CRIMSON DONOVAN     

Today, which was a bright and sunny Sunday, we were headed to Jed's house for what Archer dubbed as "The Cleaning Day". We were going to wash the ruined uniforms of the basketball team. Drexel had already completed one punishment of cleaning the teachers' cars with us sneaking out to assist him whenever Mr. Denver had a class. Now, all that was left was for Archer and Drexel to serve their two weeks of detention and clean the uniforms.

And imagine how horrified I was to learn that Kash Grater was the nephew of Mr. Denver. No wonder Mr. Denver believed whatever Kash blabbermouthed against the boys.

Shaking my head to get rid of those thoughts, I stand by the local café waiting for Drexel's car to take us to Jed's.

As I wait, I take in my surroundings and notice a florist's shop adjacent to the café. The shop has already opened for the day, and the delightful aroma of flowers wafts through the air. A lady steps out and begins arranging a display of flowers at the entrance. I silently observe her delicate and meticulous handling of the blooms, admiring her skill and grace.

As she retreats into the shop, my gaze lingers on a stunning bouquet of yellow tulips. My body reacts instantly, and I am unable to process the emotions that flood over me. My vision becomes blurry, and my breaths are shallow and uneven. The sound of my heart beating rapidly rings loudly in my ears, making it difficult to focus on my surroundings. I steady myself against a nearby wall and try to calm my racing thoughts.

I am startled into reality by a melodious jingle of bells and I shakily turn around to see a middle-aged woman opening the door of her café. She notices me watching and gives me a kind smile. I quickly smile back at her, still trapped in my startled state. I compose myself by taking deep breaths and waiting for my heart to settle, trying to erase the scenes that reeled in front of my eyes and the emotions of the past few seconds.

After taking a deep breath, I thoughtfully look up at the café sign after a few seconds. "Bakes and Cakes," I read to myself.

Intrigued, I peep my head into scan through the various foods displayed. The woman greets me with a cheery hello and inquires about what I want. I mentally count the number of people I'm meeting today and buy seven slices of 'Fruit Galore Sponge Cake' that I've never tasted in my life before.

When I come out, I see Drexel leaning on his car, waiting expectantly for me. A smile involuntarily makes its way into my face and my heartbeat speeds up. He had offered to pick me and Zeke had agreed to pick Ayla and Archer on his way.

"I'm here!" I declare as I quicken my pace toward the Ford.

Drexel swirls in the direction of my voice and sends me a bright smile that warms me.

"Hello. Where did you go?"

"Thought of buying some treats for us today."

Rowan pops up from the front seat. "That's awesome! What did you buy?" she eagerly gets out of the car and takes the bag for inspection. "Oh! Looks delicious!"

"Easy there, Rowan. Get in the back," Drexel instructs his sister, giving her a gentle push inside, to her surprise. He then turns towards me, opening the passenger door with a smile. "Get in, Crimson," he says.

"Wait, but I was in the front-"

Drexel cuts off his sister by loudly closing the door by her seat and gestures for me to get in once more. I mutely get into the passenger seat at the front and give an apologetic glance to Rowan who shrugs. She was already eating the cake I had bought.

Drexel gets into the car and looks at me with a smile, "Seatbelt? You good to go?"

"Y-yeah," I stutter, not knowing what to think of the attention he's been giving me.

As we drive away, I don't look back at the florist's shop.

                   We reach a narrow pathway leading toward a huge house in due time. I inspect the exterior of the house because when we had dropped Jed off after the street race that night, it had been dark, so I hadn't been able to get a good look at the surroundings. But now, I couldn't help but notice the beautiful gardens circling the residence after exiting the car.

The stone walls of the four-story house were framed by exquisite, high-arched windows, and the expansive lawns were covered in green with elegantly trimmed bushes lining its edges.

"It's beautiful," I breathe out in awe.

Rowan agrees, "I know, right? I love coming here, but I swear, I still haven't seen all the rooms inside, and I've known Jed for years."

Drexel takes us to the entrance of the house and Jed(whose hair was electric blue today) was already waiting with Archer, Ayla and Zeke who was whining, "I don't get why all of us should be here, I mean, what can we do? Isn't it the washer that does all the work after all?"

"Remember, the clothes are drenched with rotten eggs and fart bombs. It takes more than a washing machine to get rid of them," explains Ayla. "Then what do we do?" Zeke hesitantly asks as if he were afraid of the answer. Ayla just looks at Zeke pitifully.

Jed immediately heads to the backyard without any delay and leads us to a small shed. He quickly enters it and after just a few moments, various cleaning supplies such as scrubbers, bottles, and cans start flying out of the shed.

"Hey! Hey! Slow down with the rain Jed!"

"Look out, Zeke! There's a brush coming towards-"

"Ouch! Shit!"

"-...you."

"Did I see a rat just come out-"

"EEEEEKKKK!!! A RAT! GET THE FREAKY THING AWAY!"

"Ayla, it is just a rat."

"That is the thing! IT IS A RAT!"

"Don't kill the poor thing Drex!"

"Poor? You call that thing poor?"

"It did nothing to you, Ayla!"

"It disappeared! Why is it scarier than catching the actual thing?"

"Let it live!"

"It's right behind you, Ayla!"

"WHAAAAAA!! What- Archer you LIAR!"

