The Goddess and the Golden Sunflower

Welcome to U.C. Berkeley Anthony glanced at the sign with a pinch to his mouth. This shouldn’t be too hard. It’s my dream college. I have every reason to be happy now. He slid his backpack over his shoulder and sighed. Just get today over with. He walked onto campus, casting a thoughtful look at the surroundings. He’d come here many times before, but today he felt like a tourist enjoying the scenery for the first time. When he spotted some familiar faces, he plastered on what he hoped was a sincere smile. “Hey, guys,” he called as he jogged over. Instantaneous hugs and welcoming murmurs encircled him from John, Claire, and Tommy, his lifelong friends. “Dude, you made it,” John said. “Ready for your first day at Cal?” “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Anthony muttered. “C’mon, Tony. It’s gonna be fun, all four of us together, just like high school.” Anthony stared at John’s long faux hawk haircut that was parted deeply on each side and then faded. “What did you do to your hair?” John patted the wavy ends, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement. “Chicks dig that.” “Don’t think so.” Anthony sneered. “Me neither,” Claire said. “Give the guy a break,” Tommy’s olive skin shone in the speckled sunlight. “We’re glad you’re here, bro.” He smiled at Anthony. “No one’s worth throwing away your plans. If someone had to leave, it should’ve been them, not you,” Claire said. Would everybody please stop talking about this already? Anthony set his jaw. “Hey, man,” Tommy said, “checked where your classes are yet?” Thank you. Anthony looked at Tommy’s big eyes. “No, I was heading for it. You guys did already?” “Not yet. We were waiting for you,” Claire replied. “Thanks.” He forced a smile. “But my art classes will probably be so far away from yours.” “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” She pushed a curl away from her round cheek. “I mean, we don’t mind. All our classes start later anyways.” Tommy and John exchanged a quick stare and nodded once. “All right.” Anthony hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder. “Let’s check it out.” “Tony, where’s your car?” she asked. “I don’t have a parking space yet. Late admission, you know?” “Thank God for that,” John teased. “Now you have time to buy a decent ride.” “Why do you hate my car so much?” “That’s not a car, dude. It’s a vase.” His gaze strayed over Anthony’s shoulder. Anthony glanced behind him. A shiny 1965 Mustang was speeding its way on to campus. The air became stifling as he saw the girl in the passenger seat. Emma. All the bad feelings he’d been struggling with for the past months rushed over him again. The anxiety. The betrayal. The rage. The hurt. This was ridiculous. You know you’re gonna see her every day. Get over it. Willing himself to stone, he threw an emotionless gaze at her. However, when his eyes met Brandon, the one driving the car, Anthony couldn’t hide his pain. He turned away, his friends staring uneasily at him. “Just ignore them. They’re history now.” “I’d dump you for that Mustang,” John mumbled. Anthony pursed his lips and squinted at him. “What? Too soon?” “Let’s go, please.” Before his friends moved, they made sure the couple in the Mustang saw their disgusted glances. Brandon got out of the red convertible and took off his shades, his blue eyes somber. Gritting his teeth, Anthony stared at Brandon’s disturbingly good-looking face and tight shirt that gave his arms and chest muscles extra definition. Emma climbed out of the car and slammed the door, the morning sun bouncing off her red hair. As she stalked toward her boyfriend, a roaring sound rushed in, causing everyone around to tilt their heads in its direction. Two Porcupine motorcycles flashed by, occupying the space with the snarl of their revving engines, carrying three riders dressed in the same black and white jackets, pants, and helmets; one drove his own while the other two shared the second one. The minute the riders stopped, another booming sound arose. A fourth motorcyclist had arrived to intensify the invasion. Once the newcomer settled safely in the middle behind the Porcupines, the other three came down from their rides and took off their helmets. The one who rode alone was a remarkably tall guy with jet-black hair that reached his broad shoulders. His eyes were deep and lurid and framed with guy-liner. The other two turned out to be a guy and a girl. They stood next to each other with rigid, erect postures. The guy didn’t look much different from the