“Amara, you’re with Finch.” Ms. Brown calls, and Amara turns to look around the classroom. The name seems familiar to her somehow, but she can’t quite place it. It’s odd considering she knows most of her classmates by name, until she realizes— Finch is the quiet kid who lives next door to her who never really speaks in class at all. She doesn’t mind, really— she’s been told she talks enough for at least three people, but she can respect Finch’s choice to stay more distant from their class, especially considering how fourth graders can act sometimes. As the last groups are called, the class is dismissed for the day and Amara falls into step with Finch. “So, a garden, huh?” she smiles, looking to the other kid, “have you got any ideas yet?” Finch’s green eyes flick to the side as they break eye contact. “We could grow carrots,” they mumble, though not unkindly. To Amara, mature fourth grader that she is, it’s obvious that Finch must be a pleasant person but simply doesn’t want to talk to Amara for some reason. “Sure, that sounds nice!” Amara replies, skipping happily over the hopscotch that dots the sidewalk. She’s about to suggest they ask their parents to bring them shopping for seeds when Finch cuts in. “My mom might have some seeds left over from last year we can use...” — — — — — — “Careful!” Amara calls as Finch hoists themself up onto a shelf in the garage, rummaging through boxes and bags. They hum in assent, though they don’t make any move to be more careful. A moment later they pop up and hop back down, landing with a slight stumble, and Amara can see a packet of carrot seeds as well as cucumber seeds clutched tightly in their palm. There’s already a planter box between her yard and Finch’s, so all they need to do is grab the watering can and some gardening gloves and they can get to planting! Excitement buzzes through Amara; she’s never had a science project quite like this one before! They’re going to be growing their own veggies! By the time the two are done, they’re smeared with mud and grass and the sun is starting to dip to the horizon. Amara turns to Finch with a grin, “See you tomorrow!” “Yeah, see you...” Finch trails off and Amara dashes back to her porch as her parents call her in for dinner. — — — — — — Tending to the garden isn’t particularly difficult; in the mornings, Amara can see Finch awake bright and early watering the plants— though she herself is still in the process of awakening— and in the evening she checks on them to make sure the growth is doing alright. Sometimes, she heads down in her flip-flops and pajamas and fills the watering can for Finch, and sometimes by the time she goes out in the evening Finch has already begun taking the daily measurements needed for the final report. By the end of the month, the carrots are thriving and grown, though there are many weeds in the box as well; Finch seems embarrassed at having forgotten the step, but Amara’s quick to reassure them that the growth still did fine even with the weeds there. The report is submitted and the two get a high grade— but there’s still one issue. The cucumber plant is only half-grown and it’ll probably be at least another month of growing before it even starts to produce a crop, let alone the amount of time it’ll stay producing for and thus need watering and care. Amara doesn’t mind though; she likes being able to sit in her yard and write poetry with the plants there, and it’s not too much upkeep especially with Finch also continuing to care for them. So they continue, exchanging a few words on occasion or sitting in cohabited peaceful silence. Finch is a little more talkative when asked about gardening, Amaya finds, and she loves listening to the other ramble while she writes. — — — — — — Cucumbers turn into tomatoes and rhubarb and soon enough it’s late fall and Amara and Finch are choosing seeds for next year. Though they mostly buy flower bulbs to sprout in the spring, Amara picks out lovage in particular; she’s heard it goes super well in a fish soup and she wants to try growing some herself when the spring planting season rolls around. Finch seems to pay careful attention to the daffodil bulbs they buy as part of their haul; they grab them off the shelf with little explanation as to why, simply nodding quietly when Amara asks if they wanted to plant some in the garden for next year. Fall turns to winter turns to spring once more. Amara’s older sister leaves for college after Christmas, so the house is all the quieter in her absence. Amara likes to think she and Finch have gotten closer by coparenting a planter box for what’s almost a year now; they even started walking to school together a while back! Though Finch secludes themself to the corner as usual during classes and recess, so there’s not much hanging out happening when they’re at school, at least not for fifth grade. Throughout spring and then summer it’s clear to Amara that her lovage experiment is a resounding success; in fact, it’s almost too successful. Even after she and Finch trim away more than half of it, there’s still so much growing! And