Dear Poppy

by Ronni Arno

  “Really?” I look at Tammy.

  “Unfortunately so.” She nods. “He’s constantly looking for the wrong kind of attention. I’m really sorry you had to be a recipient of that.”

  “Thanks.” I take my backpack off again and drop it by the door, then turn to leave. “I’m going to check on my roses.”

  “Mind if I come with you?” Tammy puts the pitcher back on the table.

  I glance over at Dad. He looks like someone just gave him a brand-new car.

  “I don’t mind,” I say, because what am I supposed to say?

  Tammy and I walk around the house to the backyard. I unroll the hose from the side of the barn and gently water the rosebushes. While they’re still pretty small, they are definitely growing.

  “These are beauties.” Tammy bends down to get a closer look.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “You know . . .” Tammy stands up. “If you ever need any help, I’m only a phone call away.”

  I study her face. I’ve read that you can tell someone’s lying if they don’t blink while looking at you. Tammy blinks.

  “Do you think . . .” I shuffle my feet. “When do you think these roses will mature?”

  Tammy looks down at the flower. “I think they’ll be amazing by next spring. In fact, I’ll bet you give Kathryn a run for her money at the 4-H fair next year.” She smiles.

  “What about this year?”

  Tammy purses her lips. I can’t tell if she’s thinking, or if she’s trying not to laugh. “Definitely not this year. They’re too young.”

  I nod, but I don’t agree with her. I know Mom will work her magic.

  “Thanks for showing these to me, Poppy.” Tammy smiles.

  “Sure,” I say. And even though Tammy’s being super nice to me, I feel a teensy bit guilty about standing here talking to her. Even though she says she and Mom were BFFs, Mom’s letters say the exact opposite.

  And the last thing I want to do is betray my mom.

  CHAPTER

  20

  I GROPE FOR MY PHONE in the dark. It’s five a.m. on Friday. There’s no way I can go back to sleep when I know today’s a letter day.

  I shuffle to my underwear drawer and pull out the metal box. Once again I bring the box to my bed and crawl under the covers. I turn on the flashlight app on my cell phone, and read the next letter.

  May 11, 1985

  Dear Poppy,

  What an amazing week this has been! I only wish you were here with me.

  Brian asked me to the square dance next week. Of course I said yes! I don’t think Tammy knows, because she hasn’t done anything awful to me yet.

  The garden looks fantastic. I’ve been spending lots of time in there, making sure the soil is right. I guess it’s working, because my roses never looked so good. Even my dad noticed! He was so proud that he took a photo of the roses, which I’ve included for you to see.

  I really think I’m going to win this year, Poppy. And I know I’ll do it honestly. Unlike Tammy. We both know that she uses her mom’s roses. I just wish we could prove it. Oh well. Karma will get her someday! And let’s hope that “someday” is at the 4-H fair!

  Until next week.

  Love & friendship always & forever,

  Daphne

  I reach my hand inside the envelope and pull out the photo of the roses. I gasp. They’re beautiful. They hardly resemble the photo from just a few weeks ago. Mom did it! I’ll bet anything she beats Tammy at the fair. Maybe that’s exactly what happened. Maybe Mom beat Tammy, and then Tammy apologized and they became BFFs. That would make sense. I reach for my pen and notebook to write Mom back.

  Dear Mom,

  I had a great week too! My roses are looking good, and I’ve sat next to Brody every day on the bus.

  Even Kathryn isn’t being mean to me. As it turns out, she didn’t put that cow poop in my locker. Some kid named Thomas did. I guess he’s a big joker or something. Which makes me wonder . . .

  Maybe Kathryn isn’t as bad as I thought. And maybe Tammy turned out to be not as bad as you thought. Tammy’s been over a couple of times now. I hate to say it, but she seems kind of nice.

  Maybe it just takes a while to get to know people.

  Anyway, I’m super excited about the fair. Can’t wait to see what you’ll do with the roses!

  Love ya,

  Poppy

  PS: Has anyone ever called Dad “David”?

