last Sunday; school was starting again next Monday. Everything had been pretty much canceled or pushed back but, miraculously, the spring dance was going ahead as planned. School buildings were still closed, though, so instead of the gym, it was taking place in a local park. “Blue Meadow Park” it was called.

When the governor had closed schools and people had locked themselves in their homes, the trees had still been stiff brown skeletons. They had swayed under piles of snow, the rain falling through their branches like water through a sieve. But over the quiet months they had grown into green mosaics, swinging in the breeze like acrobats. When it rained the water collected under their leaves, and little children took refuge under their branches, their feet huddled among the wildflowers which had bloomed under the spring rain. 

That was always Julie’s favorite part of spring- when the flowers came out. She loved the tulips, which were especially beautiful this year. Maybe it was the quiet, or the pure air, or maybe it was an apology for everything that had happened, but the tulips had never glowed brighter.

“Ah,” Anne said, “Faces. I’ve missed this.”

Julie smiled wryly.

“Just three months ago,” Julie said, “you were saying you wanted to move to a deserted island in the South Pacific.”

“That was three months ago,” Anne said, “oh look! It’s Elise.”

Running up the hill was a short girl, wearing a hot pink strapless dress and waving a gloved hand in the air. 

“What’s with the gloves?” Anne said.

“These?” Elise said, blushing, “oh-well-they came with one of my Halloween costumes, a few years ago.”

“But it’s not Halloween,” Anne said. 

“Anne! Be nice.”

“It’s fine,” Elise said, “I was just doing some deep cleaning, and I found them in my closet. They’re so pretty, I thought it was a shame I only got to wear them once. But forget about my gloves; I have something else to tell you. You have to hurry, I don’t know how long it will be until someone pulls them apart-“

“Pull who apart?” 

“Jessie and Emma. They’re fighting over Daniel.”

“Fighting?”

“Come with me. I’ll show you.”

Elise set off, and Julie hitched up the hem off her dress to follow. She soon saw that the two girls were exchanging blows in the worst part of the park: the soccer field. The grass had long since been trampled over by little boys and girls, and the only thing left was mud. In the middle of the field, two girls were crawling on top of each other, their nails scraping each other’s cheeks.

“What happened?” Julie said.

“Typical high school drama,” Elise said, “Daniel lives right next to Emma, so they snuck out to see each other during quarantine, while Jessie was two towns away and could do nothing about it.”

“Geesh,” Julie said, “that’s messed up.”

Emma was the valedictorian of the senior class; smart, bookish, and quiet, she wore plaid skirts and white button down shirts. She’d only gotten detention once, for correcting a teacher. 

The adults came and pulled the girls apart, though they kept screaming at each other. Their hair was tangled, the straps of their dresses were hanging off their shoulders, and their faces were streaked with makeup and mud. But Julie noticed, even through the dirt, the light pink of a flower in Jessie’s hair. It was a forget-me-not.

“I feel sorry for them,” Julie said. 

“Me too. But,” Elise said, “I’m glad Jessie found out. At least now she knows what kind of man Daniel is.”

“I’m thirsty,” Anne said, “Do any of you want to get some punch with me?”

“I’m good,” Julie said.

“Me too,” Elise said, “but you go ahead, Anne. We’ll head to the dance floor.”

“She’s not really thirsty,” Julie whispered after Anne had gone, “she just wants to find Christopher.”

“Give her a break,” Elise said, “She’s in love.”

“Elise! Julie!”

“Meghan!”

It was Meghan, the captain of the volleyball team. She was waving at them from the DJ booth, where a crowd had gathered.

“What’s happening?” Elise said.

“Do you remember the quarantine essay contest?” Meghan said, “‘What I Have Learned From Quarantine?’”

“Of course I do,” Julie said, “I edited your submission.”

Meghan blushed. “They’re announcing the winners now. One for each grade, and an overall winner.”

“Overall winner?” Elise said, “I know who that will be.”

“Amy Silver,” Julie said.

