by H G Lynch
Poppy sucked her lower lip into her mouth, bit down on it thoughtfully. She looked like she was seriously considering it, but her eyebrows furrowed as she stared off into the distance. The rain continued to pour down on us, thousands of little drops splashing onto the concrete slabs of the pavement. I waited anxiously for her answer, half-hoping she’d say yes, half-hoping she’d say no. Alone in a dim, warm house with Pretty Poppy, I needed to put up mental blockades to keep my mind from going down those avenues for good. It wasn’t doing my nerves any good.
“I…” Poppy started, still looking off somewhere at something I couldn’t see. Then she turned to me and frowned ruefully. “I don’t know…I don’t think so. Sorry. Not this time. I really should be getting home, or Lyle will be getting worried about me.”
I nodded in understanding, a little relieved but mostly disappointed. “It’s cool, I get it. Yeah, sure, another time I guess.” I smiled crookedly. The rain was easing slightly, but the wind was picking up. I hoped she wouldn’t get a cold walking home in soaking wet clothes. She wasn’t even shivering, though. Weird because I had a lot more muscle for insulation, and I was shivering in my flooded trainers.
Abruptly, she took a step forward, opening her mouth as if she was away to say something. Her eyes were raised to mine, chips of sparkling blue topaz meeting my orbs of cobalt. She was close enough to touch now, barely an arm’s length away from me. That was when I noticed that delectable scent still clinging to her despite the rain. It teased my senses and made my stomach clench hotly. My eyes fell, slowly, from her beautiful eyes to her parted lips, soft, rosy, and so kissable that I nearly did it.
Holding my breath, my gaze followed the line of her jaw, the slender column of her neck, the sensual curve of her collarbone, down to the gentle swell of her breasts, the shape so clearly visible because her soaked shirt clung to her like a second skin. The white fabric was damn near transparent, and I could make out the vague shape of her black bra underneath. With boiling bats suddenly beating at my stomach, I looked away quickly, trying to breathe steadily through my mouth, so I wouldn’t smell that perfume again.
I regretted my reaction immediately because a hurt expression flittered across Poppy’s face, and she stepped back, turning her face away from me. “Well, um, I should go. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow. Bye.” She turned and strode away.
She was half-way down the street before I thought to call after her, but I didn’t think I could say anything that would help, so I didn’t bother.
Walking into English on Wednesday, I was sure things were going to be awkward between me and Poppy after my cockup the day before, but when she came into the classroom and sat down next to me, the first thing she said was, “Hey Sunshine. What’ve you got cooking, good-looking?” She even grinned at me as if nothing had happened.
I blinked, confused, and just waved mutely at her. Had I missed something? I could have sworn she’d been upset with me when she’d walked off. Had I misread her, or was she just screwing with me again? Maybe she’d forgiven me, realising that I was just a clueless idiot when it came to girls I actually liked.
“Did you get in trouble for wrecking your trainers yesterday?” she asked, her voice low enough that Mr Adams, who was talking at the front of the class and waving an essay assignment sheet, wouldn’t hear. Outside, wind howled and rattled the windows, but there was no rain. Faint sunlight leaked through the blinds, but the temperature was bitter for a summer afternoon.
I shook my head in answer to her question. It was true I hadn’t gotten into trouble, but that was only because I’d hidden my trainers under my bed before my mother had had the chance to see them. I’d stuffed my wet clothes into the bottom of my laundry basket, too, so they’d be semi-dry by the time she discovered them.
Mr Adams interrupted our conversation by locking his glare on Poppy and keeping her attention fixed firmly on Romeo and Juliet for the next forty minutes. She answered questions as if she knew R and J backwards. Maybe she did. But while she analysed Juliet’s questionable plan to fake her own death, I was analysing my own troubles with fate and relationships.
After English, we didn’t see each other again until lunch, when we arranged to meet up after school so Poppy could walk me home again. I offered to walk her home instead, but she was adamant against it. So we ate lunch together. Well, I ate. Poppy sipped a glass of coke and left the apple on her tray untouched, and I listened to her telling me how horrible Mr Murphy, the Geography teacher was. Halfway through the lunch hour, Alistair joined us. His usual lunch buddies glowered at us across the canteen, but Alistair didn’t seem to care. He listened intently to Poppy, too, and then told us about the time he’d accidentally broken the plastic globe in the Geography class, and then had started using it to store snacks in, so he could slyly eat in class.