first rider except for the hair. Shorter and blond, very light, unnatural blond, as if bleached. As for the girl, her fair skin was flawless. Her charcoal hair barely covered the back of her neck. Like her friends, she wore similar eye makeup. All together, they looked like a motorcycle gang aiming to dominate the campus, yet they seemed to be parading beauty not power. Besides, they were too clean—even for normal people. They ignored the scowling and gaping faces without trying. For these three, nothing seemed to be significant. Nothing but the fourth rider. The sound of the newcomer’s helmet unbuckling broke the silence. Anthony c****d a brow in surprise as he watched her features assemble in the light. High cheekbones. Small nose. Sweet Mother of God, those lips. He swallowed and dragged his stare to her eyes. Round and rimmed with long lashes. Twinkling with a sharp gleam that was menacing and mesmerizing at the same time. He could gaze at them for hours. Beauty of such intensity didn’t exist. “Man, you’re blushing,” Tommy said, his elbow in Anthony’s ribs. “No, I’m not!” “Yes, you are,” Claire said, her emerald eyes glaring at him. “Did you hear violins too?” “What are you talking about?” “She’s a real headturner,” John nodded toward the rider. “And loaded.” Anthony snorted and rolled his eyes back to her. Her outfit was the same as the others but not white. Royal blue. Outstanding on her. She dismounted the motorcycle, long, ebony hair swinging down her back. Graceful and arrogant in her beauty, she looked like an Arabian horse, mighty and cruel. The moment she started to walk, the other three followed her like a shadow. She held her chin up as she marched into the center of the crowd. Then she stopped. No breath broke free and no muscle dared to move as she stilled. She wasn’t doing anything, and yet she was in control of the lives surrounding her. Maintaining a royal posture, she turned her head to the left, where she met the eyes of Emma and Brandon. They seemed fuming, raking her from head to toe. She gave them the coldest look they might have ever experienced and turned her head the other way. Her eyes landed on Anthony and his friends, as though she was assessing them. Anthony stared back at her, not daring to breathe. She smiled. A delicate smile neither plain nor happy. A small stretch of her reddish-pink lips but magical. Even though Anthony knew she wasn’t smiling at him—he believed the only reason behind that marvelous smile was her awareness of her tempting beauty in the eyes of the spectators—he experienced a sweet ache in his chest, and for a brief moment he wished the smile had been meant for him. She turned her back to face the black-haired rider. A single quick look was all she did, but somehow it was all he needed to understand her instructions. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing. She climbed onto his shoulders and sat there, her ankles resting down by his waist. The other two riders stood on either side of them, forming a pyramid. “Hello.” She gave a crooked smile. “We are new in town. So allow me to introduce my companions here.” She gestured at the girl and man standing on either side of her. “Cynthia, the Angel … and Ed, the Blond.” She leaned down and touched her carrier gently on his chest with both hands. “And this is Quinn, the Maestro.” A chorus of sighs and whispers flared up after each name but the intensity of acclamation was ten times higher for the last one. “I know you must be alarmed by our unexpected entrance. Berkeley is a nice place and we intend to keep it that way. We won’t be keeping you any longer. I am sure you all have many things to do. Maestro!” In response, Maestro lowered his head a little. She put both her hands on it to end up standing on his shoulders in one swift move as if she were a statue bolted to its pedestal. What the hell? Anthony’s eyes widened. How could she do that? No one can do that—not with riding boots anyway. The audience buzzed with “Oh my God!” and “How on earth?” comments, but another question cut through the clamor. “And you are?” The crowd was rendered speechless again. She shifted her focus to the small creature who had dared ask the question. Even though he was a normal student among thousands on campus, with the way she was posing, he looked like a tiny person standing beside Cheops Pyramid. He gasped for air as she leaned forward to meet his eyes. “Oh, can’t you guess?” She smiled at him like an angel, and then thrust herself upright again, facing the rest of the crowd. “I am The Queen.”