Dear Poppy

by Ronni Arno

  “Oh hey, Poopy.” Kathryn sits down next to me, with Emily hovering over us. “Really sorry about what happened to your locker.” Fake smile.

  I ignore her and keep reading.

  “Britt can be really harsh. You have to be careful around her.”

  I don’t look up.

  “And just so you know, trying to be friends with Britt just to get closer to Brody won’t work. He doesn’t even like her. Nobody likes her.”

  I snap my head up. “I like her.”

  “I don’t know why, after what she did to your locker.” Kathryn winks at me and stands up. She and Emily giggle all the way to the back of the bus.

  I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears, and I’m pretty sure my entire face is purple. If I wasn’t completely sure before, I’m sure now. Britt didn’t do this.

  It was Kathryn.

  I’m so angry that I don’t notice that Brody’s stopped at my seat.

  “You okay?” he asks. “Your face is really red.”

  I pull at the collar of my shirt. “It’s hot in here.”

  “Brody!” Kathryn calls from her seat. “Come sit with us!”

  Brody looks up and waves. “Well, see you later, then.”

  “Yep.” I don’t even look up.

  Once the bus starts moving, I remind the bus driver that I’ll be going straight home today. When the bus stops in front of my house, I bolt down the steps and out the door before anyone can say anything.

  I trudge down the driveway, but feel lighter with every step I take. It’s the beginning of spring break. I can be normal for a whole week.

  “Dad,” I call as I hang my backpack up on the wall hook in the mudroom. “I’m home!”

  “In the kitchen,” Dad says. Something smells awesome, and I wonder if he’s experimenting with new recipes again. I’m beginning to really like New Dad.

  “What smells so—”

  My Dad’s wearing his REAL MEN COOK apron. And there’s some woman standing next to him, holding a bag of kale.

  “Hi, Poppy,” Dad says, taking the bag of kale from the woman and putting it on the counter. “This is Mrs. Woodruff.”

  “Griffin-Woodruff,” the lady corrects him, then walks over to me, sticking out her hand. “But you can call me Tammy.”

  “Uhhhhh, hi.” I shake her hand. She smiles at me, but it’s the kind of smile that only shows in her mouth and never reaches her eyes, which I notice, are the same color as a lizard’s.

  “This is Kathryn’s mom,” Dad says. “She’s helping me with dinner.”

  “Oh.” I shove my hands in the pocket of my jeans. “That’s nice.”

  Tammy looks me up and down, and then tilts her head. “You look so much like your mother.”

  “What?” It comes out as a whisper.

  “Oh, your mother and I were good friends when we were kids.”

  “You—you were?” I stammer.

  “Oh yes, she was lovely.” She gives me another smile—the kind that doesn’t quite reach her lizard eyes.

  And then it hits me.

  Tammy Griffin-Woodruff.

  Tammy Griffin.

  Tammy.

  This is the Tammy from Mom’s letters.

  The one who made Mom miserable.

  CHAPTER

  14

  “WELL,” DAD SAYS. “WITH TAMMY’S help, we should have quite the amazing dinner tonight.”

  “She’s not staying, is she?” Ugh. Did I just say that out loud? Dad does a double take, apparently as surprised as I am that I said that out loud.

  “I mean, uhhhhh, is she staying for dinner? Tonight?” I give my best fake smile.

  “Not tonight.” Dad smiles at Tammy, sufficiently satisfied with my cover-up. “We ran into each other at the grocery store. When I mentioned that I’ve been cooking, Tammy offered to help teach me a few things.”

  “Careful she didn’t sneak some cow pies in there,” I say under my breath.

  “What was that?” Dad asks.

  I clear my throat. “I said, hopefully she’ll sneak some good pies in there.”

  “Oh, I have some great pie recipes.” Tammy beams.

  I nod. “I’ll bet.”

  “I have a great idea,” Tammy says. “Why don’t I bring some over next weekend? Maybe Saturday night?”

  “Saturday night?” My voice sounds much higher than normal.