At 3:15, I met up with Poppy outside my Physics class, and she walked me home. We hung about outside my house for a half hour, just talking about the weather and the English essay we’d been assigned and cracking jokes. That was how the rest of the week went: English with Poppy, Art with Poppy, Lunch with Poppy and Alistair, and walking home with Poppy. Suddenly, I had more social contact in one week than I’d had in the whole last year before Poppy had arrived. It was amazing. She was amazing, and I found that, the more time I spent with her, the more I liked her.
Chapter Four
On Saturday afternoon, I got a text from Poppy. We’d exchanged phone numbers on Thursday after school, but this was the first time she’d texted me, so it came as a double surprise when I looked up from my book at the sound of my message tone. My phone was glowing in the dimness of my room, sitting on top of my dresser. I’d closed my curtains to block out the return of the sunlight. Apparently, the weather had decided to perk up for the weekend, and the temperature had soared back up to nineteen degrees. Clouds still hovered over the blue sky, but it was looking like summer again.
Rolling off my bed, I padded barefoot to my dresser, feeling the warm wood of my bedroom floor under my feet, and snatched up my mobile. A grin crawled across my lips as I clicked the button to open the message. The text sprung up, and I read the tiny font with growing unease.
Sunshine, party tonight in the woods behind the school. 9 pm. Don’t make me come and get you. Xox
A party tonight, with drinking, loud music, horny teenagers making out in the trees, and Poppy surrounded by a bunch of rowdy guys who wanted to get in her pants. I couldn’t pass it up if I wanted to. Usually, I just crashed parties with the intention of pulling some highly entertaining prank or stunt that would land the guys on the football team in as much discomfort as possible. I guess I was going to have to come up with a plot for tonight, and fast. I was pretty sure I could rope Poppy into it, which would keep her with me and away from those sleazy bastards like Jake and Mark.
Of course, Alistair would be going because he went to every party—he and Mark supplied the majority of booze and nobody asked where it came from. So I could probably wrangle him into the plot, too. It wouldn’t hurt to have an extra set of eyes on her if I happened to turn my back for a bit. As her friend, it was my job to keep her safe and make sure she made it home okay, especially if she was drinking. Somehow, I couldn’t see sweet, innocent little Poppy get drunk off her arse, but in the event that it somehow happened, I’d be there.
My mind was already clicking through an inventory of what I’d need tonight to perform a spectacular stunt—probably involving masks, glows sticks and the certainty of Jake getting high—as I sent a swift reply to Poppy’s message.
Gotcha. I’ll b there. :)
With my schoolbag full of supplies bouncing between my shoulder blades, I sauntered into the school parking lot at five past nine and looked around, trying to spot Poppy. At least a dozen cars were parked in the lot, everything from a blue Nissan Micra to a shiny black BMW. Girls clad in denim miniskirts and halter-neck tops giggled alongside guys accessorising with beer cans and, undoubtedly, condoms in their back pockets, hoping to ge
t lucky.
There was a breeze rustling through the trees, blowing leaves across the street under the slowly darkening sky. Of course, it wouldn’t get properly dark until near eleven o’clock unless the clouds rolled over. Somewhere behind the treetops, the sky was a precious gold that transformed into a glorious, rich blue overhead. Under the lush canopy of green leaves, the woods behind the school looked dark and mysterious. Teens disappeared into the shadows in groups, only their neon bangles and glow-stick headbands visible like floating, magenta will-o-the-wisps.
Laughter and shrieks rose up into the sky from the birds scared out of their nightly homes in the trees taking flight. Music pounded distantly from a car stereo, and I wondered whose car had been parked in the trees for tonight’s bash. The amazing thing was that, even though these parties were hardly a secret, it was a rare occasion when they got busted by the police. Everyone knew what went on—underage drinking, sex, drugs, and vandalism. Most of the parents knew about it, but they turned a blind eye. Maybe it was easier to convince themselves that their kids were all good and innocent that way. Until they all went stumbling home, stottering drunk, and collapsed on their bathroom floors until morning.