Amy Silver was the unofficial Poet Laureate of their high school. She had been recognized by the New York Times, the New Yorker, and a host of other important literary magazines no one had ever heard of.

“For the 9th grade winner,” the DJ said, “Miss Vickie Smith!”

A short red-haired girl, with a pair of large blue glasses, stepped up to the podium, squealing and waving at her friends. After her, the DJ continued, naming the 10th and 11th grade winners. When he got to the 12th, Julie crossed her fingers and smiled at Meghan.

“Meghan Williams!” the DJ said.

Julie began jumping up and down, Elise threw her arms around Meghan, and the people around them clapped. She stepped up to the podium to get her certificate, and shook the hand of the English teacher who was presiding. After she stepped down, the DJ called for a drumroll. 

“And the overall winner of the quarantine contest is….”

Everyone looked over at Amy Silver, who had stood up, her hands neatly clasped in front of her.

“Annie Rose!”

“Annie Rose?” Julie whispered.

“Annie Rose?” Elise repeated.

None of them knew who that was, and they didn’t recognize the girl who went up to the DJ booth.

“Meghan?” Julie said, “Do you know her?”

“She was in my History class freshman year,” she said, “I think she’s a Star Trek fan.”

“Poor Amy,” Elise said, “I’m sure she worked so hard.”

“Do you want to head to the dance floor?” Meghan said.

“I’d love that,” Elise said.

“Julie?” Meghan said.

“I think I’ll walk around for a bit,” Julie said, “I’m not quite ready to dance.”

Really, she wanted to spy on Anne and Christopher. She had just spotted them sneaking away from the dance, heading to a small circle of pine trees. 

But she never got a chance to follow them. Without any warning, there was a giant peal of of thunder, spreading through the air like flower petals in a strong breeze. There had been a low chance of rain that day, but it had come anyway. It was too dark to see the clouds, but Julie could hear the rumbling, and could feel the wind that was slowly raising the edges of the tablecloths. 

Then, out of the silence, there was the click of a megaphone.

“Everyone, please remain clam-“

The DJ's voice was drowned out by the panicked screams of a hundred high schoolers, in their fanciest dresses and suits, facing the prospect of getting rained on. Everyone began running, calling out to their friends, and trying to find places to hide.

Julie, however, stayed calm. She knew this park, and had come here often when she was younger. So she knew what most people did not; behind the tennis courts, there was a telephone booth. It was broken-down and old, but the roof was still intact.

“Julie!” 

The thunder was getting alarmingly louder with each minute that passed, and the wind was so bad Julie had to hold down the skirt of her dress, but when she heard that voice, she stopped. 

“Connor?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know anywhere to get out of the rain, would you?”

Julie smiled, tucking a strand of wind-blown hair behind her ear.

“There’s an old telephone near the tennis courts.”

“Telephone booth?” 

“Follow me.”

The rain began to pour down, falling on Julie’s calves as she ran across the grass. There was nothing she could do except keep running. Finally, with a gasp, she lunged for the door to the telephone booth. It wouldn’t move. She placed the edge of her heel against the door, and pulled with all her might, but it stayed stuck. 

“Let me,” Connor said, stepping in front of her. With one swift step, he kicked the door open, and they rushed in.

The inside of the telephone booth was a strange blend of nature and machine. There were weeds cutting through the cracked pavement, and spiderwebs dangling from the ceiling. The phone was hanging by its cord, which looked like it had been gnawed on by an animal.

“Gross,” Julie said.

“Ah!” Connor said, jumping away from the corner, “it’s leaking!”

“Really?” she said, “I’m fine here.”

Connor stepped over to her corner, looking anxiously at the ceiling. They were packed close together now; the only thing between them was the dangling telephone. If bugs had wanted to scurry between their shoes, they would have had to go single-file. 

Feeling awkward and wanting to do something, Julie pulled out her phone. Anne texted her, saying she was at Elise’s house, and her father was on his way.

“Such a shame,” Connor muttered.

