Pre-war: A War Series Novella

by Lynne, Nicole

  I reach the crossroad. I can go straight over to the camp or left to Poppy's house. My feet go left and I find myself standing in her back yard staring up at her window. I grab the trellis that runs up the side of her house and start climbing. The world tilts and spins, and by the time I get to her window, I'm sure I'm going to fall and wake half her street. I shove her window up and topple through, landing on the floor with a bam. She screams and I scramble to my knees.

  "Shhh! It's just me, poss."

  "Brandon Patrick O'Kieffe!" She exhales. "Don't do that to me." She's clutching her chest, dragging in deep breaths.

  I laugh. "Sorry."

  "What are you doing here?" she whispers.

  "I don't want to go home." I tell her.

  "Oh, well, why didn't you just stay at Nieve's?" There's a hard sigh.

  "What? Why would I do that?"

  "Why wouldn't you?" There's an edge to her voice.

  "Uh, because I don't like Nieve. Her dad would probably shoot me if he caught me there anyway."

  "So will mine!" She groans, throws the duvet off her, and climbs out of bed, going to the door to close it.

  The light from the hall hits her for a second and she's only wearing a t-shirt and underwear. I have to bite back the groan that's trying to make its way up my throat and force my eyes away from her. And my dick is right there with me. It won't go away. Fuck.

  She hops back into bed and snuggles down under the covers. "Well, are you staying or leaving?" she asks.

  I should definitely leave. "Can I stay?"

  She sighs. "Fine, but I'm annoyed with you."

  "Aw, don't be mad at me, poss."

  "Well, then don't turn up here still smelling of skank."

  I laugh. "Skank?"

  "Yes, Brandon, skank." God, she's cute when she's mad. She's cute and beautiful and kind. She's Poppy, my possum, and my best friend along with Connor. "You smell like her perfume. Britney Spears..." She fakes a gagging noise.

  I laugh. "Aw, don't be jealous, poss," I say before I can stop myself.

  "Why would I be jealous of her? I don't care who you screw, I just don't want it on my sheets. That's all."

  It bothers me that she doesn't care, but that's good, right? I don't want Poppy to care about me that way because then we won't be friends anymore, and I need her. There are days when her and Connor feel like all I have left. Dad always says I'm good for nothing though, and I know he's right. I know one day she'll see it, and she'll leave, go to a university and leave me behind. She should.

  "If you're staying, get in the bed already.” She rolls over with a huff. “I'm tired and want to go back to sleep."

  I yank my shirt over my head and pull my belt off, but leave the jeans. Flipping back the duvet, I get in beside her and lie on my back, staring at that godawful Justin Timberlake poster on her ceiling.

  "Love you, poss," I whisper into the darkness.

  She sighs and rolls over to face me. "I'm mad at you."

  "I know."

  "You know what, you're an asshole!"

  I grin. "I know."

  "I mean, really, it's fine for you to go stick your dick in Nieve Kirkpatrick and then climb through my window and call me fucking jealous because I'm not too keen on having the stench of that whore in my bed, but me..." She sits up in the bed. "Let a guy so much as look at me and you're threatening to knock his teeth down his throat."

  "I do not..."

  "Don't you," she jabs me in the chest, "don't you think I don't know you ward them off, asshole."

  I swipe my hand over my mouth to hide my smile. "Look, possum, when a good guy chats you up, he can have at it."

  "Why do you even care?" She flops back on the bed. "Go ward off guys from Neive Kirkpatrick why don't you?"

  "Look, my ma always said, there are girls you shag and girls you marry. Nieve is a girl you shag, so I don't care. You are not a girl for shagging, poss, but fellas will have a crack because you're pretty."

  "Fuck off."

  I laugh. "And then I'll have to murder the fuckers when they break your heart."

  "I hate you."

  "One day, you'll thank me."

  "God," she groans. "Shut up and go to sleep."

  I kiss her on the forehead and she shoves me away with a little sulk on her face. God, she's so fucking cute.

  "Love you," I say. She doesn't respond and I dig my fingers into her ribs.

  "Ow! Fine, love you, too," she says with a slight growl.