My mother didn’t mind me going because she trusted me not to do anything I shouldn’t. I never came home drunk or covered in crude drawings done in neon body paint, and I’d never been arrested, unlike some of the people who were here tonight. I’d also only tried pot once and found I didn’t like the way it made my brain foggy. I loved my brain too much to kill it with booze and drugs.
I had been standing in the parking lot for nearly ten minutes when I finally spotted Poppy, talking to Alistair and one of his Goth friends by the edge of the trees. Alistair was kitted out in full party-Goth attire, from heavy-looking Doc Martens to a long, black coat that made me think of Dracula and his cape. His dyed-black hair stood up in wild spikes, streaked with red and blue glitter which I thought was oddly girly for the boy with the ugly rat tattoo, but as I got closer I noticed the glitter was all over his coat too and his gothic friend was a girl carrying a small bucket of the sparkly stuff. I assumed she was the cause of Alistair’s glitz.
Poppy had her back to me, so Alistair noticed me first, and I held up a finger to my lips, silently telling him not to say a word. He grinned, and I heard his girl pal ask him what was so funny. He just shook his head, shedding glitter, and began talking about the last crazy party he’d gone to and how he’d ended up walking home shirtless and barefoot. It sounded like something I could imagine him doing.
I was right behind Poppy before the Goth girl’s eyes fixed on me, but Alistair elbowed her discreetly just as she was about to warn Poppy. Alistair kept talking, waving his arm distractingly, until the second I yelled, “Boo!”
Much to my disappointment, Poppy didn’t as much as flinch. She didn’t scream, yelp, or spin around to hit me for trying to scare the crap out of her. She just slowly spun on her heel and looked up at me with one eyebrow arched, putting her hands on her hips. I frowned, shoulders slumping.
How did she know I was there? I was totally silent under the noise of the party in the trees.
“Hello Anson. I was starting to worry you weren’t coming,” she said calmly, a smile tugging at her lips.
I scowled. “How did you know I was there?” I asked stupidly, shoving my hands into my jeans pockets and stepping around her to join the small circle.
She just shrugged, smiling slightly mystifyingly up at me. Alistair raised his hand in that wave-salute he always gave me, and I grinned at him.
“You look beautiful, Alistair. The glitter really suits you,” I observed.
He shot me the finger, and his girl buddy giggled.
In an astounding show of manners, Alistair turned to his friend and flashed a winning smile. “Anson, this is my girlfriend, Miranda. Mimi, this is Anson.” He introduced me with a kind of significance in his voice, and I watched Miranda’s black-lined eyes widen.
A surprising grin spread over her lips, which were coated in bright red lipstick. I got the distinct feeling Alistair had been talking to her about me, though what he might have been saying, I couldn’t guess. Whatever it was, it caused Miranda to throw her arms around me, nearly knocking me off my feet in my shock. I raised my brows at Alistair over her dark head, and he just grinned at me.
“You are a legend,” Miranda said, finally releasing me from her crushing hug.
I stepped back. Beside me, Poppy snickered and I glanced at her. She was looking at my back, and I realised I had probably just been glittered, too. Miranda lifted her little black plastic bucket of glitter, shrugged apologetically, and skipped off into the trees, throwing handfuls of glitter behind her like a gothic fairy in a corset.
Alistair watched her go with a careless grin on his face. I would have said he was smitten, but he’d have punched me if I had, so instead I just mocked him internally. With his pierced brow and ears loaded with hoops and studs, the tender smile looked out of place on his face.
“Do I want to know why I’m a legend?” I asked, distracting him.
Poppy was the one who answered me. “Because you’re you. Isn’t that reason enough?” She whirled around behind me and started brushing the glitter off the back of my leather jacket.
Alistair raised his brows in a look that I deciphered easily as, You hear that, dude? I think she likes you. I rolled my eyes at him, trying to ignore the goosebumps running up my spine with every brush of Poppy’s hands.
