Why Should I Be a Magical Girl? I'm Overworked As It Is! — Chapter 11: Taking Root

Maya skipped down the street, toward the park square. Her orange-red hair was braided into two French braids. She was wearing a loose cardigan over her favorite green overall shorts. The overalls were a handmade gift from her grandmother, who’d hand-embroidered them with colorful flowers.

Maya liked to wear them when she was out collecting fallen succulent leaves.

The park square at night was basically a free plant store. Maya often foraged the plant zones for plump leaves to propagate. She enjoyed growing them and giving them to people she loved.

Her tote bag with a big smiling succulent on the front swung as she whistled a merry tune.

It was very late, but this was a quiet, safe neighborhood. She didn’t count the big commotion from earlier in the day because it was a random anomaly.

Maya had seen a video compilation of “the giant plant creature” that was circulating online. Conspiracy theorists were connecting it to other monster sightings, saying nature was fighting back against humanity and that people needed to wake up before humans were exterminated.

It was interesting at first but then went off the deep end with the comment section going wild over environmentalism, including an intense debate about whether paper straws actually did anything.

Maya checked her phone. No new messages from Carmen. She frowned. She’d thought Carmen would have texted or called by now.

Her parents had blown up her phone asking if she was okay. Maya’s apartment was within walking distance of that area, so their worry had been justified.

She’d had to talk down her mother from driving the six hours to come whisk Maya away until they could move her into a different neighborhood of Maya’s choosing, telling Maya her father would get the landlord to break her lease.

Maya had put her foot down, saying she loved this place and it wasn’t like the attack hit her apartment. She’d wisely chosen not to tell them she was working that day and lied, saying she hadn’t answered because she was painting.

Besides, her parents liked this area too. She reminded them they’d wanted her to have access to shops and food places for when classwork took up too much of her time. That way, she didn’t have to go far if she didn’t want to cook or if she wanted entertainment.

Maya recalled how they’d hoped she’d break her french fry addiction, and be tempted by all of the wonderful restaurant options. They sighed when Maya told them she got a part-time job at a burger joint that was near the popular shopping village, right across from the park square, excitedly telling them she’d get discounts and would get to make the best fries ever.

Her parents preferred she didn’t work. She had to show them that it wouldn’t interfere with her classes by showing them her schedule. She also explained how she didn’t want to be overly reliant, plus, fries.

In turn, they signed her up for a gym membership and told her as long as she took care of her health and didn’t eat it too often, then they wouldn’t fight her on it. They made sure to give her a lecture about cholesterol and sodium, warning her not to rely too much on her young age.

Maya sighed, smiling. Her parents were such worrywarts. She loved them a lot. She sent her mom a thumbs up in response to her question of if she got home safely. 

Maya had accidentally left her on read. Checking her messages for Carmen had reminded her of it.

Technically, she had gotten home, so Maya wasn’t lying. She sent her mom a picture of the large impasto floral piece she’d been working on for her school’s art show. Her mom would interpret it as Maya getting lost in the painting process and forgetting to respond, which was a frequent occurrence and a great excuse when she needed one.

Maya noticed how tonight, the park had extra flair: caution tape.

Maya ducked under it without breaking stride. She hummed, jumping over a knocked-over trash can.

She hopped over broken glass and side-stepped a dented car door lying on the floor.

Two officers were stationed near the fountain, supposed to be guarding the area. One was slumped against a tree, mouth open, snoring audibly. The other had his hat pulled over his eyes and was awkwardly slumped on the park bench, circumventing the anti-homeless design and proving where there’s a will, there’s a way.

Maya gave them a respectful nod and fell quiet, tiptoeing.

She pulled her phone out of her back pocket again. No new messages.

She turned on her phone’s low flashlight and crouched by the succulent flowerbed, aiming the light. She started picking the leaves, putting them into her tote. She’d inspect them at home, to see which ones she could salvage.

She moved fast down the row, stopping to admire the three-tiered shrine with an altar built from overturned milk crates. There were bouquets and teddy bears wearing sunglasses. There was even a memorial photo of the statue. It was laminated with a QR code that linked to a GoFundMe titled JUSTICE FOR HIM (we will rebuild).

It had already raised ten thousand dollars.

Maya put a hand to her chest.

“Oh, my. I mean, character-wise, he did get unfairly cancelled by his own narrative.” She leaned in to look at the teddy bears in sunglasses. “I respect the fan commitment and author for writing someone so well. And pretty.” She set her phone down, light facing down, clasped her hands, and closed her eyes. “May you somehow come back in the next season. But then again, knowing the author’s allergy to happiness… Oh, wait, I got it! May we get a bonus chapter of you as a spirit happy in the afterlife.”

She unclasped her hands and picked up her phone. She kept collecting until she gasped. Hidden under an overgrown blue chalkstick and a moonstone was the saddest dandelion she had ever seen. And it was glowing.

“Oh, no, you poor thing.” Maya scooped it up gently, dirt and roots included. “What are you?” She shined the light on it. “Are you bioluminescent?”

It weakly dimmed then got bright again.

“Aw, hi.”

She examined the petals. “Did someone step on you? How mean of them. You look like you’re too precious to be here. That settles it, I’m taking you home.”

She put her phone under her chin, rummaged in her bag with her free hand to pull out a big ziplock. She set the dandelion down and scooped extra soil into the bag so it wouldn’t get shocked by the move. Then she put the sad plant in.

“I’m calling you Dandy,” she informed it.

She tucked the bag into her tote, then stood, brushing dirt off her knees.

Maya checked her phone again before heading home.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Guess I’ll just have to see her in person.”

Maya knew Carmen had tomorrow off. She’d be paying her a visit.