Poppy's Garden

by Holly Webb

  He even had the same Cam Morris book as Poppy’s mum and he snorted disgustedly when Poppy showed it to him, looking at him worriedly to see if he thought she’d “borrowed” too much.

  “It’s nothing like yours!” he told her indignantly. “Do you know, I’m worried that Ali’s going to end up running the country one day. She seems to be able to twist all of you round her little finger.”

  “You know you wanted it to be more exciting?” Izzy said thoughtfully, leaning over Poppy’s shoulder.

  Poppy looked up at her hopefully.

  “In that video, Cam Morris talked about everybody being able to help in the garden, and get involved, and do stuff. I mean, there’s lots to look at, and smell, and touch, and it’s beautiful, but do you think it would help if there were things we could do?”

  Poppy nodded, frowning. “It would. What, though? I can’t think of anything…”

  “What about a weather station?” Izzy asked hopefully. She was really into science, and loved experiments. She had the biggest chemistry set Poppy had ever seen. “We could even build the instruments ourselves – I know a website. There’s a cool wind vane you can make out of old DVDs…”

  “None of my DVDs count as old,” her dad said quickly. “And actually, I’ve got another idea. I know you’ve got herbs in the garden for the Taste section, Poppy, but what about vegetables too? And fruit! You’ve got a lovely south-facing wall here, look. You could even have a peach tree growing up there!”

  “Do you think school would use the vegetables in our school lunches?” Poppy asked, her eyes widening hopefully.

  Izzy frowned. “We’d have to have ever such a lot for that. But if we grew salad, I bet that would be useful.”

  “It’s worth trying anyway,” her dad mused. “Growing your own’s a really interesting idea. Lots of schools are putting in gardens now. Since Jamie Oliver made all those TV programmes about how bad school meals were, schools are trying really hard with their lunches. Some nice fresh salad would be great. And I’m sure they could use your herbs too, Poppy. And you could try to grow everything organically.”

  Poppy nodded slowly. “I was thinking about that. It sounds good, not having any chemicals, but what if bugs just eat everything we plant? Mum tried to grow broad beans last year, and in the end she just pulled them up. They had these disgusting little black flies all over them. All over! They were covered.”

  Izzy’s dad sighed. “Tell me about it. It’s so difficult. I’ve started suggesting to people that they put ponds in their gardens if they want to grow fruit and veg and not spray them with anything.”

  Poppy wrinkled her nose and Izzy stared at her dad. “What good does a pond do?” she demanded.

  Poppy smiled down at her garden design. She was glad Izzy didn’t know either. She hadn’t felt like asking in case it made her sound stupid.

  “Frogs.” Izzy’s dad folded his arms and grinned at them. “Think about it.”

  “Oh!” Poppy looked up. “They eat the flies? Really? Does it make a difference?”

  “Well, it helps a bit. It’s still a problem though. You have to be really watchful and sneaky. Planting marigolds round your tomatoes, that sort of thing. Pests don’t like marigolds. Or basil! You can plant basil next to your tomatoes to keep flies off, and then you’ve got tomato and basil soup.” He beamed at them, obviously thinking he was being very funny.

  Izzy rolled her eyes at him, but Poppy chewed her pencil thoughtfully and frowned down at her design. “It’s an awful lot to remember. I don’t think we have to work out the exact plants we want to use now though. It’s more like the shape of the garden. We could put vegetables here…” she murmured, pointing at the Taste section. “Peach tree up against this wall… Maybe even a little greenhouse in the corner here!” she added hopefully. “And the weather station bits wouldn’t need a whole lot of space, would they?” she asked Izzy.

  “Oh, no. You could put that wind vane on a pole anywhere,” Izzy agreed. “And a rain gauge wouldn’t take much space either. You could explain that you’re having them so that people in the school can take measurements every day. And they’d help with growing food – we’d know how much rain there’d been, and so whether we needed to water the plants.”

  “Yes, but wouldn’t we just know if it had been raining?” Poppy asked, and Izzy’s dad snorted with laughter.

  “She’s got a point, Iz.”

  “It isn’t the same as being scientific about it,” Izzy said firmly.

