"Yeah."
“Well,” I shift back and pat the spot in front of me, “what you waiting for? Take a run and jump."
She backs up and runs before vaulting at Shergar's back, landing on her stomach with an oomph. I try not to laugh as I pull her up. She almost kicks me in the face when she swings her leg over, and then I have to wrap my arms around her so I can grab a piece of mane. I don't like it, but I don't want to make her cry again.
I click my tongue at Shergar and he walks forward for a second, then starts into a trot. Poppy tenses up. "You have to be relaxed, like a rag doll," I tell her.
"I can't relax."
"Look, canter is easier." I kick him into canter and she shrieks, so...I make him go faster.
Her hair whips around, smacking me in the face. I swat at it and cough when it gets in my mouth. It smells like candy and girly stuff. I kind of like how it smells, but I still don't like girls. They're gross.
When she tips to the side a bit, I wrap my arm around her so she doesn't fall off. Nope. Don't like it at all. I kick Shergar back towards the caravans, and hop off before he even comes to a stop.
Connor runs up, winded and holding the dog poo shoe in his hand. Poppy glances down from the pony, smiling. "Thanks," she says.
And I smile for a split second, but quickly cover it and shrug. "Yeah, sure."
"Can we get another muffin?" Connor asks.
"Ma won't let you in with poo on your shoe."
"I wiped it in the grass," he says.
I shrug and go tie Shergar back up before I go back home. As soon as I step onto the deck, Sean lets out a bark from underneath the trailer.
"Shut up, Sean!" I open the door.
"Brandon! Feed the dog," Ma says.
"Ma!" I whine.
"Don't you give me lip. Feed the dog, or I won't feed you."
"I'll do it," Poppy offers, smiling at me.
I shrug, pull the bag of dog food out from under the steps, and hand it to her. She struggles to lift it up and I grin. "Watch he doesn't bite ya."
She disappears for a while, and eventually I leave Connor eating a muffin and go check on her. Americans don't seem to be very good with animals. I find her at the back of the trailer, sitting on the ground with Sean lying in her lap. That dog smells like a rubbish bag most of the time, but she just smiles as she pets him. Maybe she isn't so bad after all.
4
Poppy
10 years old
It's the last day of school, and I'm a little sad because I think it will be a boring summer. I'm sitting on the playground by the sandbox with Connor and Brandon. Connor's drawing pictures in the sand with a stick, and Brandon's got a magnifying glass, burning ants. I look at him and frown. "That's mean."
He smiles. "They bite."
I shake my head and go back to drawing pictures with Connor. A shadow falls over the sandbox. I turn around to see Davie Logan standing behind me. The sun makes the freckles on his face stand out. He’s is a bully. He's mean and spends most of his time in detention.
"Go away, Davie," Brandon says without so much as looking up from the ant he's currently scorching.
"What are you two twats doing with a girl?"
My cheeks warm.
"Leave her alone, Davie." Connor throws his stick and Davie tosses his head back, laughing.
"Girls are gross. Especially this one.” Davie points at me. “My ma says I can't play with her because she's a measch."
I glare at him. I don't know what that word is, but the way he said it…I know it's not good.
"Go away, Davie," Connor says.
"Or what? You'll shove a Milkybar down my throat?" He laughs again and then he yanks my hair so hard my head jerks back. I snatch my ponytail away from him, trying to stop myself from crying.
"Alright! That’s it." Brandon throws the magnifying glass down and stomps up to him. Davie's taller than Brandon and meaner looking. Without another word, Brandon makes a fist, pulls his arm back, and punches Davie right in the nose. He grabs his face. My stomach turns when I see blood trickle through his fingers. "Don't mess with her," Brandon says, smiling down at me.
Davie runs off crying.
"Brandon O'Kieffe!" Mrs. Brown shouts across the playground and Brandon's smile fades. I turn around to see Davie cuddled against her side. "Get over here this instant!"
Brandon sighs and mopes over to Mrs. Brown. I look over at Connor and he's already gone back to drawing puppies and kittens.
"He's gonna get in trouble," I say.
