Water Blossoms

La!

With a joyful sigh, Felix tossed another buttercup out across the lake, watching it land on the farther of the two lily pads that floated lazily across the surface. One foot dangled in the clear water, the warmth tickling his toes. He giggled, singing to himself. It was a song of his composition, a soft melodic tune about being happy and content living in the countryside. Just him and his twin, Felicity, throwing buttercups, dandelions and daisies onto the pads in a game they had since called Water Blossoms.

“Water Blossoms”. He was very proud of coming up with that name.

“12,” he yipped excitedly, noting his achievement in his logbook.

He kept a running tally, separating the flowers into two categories: by flower type and by day.

So, while he had just scored 12 today—comprising 9 buttercups, 1 clover, and 2 daisies—he had actually collected a total of 1,033 since they first created the game.

He was comfortably in the lead, too, as Felicity had just shy of 1,000.

Then again, he had far more time to play since she was at school and he was not.

“How many is that now?” Felix jumped at the sound, bolting upright. She hadn’t shouted—her voice just broke the stillness like a shot.

“Oops! Sorry, Felix. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Felicity apologised quickly.

She dropped her school bag and sat down beside him on the bank. She used her jumper as a makeshift blanket. It didn’t really matter if it got grass-stained. It was Friday, so all her uniforms would be washed over the weekend, ready for school again on Monday.

She repeated her question gently, giving him time to recover.

“T-Twelve,” he stammered, eyes flicking to his logbook. “I got twelve. I’m hoping to get lucky number thirteen for my birthday.”

“13 is unlucky,” Felicity remarked as she plucked lazily at blades of grass.

"Say it isn’t so, Felicity. Say it isn’t so. Thirteen is a great number—very lucky to some cultures. Especially in Ancient Egypt,” Felix countered.

"Still… in most places, people think it’s unlucky.”

“You’re talking nonsense,” Felix scoffed, tossing a dandelion at her.

“Hmm. Have you opened your presents yet?” Felicity asked, brushing strands of loose hair from her eyes.

“No, not yet. I was waiting for you to get back from school. How was it?”

“School was fine, I guess. It’s just school.”

“I wouldn’t know.” His voice grew quieter, a hint of sadness creeping in.

Felix had been homeschooled from a young age. He’d never even set foot inside a school.

Their grandma taught him how to read and write. He devoured every book and story she shared with him. Yet, he still wanted more. She loved to encourage this, often persuading their dad to take them to the library every other week. They would pick out new books together.

He was good at maths, too—able to log and tally numbers with near-perfect accuracy. He credited this to what he called the Lakeside Method: arranging smooth lake stones and pebbles in rows like a makeshift abacus. He proudly showed it off to visitors.

Yet mythology, folklore, and culture fascinated him most.

Part of him longed to experience school firsthand, even if only for a day. However, from what Felicity had told him—about the rules and the rigid atmosphere—he was certain he wouldn’t like it. The strict dress code alone was enough to fill him with anxiety.

The school rules for boys forbade long hair, jewellery, and makeup. If the school saw him now—shoulder-length hair tied with an Alice band, numerous bangles, pendants, rings, and his signature glittery eyeshadow and eyeliner—they’d say he was breaking all the rules. They would likely send him home, just like they had with other students who didn’t meet uniform requirements.

Though this was hearsay from Felicity. Felix often wondered how much of it was true, but he trusted her stories even when they sounded exaggerated. He sometimes caught himself hoping things were as dramatic as she made them seem.

The idea of sitting in a noisy room full of strangers made him shudder. Even putting aside the uniform, he couldn't imagine coping with such a crowd for long stretches.

==================

When they were eight, Felicity asked their mum why Felix was homeschooled while she had to make the long trek to school—a thirty-minute walk from their farm. The answer annoyed her; it was vague and noncommittal, failing to address her question. Unsatisfied, she turned to Felix. He didn’t know either. He just sat on the dinosaur rug, writing in his poetry book. When she finished questioning him, he leaned over and asked if she wanted to hear his latest—a limerick about a pair of otters he’d seen during lunch.

He had used the phrase 'lunch hour,' but quickly corrected himself. He only had 45 minutes—more than enough time to eat his peanut butter sandwich, grapes, and apple segments and drink a glass of squash. Then he’d head to the lake for a paddle or a game of Water Blossoms before returning for afternoon lessons.

=====================

Noticing her frown, he stuttered and hastily changed the topic, hoping to lighten the mood and distract himself as much as Felicity. His mind raced, fingers trembling as he tried to find the right words. The pen skidded across the page, etching an errant black streak through a small doodle of a dragon in the bottom corner, making him wince at the mistake.

“But… but…” he began, taking a deep breath. “Grandma told me this amazing story about Sedna, merfolk, and sirens. It was so wonderful.”

“Mermaids, huh?” Felicity said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, merfolk,” he corrected. “They’re often portrayed as a matriarchal society, so people usually say ‘mermaids.’ But ‘merfolk’ is the proper term. Mermen, sometimes called Tritons, are considered a separate group by many scholars. They’re often regarded as two distinct groups.” He beamed, delighted that he remembered these tales.

She couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Right. Hey, Felix?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m back now if you want to open your present.”

“Can I get to 13 first?”

“Okay. Or…”

“Or what?”

“We race to see who can get to 13 first.”

“Felicity, you’re on 7, and I’m on 12. The odds are in my favour, given my current streak.”

“Is that you turning down my formal challenge?”

“I didn’t say that.” Their eyes met, and they laughed.