  “That’s perfect!” I swear Dad is floating at least three inches off the floor. “Why don’t you bring Kathryn with you to dinner?”

  A gurgling noise comes from somewhere deep in my chest, and I start to cough. And cough.

  “You okay, Poppy?” Dad asks.

  “Yeah.” I pat my chest in between coughs. “Fine.”

  “That’s so nice of you to invite her, David,” Tammy says. David? Who calls my dad David? Everyone calls him Dave. “But she’ll be at her dad’s next weekend.”

  I cough again.

  “She’ll be so sorry to miss the opportunity to spend some time with you, Poppy.” Tammy’s lower lip juts out in the same pouty-face style as Kathryn’s. I try to fake a smile, but my mouth only twitches.

  Tammy packs her cooking supplies into a pink-and-green quilted paisley cooler bag.

  “Let me help you with that,” Dad says.

  “Thank you, David.” Tammy touches Dad’s hand.

  I think I might throw up.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Dad says.

  “It was so wonderful to meet you, Poppy. You’re every bit as lovely as Kathryn said you were.” Tammy’s lizard eyes stare at me, and I can’t help but think she’s going to stick a pointed tongue out next. “I’ll see you next week.”

  “See you next week,” I mumble, and then she follows Dad to the front door. Apparently Tammy’s too good to use the side door like the rest of us.

  I sit down at the kitchen table, trying to take in what just happened.

  Is Tammy, Mom’s biggest arch nemesis, Dad’s new girlfriend?

  If so, Dad’s in even bigger trouble than I am.

  Tammy is a big, fat liar, just like her daughter is. Tammy was not Mom’s friend when they were my age. She was her enemy. I have to let Dad know, but how? I can’t tell him about the letters. What if he takes them away from me? I can’t risk not having them—not having Mom—in my life.

  I hear the front door open, and Dad floats back into the kitchen. He sits down in the chair next to mine.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I shrug.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect that Tammy would still be here when you got home from school. Guess we lost track of time.” Dad plays with his wedding ring, which he still wears after all these years.

  I don’t say anything.

  “That’s not how I wanted you to meet her. I wanted you to have more time to get used to the idea of, you know, me dating.”

  “It’s not that,” I say. “Even though that is pretty gross.”

  Dad laughs. “Then what’s bothering you?”

  “It’s just that . . .” I take a deep breath. “I don’t think Kathryn is as nice as she seems.”

  Dad frowns. “Why do you say that?”

  “She just . . . she seems kinda fake. And what if her mom’s fake too?”

  “Well.” Dad leans back in his chair. “I think it takes some time to get to know people. So that’s what we have to do. Let’s get to know them. Both of them.”

  “I’m not sure I want to get to know Kathryn any better, Dad.”

  “It’s only been a few days, Poppy.”

  His tone of voice tells me the conversation is over. At least I know there’s still a little bit of Old Dad left.

  I spend the week of spring break reading about roses. It rains almost every day, so there’s not much I can do but read about them. Not that I’d know what to do even if it was sunny outside, but I know I have to do something. After five days with my nose in the books, I decide I need to be more proactive.

  I find the EVMS directory in the drawer next
to the phone in the kitchen. I pull it out and page through it until I get to the Fs.” I find the number I’m looking for, take a deep breath, and dial.

  Ring. Ring. Maybe nobody’s home. Ring.

  “Hello?” I’m about to hang up when I hear a voice on the other end of the line.

  “Hi. Brody?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, hey. It’s Poppy.” I swallow hard.

  “Hey, Poppy. How’s your spring break going?”

  “Pretty quiet. You?”

  “Same.”

  “So, uhhhh.” I start pacing in the kitchen. “I was wondering. Remember when I was at your house and you and Britt said you might be able to help me start my garden?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Would you guys maybe want to come over tomorrow?” I hold my breath.

  “Oh, we can’t tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” I feel like I was punched in the stomach, and all the air is forced out of my lungs. “That’s okay. I know you’re really busy and—”

  “How about Saturday?”

  “Saturday?”