  22

  Poppy

  16 years old

  The water laps at the sides of the boat. We rock back and forth on the wake from the speedboat that just went past. There's not a cloud in the sky and the warmth of the summer sun wraps around me like a cocoon.

  "Damn, midge!" Hope swats at the tiny bug, squashing it on her arm. "Disgusting." She flicks it off and grabs the suntan oil. "Anyway, I've told you Nieve Kirkpatrick is a whore. I hate her. You hate her. Everyone hates her, except the boys. They just want something to stick their willies in and wiggle it around for a bit."

  "Hope. Gross."

  "What, having a willy stuck in you and wiggled around?" She smirks. "It's really not gross, I promise."

  "Well, you would know." I snag the oil from her and slather it on my bare stomach as the sun beats down on us.

  "Hey, I take offense to that."

  "You have a reputation, that's all I'm saying."

  She shrugs. "I'm a reformed whore now that I'm with Silas."

  "Hope, you've been with him for all of two months."

  "And," she holds up a finger, "that's a record for me.”

  "True..."

  Sitting up, she peers over her shades at me. "What was all that the other night with Brandon? Huh?"

  "What?"

  "Him falling in the window...you two not showing up to the party."

  "Yeah, he was drunk."

  "And...you fucked him, didn't you? The two of you are screwing!"

  "Ew, gross. I wouldn't touch him if you paid me." I can feel my cheeks heat.

  "Yeah, fucking, yeah, Poppy, and I'm the Virgin Mary." She crosses herself and bows her head. "You've got it so bad for that cunt..."

  And I do. I always have since the day I met him, but I know Brandon is not the kind of guy you date. He's the kind of guy you obsess over and dream about, but promise yourself you would never be stupid enough to get involved with. "Just friends."

  "You think the two of you are just friends, you're an idiot, with all due respect." She sighs. "Just like if you haven't realized Con's got a major thing for you—you're an idiot."

  "What?"

  Hope throws her head back on a groan. "Dear Blessed Jesus! Are you that oblivious? He's followed you around like a lovesick puppy since primary school. That time you went on a date with Liam McDavid..." She rolls her eyes, "He moped around for a week, shoveling Milkybars in his mouth faster than a two-dollar hooker going through a mountain of willies." No, I just remember Brandon pinning him up against a wall by his throat the next day. He didn't ask me out again.

  I prop myself up on my elbows and stare out over the placid water. Connor is pretty and perfect and sweet, and Brandon is rough and dirty and vulgar.

  "They're both in love with you, I think."

  "Oh, whatever Hope..."

  "I know these things, Poppy. I can read most guys like a fucking book. They both have it bad for you. Con’s nice," she says. "Brandon's a ripe cunt."

  "Brandon is definitely a cunt," I laugh.

  "Why don't you date Con? You two would make such a cute couple. And he'd treat you like gold, I mean, he already does."

  "Hope..."

  "Look, you're going to end up screwing one of them at least, trust me on this, I know these things. Con is safe." She sighs. "Brandon O'Kieffe is a disaster you want to avoid at all costs, Poppy. You ever do anything with him and it will all blow up in your face."

  "Why are you telling me this? I wouldn't do anything with him, I—"

 
"That's a damn lie!" She stares at me. "I hate the fucker and even I, given the right circumstances, would find it hard not to fuck him one good time just to say I had."

  My jaw drops a little and a shocked laugh bubbles from my lips. "What..."

  She nods at me. "He's fucking hot and surly and just dirty." A wicked smile flickers across her lips. "I am one-hundred percent certain Brandon O'Kieffe would be one helluva dirty lay. Smacking your ass, pulling your hair, getting you to call him daddy. He’d ruin a girl."

  "Oh my god." I feign disgust because I am certain he is just like that. And then my mind does that awful thing where I can't help but to imagine him with Nieve or Polly or Lola. They do know how dirty he is, and it bothers me that they have a connection with him I don't have and never will.

  "Like I said though, Poppy. Fuck Brandon one good time if you want," she grins, "and you tell me how good it is, but don't you dare ever give that boy your heart. You give that to a guy like Connor. One that won't destroy it."