When she was done, she linked her arm though mine, and for the first time that night, I checked out what she was wearing. I wasn’t disappointed. As usual, she was dressed differently from all the other girls, who were wearing scraps of clothing, despite the fact it had to be maybe seventeen degrees in the trees where the wind and chill couldn’t reach.
Instead of a miniskirt, Poppy was wearing denim shorts that came almost to her knees, but what I could see of her legs was smooth, pale skin over shapely muscle. On top, she had on a chequered red-and-black shirt with silver poppers and three-quarter length sleeves. The top popper was left undone, showing a wide V of skin and a portion of the tops of her breasts that I thought she was unaware was in view. Her feet were secured inside her usual black boots, which was a smart fashion choice considering the designated party venue. All in all, she looked a hell of a lot like a sweet cowgirl, and I tried to remember if I’d ever had any fantasies about cowgirls. If I hadn’t, I certainly would now.
“Uh, Anson,” Alistair nudged me.
I blinked, flushing as I realised I’d been staring at Poppy. Thankfully, I didn’t think she’d noticed because she was gazing off into the trees with a pensive expression. When I asked if she was sure she wanted to go to the party, her pensiveness disappeared, and she grabbed my wrist to pull me into the trees.
Alistair followed close behind us. He asked, as we wound between the black trees and ducked under spindly branches, “Dude, why have you got your schoolbag? Please don’t tell me you’re planning on doing homework while you’re here” His tone was agonised, as if the very thought of homework wounded him.
I laughed and glanced at him over my shoulder. In the black shadows under the umbrella of fresh leaves overhead, he was hardly visible in his all black outfit. “Actually, I was wondering if you guys might help me with something.” I grinned. Talking to Alistair, I said, “Do you remember that prank I pulled at Mason’s birthday party in March? The one with the marshmallows and cotton wool?”
Poppy looked back at me with a warily curious expression, and I shook my head at her. She got the message, Don’t even ask, you don’t want to know, and pulled a faux-scared face. With a snort, Alistair chuckled.
He snapped off a branch that tried to hit him in the face. Up ahead, we could see the glow of the bonfire, and the cheering and music was so loud that we had to yell to hear each other. “Oh, aye,” he said, “I remember. I haven’t eaten marshmallows since.” Then he paused and seemed to pick up on what I was getting at. I felt him
prodding at my schoolbag with nervous fingers. “Oh, no. You’ve got something planned for tonight, don’t you? Just tell me it doesn’t involve food or paint and I’m in.”
“No food or paint. Glow-sticks, masks, and Jake,” I assured him.
Poppy was darting through the trees amazingly fast, dragging me along with her, and I kept tripping. How she could see where she was putting her feet in this darkness, I didn’t know.
“Poppy, are you in?” I asked her, shouting over the pulsing music. It was some headache-inducing dance beat that shook the tree branches. The ground was practically vibrating.
Finally, we broke out of the trees into a large clearing full of sweating, dancing teens. The area smelled like booze, burning wood, dirt, and evergreens. A huge bonfire roared in the centre of the clearing, and a few guys from the football team were dancing around it shirtless, shaking sticks in the air and howling. Grey smoke curled up from the crackling gold flames. The bright fire was painful to look at, smoulderingly hot, but mesmerising. The way the flames snaked and writhed together, spitting up sparks like orange venom, was hypnotic. Large logs had been dragged from the surrounding area and placed around the fire, and people were roasting marshmallows on sticks over it.
Couples were pressed together and wrapped around each other, making out in the open for all to see. One guy had his hand under his girlfriend’s skirt. Another was blatantly undoing buttons on a girl’s shirt behind a tree. I looked away, shaking my head in disgust. Then I saw Jake and his buddies, beer cans in hand, laughing on the other side of the bonfire.
Jake had his arm around Lacey, who was wearing a top that showed her midriff and good amount of her cleavage. There was a stick of rolled white paper in his hand that was undoubtedly filled with pot, and he raised it to his mouth, the tip glowing red as he sucked on it. A satisfied smile touched my lips. Jake had already set the first part of my plan in motion without even knowing. Now I just needed to set up the rest and find a way to lure him away from his friends.