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Spring Rain

Angela Lin

Isobelle Carmody Award

for Creative Writing

Honourable Mention

Lilac Imber was a new student who moved to my class at an odd time

in the year. Everyone had already developed solid friendship circles

by this point, and normally they were not keen on expanding them.

Despite this, her cheery attitude encouraged everyone to include and

get along with her and she instantly became popular. If you could

describe Lilac, you would probably say she seemed like spring—calm,

beautiful and happy. But in reality, she’s shown me over the time I

knew her that her heart has been filled with rain.

The story began five years ago. Along with countless other people,

I quickly befriended the popular new girl. Unlike the others, however,

I felt like I was particularly close to her, because we had several

common interests and spent almost every day together before,

during and after school. I bonded with her faster than I’d ever

bonded with anyone before, not that I’d done that much bonding to

begin with. It wasn’t like I was completely friendless before Lilac; it

was just that I had only had ‘friends’. No ‘best friends’, no ‘soul

mates’, no ‘companions’—nothing of the sort. She was a nice change

because I had finally found someone I could share my snarky

comments, quirky humour and embarrassing secrets with. And

though Lilac did share her darkest secrets, in turn, with me (like how

when she was little she hugged a random woman in the supermarket

because she was wearing the same outfit as her mum), she always

seemed a little distant and mysterious no matter how close we

became as friends. She never shared much about her family, nor had

I ever met any of her relatives through the course of the three and a

half years I’d known her. Furthermore, whenever we’d hung out at

her tiny apartment after school, we had always been alone because

apparently her parents worked all week apart from weekends; even

public holidays. I could never come over on weekends, either,

because Lilac worked all Saturday and Sunday at her part-time job

which was at a café in the city.

The last time I ever spoke to Lilac was during our final year of

high school. It was just another normal day near the end of the third

term. Lilac and I were walking to her apartment as it was not far

from the school, and the weather was nice because it was spring. At

this point, I’d known her for a little over three years. As we were

walking, I was complaining about how my parents were being stingy

about some petty problem I no longer remember. This wasn’t the

first time I’d grumbled about my parents, but on this particular