He shrugs. "He's always in trouble."
***break***
I unzip my backpack and pull out my Barbies, setting them on the carpet.
"Here's some cookies and milk." Connor's mom places a plate full of treats on the coffee table and smiles. I come over here every day after school until Daddy gets home. And I like it. Mrs. Blaine reminds me of my mommy, and she gives good hugs when you skin your knee. Connor told me she could be like a second mommy to me because he's sweet.
"Wanna play with me?" I ask Connor.
He shrugs and grabs the one boy doll I have. "Sure."
Brandon groans and throws his head back. "Can't we play video games? Barbies suck."
I glare at him as I comb through my doll's hair. "Video games rot your brain."
"Says who?" He flops down on the sofa.
"My daddy." I stick my tongue out at him.
"What do you do with them?" Connor ask as he shoves the dolls hands over its head.
"Run them over with your monster truck, like Grand Theft Auto," Brandon says, grinning.
"Grand Theft Auto?" Connor asks.
Brandon rolls his eyes and grabs his backpack. He unzips it, pulls out a video game, goes over to Connor's TV, and sticks it in before grabbing the remote. He takes the controller and tosses it to Connor. "I got it from Uncle Darren's caravan. It's awesome!” His gaze strays over to me. “Girls can't play this." And then he turns around to face the TV.
I pretend like I don't care and keep brushing my Barbie's hair. The sound of horns and sirens blare from the speakers, but I still don’t look up.
"What do I do?" Connor asks almost in a panic.
"Just...” Brandon sighs, “walk around and rob stuff and kill people that get in your way."
"Kill them with what?"
"Your gun. God." Brandon yanks his controller to the left as he makes his person run to the side of the screen. "And...oh, oh run over that hooker. Run her over! Get her!"
"What's a hooker?" Connor asks.
"Old Man McGinty said it's a lady in a short dress."
Mrs. Blaine comes rushing into living room gasping. "What on God's blessed earth? Oh my..." She blocks the TV with her large hips as she reaches behind her to shut the TV off.
"Aw, Mrs. Blaine. I was about to kill me a hooker." Brandon tosses the controller down and sulks.
"Brandon O'Keiffe." She closes her eyes and I bet she's praying for Brandon's soul. She says she has to do that a lot. "Where did you get such filth?"
He scratches his head. "Nicked it from Uncle Darren."
"I shall be talkin' to ya ma."
"Aw, Mrs. Blaine." He groans. "She'll smack my arse."
"Someone needs to, boy." She wipes her hands on her apron before going back into the kitchen.
"See," I say with a smile, "told you they were bad for you."
Connor shrugs before he picks the Barbie back up. Brandon grabs one of the dolls and wrinkles his nose. "Does she have boobs?" He pulls her dress off, and I scream, jumping up and trying to snatch her back. Laughing, he holds her above his head, waving her around.
"Bran," Connor says, "give her the doll back."
"You're a sissy, Con. I'm going to tell everyone at school you play with dolls." Brandon says.
"Whatever." Connor glares at him. "I'll tell them you still wet the bed."
I stop jumping for my Barbie and giggle so hard my sides hurt. "Brandon Soggy Britches O'Keiffe."
"Oh yeah? I'll tell them
you still sleep with a night light. Little Poppy Scaredy Cat," he says.
"I don't care. I'd rather be a scaredy cat than Mr. Pee Pants."
Brandon folds his arms over his chest and I try to snatch the doll again, but he runs around the back of the sofa. "It's wee, Poppy, not pee," he says, trying to mock my voice. "And I don't wet the bed. That's Connor."
"Give her back!" I shout.
He smiles. "We can share." And then he pulls her head off and throws it at me.
Closing my eyes, I scream until Mrs. Blaine comes running back into the room. "What's going on?" When I open my eyes she’s standing with her hands on her hips, already glaring at Brandon.
"He..." I sniff back the tears. "He...he tore my doll's head off and threw it at me."
"Brandon O'Kieffe! You're a scally, you are boy! Give her the Barbie back."
He hands it to me and then crosses his arms over his chest. "I was just playing."
