The apple tree had stood there for decades. It has been barren for an unknown number of years. Any apple blossoms that bloom soon flitter down to the ground with the slightest gust of wind.
Mia had never tasted an apple from her apple tree. In fact, the last person in her family to have tasted an apple from the tree was her grandmother, who swore on her mother's grave that it was the sweetest thing she ever put in her mouth. Mia didn't quite believe her but didn't bother to disagree.
Mia had started sitting under the tree when she was ten years old. She had come home from school with her eyes red and her new pink skirt covered in mud. In some broken fragments of words and between heart-wrenching sobs she had conveyed to her family that the girls in her class were bullies. She had refused a warm bath or even a hot cup of "Mama's special cocoa" and instead run towards the fields. Her mother tried to follow, but her father stopped her, telling her that little Myrtle just needed to cool off.
And so Mia had run all the way up the small hill from which she could see her house and the small meadows surrounding it. She sat, panting and sobbing at irregular intervals, on a gnarled root of the apple tree. She knew it was an apple tree because her father had taught her to differentiate apple from orange from birch and willow - even if there were no flowers or fruits.
And she had sat there, until her sobbing had lessened and eventually ceased. Even in that moment she had felt like she was the only one in the entire meadow, and perhaps the only one who would understand how she felt. The sun started sinking, and the cold started seeping into her clothes. She walked slowly back to her mother.
Mia sat under the apple tree now, seven years later. She had mostly forgotten what it had felt like that day, when she sat there in her dirty and torn pink skirt, swearing to herself that she would never wear pink again. She had forgotten the names and the faces of the girls who had pushed her into the muddy creek. But she had never let go of her loneliness.
Mia took out her book and sketched, anything from the wildflowers around her to images her mind conjured up. She drew and drew until her hands got tired and the sun reached it's zenith. She had packed a small lunch with her, a sandwich her mother had made. It had smoked turkey and cheese and her mother's love in it. Mia wondered where she had gone wrong along the years.
Mabel was leaving, and she was still here, under the apple tree. She had never been amazing at school, or sport, or even art. She couldn't help but wish she was more like Mabel, and silently cursed her for being the better twin. Then her cheeks immediately flushed, and she felt a burning in her chest, hating herself for the way she felt.
She leaned back against the trunk of the apple tree, watching the clouds lazily swim past her, enjoying the cool blue of the sky. She felt alone, but it was all she knew. She did not know how to break out of the shell she had put herself in. She did not know how to break down the walls she built around herself. She sat and contemplated this, and how it was better like this. Safer. She was just bound to make a fool of herself, to be awkward and and too quiet and -
"Hi."
Mia jumped, her heart racing. She looked to her left and it was a boy she had never seen before.
She struggled to find her words. "Who - What are you doing here?" She forced out.
The boy shrugged. "Just sitting down. Nice to meet you too." He smiled rather deviously.
Mia's felt her face heat up as she quickly looked away.
"Sorry," She mumbled. "My name is Mia."
"Jude," He said, reaching his hand out.
Mia took his hand, staring blankly at him for a few seconds. And a few more seconds. A minute. She looked puzzled, and she felt her heart skip a beat once she realized he wanted to shake hands. She shook it once vigorously and then quickly drew her hand back.
The boy laughed softly, and Mia was ashamed.
"You're a funny girl, Mia." Jude said.
Mia studied the way the sunlight played on his flaxen hair. It gleamed the same way her Mama's necklace did in the sun. She didn't know what to say, but she didn't want him here. This had been her little spot for years. Jude seemed to notice she was uncomfortable.
"I was just passin' by. Just picking some wild flowers, you know." Jude told her. His accent was unlike anything Mia had heard before, but she was too nervous to question it. The thought crossed her mind that she didn't want him to go, but she nodded anyway.
She watched him walk away, picking flowers as he went along. She wondered if he was going to give them to a girlfriend. She quickly shoved the thought from her head, and shoved her books into her backpack. She walked back home alone.