˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪  ౨ৎ˚₊
Chapter TWENTY ╱    OLD CRUSHES DIE HARD

   At the ripe age of sixteen, Marigold realized nothing ever ends in her favor.

It was a revelation that settled in her chest like a cold stone, heavy and unyielding.

Marigold should have known better, really. What right did she have to hope, to believe that things might turn out differently for her? She should have guarded her heart more fiercely, never allowing hope to bloom where it could so easily wither. She should never have placed her faith in the whims of the universe, expecting it to deliver the ending she thought she deserved────a naive wish, now crumbling to dust.

But maybe . . . just maybe, this is the ending she was always destined to receive. The one where her heart shatters into a thousand irreparable pieces, where the people she once trusted────those Marigold believed would stand by her────turn away, leaving her adrift in a sea of her own loneliness. The one where she is left to face the silence of an empty room, the echo of her own thoughts a cruel reminder of what she has lost.

And in that silence, a question gnaws at her: did she truly deserve this? This bleak, desolate ending? Or was it simply the inevitable consequence of daring to hope, daring to believe that she might escape the fate that now encloses her?

   Susannah would have told Marigold something different, something that might have eased the ache in her heart. She would have insisted that this wasn't the ending she deserved, would have filled the empty spaces with words of comfort, soothing away the sharp edges of despair. Susannah had always known how to bring light into the darkest moments, how to make her feel safe, even when the world seemed to be crumbling around her.

   But Susannah wasn't here anymore.

   The warmth of her presence, the gentle strength of her voice────those, too, had been taken away. Her mother had left, just like everyone else.

"Miss Fisher?" The sharp, insistent voice of her geometry teacher sliced through Marigold's drifting thoughts, yanking her back to the stifling confines of the classroom.

The moment shattered, and she felt a pang of irritation as reality forced its way in. Lately, every voice around her seemed to grate on her nerves, their tones becoming more shrill, more grating, each word like nails on a chalkboard. The gentle cadence of her mother's voice, once a soothing balm to her soul, was fading from her memory, drowned out by the relentless clamor of others. It was as if the world was conspiring to erase the last fragments of her mother's presence, and Marigold could feel those cherished echoes slipping away, buried beneath a barrage of meaningless chatter. The thought of it made her want to fold in on herself, to retreat into a place where no sound could reach her, where she could escape the din that surrounded her, and never hear another voice again.

"Miss Fisher, I advise you to pay more attention in my class."

Marigold's patience snapped.

"Why? Is learning the circumference of an orange really that important, Mrs. Boone?" Marigold retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe we should use a more realistic example and measure your waist instead. See just how large a circumference can truly be."

The truth was, Marigold didn't care a bit about geometry, about numbers, or about anything else that seemed so trivial in the face of what she was losing. All she wanted was to be at home, cocooned in the comfort of her bed, watching the old movies Susannah had loved so much, the ones they used to watch together. In those black-and-white worlds, time felt suspended, the weight of her grief momentarily lifted. She could almost hear Susannah's laughter, the sound mingling with the dialogue, making it feel as though she was still there, just out of reach.

But instead, she was stuck here, surrounded by voices that only reminded her of what she was losing, and it made her feel even more alone.

Mrs. Boone gasped, her nostrils flaring with a potent blend of rage and embarrassment, her face flushed with indignation. "Miss Fisher, your attitude is utterly intolerable in my classroom! To the principal's office, immediately!"

Marigold's gaze remained unflinching, her eyes reflecting a quiet defiance as she met Mrs. Boone's furious glare. Her voice, though calm and composed, carried a note of icy detachment. "My pleasure," she murmured, not bothering to mask the faint edge of sarcasm in her tone.

With deliberate grace, she gathered her scattered supplies, each movement slow and measured, as if she were savoring the moment. She closed her books and carefully packed her things, the rustle of paper and clink of pens creating a soothing rhythm amid the chaos. As she made her way to the door, she felt an oddly comforting familiarity in the routine. The hallway stretched out before her, a well-trodden path that she had come to know intimately over the past year.

The principal's office loomed ahead, a place she had visited so often that its sterile walls and wooden desk had become an unlikely refuge from the tumult of her daily life. Each visit had added to the weariness in her heart, but also a strange sense of predictability, a grim solace in the routine. Marigold stepped out, her footsteps echoing softly in the corridor, her mind already retreating into the familiar sanctuary of the principal's office.

"Miss Fisher, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Mrs. Baker's voice held a polished veneer of cordiality as Marigold stepped into her office. The room was a haven of calm, its walls lined with books and framed degrees, an air of quiet authority pervading the space. Marigold felt nauseous at the sight.

"Thought I'd just drop by to visit my favorite administrator," Marigold replied with a smile that barely concealed her otherwise obvious sarcasm. The principal leaned forward, her fingers interlaced before her, eyes burning into Marigold's. Her gaze was sharp, yet there was an underlying softness that suggested she was prepared to offer a sympathetic ear.

"Care to enlighten me about the true reason for your visit? Remember, you can always take to me," Mrs. Baker said, her tone imbued with an encouraging warmth. Marigold stifled a roll of her eyes, the gesture a silent rebellion against the illusion of understanding. Talking to anyone felt like an exercise in futility, a mere pretense of resolution.

