P. Hoover - Solstice

“If this keeps up,” I say.

“Let’s just pray we make it home alive,” Randy says.

It seems we will. The shuttle pulls up to the curb by the Botanical Haven without running into anything and stops. I stand up but notice Randy’s still sitting.

“You’re not getting off?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m gonna go pick up my sister.” And for a second, it’s like there’s a side of Randy he’s never let me see before. He’s such an arrogant asshole on the outside, but yet he’s going to the elementary school to make sure his sister gets home okay. I blink, and his image shifts so he’s layered in blue moss. It covers his face and hair, his hands and arms. I hold my eyes open, staring at him to make sure it’s really there, but when I finally have to blink, it vanishes. Just like the covering on the pomegranate tree.

“Keep her safe,” I say, because I can imagine what a little kid would think of a storm like this.

“I always do,” Randy says.

I wave goodbye to him and then get off the shuttle.

The first thing I do when I get inside is text my mom. Even if she is off with my father somewhere, she’s got to be freaking out about this weather. I’m shivering, so I grab the comforter off my bed and wrap it around me. It helps, but all the glass of the Botanical Haven makes the cold seep right into my bones.

“what’s going on?” I text.

I make some coffee and wait for a reply, but none comes.

I text her again. “weather’s gone crazy.”

Still she doesn’t respond. It’s so unlike her, I can’t help but let it put me on edge. I sit at the ice cream table with my coffee and listen to the storm rage on the glass above. It’s shatterproof, so I’m not worried about it breaking, and I try to relax. The storm pounds down for the better part of the day until, in a single moment, it stops. Just. Like. That. Dark clouds turn to white, and a blue sky creeps back out from behind them. And then the sun comes, and everything outside starts to melt. Water cascades down our glass roof and pools on the ground outside.

I flip on the tube to see what kind of trouble the storm has caused. Around the city, roofs and walls have caved in everywhere. Downtown, about fifty people are trapped beneath the debris of a building, and most of the coverage centers on this, though reports of wrecks and flooding are sprinkled in. I watch the news as each new horror is revealed. Rescue crews pull dead bodies from the building and flash to family members who find out their loved ones are dead the same time I do. I wonder where in the Underworld each person will go. I wonder how Shayne can handle all the sorrow.

When I can’t watch any more of the misery, I turn off the tube. And then I go downstairs and start tending the plants and flowers even though they don’t really need it. They’ve been protected from the devastation outside. Like an oasis.

Reese’s pink flowers are still alive, though they’ve sucked up most of the water in the vase. I move to water them, but then I stop. Should I really keep them alive? This is the god of war we’re talking about. I halfway feel like picking them up and tossing them into the compost heap, erasing all memories of him and our date. But that would just be causing more death. I go ahead and add water to the stems because that’s what I do. I take care of plants. I can always tell what they need—except for the pomegranate tree.

The pomegranate tree. I realize, with the storm, I’ve almost forgotten about it. The Underworld is fading into memory, and I want to hold onto it with everything I have. Shayne’s pomegranate tree—in his garden—aching for something which isn’t there. Something missing from the soil. When I think about it, the sorrow inside the tree hits me, and I sink to the floor. What would make a tree in paradise so sad?

The next day, aside from flooding, the cold spell is a memory. Temperatures are back at one hundred by seven a.m., and the weather station predicts humidity will get to dangerously high levels because of the melting. Precipitation is good in that it helps plants grow, but in such mass amounts, the ground and city can’t handle it. I try texting my mom again, but there’s still no response. I know I shouldn’t worry about her, but something just feels off. It’s totally out of her character to not be in touch, especially with the weather issues. I call her FON just to make sure, but she doesn’t answer.

I call Chloe next, but her mom tells me she’s sick. Her mom doesn’t sound worried about Chloe but keeps me on the FON for five minutes to talk about the storm. I assure her I’m fine here alone at the Botanical Haven and that if I have any problems, I’ll come over. But I try to get her off the FON. I don’t want to spend my day talking to Chloe’s mom, so I ask her to have Chloe call me later. Once Chloe gets better, I’ll tell her everything, or at least I’ll try to. I think she’ll have a hard time believing I traveled to Hell and came back to talk about it. I have a hard time believing it. I want to make sure I tell her about Reese and tell her she should stay away from him. But as the hours tick by, I start to think this conversation will have to happen tomorrow at school.

I’m about to lock the door and take a nap when the bell rings. I glance out the glass to see who’s here because, at this point, anyone is better than no one. It’s Melina—the girl who’d given me the box last week when my mom wasn’t home. When I open the door, humidity pours in like thick gel.

“Piper.” Melina’s lips lift into a cherry ice cream smile, pink and round and perfect. She peeks her head in and looks around, letting her blond corn rows fall forward over her blouse which dips so low in the middle I see her ribs. Each corn row is capped with a shell which jingles against the others creating a song as she moves. Melina looks like she belongs on the cover of Cosmo, except she’s so pretty no one would believe the photos are real. “Is your mom home?”

I shake my head and smile. Maybe I will have some company today. “No.”

“She’s not out picking seeds today, is she?”

I open the door wider so she can come in. Which she does. “She’s out of town.”

Melina’s eyebrows shoot up her beautiful forehead, making the green of her eyes stand out like emeralds. “Really?”

I nod and can’t help the grin which grows on my face. “Yeah, kind of unbelievable, isn’t it.”

“A bit out of character,” Melina says. “What have you been doing? Were you okay during the storm?”

My mind flies to my date with Reese and my journey to the Underworld with Shayne. “I was fine. I made it home before it got too bad.” The air from outside reminds me I haven’t been out in over a day. “You don’t want to go for a walk, do you?” I ask.

A perfect smile forms on Melina’s perfect face. Her body reminds me of a minx, sleek and supple, and with her low-cut blouse, I see every curve. She reaches out a golden arm and opens the door, and the sunlight catches the fine, blond hairs, making her arms shimmer.

“Definitely,” she says, and I walk outside.

Melina follows me out, letting the door swing shut, linking arms with me as we walk. There’s no one around to see us, so even though my reflex is to pull it back from her, I let it be. We pass the greenhouses out back which are steamed up from all the humidity; I can’t even see inside. I head for the path in the woods, walking under the trees. There are puddles everywhere from the storm, and no matter how hard I try to avoid them, my feet are soaked in seconds. Outside, I see how sheer Melina’s clothes really are. In the sunlight, I can see right through the blouse. Her nipples are hard against the fabric which clings to her, showing the brownness of each nipple perfectly. Her thin skirt falls into the space between her legs, outlining her thighs, and it’s clear she’s not wearing any underwear. But if anyone can pull off the look, it’s Melina. I glance at her sideways, unable to take my eyes off her. Imagining the effect she must have on guys.