Page 1 of Withered

“I cherish the beauty of roses, even with their thorns. For if I am to be pricked, let it be by something as lovely as they are.” — Brielle

Noteven24hourshave passed since I last saw her, and yet here she is knocking on my door. I choose not to glance up from my book as my best friend enters my room before I can respond. I still don’t get it—why does she even knock to this day?

Kristina Jones. We’ve been the best of friends for as long as I can remember. She is the most popular girl at Westwood High School since she is confident, outspoken, and stunning with her blue eyes and black-brown wavy hair. She can be a little snarky with people she doesn’t like. So believe me when I say that nobody wants to offend her.

Glancing around my room frantically, her eyes meet mine and dip down to the book in my hand.

“Rose, this is our last weekend together before high school starts, and you’re reading. What’s the matter with you?” She yells the last part, throwing her hands in the air, but I’m used to this. I could practically sense that she came here to blackmail me for something.

“You know I love reading,” I say.

It’s true. I can read for hours without getting tired. Some people call it unhealthy, but I can’t help myself. I mean, who doesn’t want to get lost in the world of fictional men?

“What’s up?” I ask her.

She strides across the room and stands in front of me, towering over me as I sit on a bean bag.

“I know you enjoy reading. But could youpleaseforget your books for a day and help me with high school shopping? I want to upgrade my closet.” She finishes dramatically by crossing her arms.

I chuckle. Kristy has a fetish when it comes to clothes, and she truly is a fashionista. She will buy tons of clothes and wear most of them only once. If anything catches her eye, then that rule may change.

“Give me a few minutes to change, and we’ll be ready to go.” I reluctantly agree, but on the inside, I am thinking of a couple of reasons to avoid this shopping trip.

“Make it as quick as possible. I know you are thinking of ways to avoid this shopping spree.” She winks at me, and my mouth hangs open in shock. Then she’s out of my bedroom. Kristina Jones is one of a kind. She is a friend everyone needs in their life; she can read me better than I could ever read myself.

I shake my head and rummage through my closet for something nice and comfortable to wear. I mean, if I’m going out, I might as well look the part.

Because the weather is nice today, I opt for a white tank top that I tuck into my blue jeans, finishing the look with mascara, lip gloss, and my favorite white sneakers. I grab my black sling bag and head down.

As I descend the stairs, I hear faint voices coming from the kitchen. Following that, I find Mom near the counter and Kristy, with a mouthful of pancakes, seated on one of the stools.

“This is so delicious,” she says as she swallows her bite and takes another.

“You’ve said that about three times now.” Mom laughs.

For someone who cares a lot about her body and eats fruits and boiled vegetables, she’s a sucker for my mom’s food.

I sit across from Kristy and grab my plate, with Mom joining us after a few minutes.

“You girls enjoy.” Mom adds as she looks at us. “I’m going to be late, so take care of yourselves. If you need anything, just call me.”

My parents are both doctors. They work at the same hospital but in different departments. Mom is a pediatrician, and Dad is a top cardiologist in Texas. Although they are often occupied with work and spend a lot of time at the hospital, they make an effort to spend some time with me whenever possible. I cherish the moments we have together.

Kristy interrupts me before I can respond. “Mrs. Evans, is it okay if she stays at my place today?”

Mom nods and says, “Of course, dear. I was about to tell you to take her.” Kristy’s place is like a second home to me.

We complete our lunch, say our goodbyes to my mother, and head to the mall.

The ride to the mall takes us only twenty-five minutes, and the parking lot is a dead giveaway that the mall is crowded. After searching for an empty spot, we had to settle for parking at the furthest place possible. Not wasting any seconds after that, we head straight for the second floor.

“Where do I start?” Kristy turns around to ask me.Hell if I know.If anything, I should be the last person to tell her about this. I suck at shopping.

I glance around the shop and point to what I believe is a newly arrived section. Kristy runs in that direction, and I laugh at her instincts, trailing behind her.

After what felt like decades, we left the store with a couple of bags in our hands.

I sigh in relief and announce, “I’m exhausted.” Shopping with Kristy is fun but tiring. If she could, she would buy the whole shop.

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