"He's lying. He was not," I say staring down at my poor, headless doll. She was my favorite.
Connor huffs, gets up, and starts feeling around underneath the couch. "Got it!" He stands up with a wide grin as he holds the Barbie head up. "I'll fix it, Poppy."
His mom pats his head and walks off. "You kids play nice."
Brandon's still sulking and rolls his eyes at Connor.
I hand the doll to Connor. He looks at the body, then at the head before shoving it back on her neck. "There." He holds it up. Her head is shoved all the way down to her shoulders. "Here you go." He hands her to me and I take her, pulling her head back in place as I glare at Brandon.
"Here's her hooker dress," Brandon mumbles as he throws the sparkly pink dress at me.
He's so mean and annoying. I don't know why Connor's friends with him.
"Want to go swing?" Connor asks.
"Sure."
We stand up, but Brandon doesn’t move.
"Want to come?" Connor asks him.
"Nope." Brandon crosses his arms over his chest and huffs.
"Okay."
Me and Connor walk to the back of the house, through the screen door, and straight over to the swing set. I sit on the swing and push back with my feet. Connor sits next to me, dragging his feet over the ground.
"Why are you even friends with him?" I ask, glancing over at him.
"I dunno. I just am."
"He's a butthole."
"Yeah, sometimes.” He laughs. “But he can be nice too."
"Well, he doesn't like me."
"He doesn't like girls. He says they have cooties."
I huff, kicking my legs out to swing higher. "I don't have cooties."
"I know." He scuffs his sneakers on the grass. "I like you." He shrugs.
"You're nice. He's not." I swing for a second before I glare back at the house. Brandon’s standing at the screened door, peering out. "Has he always lived in that gypo camp?" I feel bad calling it that. Daddy says that's not a nice word, but I don't know what else to call it.
"Yeah, ever since we were little."
Brandon looks so sad staring out at us and it makes me feel bad for him. He's mean, but all the kids at school make fun of him because he's a pikey. Now that I think about it, Connor is really his only friend. I drag the toes of my shoes across the grass, slowing down enough to jump from the swing. I stop on my way to the house, bending over to pick a dandelion. I hop over the pavers and stop at the back door, smiling as I open it.
"Picked this for you," I say as I hand it to him. As soon as he takes it, I turn around and skip back toward the swing set. Sometimes you just have to be nice to people.
5
Brandon
10 years old
"Be back for tea!" Mrs. Blaine shouts at Connor as he closes the front door.
"Wanna go to the pikey camp?" Connor asks.
"Nah, we're going into town."
"Town? Why?"
"I gotta get something. Come on." I walk down the road to the bus stop and sit on the bench.
"You gotta pay to ride the bus," he says. I dig in my pocket and take out some money. "Where'd you get that?"
"My dad was asleep, so I borrowed it."
The bus pulls up and the doors open. I hand the driver my money and we find a seat at the back.
Con’s sitting next to me, looking all sad. He sighs. "My ma will be mad if she finds out I went to town without telling her."
"Don't tell then."
Connor's ma is always asking where he is, telling him to be home be tea time. My ma doesn't care what time I come back.
The bus drives into town and we get off near the toy store. "Okay, I have to go in the toy store, but you have to wait around the corner, okay?"
"Why?" Connor frowns. "I want to come in and look at the new lightsaber."
I sigh. "No. You have to stay here. Wait round the corner from McDonalds." I point at Mickey D's a few shops down.
"Fine," he rolls his eyes, "but you owe me a Big Mac." He stomps off and I go inside the toy store, passing the Star Wars stuff and the action figures. I finally find the Barbie aisle. Everything is pink and girly. Why are there so many different types? Geez. How many Barbies can a girl possibly want?
I quickly glance over the dumb dolls, snatching one with brown hair like Poppy's. My heart pounds hard as I walk back through the shop, and when I get near the till, I take one good look around and run straight out the door. Outside the store, I bump into a lady and nearly drop the doll.
"Hey!" Someone shouts. I glance over my shoulder and there’s a security guard running after me. "Hey, kid. Stop!"