  “I can’t look…” Poppy muttered, staring down at the table. “Are loads of people giving their designs in?”

  “Nope.” Izzy shook her head. “Hardly any. I’ve got mine, and there’s Nick, and Lara; we knew about them already. And Ali, of course. Looks like Lucy and Elspeth didn’t dare do their own. Molly, Tilda – oh, and Jake. I wouldn’t have thought he’d enter. But that’s all. So, eight from our class. Maybe fifty or sixty from the whole school?”

  Poppy blinked. Izzy was unfairly quick at working things like that out.

  Emily leaned over. “No, all of Year Three had to enter – Mrs Taggart made them. Toby was throwing a wobbly about it. But you needn’t worry, Poppy. Toby’s design was a line of toilets, with flowers in.”

  That made Poppy look up. “Why?”

  “Oh, there’s a house round the corner from us in the village with a toilet full of flowers. James and Toby think it’s the funniest thing ever, so he thought school would like a loo garden too. Honestly, Poppy, yours deserves to win.”

  Poppy smiled at her. “If it does, Izzy and her dad have won too. They gave me loads of ideas.”

  “Don’t start stressing about whether you copied it again!” Izzy told her sternly. “We’ll all scream.”

  “I promise,” Poppy said meekly. “And if Ali says anything I’ll just pretend I can’t hear her.”

  It was a good thing that Poppy had decided just to ignore Ali, because two weeks later Mrs Angel announced in assembly that Poppy’s design had been chosen as the school entry. Mrs Brooker in the office had had Poppy’s design blown up to poster size, and there was a big display all about the competition in the main corridor on the way in, where all the parents could see it.

  Ali was spitting.

  “I reckon Mrs Brooker needs a security camera on that poster,” Emily said thoughtfully, the morning after the announcement. The whole class had gone through the main corridor on the way to IT, and Ali had glared at the poster hatefully.

  “She did look as though she fancied shredding it to bits with her nails,” Maya agreed. “If anything does happen to it, we so know who it was.”

  Poppy shivered. “She keeps giving me the meanest looks. I’m really glad the design’s all sent off now. I mean, there’s nothing she can do about it.”

  Izzy nodded slowly. “Ye-e-es… But just remember how horrible she was before – how much she got to you.”

  “Izzy! Don’t be such a gloom!” Emily snapped.

  Izzy shrugged. “I’m not trying to be. I just think Poppy needs to be careful,” she argued, wriggling round to look at Emily. They were all sitting squashed up together on one of the playground benches at lunchtime. It was the middle of April now, and the weather was finally getting a bit warmer. It was warm enough to sit still, anyway.

  “Oh no…” Poppy muttered. “Look, it’s like we called her over or something. We shouldn’t talk about her, ever!”

  Ali was stalking towards them, flanked by Lucy and Elspeth, as always.

  “Did your mum ever do anything about making Mrs Angel have a meeting with her parents?” Izzy whispered.

  “No, I talked her out of it,” Poppy whispered back, out of the side of her mouth. “I said I was really tired and I’d just taken what Ali said the wrong way. She knew how late I was up that night, so she gave in. I had to stop her – Mrs Angel’s like a demon for people twisting the truth. She’d have worked it all out, and then it would have been awful.”

  “I suppose you think you’re really
clever?” Ali snarled as soon as she got close to them. She’d obviously been working up to this ever since she found out she hadn’t won. She was white in the face, and her eyes were slitted with fury.

  “She is, actually,” Maya said, smiling sweetly at Ali. “A lot cleverer than you, anyway.”

  “Everyone knows you cheated,” Ali snapped, ignoring Maya. Since she’d found out that Maya’s mum was famous, she always tried to keep on her good side, so she just pretended she hadn’t heard.

  Poppy flinched a little, but she just stared back at Ali. “I didn’t,” she said flatly.

  Ali seemed rather surprised. Perhaps she’d been expecting Poppy to protest, or maybe cry. Such a matter-of-fact denial wasn’t what she wanted at all.

  “You did,” she said half-heartedly.

  Poppy and the others just stared at her. Poppy could feel Izzy on one side of her and Maya on the other. Izzy was so furious she was actually trembling, practically vibrating with crossness. Poppy could almost feel her saying, Ignore her! Ignore her! She’s just horrible. And it helped. She simply stared blankly back at Ali and didn’t say anything.

