Pants And Roses

Chapter 6

The morning after the fountain disaster, I woke up with two things: a sore throat and a brain full of lies I wanted to tell my classmates about why I was soaked last night. Maybe I'd say I fought a shark. Or survived a hurricane. Or maybe just say the truth-"I slipped because a girl threw roses at me and I drowned in laughter."

Yeah, no one would believe me.

I stared at my reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror, toothbrush hanging from my lips. My hair looked like a bird's nest after a storm, and my eyes had that sleepy glow that screamed "This boy has no love life." I splashed water on my face and whispered to myself:

"Today, Ethan, you will act normal. Roxy will see you in class, and she'll smile. You'll say hi. She'll remember the fountain. She'll laugh. You'll laugh. And then maybe you'll... no, no kissing yet. Baby steps. Hi first. That's all. Just say hi."

I repeated it like a prayer as I walked to school, bag slung over one shoulder, the memory of last night glowing warm in my chest. She laughed with me. She actually laughed. That was proof enough that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't a complete loser.

School Reality Check

The bell rang as I slipped into class, trying to look cool even though I nearly tripped over the doorway. And there she was-Roxy. Sitting near the window like she owned the sunlight, hair falling in waves, tattoos peeking from under her sleeves. She didn't glance at me, didn't nod, didn't smirk. Nothing.

I forced a smile and walked up.

"Hey," I whispered.

She blinked at me once, slowly, like I was a fly buzzing around her ear. Then she turned back to her notebook, scribbling something without a single word.

My heart cracked like my old mug at home.

"Hey," I tried again, this time louder.

Finally, she turned her head, lips curling into a half-smirk. "Do I... know you?" she said, loud enough for half the class to hear.

The room burst into laughter. My ears burned so hot I thought they'd fall off.

"What?" I stammered. "Roxy, it's me. Last night-"

"Roxy?" she cut in, tilting her head like I'd said the funniest thing in the world. "Who's that?"

The class howled again, and I swear I saw one kid nearly choke on his pencil. My chest tightened as I slumped into the nearest seat. She was pretending. Pretending last night never happened. Pretending I never happened.

I stared at my desk for the rest of class, doodling roses in the corner of my notebook like some heartbroken poet.

The Nerdy Girl - Clara

When the bell rang, everyone rushed out, except a girl with glasses too big for her face and a backpack twice her size. She hovered near me like a shadow until I finally looked up.

"Hi," she mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

"Hi," I answered, still sulking.

She fiddled with her straps, then blurted, "Don't be sad. Sometimes... people pretend because they're scared. Maybe she's scared."

I blinked at her. "Scared of me? What am I, a horror movie?"

Clara chuckled nervously. "No... but maybe scared of herself. Anyway, I like your doodles."

I glanced down at my roses. My messy, broken roses. She smiled like they were masterpieces. Something in my chest softened, but before I could say anything, she was already hurrying out the door.

Weird. Sweet. Weird.

The Rose Scandal

By lunch, whispers flooded the school like bees in a hive. Students gathered near the parking lot, pointing and gasping. I pushed through the crowd, and there it was:

The principal's car.

Smashed window. Scratched paint. And covering the hood... a mountain of roses. Red, pink, white. Some petals scattered on the ground like blood at a crime scene.

Everyone gasped the same word over and over:

"Roxy."

I froze. My stomach twisted. It was obvious-she sold roses. Everyone knew it. If anyone wanted to frame her, this was the perfect crime.

And then the principal stormed out, face red, voice booming.

"Who did this? Who vandalized my car?"

The silence was deadly. Then one boy shouted: "It's the rose girl!"

The crowd roared in agreement, voices mixing like a wave: "Roxy! Roxy!"

I caught sight of her at the edge of the crowd, eyes wide, mouth set in a hard line. For once, she didn't look fearless. She looked small.

The principal pointed at her. "Office. Now."

My body tensed. I wanted to step forward, say something, do something. But my tongue glued itself to the roof of my mouth.

Before I could move, another voice cut through the noise.

Clara's Big Defense

"I sell roses too!"

Heads whipped around. Clara, trembling like a leaf, stepped into the circle. Her glasses slid down her nose, but she didn't care.

"I... I sell roses too," she repeated, louder this time. "If you think she did it, then maybe I did it. Or maybe both of us. Or maybe neither. You can't just blame her because she's different."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. My jaw dropped. Clara-tiny, quiet Clara-was standing up to the principal.

The principal narrowed his eyes. "You expect me to believe you?"

"Yes," she said, her voice steadier now. "Because it's true."

The air grew heavy. Roxy stared at Clara like she was seeing her for the first time. I stared too. My heart twisted in a mess of confusion-admiration for Clara's courage, guilt for staying silent, and a pang of jealousy I didn't even understand.

The principal sighed, rubbing his temples. "Both of you. Office. Now."

As they walked away, whispers exploded behind them. Some kids called Clara a liar. Some called her a hero. And me? I just stood there, heart pounding, realizing my life had officially turned into a love triangle I never asked for.

Cliffhanger

That night, lying on my bed, I replayed everything. Roxy's coldness. Clara's courage. The roses on the car. The way everyone looked at me when I didn't say a word.

And then one thought hit me like a slap:

If I don't choose a side soon, I'll lose both of them.

The question was-who was really on my side?

I closed my eyes, and all I saw were roses falling in slow motion, red as blood, scattering across the hood of the principal's car.