The early morning sun shone through Xandra's lavender curtains. Thunderous knocks rapped against a door somewhere on the ground floor, sending her down the stairs in an unconscious haze.

"Hey Felix, what brings you here?" Xander's voice cheered from the front door. Laughter and friendly banter followed. Xandra rubbed the sleep from her eyes and collapsed at the top of the stairs, peering through the railings with sleepy blue eyes.

"I heard Xandra's back from college, how's it been?" An old, elfish voice rang from outside. Xandra blinked at the sound of her name. "Also," Felix cleared his throat and getured to the living room.

"Oh, come in come in!" Xander chuckled awkwardly, moving away from the door. "It's just really early in the morning, and we weren't expecting guests."

"Don't you worry about it Xander my boy, you're like family to me now."

Xandra crawled down the hallway on her hands and feet as their voices filled downstairs. She slid inside her room and changed out of her pajamas.

"Thank you, would you like some tea? Coffee?"

Xandra tied her hair in a ponytail and crept into the stairway.

"Oh, no no. Just water is fine." The old man nodded, hanging chins bobbing along. His closed eyes widened at the sight of Xandra as she reached the last step.

She nodded, "Good morning. I hope I didn't intrude in your conversation."

"Xandra! You're awake," Her brother exclaimed, turning to her. His words were cheerful, but his eyebrows were furrowed, lips twisted in an awkward smile. "Come, help me prepare the tea."

There was a sputtering retort from the old man, but Xander had already dragged Xandra to the kitchen.

"Where's dad?"

"I just woke up."

Xandra filled the kettle and turned the heat on while Xander rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. "What does he want?"

"I kept trying to pry it out of him but that old man was persistent. He kept insisting to wait until you woke up." He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, a worried look on his face. "He also tried bringing mom up in the conversation, like, five times."

The kettle wheezed. Xandra sighed and took mittens, filling the mug.

"Have you figured it out? You look restless."

Xandra didn't answer, setting the kettle down instead.

"I know, it isn't fair. Especially for you. You went here to be free from all the stress in the city, is he really going to pile that on you right now?"

Xandra gripped the mittens, back turned to Xander. She remembered the visit to the festival yesterday. The outrageous pile of hot garbage they call a sculpture. The woman behind the blueprints. Is it really worth it?

But the sculpture was so incredibly stupid.

She needed to fix it.

Xandra turned around to face her brother. Xander stopped his ranting, mouth falling at her expression. "You've seen it." Xandra kept quiet, but she was already taking the mug of tea in her hands.

"Wait!" He whisper-shouted. Xandra stopped, but didn't answer. Xander continued, "Look, I know it's practically begging for someone to fix it, but you should really learn to know where your limits are. We didn't invite you back here just to burden yourself with more workload, Xandra."

Xandra sighed, not bothering to turn around. "If I stay here without doing anything, the boredom will kill me."

Something about the way she spoke those words didn't seem right. As if it was a lie she fought to speak out. It wasn't because of boredom at all. So why, really? Xandra didn't know.

***

The town's event organizer was more than pleased to hear Xandra's answer. So pleased in fact that their conversation lasted about three hours, or at least that was how long it felt to her.

It was around noon and the sun blazed on Xandra's shoulders. She wore a simple purple shirt tucked in a flowy white skirt. It was her style, much to people's surprise. Jasmine always chastised her for it not matching her 'overall vibe.' Xandra couldn't care less.

Hiking her bag over her shoulder, she looked around the street. As usual there were less cars and second story buildings were few and far between. Despite the heat, the wind made up for it.

Xandra pulled her hat down when it threatened to fly away, the wind blowing her hair slightly. She sighed; it was the first time she felt summer in a long while.

A group of young volunteers–teens– flocked past Xandra, carrying ice cream and chattering about. Xandra traced their footsteps to the open court in the distance. A stereo blasted from within, middle aged people, preteen volunteers, old women and organizers walked around carrying supplies and boxes of tape.

The reminder of her walk to the court twisted her stomach.

Once she reached the court, a voice blasted on the stereo, stumbling over words. She peeked between the gates, squeezing between other people clamoring outside.

"But that day...that day was when I..." The voice blasted, sobbing.

Xandra gripped the iron bars that let her and all the others out. On the other side, a guard approached. "Everyone away from the gate! There's no more space for you."

"What's happening?" Someone asked beside Xandra, voicing her thoughts.

"A guest speaker?" Another whispered.

"Miyo's giving a speech for the volunteers from the city."

Xandra's breath hitched in her throat. She swiveled to the girls squeezing out of the crowd and grumbling.

"In the middle of festival preparations? That woman, honestly."

Xandra exhaled, trying to desperately calm the twisting in her stomach

"You can't blame her, she's been through stuff."

She looked up at the teen slowly slipping from the crowd. Why am I still here?

