When We Were Wildflowers

Chapter 4 - Going Fishing

It may be early morning, but it's hot. Texas hot. Blazing sunshine, sweltering humidity and the distinct possibility my shoes may start sticking to the concrete like bubble gum. I'm carrying Poppy's tackle box and the muscles in my forearm ache. 

Why did I agree to this?  

I could be sleeping in my cozy bed in an air conditioned house without sweating through my shirt and my wrestling with all the worries bouncing around inside my head. The memory of Mom's frown of disapproval and Teddy's googling eyes clash with my happiness like an out of tune symphony.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Poppy studies me over her aviator glasses and pushes on, taking long strides down the sidewalk adjacent to the main road leading out of my family's housing development.

I avoid eye contact and gaze at one of the signs poking out of the grassy median that reads, New estate homes from the $700s. "Nothing much. I'm just enjoying the fresh air."

"You're a terrible liar. Something's eating you up inside."

"How do you know?" My head tilts on its axis and I wonder if this best friend thing comes with telepathic powers. I haven't exactly had a best friend before.

"You aren't saying much and you're chewing on bottom lip like there's something you want to say. Spit it out."

It's not telepathy, but Poppy's powers of observation are convincing. I spill the tea. "So, it's my family. My brother obviously likes you, but he's a flirt... maybe even a jerk. He's dated girls before and always breaks up with them before they get a chance break up with him, then he talks about them like they're trash. I swear, he thinks he's so hot, and he only likes girls for their bodies. Then there's my mom. She's this corporate big shot, takes conference calls from the gym and wears power suits to church, which means she always in boss mode, you know? She's never not working, organizing, and strategizing... and she doesn't like you at all."

Maybe I should have sugar-coated the last part?

The words sting and Poppy's smile droops, but only for a moment. "Your brother likes me, huh? For my body?"

I worry for a second she likes him too, but Poppy changes the subject and the tension in my shoulders evaporates into the steamy air.

"I'm obviously not the type of friend your mom had in mind. She probably thought she would plan your new life here and hand-pick your friends from the most respectable families. The ones with quiet, well-behaved daughters. You know, the ones who do Girl Scouts, ballet classes, and get mani-pedis every other Saturday. Someone basic. I'm not a basic bitch." Poppy releases a good natured laugh, like there's no hard feelings.

"No, you're not." I shake my head in agreement, suddenly painfully aware of how mainstream and boring I seem in comparison to Poppy. Quiet and well-behaved... that's me in a nutshell. Well, not anymore. "I'm not basic either."

"Is that a promise?" The same mischievous smile I saw yesterday twists Poppy's mouth into a grin befitting a cartoon villain. It stirs up a restless feeling deep in my throat, as if there is a primal scream I've been holding back for ages.

"It's a promise, Poppy... uh... " I realize I can't call her by her full name because I don't even know what it is. "What's your last name?"

"Cooper. Poppy Maria Cooper." She stops in her tracks and shakes my free hand. "Pleased to meet you, Miss??"

"Violet Marie Wilson." I grin. We almost have the same middle name.

"It's another omen!" Poppy jumps onto her tippy toes and claps her hands in celebration. " You believe in omens, don't you?"