  I put the letters away and crawl back into bed. It’s too early to get up. Instead, I flip through the photos of Britt, Brody, and me from last weekend. I text one of the pictures to Mandy. She’s dying to see what Brody looks like.

  I sit next to Brody on the bus, and once again, Kathryn says nothing. In fact, it’s another normal day. Maybe Tammy put in a good word for me.

  I water my garden as soon as I get home, and spend most of the afternoon just staring at it. I feel closer to Mom when I’m out here, almost like she’s out here too. I stay outside until Dad calls me in for dinner (creamy risotto with mushroom and peas!). I go to sleep with a smile on my face.

  The next morning, my stomach tells me it’s time to get out of bed and grab breakfast. Although New Dad is an amazing cook, on the weekend he’s more of a brunch kind of guy. I guess now that he can sleep in on weekends, he does.

  I grab a cereal bowl out of the cabinet and pour some weird-looking brown flakes into it. New Dad doesn’t buy sugary cereals. I’m about to sit down when I happen to glance out the window.

  I press my nose against the glass to get a better look. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

  My hands fly up to my mouth and my bowl drops to the floor with a clank, little brown flakes and milk spilling out onto the wood. I don’t even bother to put shoes on. I run out the mudroom door and to the garden.

  My roses are destroyed.

  Something—or someone—trampled all over them. Some are ripped out of the ground. The little red buds looked like smooshed cherries, hardly recognizable as flowers.

  I fall to the ground and sob.

  My flowers—Mom’s flowers—are ruined.

  Dad comes running outside. His hair is sticking straight up and he’s in his slippers.

  “Poppy,” he huffs. “What happened?! I heard a crash and then I heard you scream and there’s a broken bowl on the kitchen floor and . . .”

  He stops when he sees the garden.

  “What—what happened?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but the words won’t come out. Dad bends down beside me and rubs my back. At least New Dad is much better with crying children than Old Dad was.

  “My—” Sob. “Roses are—” Sob. “Gone!” Sob. Sob. Sob.

  “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”

  “How could this have happened?” Sob.

  Dad stands up. “I don’t know. Maybe an animal got in here.”

  “But there’s a fence.” Sob. Sob.

  “It’s a low fence. Something could have jumped it.”

  “What kind of animal jumps fences?”

  “I don’t know, Poppy. I’m still learning about this farming stuff myself.” Dad reaches out his hand. “How about we go inside for some tea?”

  I shake my head no.

  “Poppy, you can’t stay out here forever.”

  “You go. I’ll be in soon.”

  Dad sighs and turns to leave. “I’ll boil the water so the tea will be ready when you are.”

  From my seat in the dirt, I spot a tiny flower that somehow survived the attack. I reach for it and hold it in my palm. It’s so small, but it’s perfect.

  I’m going to have to replant everything and build a bigger fence. I have to be sure that whatever animal did this won’t ever come back.

  I know there’s no point sitting out here any longer. As much as I try, I can’t make sense of this. Why would Mom bring me to plant this garden, only to have it ruined within a week?

  As I stand to leave, I notice something odd in the far corner of the garden. I walk over ther
e, my feet sinking into the soil. I bend down to get a closer look.

  It’s a footprint.

  But it’s not my footprint, although it could be. It’s around the same size.

  But this is a footprint with treads, and I don’t own shoes with those kind of treads.

  So unless some sort of flower-eating animal wears size-seven shoes, it was a person who destroyed my garden.

  CHAPTER

  21

  THE TEAPOT IS READY ON the stove, but I guess Dad couldn’t wait. He went back to sleep. But, I noticed, he cleaned up the mess I made in the kitchen first.

  I run upstairs and grab my phone. It’s still early—not even eight—but I text Britt and Brody anyway to tell them what happened. To my surprise, Brody texts right back.

  Brody: B right over.

  I throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I don’t even bother brushing my hair, although I do brush my teeth. I’m not that irresponsible.

  I have no appetite anymore, but I figure I should eat something. I grab a banana and eat it by the kitchen window so I can stare out at the dirt pile that was once my garden.