  Ali glared at them all, going whiter than ever, so that little red patches showed up on her cheekbones. Poppy knew from arguing with Alex and Jake that there was nothing more annoying than people refusing to join in an argument when you really wanted to yell at them. For a moment she almost felt sorry for Ali, who’d clearly worked herself up to have a massive, blazing row. But only almost.

  “Don’t sit there looking so smug,” Ali snarled. “You cheated, and I should have won. I definitely should.” Then the fury melted out of her face – it was quite horrible to watch, as though she was wax, and the frown lines just melted away. They were replaced with a very sweet, very nasty smile. “You’ll wish I had. You really will, Poppy.” She giggled. “We’ll get you back in your own way too.”

  Poppy had tried her best not to worry about what Ali had said, but it was tricky. She’d looked so spooky, with her white face and her eyes all glittery like that. And what had she meant about getting Poppy back in her own way? It was eerie. Even Emily, who was usually unfazed by Ali’s nastiness, said it had sent shivers down her spine.

  Poppy couldn’t help glancing round at Ali and Lucy and Elspeth every so often for the rest of the day. But they just smirked at her, and it left her feeling edgier than ever. She was glad that it was a Thursday, and there was only one more day of school before the weekend. Perhaps Ali would forget about it?

  “She’s not giving you funny looks any more.” Izzy muttered before school the next morning. “Actually…”

  “What?” Poppy asked anxiously, trying to look at Ali without being obvious. Izzy sounded oddly surprised.

  “She looks quite pleased about something. Maybe she’s given up being annoyed about the garden thing!”

  “I hope so,” Poppy agreed, feeling a lot better. “After all, just because I won our school’s competition, it doesn’t mean anything! Thousands of schools are going to enter!” The strange sinking feeling in her stomach eased away and Poppy suddenly wished she’d eaten more breakfast. She was starving now. Luckily Mum had made her a huge packed lunch as usual, so she got her lunchbox out and grabbed an apple, biting into it quickly before the bell went.

  Still, the apple didn’t make up for her usual toast, even when she always had to fight it out of the hands of Jake and Alex, who could easily eat a whole loaf between them at breakfast. Poppy practically dragged Izzy and the others into the lunch room, and dived gratefully into their class box to grab her lunch. “I’m so hungry…” she moaned, pulling out her sandwiches.

  “Yeah, we saw you chewing on your pencil all the way through IT,” Emily agreed. “I thought you were going to eat the whole thing.”

  “It’s all in my teeth,” Poppy admitted, shuddering.

  Maya sniggered. “Maybe you’ll come up with an amazing new remedy. Lead – it must be really good for something.”

  “Actually, lead’s poisonous,” Izzy pointed out. “But it’s OK, Poppy,” she added quickly, seeing Poppy go white. “They don’t actually put lead in pencils. They never did. The grey bit’s made of graphite.”

  Poppy didn’t say anything. She just kept staring into her lunchbox, her cheese and dandelion sandwich halfway to her mouth.

  “Honestly.” Izzy gazed at her worriedly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. There really isn’t anything poisonous in pencils, I promise.”

  “You didn’t upset me,” Poppy whispered. She pushed her lunchbox across the table towards Izzy and Maya, who were sitting opposite. “Look.”

  “Your lunch can’t be that bad,” Emily said, leaning over to see. “And if you will get your mum to make you those stupid sandwiches, you can’t really complain. Did you get a slug in one?” Then she frowned, her nose wrinkling. “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know,” Poppy whispered, watching wide-eyed as Izzy lifted out the little clay figure. It looked like it was made of that special modelling clay you could bake in the oven. It came in lots of bright colours. She’d got some somewhere…

  “Did – did your mum put that in?” Maya asked, looking confused.

  “No!” Poppy said, in horror. “Of course she didn’t! Why would she?” She swallowed, gulping in a breath. “And it wasn’t there this morning when I got my apple out,” she added.

