May knew she was beautiful. Talented. Ambitious? Now that wouldn't do, would it? For a young lady to be seen as reaching, to want - her mother wouldn't say - she didn't have to, for May to understand it wasn't proper to expose herself.

It was why she rode the bus; her family wasn't poor. What would it say about Father's church, about his ability as a preacher, if he couldn't provide? What would it say about Mother?

Yet May rode the bus to school each day - because people were always watching. Always judging - not just on Sundays.

Appearances.

That was important; and if May had struggled, had doubted, had nearly rebelled against her mother's subtle guidances - but all that was before she had begun to understand the power a lady wielded - and it still impressed her, all the different ways it worked -

This morning it was a yellow rose in Hickory's hand as he waved to her through the bus window, like she was returning to port from a voyage, months gone instead of just the weekend -

She returned his smile, a finger wave. Seconds later he was dropping down next to her, their shoulders meeting.

“Hickory, is that for me?” May asked as she eyed the yellow rose, the look he returned was pure accusation - as if to say:

‘Don’t you know me by now, Miss May? Why would I have for a flower if not for you?’

And it had her giggling, as though she was still his age - no - younger.

That she could already hear the way his voice could purr, as soft and fluffy as a kitten against her chest, and how it tickled her.

“Thank you, Hickory. It’s lovely, but you didn’t need to.” May said as she took in his sweetness - breathing deeply.

Hickory nodded, his eyes not just seeing her but drinking her in, and she should slap him! But he was already leaning back in the seat, smug and satisfied, full of cream -

“You’ve been fishing,” May said, sniffing.

“I washed up, after.”

“I know you did.” May said, shaking her head, she adjusted his collar. May didn't care for fish and he didn’t smell bad, just wild. Like he was more river then boy.

“I have something to ask you, May.” He blushed.

“Are you being bashful, Hickory?” May laughed, “That’s not like you.”

“I reckon.” He nodded, combing his messy hair down, and she should cut it, he needed a haircut - “Will you go to the dance with me?”

“Hickory!” May gasped, pulling her hand back from where she’d twirled a curl of his thick auburn hair around her finger, “Are you…joking?”

That same look - and of course he wasn’t;

‘Have you ever heard me tell a joke, Miss May?’

“I’ve been saving, I got enough. For a car and everything.” Hickory said proudly, “For dinner, at Divvie’s, I know you like them noodles -”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

“Oh, Hickory.” May whispered, looking down at the rose, knowing this was her fault - for not putting a stop to his outrageous flattery - and she loved it. To see his young face turned up as he looked at her, like all the stars were reflected in his eyes - so innocent.

Of course he wasn't the first to fall for her and she knew how to manage it, a boy's pride could be a fickle thing -

She looked at him sternly but with warmth, “I want you to ask my friend, Julie Lynn - ”

“What? Why May?”

“Because she’s your age! You two would be great together-”

“May-”

“And I know you don’t make much, you’ve probably saved months to get it, not to mention the work you did getting passing grades. I’m proud of you.”

“That don’t matter, it’s worth it to take you, to take you right.” Hickory said, head nodding, but eyes still lost -

She shook her head. Too innocent.

“You’re like a brother to me, Hickory. A little brother.” She nodded, kissing him on the head - just a peck.

“That’s the devil talkin, May.” Hickory fired back, “If ya don’t want to go to the dance with me, well, that’s right fine, but don’t you kiss me like a stranger, like we don’t know one another.”

“I’m three years older than you!”

“That ain’t no answer. If ya don’t care for me, say it, then.” Hickory kicked the seat, “I’ll take Miss Julie Lynn and I won’t be bothering you about it -”

“Hickory! You know you’re precious to me!” May cried, surprised at the panic that took root, “But Weston already asked me, besides - I’m sorry.”

“Then say that, May. Don’t say I’m a brother, not a cousin nor a neighbor, I won’t be having it, I’ll be having you honest.”

May watched Hickory, looking for the hurt she’d been expecting or the offended jeer the other jilted guys in her class had shown after rejection, but...

“How can you be so...brave?” May whispered instead.

“I ain’t brave, May, you can feel my heart right now, it’s a cornered rabbit. But I’ll tell ya, I don’t regret asking.”

Hickory smiled up at her and he looked half-sick, half-proud, and still smug. And she almost felt foolish - because right then, looking around at the other boys on the bus and it was full of them, their softer, paler faces -

Domesticated.

Looking back at Hickory, May shivered.

"So are you going to ask Julie Lynn?” May asked cautiously.

“She's a lady worth asking, May. She’s bright, in all those smarter classes. I don’t get to see her much which is a shame. But if you say she’s fine, she must be.”

May rolled her eyes, lifted the rose, and - she exhaled, offering it back to him - “You should give this to Julie.”

“Now May,” Hickory chuckled, “I would have you keep that. Miss Julie Lynn won’t go without, but seeing as I ain't asked her yet, she won't be slighted.”

May smiled, bringing the rose close she smelled it again, and was it wrong to want it? To enjoy his reckless, impossible purpose? His innocent infatuation?

For Weston to see it? Perhaps even be jealous - Even if Weston was a Covanger, he was still a man, still -

“Sing for me, May.” Hickory asked softly, “Something sweet.”

She turned to him and saw his jaw set, his face strong without the smallest drop of resentment, and if anything he suddenly looked more -

She gave him a song, a song for a rose - just a soft humming at first, warming up with the melody before she started, ‘Down to the River to Pray.’

“Not that one.” Hickory whispered and she dropped the notes, looking - saw his face still set, and if his jaw twitched? It could be nothing but a shadow tossed, her imagination. That Hickory had never asked her to change songs but as she searched his face for some explanation, he bore an easy expression that was still firmly set -'I'd not give you sadness, May. Call me selfish in that.'

Hickory was different then anyone May had ever met - at first, others had called him a hick - not Cory, his birth name - and he never argued with their assertion, never minded. That there was something deep and hard and rooted in him, the name of Hickory had grown from others lips.

That he was also a scoundrel - from the 'other side of the river.'

“A Dream is a Wish your Heart Makes…” May began to sing softly, watching the tanned hide of his skin, his lashes flutter as he leaned back and closed his blue eyes, listening to her song until they arrived - as though he truly was dreaming.

When the bus stopped Hickory stood up and stepped out in the aisle, making a wall, stopping everyone else for her. That the other students waited patiently, now, it didn't matter that they were a foot or two taller than him; that Tyler wouldn't even get up out of his seat until Hickory was off the bus...

That May should have known. But May was only just starting to understand the power a lady wielded - and nobody fought Weston Covanger.