  There’s a knock on the door, and I open it to find Britt and Brody standing there, mouths hanging open.

  “I can’t believe this,” Britt says, shaking her head. Her whole face is drooping.

  “I’ll show you the footprint.” This time, I slip on a pair of old flip-flops before going outside.

  I point out the footprint to the twins. Brody studies it closely. “Yep, that’s a shoe print all right.”

  Britt is looking at the flowers. “Poppy, there’s no way an animal did this.”

  “Because of the footprint?”

  “And because if it was an animal, chances are it would have actually eaten the roses. Or at least chewed on them. But nothing here looks chewed on. It just looks like the plants were pulled out of the ground and trampled.”

  I stare at her.

  “This was most definitely a person,” Britt says finally.

  “But why?” I blink back the tears that are threatening to spring from my eyes.

  “Do you think Thomas would do this?” Britt asks.

  “No way,” Brody says. “His mom grounded him for life after the locker incident.”

  “Maybe he snuck out at night?” I ask.

  “I don’t think so. He lives too far away to walk or bike here. And anyway,” Brody says as he points to the footprint, “this print is way too small to be Thomas’s. Have you seen his feet? He wears like a size fourteen.”

  Britt bends down and touches the footprint. “It looks like a girl’s shoe.”

  I bend down next to her. She’s totally right. The print is too slender and small for someone like Thomas.

  “I’ll bet it was Kathryn.” Britt stands up and crosses her arms.

  “But Kathryn’s been better lately,” I say.

  Britt raises an eyebrow at me. “ ‘Better’ meaning she just ignores us?”

  “That is better,” I mumble.

  Brody doesn’t say anything. He’s still investigating the footprint.

  “Whoever did this won’t get what they want.” Britt stomps her foot in the dirt. “We’re going to rebuild.”

  “But how?” I shake my head.

  “The same way we did it the first time,” Britt says. “I’m going to ride back home, get some more rosebushes, and we’re going to plant them.”

  “But what if someone just comes back and destroys them again?” I stare at the torn-up rosebushes and swallow hard.

  “Then we’ll keep planting new ones. Whoever did this can’t keep it up. They’ll get caught eventually.” Britt says this with such certainty that there’s no point in arguing with her. And anyway, she’s right. Whoever did this won’t win.

  Britt gives Brody and me instructions on how to get the trudged-up soil ready for planting again, then she hops on her bike and speeds down the driveway.

  I start to pick up the ruined plants and put them in a pile on the grass. All I can picture in my mind is Mom’s sad face. Sad that I failed her and couldn’t do the one and only thing she wanted me to do: grow roses and win the blue ribbon.

  I squeeze my eyes shut to make the image go away.

  “Are you okay?” Brody asks.

  I open my eyes and realize I’m just standing there with my eyes shut tightly. I must look ridiculous.

  “Oh yeah,” I say. “Just . . . The sun was in my eyes.”

  Brody nods. “Well, I brought you something. You know, to make you feel better.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah.” He digs into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out an iPod.

  “You got me an iPod?”

  “No.” Brody laughs. “I mean, not to keep. But I want you to borrow it.”

  I blink.

  “Whenever I feel bad about something,” Brody begins, “I listen to this playlist. It’s awesome and upbeat, and it always makes me feel better.”

  He holds the iPod out and I take it, turning it over in my hands.

  “Wow,” I say. “That’s really nice of you.”

  Brody shrugs, and his cheeks turn red. “Keep it for as long as you want.”

  “Thanks.” I stare down at the iPod, and then back at Brody.

  Brody smiles and then goes back to cleaning up the garden. I join him, and we have it all ready for planting by the time Britt comes back with the rosebushes.

  It takes most of the day, but we get the new rosebushes in the ground.

  Britt stands back and smiles at her handiwork. “Yep, these look great.”

  “Maybe we need to booby-trap the garden.” Brody looks at Britt. “Got any ideas?”

  Britt purses her lips. “We could try barbed wire.”