I muffle my laughter as I watch Ayla chasing a chortling Archer around the yard. I head in the direction of the shed and cautiously poke my head inside, afraid of any other objects that would plummet at me.

"Any more incoming missiles, Captain?"

Jed whirls his head distractedly, then looks at the war zone before letting out a small laugh.

"No, you're good. I already threw everything I needed outside. I have another scrubbing brush around here somewhere, but I can't find it."

I see a red brush next to the shelf beside me and pick it up. "Is this the right one?"

"Yes! Thanks, Crimson. Now we are all set."

Jed goes out and claps his hands together once, and everybody stops to look at Jed attentively. He looked like a Commander General who didn't take any nonsense from his soldiers. He clears his throat and says, "First of all, I want to thank everyone for coming to bear this burden with me, even if it wasn't the fault of anyone here besides myself. "

"It's no problem, Jed."

"That's what friends do."

"We will stick with you no matter what happens."

Jed blinks at them. "Right." Then he pointedly looks at the strewn junk on the ground. "Now scrub."

° ° °

I heave, scrubbing the uniform up and down on a rough concrete slab and give an irritated huff as the top rolls and scrunches itself.

I was scrubbing just the second uniform and somehow, it proved to be harder than the scrubbing previous one which took an hour. I was glad that the smell of detergent was overpowering the still eminent 'smell of the year'. The initial moments of cleaning the first uniform felt like torture, as even Ayla's lavender perfume failed to mask the noxious smell emanating from it. The stench was so overpowering that it made us retch. Imagine how we felt when Jed brought out the uniforms and presented them to us like he was presenting a trophy to a winner.

As I worked, a stray red curl kept jabbing me in the eye, and I couldn't even keep track of how many times I slipped on the now-muddy backyard. Despite my best efforts, the uniform remained stubborn and uncooperative, requiring constant straightening and scrubbing, only to crumple up once more.

Why is this so annoying?

"Need any help?" Zeke's voice comes from behind me.

"Yes, please," I grunt.

"Hold on," Zeke says and dabs his soapy fingers under the flowing water. He comes in front of me and lightly tucks the stranded curl behind my ear. Then he looks into my eyes and asks with a smile, "All set?"

I grin at him in gratitude. "Thank you. I was almost getting blinded."

Zeke's fingers hold onto the ends of the top as he straightens it out. He inspects the name on the back of the uniform. "Alinac," he reads the surname of the player with a huff. "Just Marcus."

"The basketball team, are they any good?"

"As if. They are just egoistic a-holes."

"You don't play any sport?"

"No, sports aren't my thing. I'm a film enthusiast," he affirms with a wink.

"Okay, film enthusiast, let me take the reins on this one," comes in Drexel's voice as he nears us.

Zeke shoos Drexel away. "I got this."

Drexel's eyes meet mine and he looks at Zeke again with a sigh. "I was paired up with Rowan until I got Kash Grater's uniform. I won't dare touch it."

I laugh along with Zeke who says, "Go ask someone else. I'm tired, and I don't want to shift places again. Or you can just switch places with Crimson."

I give an exaggerated groan at that as I scrub the red and white striped top aggressively.

"Rowan needs manpower, please?"

Zeke makes a face at Drexel and wipes his foamy hand on Drexel's face as punishment. Drexel bites his lip from lashing out, knowing well that he probably deserved it, as Zeke sluggishly drags his feet toward Rowan.

Drexel takes Zeke's place in front of me and gives me a smile that sends shivers down my spine.

"Hi," he says, but I didn't even have enough breath to greet him back.

But I manage a weak huff in return and stop the scrubbing for a while as I lean my body on the handle of the scrubber. Drexel takes the nearby hose and rinses the foam from the clothes. Then he sprinkles another cup of bleaching powder.

"Again?" I wail.

Drexel doesn't answer me as he raises the top and sniffs it, then looks at me with sympathy.

"Again," he confirms.

After smoothing down the uniform, Drexel holds onto the end of it as I brush and scrub once more. "Are...are we even doing this right?" I breathe out. "I don't know, as long as there is no smell, it should be alright I guess," he answers.

"Maybe next time," I puff out, "Jed will think twice before taking revenge."

"Maybe next time, people will be cautious enough not to mess with Jed," returns Drexel.

I straighten my back and crane it backwards. Drexel winces when my spine joints crack. "Ouch, maybe we should switch?"

"After this one? I won't care even if I scrub away the dye off this as long it doesn't stink. I wonder if the basketball players wash their uniforms at all." I was so done with this stupid cleaning.

"You look tired though, let me finish it off," he insists lightly pulling the top towards him. I shake my head, "I've got this."

Drexel doesn't look convinced. "Why don't you rest for a while? You've been doing this for a long time." He pulls the uniform towards him once more, a little more forcefully than before. I stop his pulling by placing the foot of the scrubber on the uniform. "No, Drexel, just this one-"

"I can finish it off-"

"I'm finishing this!"

"But there's still a long way to go!"

As we argue, tugging back and forth on the basketball shirt, our bare feet sink into the waterlogged ground, the mud sloshing. The bickering grows more heated than we had intended, until suddenly, my feet lose their footing on the slippery ground, causing me to lurch directly into Drexel, with no means of keeping myself upright.

Drexel falls to the ground.

And I fall right on top of him.

And my lips fall right onto his.

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Me rn;