  “Yeah,” Brody says. “We can come over on Saturday. We have dentist appointments tomorrow.”

  “Really?” I can breathe again. “That’s great. I mean, it’s not great that you have to go to the dentist, but—”

  Brody laughs.

  “So, then, I’ll see you guys on Saturday.”

  “See you then.”

  I hang up and do a happy dance around the kitchen. I twirl over to the window that faces the backyard and look outside. Soon, roses will be blooming by the boatload.

  And I don’t care what anyone says. I know that Mom will make sure they’re ready for the 4-H fair.

  CHAPTER

  15

  EVEN THOUGH I DIDN’T SET my alarm, I get up right before six thirty. It’s just getting light out, and I stumble over to my dresser and pull out the next letter. I bring it back to bed with me, crawl under the covers, and open it.

  A piece of paper comes tumbling out, landing on my bed. I pick it up. It’s a movie ticket stub. I hold it in my hand while I start reading.

  May 4, 1985

  Dear Poppy,

  What a roller- coaster week! Where to begin?! I guess I’ll start at the beginning. . . .

  I went back to the library to look for THE CARE AND KEEPING OF ROSES when I ran into Brian at the checkout counter! He noticed I was holding a gardening book, so we got to talking. I told him my leaves were looking yellow, and he asked me if I’d tested the soil. I hadn’t, so he offered to come over to help. He said he owed me one after I helped him find the Abe Lincoln book.

  So yesterday, Brian came over, and as it turns out . . . my soil was too alkaline. Who knew? Brian knew, that’s who!

  After we added garden sulfur to the soil, he asked me if I wanted to go see THE BREAKFAST CLUB, which is playing at the Dollar Theatre in Winslow. Mom agreed to drive, and Brian and I went ON A DATE!!!!!!!! We didn’t hold hands or anything, but it was just the two of us and a big bucket of popcorn. Oh, THE BREAKFAST CLUB was soooooooo good. It’s about a bunch of kids who would never get to meet if it weren’t for a Saturday-morning detention, and they all find out they have more in common than they think. Kind of like Brian and me! I didn’t even know he knew anything about gardening until we started talking, but it turns out his Mom’s a big gardener.

  So that was the up part of the roller coaster. Now comes the downside. . . .

  Tammy found out that Brian helped me with my roses, and she’ll never let me hear the end of it. She told me that even if I win the 4-H fair, it won’t count, because I didn’t do the work myself. And then, to make things even worse, “someone” (I’m sure it was Tammy!!!!) took my brand-new Reeboks out of my locker just before gym and smeared dog poop all over the soles. So of course, when I put them on, I unknowingly tracked dog poop all through the locker room and out into the gym. Mrs. Kahill FREAKED OUT. She made all of us check our shoes and when she learned it was me, she screamed at me in front of the entire class. It was SOOOOOOO embarrassing. Tammy and Kelly just laughed and laughed.

  Of course I can’t prove it was them, but who else would do something like that? I know for sure there wasn’t dog poop on my shoes when I put them in my locker. They were brand-new! I’d never even worn them before!

  So between this, and all of the other reasons that I’m sure you already know, I definitely have to beat Tammy in the 4-H fair. Someone’s got to show her that she can’t be the biggest scuzzball of the universe and get away with it.

  Just a few more weeks till the fair . . . when Tammy will be kicked off her throne (or is it thorn? hee hee ) of roses!

  Until next week.

  Love & friendship always & forever,

  Daphne

  I read the letter again, just to be sure it said what I think it said.

  Yep.

  Dog poop.

  Now I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Kathryn is the one who put the cow manure in the locker. That family has a penchant for poop.

  But now I have to find a way to prove it. And I have to find a way to warn my dad.

  I grab my notebook and pen and start writing.

  Dear Mom,

  Okay, now I’m really freaked out.

  But I think I know why you’re telling me this. You know it was Tammy who pulled the poop prank on you, just like I know it was Kathryn who pulled the poop prank on me. You’re trying to warn me, aren’t you?