  To be honest, I feel like I've already given half of my heart to Brandon and the other half to Connor. I love them both and it's so hard for me to tell one emotion from the next. Where is that line between love and love?

  I'm starting to think that maybe guys and girls really can't be just friends...

  23

  Connor

  16 years old

  "Have you kissed her yet?" Brandon asks, laying on my bed and bouncing a tennis ball off the wall.

  I sigh and drag a hand down my face. "No."

  "Con..."

  "I can't, alright?"

  He sits up and looks me straight in the eye. "Okay, this is getting desperate now. Time to change the plan."

  "Plan? There's a plan?"

  "Yep, operation: Deflower Connor."

  He groans. "Bran..."

  "We're gonna go on a double date." He announces.

  "You want me to have sex with a random girl?"

  "No, just...just come on the date," he says.

  "What's that going to do?"

  He smiles smugly. "You'll see."

  * * *

  Nieve practically has her tongue in Brandon's ear. I sit awkwardly next to her cousin Grace, eating my ice cream. Grace is staring at me with her shiny blue eyes, twirling her hair around her finger. "You're hot," she says and bites down on her lip.

  "Thanks."

  Brandon gives me a look and I sigh. He kicks me in the shin. I wince. Damn it.

  Taking a deep breath, I do what he told me to and reach underneath the table. My hand hovers over Grace's leg and then I grab it, squeezing my eyes shut for a second. When I look at her she's smiling. She moves closer to me. I pretend to yawn and stretch, putting my arm around her shoulders.

  She's so close that if I turn my head, I could kiss her, but I don't want to kiss her. Brandon winks at me and I groan. I know what he wants me to do. I mean, it's not that bad, right? It's not like I haven't kissed girls. I have. Just not the one I want to kiss.

  Brandon's eyes flick over my shoulder for a second before he kicks me again. I turn to face Grace and she presses her lips against mine.

  "Hey, possum!"

  I jump away from Grace so fast.

  Poppy and Hope are standing right in front of the table. Hope's smirking and Poppy—Poppy...I don't even know what that look on her face means. Her eyes are narrowed, her cheeks red, her lips pursed.

  "Slutty Suzie wasn't enough for you I see," Hope says, smacking me on the back.

  "That was two years ago..."

  Poppy rolls her eyes, glances from me to Grace, and then storms out.

  "Hey," Hope calls after her, "where are you going? I want ice cream." And she chases Poppy outside.

  Sighing, I glance over at Brandon. "Great..."

  He shrugs. "Hormones?"

  "I'm just gonna..." I start to get up and Brandon kicks me. Again. "What the fuck, Bran?"

  "Just sit down and finish your ice cream." He flashes me a look. I don't want to sit here with Grace. I don't want Poppy to be mad with me. Why did I ever let Brandon talk me into this? This is fucking stupid.

  24

  Poppy

  16 years old

  I open the door, and the second I see Connor standing on my porch, I slam it shut. The doorbell rings again. I groan as I turn around and grab the doorknob. I shouldn't have slammed the door on him like that, but I'm pissed.

  I've been pissed all day.

  Brandon can date whoever he wants. He's Brandon, it's expected. He pulled the heads off my Barbies and made them have sex. He got to second base when he was twelve, but Connor...and Grace Kirkpatrick! My chest goes all tight and my cheeks heat. I yank the door open, scowling. "What do you want?" I say with such hate dripping from my tone I barely recognize it. Connor's eyes pop wide.

  "To see what you’re doing..."

  "Oh, really? Well, why don't you go see what Grace is doing?"

  I go to shut the door again, but he catches it with his hand. "What is your deal?"

  "You!"

  I turn around and he has this confused look on his face. "What did I do?"

  And the thing is, Connor didn't do anything. He went on a date. He kissed Grace. "If you don't know what you did, well, then..." I stomp down the hall and head to my room.

  "Poppy..."

  I groan and throw myself on my bed. Part of me thinks I'm overreacting, but a bigger part of me doesn't care. I'm confused and angry and...