"She won't shut up about that–"

I need to leave.

She nudged her shoulder through the crowd, dim blue eyes focused solely on the group of girls' retreating figures. She needed to leave like them; screw the festival.

Before she could nudge her way further out, a sweet grandmotherly voice resounded from within the court. "What are you doing, Mac? Let the people in."

A defeated exhale, then a gruff command. "In orderly fashion, now." Xandra's body stiffened, the gate revealing the crowd inside.

No!

People pushed beside her, clamoring on either side.

"I didn't know what to do." The speaker continued.

A snotty kid pushed on her leg, a middle aged woman carrying a baby thundered through the crowd and pushed against her. Xandra stumbled back with a gasp, legs slipping under.

She fell to the ground with a thud.

The speaker came to an abrupt stop, the court plunging to a deafening silence.

Xandra stood up immediately, facing the crowd and the ever farther gate. I need to leave, she repeated inside her head. Curious gazes burned into her skin. Her breathing came short as she took quick steps to the gate, hand outstretched to shove away any who dare come her way.

"Xandra? Is that you?" 

The speaker's voice resounded through the silent court, but Xandra's heart thundered in her ears, tampering everything but the repeated phrase: I need to leave. I need to leave.

Just as she could step out of the covered court, a glint of blue caught her eye. She stopped, eyes meeting with familiar cold hard ones. Her father stood just a couple ways from the gate, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed. A disappointed look permanently stood out from his wrinkled face, twisting his lips into a deeper grimace.

Xandra couldn't move.

His eyes only said one thing, echoed by the dozen other gazes behind her.

"Xandra? Darling?" 'Miyo' continued.

Her blood boiled. Do not let it show, her thoughts screamed. She pursed her lips and drew a breath.

The speaker gave a slight chuckle. "Your timing was perfect! Could you...maybe, come up here. Please?"

Xandra turned to the stage, every eye following her move. She released her tensed fist, allowing the summer heat numb every inch of skin. Droplets of sweat began to form on her temples, legs trembling under every step. She couldn't keep it up. But she has to. Do not let it show.

The stage before her creaked, 'Miyo's' black heels and slacks meeting her eyes. Xandra kept her head low, her gaze to the floor. What has gotten into me?

'Miyo' waited for her to walk closer, but Xandra's feet had been glued to the wooden stage. Silent breaths growing ragged.

The speaker cleared her throat, "This is Xandra, a friend of my son."

She kept her fists behind her, eyes scanning toward the cold gaze of her father, standing tall behind the crowd. Xandra copied his stance, but her eyes couldn't meet anyone but the floor.

The speaker chuckled, low and shy. Xandra wasn't breathing, her nails starting to bury their way into her skin. 'Miyo' sniffled. "She must still be angry at me." Her gaze fell on Xandra, shaking with a straight posture. "I understand that, Xandra. I don't expect you to forgive me."

'Miyo' took a small step toward her. Xandra didn't move. "But can you please listen to me...just this one time?" Another fake chuckle. "I could never get a hold of you for almost nine years." Her wicked voice resounded through the court, unrelenting.

Xandra bit her lip, brash thoughts swarming her head and threatening to spill past her lips.

'Miyo' popped in her vision, sending Xandra back a couple steps. Her wrinkled face, the crow's feet on her beady eyes. She was old, older than Xandra had remembered her to be. Her smile reached her ears, showing yellowed teeth.

"Don't you think now is a good time, in front of these people, to know our story? It'll be good for all of us to know how much we've grown, am I right?"

Her insensitive words colored her kind smile bloodred, turning it upside down. Xandra's eyebrows furrowed, lowering her gaze even more. What am I doing? What the hell am I doing? She wanted to leave, her thundering heart begging her to step off that stage and go back to the comfort of her garden. But the demanding gaze of her father and the crowd pinned her to place.

'Miyo' steeled herself and faced the crowd again. "I don't see my son often, likely hidden under the effect of my alcohol. But when I do see him, he'd be outside, playing with the neighbor–Xandra, and another kid." She paced around the stage, and all Xandra wanted was to collapse right on that rickety wood, images of summer lights and flowering daffodils flooding her mind.

"I remember thinking to myself, how I'd raised such an unruly kid. Dirt on his nose, tattered clothes on his back. Looking back now, the state of my house was enough of an indicator..."

Xandra's nails broke through her skin, drawing blood. It stung, dribbling down her knuckles. She raised a hand to her aching forehead and closed her eyes, lips parted in silent exhales. The crowd before her rumbled, murmurs stabbing against her ears. Her mind flew, and she stepped back, trying to regain her composure.

'Miyo's' voice continued to ring in her ear, "Manasseh...bad parent...I'm not that...Blossom Hill park..." Her voice dipped in and out of hearing, amplifying and deafening.

"You're not going to the festival?" Xandra's small voice echoed from the past. "Your mother's coming."

