Dear Poppy

by Ronni Arno

  Bandanna Girl stands in the doorway, scanning the classroom. Her eyes stop on me.

  “It’s her fault!” Bandanna Girl points a finger at me. Her nails are painted black. “It’s that new girl’s fault that I’m late.”

  All eyes go from Bandanna Girl to me, and I wish I could just melt into my chair.

  “Now, Britt,” Mrs. Simmons says. “Poppy’s new here. I’m sure she didn’t do anything to delay your arrival.”

  “She cut me at Mr. Russo’s office,” Britt says, still pointing at me.

  “I’m sure she didn’t mean to. Now please take your seat.”

  Britt collapses into her chair, but she doesn’t take her evil eyes off me.

  I’ve been here for fifteen minutes, and already two people hate me.

  Mom better have a good reason for putting me through this.

  CHAPTER

  5

  THE BELL RINGS, AND KATHRYN is at my desk, all unicorns and butterflies.

  “Ready for science?” She looks past me at Mrs. Simmons, who smiles at her gratefully.

  “Hey, sorry about my sister.” Brody stands up and stretches.

  I glance up at his sideways grin. “Oh, it’s okay. She’s not that bad,” I lie.

  Brody laughs. “That’s only because you don’t have to live with her.”

  I chuckle, and Kathryn clears her throat. “We need to set up your locker.”

  “Oh yeah, thanks.” I pick up my backpack, and follow Kathryn out into the hallway. She looks toward Mrs. Simmons, who’s busy erasing the whiteboard, and then sneers at me.

  I try not to look back at her, and silently follow her toward the lockers.

  “Which locker did you get?” Brody asks.

  I’m about to answer that I don’t know—Kathryn never told me—when Kathryn answers for me.

  “She has two fifty-six.”

  “Cool!” Brody puts his hand up for a high five. “I’m at two fifty-four.”

  I tap Brody’s hand for a quick high five. Kathryn picks up her pace and stomps toward a row of lockers. I can see the steam coming out of her ears, but what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just leave Brody hanging.

  We stop at locker 256, and Kathryn shoves a crumpled-up piece of paper in my hand. “Here’s your combination.”

  I stare at the wad of paper. It’s still hot from Kathryn’s fist. I think I may even see fingernail dents in it.

  “Thanks.” I smile at her, but she just glares at me.

  “Let’s go, Brody.” Kathryn touches him on the arm. “We don’t want to be late for class.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait for Poppy? Aren’t you her guide or something?” Brody leans against the locker next to mine.

  Kathryn’s jaw is clenched so tightly that I’m expecting her perfect teeth to come tumbling out of her mouth at any second. “Fine,” she says. “But she’d better hurry up. Class is starting soon.”

  I unwad the ball of paper and unlock my locker. I hang up my jacket and backpack and pull out a notebook and pen to take with me to my next class.

  Kathryn sighs. “Are you ready yet?”

  I close the locker door and nod. She mumbles something under her breath, and I follow her down the hall. Brody stops to talk to some guy on the way, which leaves me alone with Kathryn.

  “Just so you know, you’re a total outsider here,” Kathryn says, without slowing down her pace. “Look around. Nobody here wears all black, for one thing.”

  I look down at my outfit. At home, black is the go-to color. Everyone wears black. Black matches everything.

  “And that hair,” Kathryn continues. “What’s with the pink ends? Are you in some kind of cult or something?”

  My fingers fly to the tips of my hair. A cult? What kind of cult has members with pink hair tips?

  “You’re obviously a freak, and we don’t need any more freaks at EVMS.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.” I blurt it out without thinking first.

  Kathryn stops walking. She puts her hands on her hips and looks me up and down. “I know everything I need to know. Brody’s got enough on his plate, dealing with his freak sister. He doesn’t need another weirdo in his life.”

  “Look.” I take a deep breath. I don’t want any trouble from Kathryn, but I can’t let her walk all over me either. “I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. But we both have to go to school here. So let’s just agree to coexist peacefully.”

  Kathryn smiles. “Fine. As long as you don’t talk to Brody Fuller.”