  “Then how would we get in and out?” Brody asks.

  “We could build a gate. With a lock.”

  “Won’t that take a long time?” I ask. I don’t know anything about building gates, but it sounds like a lot of work.

  “Maybe we can work on it next weekend,” Britt says.

  “What about until then?” I ask.

  “Have you thought about getting a dog?” Brody replies.

  “Troy’s allergic.” Stupid Troy.

  Nobody has any better ideas, so we go inside for some snacks and lemonade. We’re getting the lemonade out of the fridge when Dad comes downstairs. This time, he’s wearing a tie and a jacket.

  “Why are you all fancy?” He smells like pine trees.

  “Tammy and I are going out tonight. There are plenty of leftovers if your friends want to stay for dinner.”

  Britt and Brody look at each other. The secret twin conversation again.

  “Sure,” Brody says. “Thank you. We just have to leave before it gets dark.”

  After lounging around on the porch for a while, we heat up some leftovers and eat them in the family room in front of the TV. Britt turns on HGTV and sits down on the floor. Brody sits next to me on the couch.

  The sun is just starting to set after dinner, so I walk the twins outside to their bikes.

  “The third song is my favorite,” Brody says before he rides off.

  I pull the iPod out of my pocket and put the headphones in even before I’m back in the house. I plop down on the couch and listen.

  Brody was right. The songs do instantly make me feel better. I forward to the third song. I’ve never heard it before, but the iPod’s screen reads “The Power of Love” by Huey Lewis and the News.

  It’s a catchy tune. I whip out my phone and Google it.

  The release date is 1985.

  Omigod. Mom even has control over Brody’s iPod! This thought makes me even more sad about the flowers.

  “I promise,” I whisper to Mom. “I’ll take care of the roses and make you proud, okay?”

  I listen so hard that I can actually hear dust floating around the room, but Mom doesn’t answer.

  CHAPTER

  22

  BRODY IS WAITING FOR ME when I get on
the bus on Monday morning. I smile as I sit down, and I hold out his iPod.

  “Thanks for this,” I say. “You’re right. The songs are awesome. Especially number three.”

  “Yeah.” Brody smiles. “That’s my mom’s favorite. She used to play that album all the time.”

  “I’d never heard it before, but I loved it.”

  “I have an idea.” Brody takes the headphones, puts one bud in his ear, and hands me the other one.

  We listen to Huey Lewis and the News all the way to school.

  Once again, Kathryn and company ignore me. I like the ignoring much better than I like the bullying. I do wonder what’s going to happen if Dad and Tammy get serious. Will she ignore me in front of them, too?

  I’m still thinking about this at lunch. I never thought about having a stepmom before.

  “Does your mom ever go on dates?” I look at Britt, who’s slurping a Capri Sun.

  “Yuck. No.”

  “How long has it been since your dad left?”

  “About two years.” She crumples the empty Capri Sun pouch in her hand. “I don’t think she’d date anyone again unless he was Superman. She was really upset when my dad left.”

  “I hope my dad doesn’t marry Tammy.” I sigh.

  “Then Kathryn would be your stepsister.”

  We both make a sour-lemon face at the exact same time and laugh.

  The rest of the week goes smoothly. I check on my roses every day after school, and every day they look better and better. I’m pretty sure Mom’s working her magic.

  On Friday morning, I hop out of bed and grab the next letter out of the box. I sit at my desk chair and read.

  May 18, 1985

  Dear Poppy,

  The square dance was AMAZING! Brian came and picked me up, and of course Mom and Dad took tons of pics (one included), which was totally embarrassing. Brian even had a rose for me! I pressed it into my A POPULAR GUIDE TO ROSES book. When Brian was here, he took a peek at my roses. Even he said they look great! He said I must be taking good care of them. Which you know I am.

  Tammy still gives me the evil eye every minute of the day, but other than that, she doesn’t come near me. I’m beginning to think that maybe she’s just given up. Maybe she sees that torturing me isn’t working. Then again, you never know with Tammy. . . .