On the roof of the school, I tended to the rose garden. It hadn’t always been a garden. Technically, it still wasn’t a garden. A white lie, surrounded by thorns, where only I stepped. A break from the sterile corridors and claustrophobic rooms. A paradise, for someone who never managed to fit in.

The sun hung low in the spring sky. Far below, on the grounds of the school, members of the sports clubs meandered around as they finished their activities. I didn’t pay them any attention. People didn’t need or want my attention, so I gave it to the plants instead. Careful and gentle, I pruned the rose bushes and picked off any bugs that had managed to get all the way up here. Then, I spread fresh mulch out, the weather quite dry recently and weeds sprouting up in these warmer weeks. Last of all, the sun finally low enough to cast the flowerbeds in shade, I watered them—using my “gift”.

Pointing my index finger out straight, I slowly raised my thumb and a gentle stream materialised just beyond my fingertip. Though weaker than a hose, I didn’t mind taking longer to water the bushes, especially since this let me make sure I wouldn’t damage them by accident. It did me some good to use my gift, too. There was no rush.

By the time I finished up, twilight had settled, a silence surrounding the school that was only broken by the main road nearby. I tidied up my tools, locking them away in a chest on the roof. All that was left, then, was to lock the door to the stairwell behind me.

My hand searched my blazer pocket and my stomach plummeted. I spent far longer than it took to check an empty pocket as I waited for the key to magically appear. Heart racing, I walked over to the door and checked if I’d left it in the lock. It didn’t open. I turned the handle, and pulled, and the door didn’t budge.

“Well, at least I know where the key is,” I muttered to myself, sliding down the door into a slump.

No one would come to look for me. If I was lucky, the janitor or a teacher would notice tomorrow, or I would have to shout for help.

But, that would end the lie.

I brought up my knees, hugging them, my stomach starting to ache from anxiety, and I looked up at the sky. It turned all kinds of strange, indescribable colours. One moment, it was just a dark, yet pale, blue, then it turned a shade of purple and the clouds caught the sun and glowed amber, like patches of orange poppies in a field of lavender. Then, it all darkened back to blue and the moon rose, stars budding.

Unable to keep being anxious for so long, my stomach ached from hunger instead. A light-headedness helped to pass the time, letting me slip in and out of dreams easily, and the dreams slipped away from me, too. I just stared at the night sky and time passed.

But, in the heavy blanket of drowsiness, I thought the moon looked beautiful. It glowed a wonderful, off-white colour, and my unfocused eyes saw flowers in the craters pockmarking it, making me think of a bouquet. A lunar bouquet. Though I’d always grown red roses on the rooftop garden, I felt compelled to see if I could find some white roses before flowering season began.

My flighty thoughts were interrupted by an unnaturally loud sound of scraping metal. I barely realised in time that someone was opening the door I leant against, keeping myself from falling over. They looked just as surprised to see me there as I was to see them.

She smiled and it was a beautiful smile, so happy and honest. “Fancy meeting you here,” she said.

We hadn’t met before. I couldn’t even remember seeing her around school, definitely not in any of my classes. I ended up replying, “Um,” and got no further. Before it could get too awkward, my stomach grumbled.

She laughed as my cheeks burned. “Good thing I brought snacks with me,” she said, slinging her bag around and opening it up. After a short rustle, she took out a packet of biscuits and crisps and a vacuum flask. “Anything catch your fancy?”

It did and didn’t, my head too messed up and off-balance to think while my stomach wanted to eat. As though reading my gut, she opened up the biscuits and popped one in her mouth before offering me one. I took it and ate it quickly, which was hard with how dry my mouth was.

“Tea?” she asked, pouring it into the lid that doubled as a cup. “I’ll warn you now: I drink it sweet.”

It tasted good, still sweet even after a biscuit. She held the flask above her head, pouring it straight into her mouth without putting her lips to it, a bizarre waterfall. While I could have watched that, strangely curious of a sight as it was, my gaze slipped to the other bag she’d brought with her, rather bulky.

She let out a satisfied sigh after her drink before turning her attention back to me. “You’re the one that looks after this garden, right?” she asked.

I didn’t have a reason to lie or anything, so I nodded. “Yeah, I’m—”

Putting a finger to her lips, she interrupted me. “I’ll call you Rose, and you can call me Luna,” she said.

There was a part of me that disagreed with that, but it was distant and muted. “Okay.”

“Well, Rose, since you’re here, d’you want to stargaze with me?”

“Okay,” I said again, not for any reason in particular. No, rather, I had every reason to stay here with this person that wanted me here, instead of going back to a place that didn’t want me.

Turning around, she unzipped her large bag. The surprise had already been spoiled by her request, but I was still interested in seeing the telescope, the only ones I’d seen before being in books or on television. It had an old-fashioned look to it, seemingly made of wood and without a dozen dials and levers. A glint caught my eye, then, and I watched her check over a sextant.

“Let’s see… late April, northern hemisphere, twelve-oh-six,” she said, mumbling more things to herself as she held out the sextant, peering through the little telescope it had. “Yeah, this’ll be good.”

I almost asked what she meant. Instead, I waited. Carefully, she set up the old telescope in a particular spot, adjusting where it pointed with the slightest nudges, using the sextant for reference. Eventually, she looked at me and beckoned me over. I almost didn’t realise, so used to being ignored, but managed to get to my feet and walk over. The biscuit and tea had helped a lot to keep me awake and focused.

“What am I looking at?” I asked, inching closer to the telescope, afraid of bumping it.

“Just watch,” she said in the most excited whisper.

I waited for a few seconds and was about ready to press her for an answer, and then it happened: a streak of light that shot across the patch of sky I could see through the telescope. Moving away, I turned to say something to her, but she shooed me back to the eyepiece.

“Keep watching!”

It could have been hours and I wouldn’t have been surprised. Streak after streak burned through the night sky, sometimes minutes between them, and she adjusted the telescope every time so I caught the next one. So beautiful. After that first time, she didn’t have to tell me to keep watching. I would have kept going until sunrise if I could have.

But, she said, “Well, that’s it for the meteor shower.”

I didn’t ask how she knew that, or how she knew where all the shooting stars would be. Instead, I asked a stupid question. “Why do you want to call me Rose, and Luna isn’t your real name?”

She smiled, and it looked just as beautiful as earlier. “When we think about this night, like, fifty years from now, it’ll be easy to remember each other’s name this way. You’re Rose, ’cause this is your rose garden, and I’m Luna, ’cause it’s the moon and that’s all space-y.”

“You’re thinking about fifty years from now already?”

“Well, you kinda have to when it comes to stargazing. Anyway, it’s a lot easier to make memories now, so might as well, don’t ya think?”

I didn’t have an answer to that. But, I agreed with her that Luna—that moon—fit her, someone so close that felt so far away. Here she was, making the most amazing memory of my life and, in the same breath, saying we’d never meet again.

She brushed some hair behind her ear, then turned to look up at the moon in the sky. “You know, I’m kinda glad you got yourself locked up here,” she said, no hint of shame. “I’ve been wondering who looked after these roses. But, I only come some nights, so I never bumped into you before.”

“I mean, I don’t do much,” I said, looking away as I tried to brush off the subtle praise.

“But you do something and that’s pretty great, don’t ya think?” she said, less a question and more a statement.

I followed her gaze and stared up at the moon. “Can you show me some other things? Like, Venus, and stuff?”

“It’s not a good night for Venus, but next Tuesday is,” she said, moving over to fiddle with the telescope. “Mars is bright, though.”