  “What if he talks to me first? You want me to totally ignore him?”

  “Yes.” Kathryn gives me one crisp nod. “That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

  Just then, Brody catches up to us. “What’s up?” He slaps me on the back, and I cringe.

  “Oh, I was just helping Poppy navigate the scene around here. You know, letting her know who she should hang out with, and who’s trouble.”

  “Ahhhh, that’s easy.” Brody smiles and I bite my lip—hard—so I don’t smile back. “Hang out with me and you’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, Brody.” Kathryn flips her ponytail. It comes centimeters from whacking me in the face. That thing should be registered as a lethal weapon. “You’re so funny.”

  Brody laughs, and he and Kathryn start walking. I follow, keeping my distance a few steps behind them.

  They stop to chat with a few kids along the way. Brody introduces me to everyone who talks to us, but Kathryn acts like I’m not even there. That’s fine with me. If she’s ignoring me, at least she’s not making my life miserable.

  Once we walk into the science classroom, Kathryn’s metamorphosis begins. She links her arm in mine, and guides me toward the teacher’s desk.

  “Good morning, Mr. Walker,” Kathryn says. “This is Poppy Pickler. She’s our new student.”

  Mr. Walker extends his hand, and I shake it. Kathryn’s glued to my side, her fake smile blinding me once again.

  “Great to meet you, Poppy. Have you studied plant anatomy yet?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “We didn’t do that at my old school.”

  “Excellent!” Mr. Walker beams. “Then you’re sure to have some fun!”

  Mr. Walker points me to a seat in the first row, which, thankfully, is on the other side of the room from both Brody and Kathryn. Kathryn’s surrounded by a group of girls, and just like in homeroom, she’s whispering to them frantically. Every once in a while one of them turns to look at me. Suddenly, I find my own fingernails very interesting.

  The bell rings, and Mr. Walker closes the door. “Okay, gang, settle down.”

  The class gets quiet, and Mr. Walker continues. “Today, we’re going to learn about plant genealogy.”

  The class collectively groans. Mr. Walker walks to the front of his desk and sits on top of it. “Come on, guys, this will be fun. We’ll—”

  The classroom door swings open, and Britt Fuller stomps in. I can hear Kathryn and her gaggle of girls whispering in the back.

  “As I was saying,” Mr. Walker continues, a bit louder now, “we’re going to learn about how plants are related to each other.”

  Britt throws her books on top of her desk, which happens to be right next to mine. I keep my eyes glued to Mr. Walker, afraid to look at her.

  Thankfully, Mr. Walker doesn’t stop to take a breath. He goes on and on about plant DNA, using words I’ve never heard before.

  “Okay, gang.” Mr. Walker glances at his watch. “We have an assignment. But we’re going to do it in a way that will be fun for you.”

  “Does that mean you’re just going to give us all the answers?” a boy in the back row asks. “Because that’s the only way to make plant DNA fun.”

  Everyone laughs, and even Mr. Walker chuckles. “Very funny. No, I have an even better idea. You’re going to all do a family tree, but instead of a family tree, it’s going to be a plant tree. Get it? A plant tree?”

  Another collective groan.

  “But not to wor
ry.” Mr. Walker stands up. “I won’t leave you to your own devices completely. I’m going to partner you up so you can work together.”

  Kathryn’s hand shoots up. “Can we pick our own partners?”

  “Sure,” Mr. Walker says. And at that, kids all turn to each other, the room filling with chatter.

  Mr. Walker must notice that I’m sitting alone in silence, so he walks over to my desk. “What do you think, Poppy? Is this all new to you?”

  “Yes.” I nod. “We haven’t done any of this at my old school.”

  “Great.” Mr. Walker claps his hands together, and I sigh with relief, thinking that he’ll probably excuse me from this project. “Then why don’t you and Britt work together?”

  I open my mouth to protest, but Britt beats me to it.

  “You want me to work with her?” Britt’s lips pull back, and she bares her teeth at me.

  “I think you’ll be a good pair,” Mr. Walker says, and he walks back to his desk smiling.

