Page 34 of Inked in Bloom
But I didn’t earn any flourish marks yet, so why do I have it?
Wrapping an arm around myself, I open the door, tiptoe down the hall past Roxy and Kendrick’s rooms, and stop in front of Cherri’s door. I raise my fist and knock as gently as I can, but there’s no answer. She’s probably asleep or stayed out like she’d set her mind to.
Was she able to snare our professors for the night? Did they go into The Nestling Fields or fuck right there in The Looking Glass? I squeeze my thighs together, a carnal, heady sensation washing over me.
Breathing in and out, I wait for the unfamiliar emotion to subside, so much more than any urge I’ve had before when it comes to lust.
What is wrong with me? This is not a time to be horny—I’ve been tattooed without my consent by someinvisible artist—pen—magic—Shit.I don’t know what it is, what it means, or why it decided to arrive in the middle of the night.
Of course the one person I want to ask about it isn’t here. As I wander back toward my room, I almost stop and wake Roxy, but from the sounds coming from Kendrick’s room…they are preoccupied. Guess even S.T.E.M. night makes you frisky when you’re a Bloom.
I frown down at the ink peeking from under my arm. It’s not like it’s going anywhere. I’ll ask them in the morning.
By the time I make it to my room, the red has faded into my harbinger rose-quartz shade. It itches a bit, but that’s it. I trail a fingertip over the markings. They’re warm to the touch.
I scan the room, remember my bra disappeared, and sigh. Guess I’m stuck being topless.
Could be worse, I suppose.
Plopping down in front of the mirror, I scrutinize every sweeping curve and brush of ink, grateful that the ghost of pain has already moved on. The only thing that haunts me now is how beautiful it is. Because no matter how confusing its origins are, I can’t stop staring at it.
15
MONROE
When I wake, Roxy & Kendrick have already left for work and Cherri still isn’t home. I head to the Conservatory, dread swirling in the pit of my stomach the entire walk. I don’t stop for a crêpe, fearing anything I eat will have a good chance of making a reappearance. Between my unplanned confrontation with my professor and the new strange mark over my sternum, I can already tell today is going to be one that drags on. Even the walk to The Nursery feels like it takes forever.
The first thing we do in Botany is gather in a circle. The ceiling, blanketed in windowpanes at its center, casts sunlight over the pots of soil situated in front of us. For thirty minutes we attempt to sprout anything from the pile of dirt. The skin beneath my bra itches, breaking up my focus. Is it bad to have clothing against whatever this mark is? And where did it come from? Did someone make a clerical error and give me a flourish mark early?
Once Cherri and I have a moment alone, I’m going to ask her about it.
I clear my throat and run a hand over the thick material of my dress—admittedly two curtains I took scissors to and fashioned with some ribbon. I’ve gottensome odd looks, some others nodding in understanding. Perhaps I’m not the only one who’s struggled to get their magic flowing.
Regardless, no one else is staring at an empty pot. Even Dani, who clearly hates being here, is slung back in a chair, looking out the window while a tiny green stalk pokes from their soil.
It’s official. I’m the worst pupil in class.
Cherri drags a long, painted nail around the rim of her pot. Her attention drifts from the stem with a small bulb at its tip to Professor Kitt. His attention is on the two harbingers across from us whose names I haven’t bothered learning. A person can only handle so much change at once.
“Where were you last night?” I ask my roommate, though I’m not sure I actually want the answer.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
When Kitt doesn’t spare her a glance, she drops her gaze to the pot, brows scrunching together. She coaxes the bulb with a finger and twitches her nose. Yellow petals unfurl, rippling until a sunflower’s face opens skyward.
“Wow. Color me jealous.” I watch two other sunflowers blossom, wishing I sensed the slightest buzz of magic within me. Her other neighbor applauds, and the rest of us follow suit, and when Professor Kitt praises her, she beams brighter than the sunlight streaming in through the glass panes.
He comes over, inspecting her handiwork, frowning at mine. “Keep working, Monroe. Channel that energy running through you. Maybe try putting your fingers into the dirt. Think of it as an extra way of grounding your magic.”
What magic?I want to ask, but I keep my comment to myself, cup my hands around the potted plant, and tug it closer.
Grimacing, I roll my shoulders back and sink my fingertips into the soil.Bleh. A full-body shiver runs through me. I stare at Cherri’s sunflowers and imagine them growing from my pot. Wriggling my nose a few times, I brace myself for something—anything—to happen.
Behind Cherri, Professor Tess leans in the doorframe, attention lingering on my roommate.
Interesting.
“Guess that answers where you were all last night…and this morning,” I whisper. Cherri follows my line of sight, winking at Tess.