the amount they’ve cut off is excessive to the point that one day they go around the neighbourhood and offer it to people. It takes up a lot of space in the planter box and overshadows some of this year’s carrots, though the cucumber seems to do fine. The daffodils grow well too, pushing up towards the sun as if shooting for the stars. They’re a mix of bright yellows and creams that really light up the garden and break up the green, no wonder Finch wanted to plant them! Impressed as always by Finch’s foresight, she bounds over to them and pulls them into a hug. They squeak a little bit, muffled by Amara’s cardigan, and she pulls back, a grin beaming across her face. “The garden looks so cool, don’t you think!?” “Yeah, it’s really nice,” they respond, eyes flicking distractedly to her notebook resting on the grass a few feet away, “how’s your writing going?” Amara feels her stomach drop at the question. The truth is, she’s hit a block lately, and her dad has been going on rants about how writing isn’t a sustainable career and she should be focusing on her schoolwork more. She knows he’s wrong, and yet his words worm their way into her head like insipid rainwater; they also really don’t help with her creativity issues. Amara says as much to Finch, and a small frown passes across their face. “Your writing is incredible, don’t beat yourself up like that...” they say, hand resting on her shoulder still from the hug, then, seeing her still seem down, they continue, “do you want to hear a story? As a distraction?” Their bluntness and awkwardness makes Amara giggle and she nods, beckoning Finch to come sit with her on the porch. “My mom loves to garden,” Finch begins hesitantly, “she always has. She’s a plant breeder and works at a florist and plant nursery at the moment. She’s incredible, she’s why I know so much about plants and flower language.” Amara listens, entranced. Finch has never talked much about their own life before, only really speaking up when it comes to the garden. She’s also never heard of flower language before, it seems so interesting! If she remembers, next time she’s by the library, she’ll check out a book about it. “I want to be like her,” Finch continues, “that’s why I was so excited about continuing the project... thank you for working together with me on this. And now we both know each others’ dreams, so since you’ve supported mine, I should return the favour! You can do this, Amara...” They grab Amara’s hand and she squeezes back, smiling. — — — — — — After that day, they grow closer and spend time together frequently, even at school, most afternoons spent together at one of their houses; irises quietly appear in the garden from Finch amidst the other plants they cultivate the next year alongside the cherry sapling the two plant and the raspberry bushes; their garden is becoming less of a planter box and more just a large patch between their yards. The planter box is still there, but it’s so overgrown by now that it may as well not be. Finch cuts Amara’s hair to some semblance of a bob in their bathroom, and Amara teaches them eyeliner and lends them a skirt when they ask. Finch goes to a different high school from Amara though, one more focused on science and stricter academics, and Amara is sad to see them go, but glad they’re pursuing their goals. They still hang out as often as possible, especially working on the garden, until things go horribly wrong one morning in ninth grade. — — — — — — “Amara, are you there?” She can hear that Finch is crying by their voice as they stand beneath her window, the garden by their feet frosted over as it is every winter. The bare branches of the trees around frame them as if grasping at them She flings the window open, hoisting herself over and dropping to the ground, and grabs Finch’s hand. “Is everything okay? Are you okay? What’s going on?” Finch takes in a shaky breath, eyes red, then begins to explain. “You know how my uncle’s been sick lately?” Amara nods, gesturing for them to continue. “Last night he got way worse really fast and he’s at the hospital right now, and my mom’s with him... the doctors are saying even if he recovers enough to go home anytime soon he won’t be able to take care of himself for a while if not forever, but he can’t be safely moved really right now, so we’re going to stay with him at the hospital from today on and we’ll be moving into his apartment in the city long term!” They’re clearly incredibly stressed out by what happened to their uncle whom they love so much; without him, it would’ve been just their mom raising Finch completely alone. It makes perfect sense that the two would move in a heartbeat to help him, but there’s nothing she can really do to help them feel better... but Finch is also visibly stressed about not being neighbours with Amara anymore and that’s something she can definitely help with! Though she also feels tears prick at the corner of her eyes at the prospect of Finch leaving. “Don’t worry, we can stay in contact! We both have phones, don’t we? Sure, we won’t be able to hang out in person much, but