“I had my hair done,” Julie said, “and put on makeup. All to get rained out.”

Connor chuckled. 

“It was fun while it lasted, at least.”

There was silence for a few minutes, as Connor and Julie looked out into the raging storm, whipping and screaming mere inches from them. If she placed her hand on the glass, Julie could feel it shaking. Even the playground looked like it was moving a little in the wind.

But after a few minutes, her eyes began to drift away from the storm and towards Connor. His hair was a light yellow, like daisies in bright sunshine, and it seemed to tread the line between the ethereal and the earthly.

This wasn’t the first time Julie had been alone with Connor. Nor did she think it would be the last; they had seen a lot of each other lately. They were in the school play together, and Chorus class, and both wrote for the school literary magazine. She couldn’t count the number of club meetings she had gone to where she had seen his face. 

Julie sighed, lightly running her finger along the edge of the window. 

“God,” she said, “I feel so trapped.”

“Really?” Connor said, “Would you rather be outside?”

“No,” Julie said, “I just…”

Her voice trailed off, and she leaned her head against the edge of the telephone booth. She could picture all the people Connor had seen at the dance, all the friends he had sought out, glad to see after two months. She could picture-

“Did you see the tulips?” Connor said.

“Hmm?”

“There was this lovely patch of tulips, right next to the DJ booth,” Connor said.

“No, I didn’t see them.”

Julie raised her head from the edge of the telephone booth.

“I wish I had, though. I love tulips.”

“I know,” Connor said, “I remember reading your piece for the literary magazine. What was it called? ‘Tulips in October’?”

“Not my finest,” Julie said, shaking her head.

“I liked it,” Connor said.

Julie blushed, and looked out into the storm.

“I did have one question, though.”

“A question?”

“It was such a detailed poem, and it had such beautiful descriptions- but you didn’t mention color.”

“Color?”

“Color.”

Julie pursed her lips. “I guess it didn’t occur to me.”

Connor shook his head. “You spend the whole poem singing the praises of tulips, but you never mention what color they are. Are they orange? Are they purple? Are they white?”

Julie was confused. What did tulips have to do with anything? Why was Connor being so insistent about the color of the tulips? She didn’t think the color was that important; the tulips weren’t even that important to the poem. They were just a metaphor for a person, a way for her to write a love poem without making it seem like a love poem. 

But then, as the rain trickled down the sides of the window, Julie remembered. She remembered a trip to the Nature Museum a year ago, for their Biology class. They saw all sorts of creatures- they even dissected the insides of a spider, which she hadn’t particularly liked. She and Connor had been partners, and she had let him do most of the work. Afterwards, she had headed straight for the flower garden, to get all the gross spider innards out of her mind. 

At the end of the garden tour, there was a section dedicated to flower-themed video games. One of the games, “Flower Power” was about growing your own flowers. You could do it alone, or with another person, and the goal was to grow a flower as tall and as strong as possible. Connor had played with her, and they had grown tulips. Hers had been a red tulip, and his had been a white tulip. 

“Oh,” Julie said, “Oh, yes, I do have a favorite. White tulips.”

“White tulips?” Connor had the slightest grin on his face. He flicked the edge of the telephone cord and sent it spinning.

“Yes,” Julie said, “In fact, I’ve always liked white tulips. I-“

But she was interrupted by the honking of a blue sedan, pulling up to the road near the telephone booth. She could see Anne waving at her through the car window.

“What were you saying?” Connor said.

“I- I gotta go,” Julie said, “my ride is here.”

“The blue sedan?"

"Yeah."

"Good luck getting through the rain."

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

Taking one last look at Connor, Julie pushed open the door to the telephone booth. One foot was already in the pouring rain when she heard Connor’s voice.

“My favorite tulips are red tulips. In case you’re wondering.”

“See you on Monday, Connor!”

As she was sprinting towards the car, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a little patch of tulips blooming near the road. Pink tulips, reaching towards the sky. 

It’s spring, she thought. Finally spring.