I sprint around the corner and spot Connor. His eyes widen. "Run!" I shout at him. He turns around and starts running, but he's so slow, I catch up with him. I grab his arm and yank him around a corner and into an alley. We duck behind a car and wait.
Connor coughs and I slam my hand over his mouth. "Do you want us to get caught?" I whisper.
"Caught?” He pants for a second, then swallows before he glances at me. “What did you do? Why are we running and hiding?"
I lift up the Barbie box and grin. "For Poppy."
"Ah,” he groans, “my ma is going to kill me when she finds out."
"Don't tell, or I'll break all your video games."
"You play them too!"
"I'll still do it," I tell him. "Come on. I think they're gone."
We creep around the corner and check that the coast is clear, and then, we run to the bus stop. My ma will smack me with her slipper if she finds out I nicked this doll, but it's worth it because I broke Poppy's Barbie and it made her sad. I don’t won’t her to be sad, even if she is a girl.
* * *
I knock on Poppy's door and wait. Her dad opens the door, blocking it. He’s tall and big and has a beard, and he’s staring down at me.
"Hey, Mr. Turner.” I swallow. “Can Poppy come out and play?"
He looks down at the shiny Barbie box in my hand and cracks a smile. "Sure." Turning around, he calls for Poppy. I hide the box behind my back, and a few minutes later, she's skipping out of her front door. Her hair is in pigtails and tied with bright pink ribbons.
"Hey Poppy." I stare at the ground and swing the box back and forth behind my back. "I got you somethin'." I shove the box towards her.
She looks at it for a second before she takes it and glances up at me with a smile. Then...she hugs me. I stiffen up. I just want her to let me go.
"Thank you. Maybe you aren't a meanybutt." She giggles, clutching the box to her chest. "Where's Connor at?"
"I didn't get him a Big Mac, so he went home for tea."
"Do you want to stay for dinner? Daddy's making spaghetti with the sauce out of the can."
Ma will be livid if I stay out, but I like spaghetti in the can, so I nod. She walks inside and I follow her. One of the ribbons in her hair falls out and I pick it up, putting it in my pocket. I don’t know why I do it, but I just want to keep it—in case it smells like candy.
6
Connor
/> 12 years old
Poppy looks so pretty in her purple dress. She stops in front of the tent and I bend down to hold the flap open. When Poppy crawls inside, I grab her present from behind the rosebush, then I follow her inside. She smiles when she glances down at the box in my hand and my stomach knots. "Happy birthday,” I say as I hand her the present wrapped it in pink, glittery paper with hearts.
She shakes it as she sits up on her knees and tears the end open. She tosses the sparkly paper to the ground and opens the white cardboard box. My heart bangs against my chest. Sweat beads on my forehead.
Poppy holds up the pink frame with a photo of me, her, and Brandon—the picture my ma took a few weeks ago right before Brandon got sent home for yanking the cat's tail. "I love it," she says. "Thank you so much, Connor." She gives me a tight hug and I take a deep whiff of her strawberry scented hair. I feel my cheeks heat.
I hear the backdoor bang closed. I lift the flap of the tent and Brandon’s stomping across the garden. He was supposed to dress up for Poppy’s birthday, but he’s wearing his Iron Man t-shirt and jeans with a hole ripped in the knee, and his hair is sticking up everywhere.
"Hey," he says, crawling into the tent and sitting across from Poppy and me. There’s a nasty bruise on his cheek. "Con, why are you wearing your church clothes? And possum, why do you have a dress on?" He started calling her possum because he always ends up carrying her around on her back. It annoys me.
Poppy frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. "You were supposed to dress nice, Brandon. It's supposed to be a tea party."
He snorts. "He looks like an idiot. I'm not wearing a tie."
"You look dirty," Poppy says, snarling her lip.
"Yeah, well, you look clean. I managed to get out of shower night on Tuesday." He grins, looking happy with himself.
I nudge Brandon in the ribs and nod over to Poppy. "Have something you want to say to her, Bran?"
Pre-war: A War Series Novella Page 2