And when I woke up hours later, those daisies werethe first thing I saw.
And as the days passed, every one, there came a hugebouquet of daisies.
I went to bed wandering through an apartment filling up withbrightness.
And I went to bed with the scent of flowers in the room, thesight of shadowed petals the last thing I saw.
And that bright, hopeful, happy beauty was the first thingthat hit me every morning.
Chapter Three
Snow White
Daisy
“What happened to your face?”
I looked to the kid standing beside me where I sat on thebench in Washington Park, a place I’d gone to escape my apartment, my thoughts,my life.
And those daisies.
Even I couldn’t feel like shit in a house filled withdaisies.
I didn’t think of daisies.
I looked at a kid who was young, in his early teens, maybeeven younger than that, Hispanic and already a very good-looking boy.He hadanother boy with him, black, gangly.I could see the other one would be talland he wasn’t yet growing into what he’d become, but the promise of it wasthere.He was standing further away, shadowed by the shade of a tree, not boldenough to approach, so I turned my attention back to the one who’d gottenclose.
“It’s not polite to ask a question like that, sugar,” I toldhim.
“I hope you fucked him up right back,” he said and I wishedI was able to share that I had.
I looked closer at him.
“Fuck, you didn’t get the shot at fuckin’ him up,” the kidmuttered, his face turning hard, and my attention grew sharper.
When it did, I noted he needed a shower.A haircut.A changeof clothes.
Food.
And he saw things others wouldn’t see.
Primarily, whatever my face had told him that other kids hisage would never have seen.Hell, even most adults wouldn’t have read it on me.
Damn, he was a runaway.
I cocked my head.“When’s the last time you hadsomethin’ to eat, boy?And by the way, kid your ageshouldn’t say fuck.Comprende?”
His face got even harder before his eyes darted beyond me,his body grew tight, and his friend said urgently, “P, let’s go.”
He didn’t delay.They both took off and vanished quickly,even in an open park on a sunny day.
It was then the sun was blocked from hitting me and I turnedmy attention swiftly that way, bracing, preparing to launch myself from thebench and run if I had to.
I stayed still as I saw Marcus Sloan standing there inanother impeccable suit, hands in his trouser pockets, eyes cast down to me.
“Daisy,” he murmured.
Please, God, let this not be happening.
