Chapter 2 #2
7 Years Old
“I hate you, Tanner! I hate you!” I scream as I run out the back gate of our garden and into the woods behind our house.
My big sister, Vi, is screaming for me to come back.
The way her voice sounds makes my chest hurt, but I don’t stop.
I can’t stop. I want to run until I disappear from the whole world.
After I run for a long time, the pain from my bloody nose starts to make me cough, so I stop and rest. I sit on a large tree I find that’s tipped over. I wipe my nose off with my sleeve. It hurts so much that my eyes water, but I’m not crying. I’m too mad to cry.
Tanner always makes me be the goalie. Then he waits until Vi’s not looking to kick the ball at me as hard as he can.
I hate him! One day, I’m going to be as big as Tanner and Camden, and I’m going to stop all their stupid balls from getting in the net so they never score a goal ever again.
Then they won’t be able to cheer like stupid monkeys.
“Stupid bloody Tanner,” I grind through my teeth.
“Bloody better describes that crud on your face.”
I jump up to my feet when I see a girl I know from school standing in front of me with a black dog next to her.
“What are you doing here?” I moan, out of breath from my run. I look all around to make sure no one else is here with her. If there are more girls from my class here, I’m going to kill Tanner.
“I could ask you the same thing.” She crosses her bony arms and wrinkles her nose at me. She’s dressed in a bright yellow sundress that’s covered in mud, and her long blonde hair is dirty and full of sticks and tangles. “You’re sitting on my stage.” She points to the tipped over tree.
“I’m not sitting anywhere.” I look behind me.
“Well, you were sitting on my singing stage.” She reaches down to pet her dog. “Me and Pink were getting ready to perform our third act of the day, but I had to take a piddle break.”
“What are you talking about? Who’s Pink?”
She rolls her eyes. “My dog. Duh.”
I look down at the black dog. “Your dog is black.”
Her eyes pop out of her head. Then she kneels down to cover the dog’s ears. He licks her cheek when she whispers loud enough for me to hear, “He doesn’t need to know that!”
I frown and start to walk away because this girl is weird.
“You’re in my class,” she says with a scratchy voice. I roll my eyes and keep walking. “We’re also neighbours,” she adds, and I stop to look at her again. “My house is on the other side of this park. Your house is right there.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
She shrugs. “We could be mates.”
“But you’re a girl.”
She squeals and quickly covers her own ears. “You’re spoiling all the best secrets today!”
Her funny face makes me laugh. It feels good to laugh. Tanner and Camden only make me mad. They always play too rough, and they are so fast that I can never catch them. Why do they always run from me?
This girl’s not running from me. She’s standing really still. I think I like her. I feel different around her, that’s for sure. She looks at me like she likes me, too. Not like I’m an annoying little brother.
“We could sing together,” she says, letting go of her ears and petting her dog with one hand.
“I don’t sing,” I grumble.
Her lips pucker like a fish. “Well, what do you like to do?”
I kick at a stick. “I like to build things sometimes.”
“Want to build a fort? I’ve been wanting to build a backstage, and you look like you’d be a very strong stagehand!”
I shrug my shoulders because she’s so annoying. “I am pretty strong.”
She smiles really big. “It shows. But first, do you mind if I sing while we build? I find singing soothes Pink’s troubled soul.”
“Erm…sure, fine.”
She hands me a stick. “I’m Poppy McAdams. It’s nice to meet you, Booker Harris.”
Just as I finish unloading the dishes into the cupboard, a loud crash rips me out of my walk down memory lane.
“Oh, cockwomble! What have I smashed?” A husky female voice comes from the hallway on the other side of my flat door. Camden, Tanner, and I stare at each other for a brief second before rushing toward the door to see what all the commotion is about.
My brothers get there first, blocking my view with their giant frames. I see a couple boxes tipped over on the landing—one open with the contents spilled out all over the place, including marbles that are rolling our way.
“Nobody move!” She sings the last word on a high note.
“We have marbles on the floor and professional athletes at bay. Save yourselves. I can handle—” Her scream echoes off the brick walls as another crash happens, followed by a small yelp of pain.
I can’t take another second of this, so I shove Camden and Tanner aside and walk out to see the mess.
Poppy McAdams is sprawled out on the tiled hallway floor, her legs at an angle that makes me cringe and her arms clutching a tackle box of some sort. My eyes move up her body because I haven’t seen her in so long. I have to do a double take to make sure it’s actually her.
“Help her up, Book,” Camden urges.
I quickly shake the stupor off my face and reach out to give her a hand. She stands slowly, avoiding my eyes as she surveys the mess and brushes the dirt off her cropped trousers.
Finally, with an exasperated sigh, she looks at me.
And even though I’m looking at her and I know she’s Poppy, she seems completely different.
Gone is her long, stringy blonde hair. Her silky, platinum blonde locks are now short on the back and sides but still have length on the top that sweeps stunningly across her forehead.
Never have I seen a short haircut make a girl look more feminine, but that’s exactly what this haircut has done.
Her cropped hair highlights her full lips and the arch of her cheekbones perfectly. She looks like a model.
My gaze drops to her body—once skinny and gangly and usually covered in dirt—and finds curves and angles where they’d never been before.
And her eyes…Even her eyes are different.
They’ve always been pretty, but somehow they grew into huge doe eyes.
They’re framed by impossibly long lashes, accentuating the green of them so much that they look almost inhuman.
“Booker!” She sings my name and reaches for me, nearly slipping again on a loose marble. I catch her in my arms and try to ignore the fact that she smells different as her hands wrap tightly behind my neck. “I can’t believe it’s been six years!”
My throat feels tight as I huff out an incredulous laugh. “Hiya, Poppy. I erm…hardly recognise you.”
“Oh, Book, it’s only a haircut.” She pulls back much too soon and whacks me on the chest like we see each other every day and the earth isn’t spinning off its axis right now.
“I’m the same old blundering mess I’ve always been.
” She looks past me, still gripping my arms for balance as she skates her way to the doorway.
“Well knock me over with a feather, look at the Harris Twins! All grown up and STD-free I assume since I hear you’re both off the market? ”
Cam and Tan chortle like morons. When she exchanges hugs with them, I take the opportunity to check out her backside because, well, I can’t help it, I’m still floored. She never had an arse like that in secondary school.
“You’ve come a long way from singing show tunes in the park, Pop,” Tanner says playfully as he ruffles her hair.
She beams. “Well, as you can see from the mess I’ve made, some things never change.” She looks Tanner up and down and gives his beard a tug. “I’d say you’ve come a long way from shagging girls that snuck in through the conservatory.”
“Camden did that, too!” Tanner defends, his hand against his chest in mock insult.
Camden’s got his flirty voice on thick when he adds, “Had we known you’d grow up to be such a fox, we would have kept a closer watch on you.”
He winks and Poppy’s throaty laugh pierces through my chest. Annoyance creeps over me as I watch my two brothers blatantly flirt with her. It reminds me of all the other times in my life when they took the spotlight and left me in the shadows.
My voice is gruff when I interrupt. “If you two are done sexually harassing Poppy, maybe you could grab me a broom to clean up this mess.”
Poppy’s big round eyes slant in sympathy. “Sorry about all this, Booker. I guess it’s good I leave the fancy footwork to you guys.”
Camden returns and hands a broom over to me. “No worries, Pop. It’s the strikers who have the golden feet, not the keeper. We’ll let Booker clean this up while Tan and I help you with the rest of your stuff.”
Poppy tries to argue, but the two idiots are already ushering her carefully over the marbles and down the stairs before I have a chance to catch a second glance of her.
That reunion did not go at all as I expected.