  Britt leans back in her chair so the front two legs are off the floor. She crosses her arms and glares at me.

  “So.” I look around the room. All the other pairs are chattering away and taking notes. “How should we start?”

  Britt reaches over and grabs the textbook on my desk. She flips through it until she finds the page she’s looking for, and throws it back at me.

  “Read this chapter. You can’t help if you don’t know what you’re doing, and there’s no way I’m going to do the work for you.”

  She then opens her own notebook and starts writing.

  As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

  CHAPTER

  6

  THE BELL RINGS, AND AS if on cue, Kathryn’s at my side, playing the part of perfect hostess, at least while we’re in earshot of the teachers.

  “Ready for math?”

  I don’t even bother smiling. I pick up my notebook, pen, and new copy of DISCOVERING SCIENCE: GRADE 7, and follow her out of the classroom.

  Brody walks up behind us, tapping both of us on the shoulder, then looking away like he didn’t do it.

  Kathryn swats at his hand. “Hi, partner.”

  Brody groans. “That was a hard project.”

  “It was fun.” Kathryn grins, and then talks louder—to be sure I can hear her above the hallway din. “And since you worked with me, of course we’ll get a good grade.”

  “Yeah,” Brody says. “Thanks for snagging me back there. I was afraid I’d have to work with Thomas, and we’d both totally fail.”

  Kathryn juts her chin out, making her face pointier than it already is. “I’m happy to help.”

  “Did you find a partner?” Brody asks me.

  “Mr. Walker partnered me up with your sister.”

  Kathryn laughs hysterically. She has to stop walking because she’s doubled over. I guess it’s okay if I talk to Brody, as long as I say things like that.

  Brody looks at Kathryn and I see a flash of something across his eyes. Anger? I can’t tell, because in a second it’s gone. He turns back to me and shrugs. “Well, she’s tough to work with, but Britt knows her stuff. I’m sure you’ll get a good grade.”

  I want to tell him that although I know nothing about DNA, it’s not the grade I’m worried about—it’s that Britt will tear my flesh off my bones and then make a soup out of my eyeballs. But I don’t say that. I don’t say it because I’m not allowed to talk to Brody Fuller if I want to get through this school year unscathed. I remind myself that I don’t need friends, but I also don’t need enemies, and that I just have to stay under the radar until I learn what Mom has in store for me.

  Math class at EVMS is like math class everywhere else. There are numbers, and more numbers. Kathryn happily introduces me to my math teacher, and then promptly ignores me until the bell rings and the teacher is watching. We go through the same drill in social studies.

  After social studies is lunch, and once we’re not in front of any faculty, Kathryn ditches me and heads for the cafeteria with a group of girls in matching ponytails. There must be a dozen of them, and they all look identical. Same swishy ponytail, same pair of jeans folded up at the bottom, same knit sweaters, and same pearl earrings. I wonder if they call each other every morning, or if everyone just wears the same thing every day.

  I buy a grilled cheese sandwich and a bag of chips, and find an empty table—on the opposite side of the cafeteria from Kathryn.

  I’m about to bite into my sandwich when I hear someone breathing loudly behind me. I turn around and find Britt standing over me.

  “You’re at my table.”

  “Oh.” My sandwich suddenly looks unappetizing, and I wrap it up and scootch my chair back. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

  I’m about to leave when Britt sits down. “Why aren’t you sitting with your friends, anyway?”

  “My friends?”

  “Yeah.” Britt motions across the cafeteria. “Kathryn and her Crappy Cronies?”

  “They’re not my friends.” I look down at my wrapped-up sandwich.

  “Seriously? She’s been glued to you all day.”

  “Only because she wants to impress the teachers. As soon as we’re out of their sight she goes back to ignoring me. Or threatening my life.”

  Britt laughs, and it’s not the kind of laugh I’d expect from her. It’s sweet and light, and when I glance up at her face, I see that not only does she have her brother’s eyes, she also has his smile.

  Just hearing her laugh makes me laugh too.

  “I thought for sure she’d snag you for part of her gang. You’ve got the look.”