They shared the same laugh, along with nearly everything else—their appearance, possessions, and even quirks. The only exception was Felix’s sporadic and enthusiastic las, yips, and stims.

Whenever she looked at Felix’s face, it felt like looking into a mirror. They had the same button nose, green eyes, and shiny auburn hair that caught the afternoon light. Small freckles peppered both their cheeks. Aside from Felix’s makeup and hairband, they were nearly identical. To the untrained eye, they could easily be mistaken for each other.

==============

When they were six, they often pretended to be one another—dressing in each other’s clothes and spending whole weekends living as their sibling.

Felix would sit beneath the great apple trees at the far end of the orchard, cradling Felicity’s ukulele and singing softly to the birds. He’d jot down lyrics for new songs, pausing now and then to snack on cherries. It was perfect—his version of Felicity’s favourite Sunday ritual.

Meanwhile, Felicity played Paladins and Princes—fencing invisible foes and storming great towers in search of fairy-tale endings.

Roleplaying Felix, she was the brave and noble Paladin who scoured the realm for glory, adventure, and Dragons in Distress. Or else she’d rescue hapless Prince Charmings, locked away in their towers, in exchange for a marriage proposal and a happily ever after.

It was always princes with Felix—even when he was little and first invented the game. So it came as no surprise to the immediate family when, on his 10th birthday, he proudly declared he would marry a man when he grew up. He said this in response to their aunt, who had bluntly asked if he’d “found a girlfriend yet.” That was the last time they saw her; she stopped coming around after that.

For a while, the siblings fooled everyone with their games.

Well, almost everyone.

Their grandmother caught on right away—on the very first day, in fact—when she noticed that “Felix” wore makeup that wasn’t perfectly symmetrical, and “Felicity” couldn’t stop tapping her foot under the table.

But she never said a word.

Even after their parents found out, they kept up the game—still believing their ruse had gone unnoticed.

===================

Felicity smiled and booped him on the nose. He giggled, his eyes sparkling like gemstones in their glitter-dusted frame. His makeup skills were exquisite—meticulous and full of flair.

Today, he wore tiny water droplets and pearls beneath each eye. A delicate rainbow arched across his brow, joining them.

It was a change from the usual gold he wore each morning, but for good reason—he’d chosen this look to match their birthstone: moonstone.

With a shared grin, they returned to their game.

Felicity quickly began closing the gap—8, 9, 10—and had just reached 11 when Felix let out an excited squeal. He’d managed to press a particularly small, dainty daisy onto his pad.

He leapt up, hopping from one foot to the other, stimming loudly. His hands trembled, and a string of effervescent “La”s rolled from his tongue.

This went on for several minutes, joy rippling out of him like waves, impossible to hold in.

Felicity instinctively stood and turned her back, giving him privacy. He didn’t like being watched when he was stimming.

She could still hear him—the “Las,” the crunch of grass, the occasional splash of water. It sounded like one of his feet had breached the lake. Every so often, she peeked back to check he was alright. Yes—his left foot was tapping the water.

Eventually, the “Las” slowed and faded.

She nodded and smiled, feeling the warmth of his hand resting gently on her shoulder.

“Ready to head home?” she asked, squeezing his hand twice.

He returned the squeezes—unable to speak, but the meaning was clear: yes.

**************

By the time the siblings returned home, their mum was just adding the final touches to their joint sponge cake. Their names were written in silver icing, with tiny edible pearls circling the edge like a delicate border.

“Happy birthday, you two!”

Felix’s eyes lit up. “Pearls! La! Pearls!”

Their mum chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Let’s call them moonstones.”

“LAAA!”

Mum kissed Felicity on the cheek, then booped Felix on the nose, just as Felicity had done down by the lake. He beamed and giggled, booping her back.

Their grandma sat by the fire, rocking gently in her chair, while their dad waited at the kitchen table with an empty recycling bag, ready to collect wrapping paper.

“I… I have something for you,” Felix said quietly, handing Felicity a small box wrapped with a neatly tied bow. He had kept it tucked away in the pocket of his dungarees.

She opened it and gasped. Inside was a clover necklace—handmade by Felix himself.

The chain was woven from dried reeds, and the clover was encased in a glossy resin coating.

She learned later that Grandma and Dad had taken Felix to the nearby craft shop, where he had personally chosen all the materials.

He had carefully placed the delicate flower in the pooling golden resin, choosing a shade that would complement the clover's vivid green.

“Oh, Felix. It’s perfect!”

Felix blushed, and a soft “La” escaped his lips.

“I’m going to put it on now, okay?” Felicity said.

“Yeah,” he replied.

She ducked her head, slipping the chain over it. The pendant dropped against her shirt and rested comfortably. It was just the right weight. As she’d said, it was perfect.

“I love it," Felicity beamed, “Now it’s your turn.”

She reached into her rucksack and pulled out a rainbow box, tucked beneath her chemistry textbook. Thankfully, it hadn’t been crushed on the journey home.

“Can I …?” Felix asked.

“Yeah,” Felicity encouraged.

He opened the box. Inside, resting on a purple cushion, was a mood ring embedded with tiny moonstones. She’d had it custom-made, using a silver-plated band so it wouldn’t turn his finger green.

Felix looked from the ring to his sister. Tears welled in his eyes. His silver makeup ran down his cheeks as he sniffled and gently booped her on the nose.

“I love it,” he said, each word punctuated by joyful sobs.

“Oh, I’m glad! And guess what?” Felicity said excitedly.

“What?” he whispered.

“Count the moonstones.”

He did.

A pause. Then—

“Ooooh … 13!”