Dandelions: January (Evergreen Lane #1)

Prologue

To feel seen. Is to feel truly loved.

All I ever wanted in life was for another human to see me.

I mean truly and deeply see me.

To note the way I spread my peanut butter on my bread. How creamy is for sandwiches and chunky is for snacking.

I had that once, in my dad. He was amazing. Always handing out hugs. He had a laugh that was all belly. He smelled of cherry tobacco and Polish cookies on a lazy Sunday.

Dad always cut my sandwiches at an angle. Remembered how I preferred apple juice when I woke up and waffles after the first sip.

So, sitting down to write this entry, I’m reminded of the first day I met Alex.

The day we buried my dad. It was like the universe knew I needed her and planted her right there in the playground next to that cemetery.

I joke with her now years later that she picked up right where he left off.

So let me start at the beginning.

The day I learned dandelions aren’t for eating.

I was twelve, sitting on a bench at a playground. Someone had left a half-eaten soft pretzel on the bench, ants crawling over the salt. I was alone, which wasn’t unusual. I picked a dandelion because I was bored and it looked pretty enough.

“Try it,” a voice said.

I looked up. Blonde girl, blue eyes, a smile that took up her entire face.

“They’re edible.”

So I did. Licked the white fuzzy seeds right off the stem like an idiot.

She giggled. “You aren’t supposed to eat it.”

“You just told me they were edible.” I crossed my arms. Tapped my foot. Even at twelve I had the deadpan down.

“They are.” She rolled her eyes but kept smiling. “But not this kind. These, you make a wish and blow. Like this.”

She plucked a new one and blew.

I stared at my dandelion. Wishing on weeds felt stupid. But I looked around—girls by the swings in clusters, pairs on the monkey bars, even the weird kids had somebody.

I glared at those white tufts.

Then I blew.

The seeds scattered on the wind.

“You actually did it.” Her grin showed all her teeth. “I’m Alex.”

“Dylan.”

“The other kids just throw them on the ground,” she said, already picking another one. “But you made a wish.”

“I did.”

“I wished for a friend.” Quiet. Almost embarrassed.

I paused. Those big blue eyes waiting.

“Me too.”

We stared at each other. Two twelve-year-old girls who just wished for the same thing at the same time.

She grinned so wide I thought her face might split.

We started laughing because wishing on dandelions was definitely something little kids did.

But we weren’t sorry.

“We should be best friends,” she announced. As if she had already decided it. Like the dandelions had made it law. “You can be my dandelion.”

“Your what?”

“My dandelion.” She twisted the flower between her fingers. “My mama says they’re weeds. I think they’re beautiful.” She bent down, plucked one growing through a crack in the pavement. “But look. This one grew through concrete.”

I held the weed between my fingers. Looked at the pavement where dozens more pushed through.

No other weed breaks through concrete like a dandelion.

Alex was watching me. Waiting to see if I understood.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll be your dandelion.”

She held out her little pinky linking mine with hers.

“Dandelions.”

And I was. Her Dandelion.

That’s the part you need to know first. Before I tell you about my month.

Before I learned that wishing for someone to see you means they see everything. Including the parts you should have hidden.

Because what comes next? It’s going to sound impossible. Like fiction.

But here’s the thing about fiction—it’s written to reflect life. And sometimes, life reflects it right back.

But remember dandelions grow through concrete.

And some wishes—the desperate ones blown into the wind by twelve-year-old girls who just want someone to see them—those don’t just come true.

They cost something.

Look, I know that sounds dramatic. Like something you’d read in a fortune cookie written by someone having a breakdown.

But here’s the thing about wishes that come true: they don’t ask what you’re willing to pay for them.

And right now? I’m starting to think the bill is coming due.

So yeah. Those wishes have teeth.

Welcome to January.

Try to keep up.

~D