  “The look?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

  “Yeah, you know, the pretty-girl thing.” She pulls a lemonade out of a paper bag.

  “Ummmm. Thank you?” I’m not sure if this is a compliment or not. “But apparently, I have the wrong hair.”

  “Well, obviously.” Britt points to my pink tips. “But hair can be changed. That’s what Kathryn does. She hand-selects the girls she deems worthy of her little clique, and before you know it, they slowly morph into one collective person.”

  “That’s kind of creepy,” I say.

  “Yeah.” Brit opens her lemonade and takes a sip. “I just figured you were one of them.”

  “Definitely not.”

  We sit in silence for a minute. We actually had a kinda sorta conversation, and now I’m not sure if I should be leaving or not.

  “You can sit here if you want,” Britt says, answering my unspoken question.

  “Okay, thanks.” I unwrap my sandwich again, and realize that I’m absolutely starving.

  “I’m sorry about science class,” she says between sips of lemonade. “I was a jerk to you.”

  “Yeah, you were.” I smile so she knows I’m over it.

  “Kathryn and her friends are kind of awful.”

  “Yeah.” I take a bite of my sandwich. “I kind of got that.”

  “So you moved into the Walsh farmhouse?” Britt pulls a peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of a Ziploc bag.

  “Yeah.” I take another bite of grilled cheese. “How did you know?”

  “It’s a small town,” she says.

  She opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but instead she tears the crust off her sandwich and pops it into her mouth.

  “I’m sorry about your grandpa,” she says after a few seconds of silence.

  “Oh, thanks,” I say.

  “He was a really nice man.”

  “Did you know him?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” Britt takes a bite of her now-crustless pb&j. “I mean, we haven’t seen him in a while, not since I was little, but my mom used to buy lots of produce from him. He had the best berries.”

  “I know, right?” My mouth waters just thinking about them.

  “Anyway, I was real sorry when I heard.”

  “Well, thanks,” I say, and tear open my bag of chips. “So you’re my neighbor? I didn’t even know there were any other houses ne
arby.”

  “My house is only about a mile up the road,” Britt says. “Not far.”

  “A mile isn’t far?” I crunch on a potato chip. “Where I used to live, a mile would put me in a completely different neighborhood.”

  “Really?” Britt’s eyes go wide. “That’s so weird.”

  “Were you on the bus this morning?”

  Britt rolls her eyes. “I hate the bus. I ride my bike when it’s nice enough out.”

  “That’s a long ride.” I take another potato chip out of the bag.

  “Nah, only a few miles. It’s better than the stupid bus.”

  I nod. The bus ride was pretty awful, but I’m not sure I could ride my bike up and down all those hills.

  “So, um, anyway.” Britt puts the cap on her lemonade bottle and shakes it. “Sorry about this morning, too. I mean, at the principal’s office.”

  “Oh, no worries.” I wave my hand in front of my face. “You were there first.”

  “I was there to tell Mr. Russo that someone’s been messing with my locker, and I’m pretty sure it’s Kathryn and the Cronies.”

  “What did he say?” I put my grilled cheese down and move my chair closer to hers.

  “He didn’t believe me, of course.” She leans back in her chair, so that the front two legs are off the floor. “You see how sweet Kathryn acts in front of the teachers.”

  I snort. “I don’t know how any of them even fall for it.”

  “Please,” Britt says. “She’s been like that since kindergarten. She used to put glue in my crayon box.”

  “That’s so wrong.” I shake my head.

  “What’s wrong is that she gets away with it,” Britt says. “But her mom is some bigwig on the school board, so the teachers never bother to listen to me.”

  Just as I’m about to tell her how unfair that is, I notice that one of the ponytailed Cronies is walking our way. I’m pretty sure she’s the girl who was sitting next to Kathryn on the bus this morning. I’m about to say something to Britt when the girl breaks into a jog, swerves just as she gets to our table, and knocks into the back legs of Britt’s chair. Since Britt was balancing on only the back legs, the chair crashes to the ground, taking Britt down with it.