  I glance up to see Connor standing in my doorway. His dirty blonde hair hangs a little over his forehead, covering the little frown line I know is probably sitting between his brows. He folds his arms over his chest and I notice, not for the first time, that he's almost as big and muscular as Brandon now. He huffs a breath and scrubs his hand over the stubble of his jaw, bringing his blue eyes to mine. As I stare at him, I feel that little flutter in my heart.

  My stomach knots when I think about him kissing Grace. My chest goes all tight when I wonder if he told her she was pretty, when I wonder if he's going to start going over to her house and watching movies. I don't want him to like her, and I feel guilty about it because it shouldn’t matter. He's my friend, but the thing is, all those special things we do, I don't want any other girl to share those with him. I want him to look at me the way he looked at Grace. I want him to kiss me and hold my hand.

  And what kind of friend does that make me? I think I'm in love with both of my best friends...whatever being in love means anyway. Tears prick my eyes and I bury my face in my pillow.

  I feel the mattress dip beside me, and then his hand brushes over my back. "Poppy..." He trails off. "Is it because Grace kissed me?"

  It is, but I'll never admit that. My head is spinning, my stomach turning. "No."

  "Okay." He pauses for a second. "Is it because of Nieve and Brandon?" he asks more quietly.

  I quickly sit up and glare at him. "No!"

  He drags both hands through his hair and groans. "Is this a girl thing?"

  "Just..." I shrug and take a deep breath. "Just go."

  "Fine. Maybe I'll go hang out with Grace, seeing as my best friend doesn't want to see me." He gets off the bed and heads toward the door.

  That stings. And makes me livid. And makes me want to cry. "Fine. Maybe you should."

  "I will then."

  "Maybe stop off by Slutty Suzie's on your way there." My heart is banging against my ribs, my blood pulsing through my ears.

  He sighs and turns around to face me. "That was one time when I was fourteen, and it was Brandon's idea."

  "Brandon's an idiot."

  "I know, but he was trying to help me...you know." His cheeks tinge pink and he looks at the floor.

  "Whatever, Con." And here we are, staring at each other, both hurt because it's not that simple any more. I don't know that any of us knows what we're doing, but everything is changing. Before long, it won't be me and Con and Brandon. It will be Brandon and Nieve, and Connor and Grace...and me. Me and Hope. And I don't want any other
girl to have my boys’ hearts the way I did when we were little.

  "Okay. I'll just go then."

  My nostrils flare as I watch him turn and leave the room. I want to tell him I'm sorry. I want to ask him to come back, but I'm too stubborn to, so I just wait until I hear the front door slam closed and then I lie back on my bed, stare at Justin Timberlake, and cry and I'm not even sure why.

  I must have fallen asleep, and I almost jump out of my skin when the window creaks open. I glare at Brandon as he struggles to crawl through the gap. He's far too big to be doing that nowadays.

  "My dad's not here. You know you could just use the door like a normal person."

  "Where's the fun in that?" He grins, but his face falls when he looks at me. "You've been crying." I shrug. "Just give me a name and I'll fix it."

  "It's nothing." He walks over to the side of the bed and sits down. He smells like cigarette smoke and outdoors. All I want to do is hug him because I know that will make me feel better. Without warning, he wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his chest. I take a deep breath.

  "I hate it when you cry, possum," he mumbles against my hair. And that just makes me want to cry again. "So are you gonna tell me who made you cry?"

  "No one." I sniff. "It's just...a girl thing."

  He laughs. "Well, I'm good with girl things."

  "Not those girl things, Brandon." I huff into his shirt.

  He pushes me back, a lopsided grin on his face while he cups both of my cheeks with his hands. He leans in, and for a minute, I think he may kiss me, but instead he presses his lips to my forehead. Brandon is a whore and a bad boy and a trouble maker, but he's my Brandon, and he makes me feel safe. And right now, I find myself asking, is it better to be the girl he has sex with, or the girl he tells all his secrets to, the girl whose bed he crawls into when his dad beats him? Nieve Kirkpatrick will never know him like I do, so she's welcome to his dick. This right here is what I love about Brandon.