"I'm staying in the den tonight."

"Why?" Little Xandra paused. "Mom and I worked hard for the sculpture."

"I already saw it."

Crickets and fireflies. Forget me nots and the silent crunching of leaves.

"I'm sorry...festivals just really scare me..."

"That's fine. I'll write you a letter about everything that'll happen in the festival." A smile stretched Xandra's face. "And then you can read it with all that I'd taught you."

After a pause, there was a shy chuckle. "Thank you."

The voices are closing in. Xandra's legs trembled and shook underneath her. She nearly tumbled over when the wooden platform materialized under her. 'Miyo's' speech continued. The bitter words spilling from once-intoxicated lips.

"When we saw Manasseh's body in that park." A sob. "His lips were blue, his skin was paler than I'd seen it before." A disgusting sniffle. "It made my world stop, spin, and drop faster than I could comprehend. It was like a wake up call for me." Liar. The liar whimpered. So pathetically. So fake.

"And I thought, only if we had been there for him. Only if I didn't let him come to the festival that night. Only if...if I'd–"

Xandra's dry lips parted, exhaling a breathy excuse she couldn't hear over the thumping of her heart. Before she knew it, she was tearing through the crowd, catching her breath. Her glossy vision blurred, the hot pavement turning into a mess of gray, black and white.

A disrupting breeze blew hair off Xandra's pinched face, the hat she wore long gone. She didn't stop running. She ran until the pavement turned to moss, houses into trees.

When the world stopped spinning, Xandra found herself at the lake. Pebbles stuck to her skin, water gently caressing her fingers. The water flowed slowly, calmly as the setting sun painted the sky and the waters pink.

She didn't know how long she'd been there, watching the steady ripples of the water, observing the slow rise and fall of her own chest. All she knew was that park, the lake, and the words echoing in her head.

"If only I didn't let him come to the festival."

Xandra gritted her teeth, gripping her hair in a desperate attempt to ease the burn in her heart. He didn't. He didn't come to the festival. But only if he did. Only if I didn't.

Her words became a jumbled mess, her soft groans the only thing breaking the tranquil pace of the lake. She wanted to speak. If only she spoke up. If only her father and the thirty other people weren't there. But if they had been alone, she doesn't know what would become of her.

Maybe it was for the better. Maybe she shouldn't be acting like this in the first place.

She cracked open her eyes to the lake's disconcerting red shimmer. The sun had fallen off the pink clouds, replaced by the blood red moon hanging between crimson stars.

Xandra stood up, brushing her lavender dress off of twigs and leaves. With her hands, she plucked out the pieces of stone that buried itself in her skin, unplugging streams of blood.

Behind her, the golden glow of the fireflies illuminated the forest with a peculiar red tinge.

Tonight, then. She remembered. Tonight everything will change.

Xandra turned to her left, finding mahogany window sills and flowing lavender curtains. To her right, a purple nightstand grew out of a trunk. The grass trimmed and shrunk into the earth, mahogany planks stemming from Xandra's feet. In the blink of an eye, the trees swayed and formed, solidifying into pastel walls.

Her lavender dress fell off her skin, replaced by a simple shirt and shorts.

"Honey, are you ready yet?" The door opened, revealing a woman with short blonde hair and a twinkling smile. "The festival's starting in thirty minutes. I already picked your outfit for you."

Xandra answered with a small nod, feeling the soft silk materialize beneath her fingers. She dressed out of her clothes and stepped into the dress.

Running down the stairs, she lifted her gaze to the cluttered living room bathed in the humid summer air. A door stopper kept the heavy wooden door propped to the wall. Xander sat criss-cross applesauce on the ground, paper flowers blooming by his side. His brows knitted as he glued crumpled paper over crumpled paper, forming a sad excuse for a flower.

"You're not going to help?" He said, looking up at Xandra with dead eyes. She jumped off the last step and hurried to the kitchen.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Her brother retorted.

Xandra sighed and crossed her arms, "I already did enough yesterday. You were the one who chose not to do your part before time ran out. That's what you get."

Xander groaned, muttering insults Xandra would rather not listen to.

She pulled open the refrigerator, looked around, and snuck the leftover roast chicken into a container. Latching open her bag, she dropped the chicken and grabbed a disposable spoon and a folded paper plate. After a moment's contemplation, she took a pair of kitchen scissors.

From behind, her mother's gentle reprimanding voice rang. "Don't just crumple it up. Careful, Xander. Learn to be gentle."

Xandra walked out of the kitchen, grabbing her only functional pair of shoes and slipped it on. Her mother rushed here and there, holding a makeup kit in one hand and a brush in the other. "Rushing ahead of us?"

"No," Xandra blurted, feet halfway through the screen door. She sighed and shook her head, "Well yes but I want to go somewhere else before the festival too."

"Jasmine?"