  Don’t worry. I got the message loud and clear. I’ll find a way to prove that both Tammy and Kathryn aren’t who they pretend to be. And I’ll get Dad to see it too.

  I can’t believe Brian helped you with your roses, because Brody is coming over today to help me start my rose garden! Well, Britt and Brody. But still! The garden will be in the exact same place yours was, and the roses will be awesome! With your help, I’ll bet they might even be ready for the 4-H fair, even though everyone tells me roses don’t grow that fast. But most people don’t have their Mom’s spirit to help speed things up. . . .

  Speaking of Brody, I don’t understand why he can’t see how Kathryn really is. Britt sure knows it.

  Also speaking of Brody (and I just realized as I’m writing this), Brian helped you with your garden and Brody’s helping me with mine . . . and Brian and Brody both start with the letter B!

  I’m not sure what you’re orchestrating from up there, but I’m so happy we’re going through this together.

  I never heard of THE BREAKFAST CLUB, but it sounds cool. Maybe I’ll see if I can find it on Netflix.

  Love ya,

  Poppy

  PS: Dad’s been cooking lately. Did you know Dad even knew how to cook?!

  I put the letters away, get dressed, and slowly open my bedroom door. I’m the only one awake, which means I have the house to myself. This reminds me of the city days. I’d spend hours alone, and I’m surprised to find that I don’t really miss that time.

  I go downstairs to the kitchen and pull out the books on roses that I took out of the library. After about an hour of leafing through them, I pour myself a bowl of cereal. I’m not sure if New Dad cooks breakfast during spring break.

  Dad stumbles into the kitchen at around ten a.m.

  “Good morning, Poppy.” He yawns. “Did you eat?”

  “Yep. Hours ago.”

  “That’s good.” Dad gets the coffee going. “Is Troy up?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Whatcha reading?” Dad sits down next to me and the kitchen starts to smell like coffee.

  I show him the book cover. “So you’re really serious about this gardening stuff, huh?”

  “Yes.” I sit up taller. “I am.”

  “You know, Tammy’s quite the gardener. Maybe she can help—”

  “That’s okay.” I interrupt him. “I’ve got friends coming over tomorrow to help.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” Dad nods, but his smile fades, and he looks a little bummed that I don’t want help from Tammy.<
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  Dad gets up to pour his coffee, and I go back to my rose books. My head hurts from trying to decide if I want to grow my roses from seeds or cuttings, or if I want to plant them in containers first or straight into the ground. I close the book and rub my eyes, wondering if Mom had these same problems.

  The next morning, I get up extra early to clean my room. I have no idea if Britt and Brody are even going to see my room, but I want to be prepared.

  I’m leafing through my flower books when I hear the crunching of gravel on the driveway through the open window. I peek out the side door and see Britt and Brody lean their bicycles against the garage.

  “My friends are here,” I call out to Dad as I put my sneakers on.

  I step out the side door, and immediately feel the sun on my face. I squint. It’s the first real springlike day we’ve had since I got here.

  “Hi, guys.” I wave to Britt and Brody. Britt’s wearing a black T-shirt, but there’s no sign of the black bandanna.

  “Hey,” Brody says. “Can we leave our bikes here?”

  “Sure.” I walk over to the garage. “How long did it take you to ride here?”

  Britt shrugs. “Not long. Our mom’s working today, and anyway, it’s nice out.”

  “I haven’t been here in a long time.” Brody looks around and points to the field on the other side of the house. “That’s where the raspberries used to be.”

  “Yeah.” I can actually feel the little seeds between my teeth, and my mouth waters. “Maybe someday they’ll be there again.”

  Brody smiles. “Really? Your parents going to start the farm up again?”

  “Well, my dad wants to learn to farm.” I kick a big stone from the driveway. “But like me, he has a long way to go.”

  “What about your mom?” Brody asks.

  “Oh, I thought you knew.” I look down at the ground. “My mom died.”

  “Oh, wow,” Brody says. “I’m really sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago,” I say. “Five years, actually. I just thought you knew, you know, since you knew my grandparents.”

  “It’s probably been that long since we were here,” Brody says.