we can still talk and call and stuff...!” A tear slips down her cheek but she puts on a wobbly smile to reassure them. Amara pulls Finch into a long hug as they sob into her shoulder, then pulls away, sticking out her pinky. “I promise, okay? We’re sticking together no matter what!” They nod and the two shake on the pinky promise, then Finch wipes their eyes and steps back, waving. Neither of them says goodbye, because goodbyes are more permanent than either of them are comfortable with. — — — — — — That spring, beautiful pink sweet peas blossom in the garden, pushing up through the soil. They’re the ones Finch planted the autumn before everything happened, and Amara feels a sharp wave of longing pinch at her chest when she sees them, though it’s tempered by the joy of seeing the new life thriving in their garden. Then in autumn as Amara returns from her tenth grade classes one day, she spots a letter on her front porch. When she opens it, it contains a mystery packet of seeds and a little sticky note from Finch that reads ‘for the garden! Plant these and see what sprouts!’ with a little winky face doodle that she giggles upon seeing. Amara buys a botany book from the florist Finch’s mom used to work at and when the flowers grow with the rest of their thriving garden in the spring, she identifies them as zinnias, standing a stark purple against the greens of the lovage that surround them. The garden is truly colourful now, pops of red raspberries and tomatoes, yellow from the daffodils, and pink dotted in from the sweet peas. Finch responds with a smiley face at the images of the thriving garden Amara sends them, and sends back with an image of a small window box on their apartment balcony, red amaranth flowers nestled in leafy foliage. Of course Finch would be able to grow something so gorgeous in a single window flowerpot, Amara reflects, smiling. — — — — — — Every year from then on Finch mails in a mystery seed packet; one year alstroemeria, the next sunflowers, and so on. The years pass by as they still remain as close as possible, calling until late hours every weekend, texting in class about stupid things classmates said or did, celebrating achievements; in twelfth grade Amara publishes a collection of her nature-related poems in a journal after Finch encouraged her, and they talk and laugh for hours that day, discussing their futures. The next day, while looking over the garden and reminiscing, Amara suddenly remembers the moment she and Finch spent together in the garden, the first moment they truly shared, where she confided in them her worries and they told her about their mother; she never did look for that book on flower language! She’s suddenly so incredibly curious about the meaning of the flowers Finch had been planting in that strange quiet way of theirs and sending across kilometers in the mail and starts researching, though she has little luck as she’s not really sure where to start. But that all changes a few weeks later when summer hits and she graduates high school. — — — — — — Finch shows up at her doorstep incredibly early in the morning without any warning, ringing the doorbell, and Amara flings the door open and throws herself into their arms, hugging them so tightly she’s shocked their ribs don’t give way. Apparently, they got into a university back in town, the same one Amara’s planning to attend when fall comes around! They have a stupid little mischievous grin on their face as Amara jokingly scolds them; she’d talked at length about her university plans and yet they'd been stubbornly silent, and now they’d oh-so-coincidentally decided to go to the same uni as her? She’d be mad about their scheming if it wasn’t so characteristic of them and if she wasn’t so unbelievably glad that they’d be back together again! Finch is immediately curious about the state of the garden, so she leads them to the backyard only to see that the seeds Finch had sent in had bloomed into yellow roses overnight. Together they look over the garden of colourful flowers so carefully selected by Finch and that’s when it hits Amara; the common thread in all of the meanings she’d been researching! Daffodils, for renewal, new beginnings, and the joy of friendship. Irises, for faith, strength, and cherished friendship. Sweet peas, for gratitude, nostalgia, and growth. Zinnias, for lasting affection, remembrance, and enduring friendship that lasts even through separation. Alstroemeria, for complexity, mutual support, and thoughtfulness. Sunflowers, for adoration, loyalty, and longevity. And finally, yellow roses, symbolizing happiness, optimism, and platonic love. This entire time, though for a while Finch themself had remained quiet and reserved, they had been trying to convey their blooming friendship and their gratitude for her presence in their life through flower language! Amara hugs Finch again, burying her face in their shoulder. They’ve gotten a lot taller, she thinks distantly. There’s an open look of joy on their face as they ask, “What’s brought this on?” “Nothing,” Amara replies, “I’m just happy you’re here.”