The first time the flowers came, she didn't know what to think of it.

At first she thought it was a crazy joke. After all, her best friend was a gifted prankster, and when she fought back, she fought hard. And then it was clear that the flower deliveries weren't going to stop, so she just gave up thinking somebody was messing with her. Nobody was this stubborn and tenacious. Whoever it could've been, she—or he, as Agatha weakly suspects—suspects, nothing more or less—was either a sick freak, or has a—as she highly doubted it—soft spot for her. Whichever it was, she—or he—was growing desperate.

Before everything after happened, it started with a small thing, as most large phenomena do. It couldn't have grossed more neglect than Agatha had given it.

There it lay on the floor by her door. The person whom it fell from must've been in a hurry, for it was too exquisite: The petals puckered just like lips, waiting for a kiss, almost as if it were meant to be seen like it. If Agatha hadn't had such a reputation and kept it up rather assiduously, she would've considered thinking it was left there for her. But she wasn't the pretty prissy pink princess.

Agatha crushed it under her heel. "They've got to get janitors in this place."

The following day there was a swarm of fairies—the pixies in bluebells, the kind that sit on mushrooms but look so much wicked—at the front of her door, come to specifically ask for her—and that yes, it wasn't a mistake, when Agatha insisted that Reena booked in with Beatrix a few rooms away.

"…And you made sure it doesn't blow up or anything?" she said flatly to the nodding idiots, grinning like maniacs. They were carrying a bouquet of—oh, what a surprise—Tulips, each lifting it up one part or another, though all looking at her with wide, black eyes.

"Hmm, okay. Here's my answer."

With a flick of her glowing finger, the pixies were wearing long pink dresses that barely fit them as she shut the door.

Let's just say Agatha the days after wasn't exactly having the time of her life. She couldn't…emphasize…how much she wasn't a flower person. Sure, her mom would use them for herbs and everything in her clinic, but that didn't mean she could stand the smell.

Secretly she slipped away from Kiko—"I have to wash the dishes again…You know, candy."—to report what intel she gained to Sophie at lunch.

"It's probably that walking waffle of wonder Beatrix," Sophie was saying, dabbing a bit of make-up on her cheeks as Agatha bit into her sandwich. "I heard she's planning to open up a flower shop soon."

"And she's selling the gifts she's getting from Everboys?" said Agatha, incredulous, for she, the inhabitant between the two of the Good Towers, hadn't even heard of such information. Then again, Sophie did have her ways. She applied her lipstick, then smacked her lips.

"Yes, and that she doesn't accept money. She said the payment is to 'die for.'" Her friend rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I wonder if she's actually the one I switched places with."

Agatha's heart skipped a beat. She tried to hide her flattered state by scarfing down her snack. "So you're saying I'm not a witch now?"

"Aggie, anything compared to Beatrix isn't a witch."

That next lunch, she decided to ask Sophie on her opinion of it (again.) Agatha explained that the sender's persistence was impressive, and that nobody who wasn't serious would wait this long. "And not only that. It's like he sends just Tulips—"

"So it's a he, now?" Sophie finally snapped, after a while of Agatha doubting she was listening at all.

Agatha stared. She handed Sophie a cupcake. She didn't immediately eat it: In fact, she hesitated. Agatha was more surprised that she did gobble it up than her apprehension.

"I'm so sorry," she said, gulping. "The food in Evil's become so unbearable. I couldn't find cucumbers anywhere—I don't think they've even heard of nutrition. And I've been giving Anadil's rats a feast every day, so you'd think they'd start being nice to me—"

By the end of the week, she didn't have any more leads, and the only help she's got wasn't help at all. And no, suggesting that Beatrix was the root of all evil and was the embodiment of sin itself was a habit of Sophie's, so her framing Beatrix for everything that happened was normal (if that's what you call it.)

The strategically-positioned-flowers-that-she-'coincidentally'-sees-wherever-she-takes-a-turn happenstances stopped for a while, however, and life at school was back to its usual boring pace.

Until she received the last of that kind of flowers.

She was on her way to her room that she had nobody to share with, as Reena and Beatrix had already made arrangements to bunk in with each other and paint each other's nails and giggle about boys and perfume, vaguely reminding her of Sophie with a slightly sicker fervor. Books in hand, Agatha slouched. What a day this had been. She couldn't imagine how worse this could possibly get. Even the random flowers might even brighten her day a bit. Oh yeah? Try her. Her day was composed of wallowing in self-pity, seething in humiliation, neck searing in vengeance, a portion of it her mild swearing accompanied by the ever-loyal grumbling, defeatism by appearance alone, and the undeniable trail of iniquity that she-wolf Beatrix brought with her. Agatha fumbled for her key and unlocked the door.

…Only it wasn't even locked in the first place.

"What…?" she mumbled, wondering if she left it this way by accident. She could've, she was really absentminded. Besides, nobody would dare pry open her door, she scoffed, pushing it open—

The books fell to the floor at once.

Nothing more made a sound in the room, almost as though every substantial solid was afraid of ruining the moment.

Long vines of entwined stems of red tulips decorated her room, filling the whole walls with flowers, the strong aroma pervading and entering her nostrils, handsome fragrance outlandish to Agatha, as was everything else: It was like her whole prissy room was refurnished and made even twice more girly than it initially was. The entire interior, once stripped of unnecessary puritanical inconvenience a week ago by a determined and pissed off Agatha, was again restored and embellished with even prissier festoonery, only in the form of flowers, daintily placed to complement the position so that at every angle there was always a good side to each of them. She couldn't even tell if this was her room anymore: Even as she laboriously worked on revamping it to suit her image…now it's…back to where it began.

This wasn't a joke at all.

Somehow she knew this stranger didn't send just tulips.

And she couldn't put a stop to it.

...

SO HOW WAS THE TEASER? XDDDDDD I KNOW I'm taking too long, but IT'S OVER 10,000 words LONG! I divided it into 6 parts, and this is the first, to, you know, avoid possible spoilers. I'm sorry I haven't been updating lately (that's quite an understatement and I don't wanna stress how much I altered its original wording) but know that I WANT WANT WANT WANT to continue writing this story. I've got plenty of ideas, not exactly overflowing, what with school and all, though I want you to know that once an idea sinks into me, I write. I'll be posting the full version of this later (I won't make any promises: Probably within 2 weeks) because I still need to work on the LAST part.

Hugs and kisses,

SSA