"I'm certain Mrs. Boone has already provided you with a rather colorful account of my recent 'indiscretions,'" Marigold said, her voice tight with restrained frustration. She gestured toward the monitor on Mrs. Baker's desk, its screen glowing softly in the dim light of the office. Mrs. Baker's eyes moved from Marigold to the computer, a flicker of weariness crossing her face as she opened the email.

As she slowly read through the detailed message, Mrs. Baker's expression grew increasingly somber. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a sigh that seemed to echo the weight of her disappointment. It was a sigh that spoke volumes────a mixture of resignation and a sense of disillusionment, as if the day's burdens had just been compounded by yet another troubling entry in Marigold's ongoing saga of school discipline.

"Marigold, I understand that the past year has been filled with difficulties far beyond what anyone could reasonably endure," Mrs. Baker began, her tone laced with a calculated empathy. Marigold clenched her jaw, forcing herself to maintain a mask of stoic indifference as she met the principal's gaze with eyes as cold and unyielding as steel. Her eyes a void of emotion. "Yet, the trials you've faced do not excuse the behavior you've exhibited."

A thought tugged at the edge of Mrs. Baker's mind, an unspoken question that lingered: why does Marigold never reach out, never seek solace or guidance? Marigold almost scoffed at the question she found written in her file.

This was why.

"You've been acting out with increasing frequency, disrupting classes, and harassing both teachers and students," Mrs. Baker continued, her voice heavy with a mix of exasperation and disappointment. She shook her head, another sigh slipping out, the sound echoing like a weary lament. "Just this month, you were suspended for engaging in a fight with a fellow student."

"That fight is hardly worth mentioning, nothing happened," Marigold shot back, her eyes rolling with a dismissive flicker of defiance.

Mrs. Baker's eyebrow arched in utter disbelief, her gaze unwavering. "The student you fought with left the scene with a broken nose, Miss Fisher."

Marigold's tongue traced her teeth absentmindedly, her eyes fixed resolutely on the floor, deliberately avoiding the principal's searching eyes. The silence stretched between them, a chasm of unresolved tension.

"This behavior must be brought to an end, do you understand, Miss Fisher?" Mrs. Baker's smile was a thin veneer of politeness, a facade that barely concealed her frustration. Marigold could sense the falseness in the principal's tone, the pretense of concern that seemed more an obligation than a genuine sentiment.

"Marigold, you are an incredibly bright student with immense potential. I do not want to see you squander your gifts simply because you cannot control your impulses," Mrs. Baker's words were meant to be encouraging, but they felt like a distant echo, a reminder of the chasm that lay between their perceptions of reality.

Marigold was a fragile mess of heartbreak after last summer, a season marred by the painful unraveling of the girl she had loved with such earnest devotion. Each moment, each glance shared with Belly had woven an intricate tapestry of hope and affection, only to have it torn apart in a brutal, shattering revelation.

"It was nothing, alright?" Belly's voice was a harsh, jagged edge that cut through the fragile silence between them. The words echoed in Marigold's mind, causing her to clench her jaw with the effort of containing her pain. "I didn't know what I was feeling. I didn't understand my emotions. It was a mistake."

"A mistake?" Marigold's laughter burst forth, but it was a hollow sound, laden with anguish rather than mirth. "You're joking, Belly. You are in denial, unable to face the truth of your feelings. Can't you fucking see it? You're afraid!"

"Just because you're attracted to girls doesn't mean I am," Belly's words fell like cold, unfeeling stones, each one landing with a dull thud in Marigold's heart. "I know you might have thought what happened meant something significant, and I'm truly sorry if I gave you that impression. But I was just experimenting, trying to figure my shit out, okay? And I finally have."

   "So, that is it?" Marigold's brow furrowed deeply, her voice quivering with a mix of disbelief and anguish. Her eyes, usually so full of warmth and affection, were now pools of raw hurt. "You're truly prepared to throw away everything we've built together, to erase every single moment between the two of us? And you do this now, of all times, just after my mother has revealed that she's dying? How can you be so fucking heartless? You are such a bitch, Isabel."

"Whatever. We're done," Belly declared.

   Marigold's heart clenched, each word from Belly a fresh wound, a betrayal of the affection she had believed was mutual. The words felt like a cruel fiction, a lie she desperately wanted to dismiss. But as Belly walked away, her form growing smaller and more distant, Marigold stood alone in the cold expanse of her empty bedroom, the reality of the situation settling like a chilling fog around her.

"Marigold?" Mrs. Baker's voice cut through the fog of Marigold's memories, her brow raised in a mixture of curiosity and concern. Marigold blinked, dragging herself out of the haunting reverie, nodding for the woman to continue. "You're free to leave early today. Class is ending in a few minutes anyway."

"Thanks," Marigold replied, her voice a muted murmur, laden with the weight of her inner turmoil. She quickly shrugged her backpack strap over her shoulder, the simple gesture feeling heavier than usual.

With a sense of weary relief, Marigold exited the office with swift, determined steps, eager to escape the confines of the room and the remnants of her failure.

Author's Note               ♱ another chapter for you cuties!
this was a little shorter than they've been lately just to start off season 2!
this was similar to the beginning of episode one with belly
it was to show how marigold is dealing with the death of susannah..

i hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to comment and tell me ur thoughts 🫶