Xandra nodded. "She asked me to help her pick her outfit."

"I thought she hated your style," her mother laughed, spreading rouge on her cheeks.

"Bye now, see you at the festival." Xandra gave a little wave before taking off to the streets. Lamppost after lamppost, multicolored banners ran through and zigzagged. LED string lights circled glowing orbs of gold.

In the distance, the pinks, purples and blues blended into the event central. Xandra walked opposite the event, heading instead to the grimmer parts of town. The farther she walked, the fewer lights and decorations hung from lampposts until she reached the park near the outskirts of town.

Blossom Hill park, it read in bright blue letters.

The air was colder here too, a sense of familiarity numbing the tips of Xandra's nose. She buried her hands in the pockets of her lavender dress and hummed a familiar tune. Usually, Xandra loved the silence, but it was this kind of silence that she hated the most.

What's more, she still couldn't figure out what's the matter with Manasseh.

She stopped when she noticed a familiar figure throwing rocks on the park's lake. Xandra expected him to turn around and welcome her, maybe tease her a little bit, show her how he's been improving with his writing. But Manasseh stayed still, the ripples of the water before him never quite as dark as Xandra had seen it.

It had been almost three days since he's been acting unusual, and an unsettling feeling has already learned its way into Xandra's stomach. What has changed? Was it anything she or Jasmine said? But Manasseh wasn't always that petty, so it couldn't be.

"You're not going to the festival?" Xandra sat on the ground beside him, careful not to ruin her dress. "Your mother's coming."

After a pause. "I'm staying in the den tonight."

"Why?" A small pout. "Mom and I worked hard for the sculpture."

"I already saw it."

Crickets and fireflies. Forget me nots and silent plops of falling pebbles.

"I'm sorry...festivals just really scare me..."

Xandra tried to take a careful look at him, but the shadows of the night blurred his face. But she remembered choppy brown hair, as if cut with a jagged knife. A cut so uneven the left side of his bangs fell over his eyes and random strands of hair ran until his mid-back.

"Who cut your hair?" Xandra blurted.

Manasseh's hand shot up his hair, "Oh?" He mumbled. "You noticed."

"Of course I would." She sounded disappointed. Zipping open the bag and carefully laying down the container, she rummaged around to find the kitchen scissors at the very bottom.

"I cut it myself," Manasseh gave a cheeky smile. "You don't like it?"

Xandra scoffed. "It's horrible."

"Wow what a meanie."

Xandra sat behind Manasseh and raked her fingers through his hair. Snip, snip, snip. She began cutting. Manasseh didn't flinch or protest.

"Wouldn't it be nice if I had colored hair instead?" He blurted out.

"Why?" Xandra said. The moon's harsh red glow painted the still leaves, casting a red filter around them. She squinted as she cut his hair, unsure if the red on his hair was blood or the moon.

"I'd like white hair!" He exclaimed. "And I'd like to keep the long hair, too. I kind of missed it."

"Really?" Snip, snip, snip. "I'm guessing you'd want powers too, then?"

Manasseh went silent after a while, mulling over the words. "Huh, not really. I'd rather have my wishes come true instead."

Pure white hair fell to the ground, glittering under the crimson haze. Sun said, "What's your wish then?"

Miyo stayed silent, the only sound in the lake the silent ripples of water and the mechanical rhythm of Xandra's scissors snipping at long white strands.

The snipping stopped; Xandra put her scissors down. She tried to take a careful look, but the red haze in her eyes made everything blurry. The faint glow of his hair looked short enough, likely just barely grazing his collar bones.

"This is as short as I can go without it looking worse. We don't have a razor."

Miyo didn't speak for a few excruciating seconds.

Finally, he sighed. "Don't you still have a festival to attend to? You don't have to stay here with me."

Sun stayed quiet for a while, as if something hang at the tip of her tongue. "Do I really have to?"

"Huh? Don't tell me you're starting to doubt the sculpture you made." Miyo chuckled. 

Sun didn't answer, pondering instead the uneasy twisting in her stomach. 

Miyo looked at her with clear, golden eyes striking against the dark. "Go back now. Your father would be disappointed in you again, especially after those exam results." There was a teasing glint to his voice, but his words stung Sun. Yes, her father. 

She didn't want to be reminded of him again, but he was right. After her scene at school, she couldn't afford to leave the flower festival anymore. 

"But..." Her stomach continued to twist, and she all but wanted to return to the festival. "Will you be alright here?" 

"Yes, don't worry about me!" 

She turned without another word. Her mind swam as she walked through the trees and disappeared. Every step was painfully slow, reluctant. Every breath labored with an uneasy twist of her gut. She should get to her father soon, he's expecting her. She has to play her part in the festival. She has to keep up appearances.

The moment her feet stepped out of the blossom hill park's gates, the haze cleared.

She failed. She failed again.