"Please, NO soliciting" - That means you two!! (fiction)

inspired by the time keely and I were neighbors with our student teacher in the 4th grade ❤️
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Because my knee was bleeding profusely, we didn't have any other choice but to go in.
She welcomed us into her home and bribed us with a cup of tea. Hot tea. I don't think I had ever sat down with a cup of hot tea before in my life. Sylvie and I held hands as we entered.

Her house was decorated from floor to ceiling with plants. Succulents, vines, and even paintings of plants. What caught my eye was an emerald green banana tree with leaves that could serve as shade from the sun. It formed a magnificent arch over her orange chair in the corner. A chair I imagined she thrifted off of facebook marketplace.

Her kettle was screeching from another room. “I’ll be right back!” and she disappeared. Leaving us alone with our thoughts. I closed my eyes and tried my hardest to read Sylvie’s mind. To communicate our escape telepathically. I rocked back and forth on my heels. Sylvie took her backpack off and let it fall to the floor. Okay... I guess we're doing this. I copied Sylvie and as my bag dropped to the floor every one of my books fell out with it. I scrambled to the ground.

I could hear clinking from the kitchen - “You girls really took the bull by the horns today!” She said,

Sylvie and I shot each other a glance, confused. As I zipped up my backpack, I watched, as our captive carefully walked a tray of tea cups and sugar packets into our space. “Please, make yourselves at home.” She crouched into her orange chair and released a great sigh of relief.

The two of us sat stiff on her couch. She studied us like she was interviewing for her next live in nanny or personal chef. But really, we came here because we were kids without the internet. Looking to ding dong ditch our student teacher that graded my exam today so harshly.

She told Sylvie how insightful her creative short story was and awarded her with a golden sugar cube. My mouth began to water. Sugar cubes were an unreachable delicacy that I had never known of until I heard that Finnick Odair ate them at the training center. But she didn’t have a sugar cube for me. She met my eyes and told me in the nicest, meanest way possible that my short story needed work. She offered to tutor me during recess and gave me a list of synonyms and sparkly figurative language that she had curated during her time in college. I grabbed the list and tore it to shreds in my mind.

I interrupted her and spoke for Sylvie and I. I said we still had homework to do and those extra math problems she assigned us weren't going to solve themselves. I said that her green tea, which tasted like grass, was lovely and I promised her that the next time I wanted to treat my friends to a high brow tea party, that she would be at the top of my recommendation list.

But, really, I needed air. I didn’t want her to say anything that I’d remember for the rest of my life, like a wound that never heals. Because I was fragile. Like those plants, I missed the sun. And maybe so did my writing. It probably missed the sun more than Steve, or Missy, or Conrad ever did. Because how can you miss something you’ve never known?