  The four of them stared at the little figure lying on the table. It looked a tiny bit like Poppy – as much a clay figure that was only about five centimetres high could. It had longish, yellowish-brown hair, with a few blue and green streaks. It could almost have been cute, except that the mouth was much too big for the face, and it was wide open, with nasty little teeth modelled out of white bits of clay all round the edges. It was either shouting at somebody, or crying. It was horrible.

  “Someone made that of me,” Poppy whispered. “It’s one of those things you stick pins in. I can’t believe someone did that…”

  “Someone!” Maya exploded. “We know exactly who!” She nodded across the room at Ali’s table. She and Lucy and Elspeth had chosen to sit very close, funnily enough. They were staring at Poppy over their sandwiches, smirking. Until Miss Grace walked past on lunch duty, and they suddenly looked all angelic.

  Izzy nodded. “We can’t prove it though. And they’d never admit it. Are you OK, Poppy? Do you want to go and tell someone?”

  Poppy shook her head. “What good would that do? You’re right, we can’t prove it was Ali.”

  Emily was frowning. “Are we sure it was her though?”

  “Who else would do something like that to Poppy?” Izzy asked her.

  “Mmm. I know. But Ali’s never been into – you know. Spells and witchy stuff. Has she? When Maisie had that stupid book all about spells last year, Ali told her she was totally thick and it was all rubbish. So why would she start doing that stuff now?”

  Maya shrugged. “Since when has she ever behaved like a normal person?”

  Poppy zipped her lunchbox shut and put it on the floor by her feet, leaving the figure lying in the centre of the table, until Izzy put a piece of kitchen foil over it and scrunched it up in her hand. Even though it was just modelling clay, no one wanted to touch it.

  “Shall I throw it away?” Izzy asked, and Poppy nodded, watching her as she threaded her way across the dining hall to the bins.

  “Aren’t you going to eat your lunch?” Izzy asked when she got back.

  “I’m not really hungry any more,” Poppy said, her voice very small.

  “You were starving,” Maya reminded her gently. “Do you want one of my sandwiches?”

  Poppy looked at her gratefully. “I know it’s stupid. It just feels like everything in my lunch is sort of…”

  “Spoiled,” Izzy agreed, nodding. “Look. Chocolate fingers.” She passed half her packet over to Poppy, and Emily gave her some cheese cubes.

  “I still don’t understand why she’s doing it,” Emily muttered. “It works though, doesn’t it? I wouldn�
��t eat your lunch either. Maybe tomorrow you’d better keep it in your rucksack.”

  “Ali could still get at it,” Poppy murmured. “If she tried hard enough.”

  “I shouldn’t think she’d do the same thing again,” Izzy said thoughtfully. “She’s too clever.” She shrugged as they all stared at her. “She actually is. She may be mean, but you’ve got to admit, she’s very, very good at being horrible. Isn’t she?”

  Poppy giggled. “I suppose she is.” She sighed. “Ali’s going to do something else then, you reckon?”

  Izzy gave her an apologetic look. “Um, probably. But it’s all stupid. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Even if there was such a thing as magic, Ali definitely can’t do it,” Maya said firmly.

  “And there isn’t,” Emily said, elbowing her.

  “Of course there isn’t!” Maya added quickly.

  “I know,” Poppy agreed, but she didn’t feel as sure as she wished she did.

  They finished their lunches quickly – no one felt very hungry any more, somehow – and headed out to the playground, where they huddled up thoughtfully on the grassy bank in the sun.

  “I keep looking round for Ali,” Poppy muttered, peering across the playground.

  “Mmmm, I know…” Izzy ageed. Then she grinned and nudged Poppy with her elbow. “Just try and think of her as a witch like the one in The Wizard of Oz. All green and with a really huge pointy nose.”

  Maya nodded. “Or isn’t there a story about a witch who had chicken’s feet? Ali would look great with little scaly chicken legs.”

  They kept swapping stories about uglier, nastier witches until the bell went, and Poppy was starting to feel quite cheered up. It helped that Ali hadn’t come anywhere near them since they left the dining hall. They hadn’t even seen her.

  But then as they got up to go back into school, she suddenly popped up out of nowhere – and Poppy was so jumpy that it almost seemed like magic. She was suddenly there, looking worryingly happy. She smiled sweetly at Poppy and said, “Just stand still!”