Spring Showers Grow Sweet Poppies

Sweet berries make sour friends

I lean down, plucking a variety of berries from the bushes in my backyard. I toss each one into my basket, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries and raspberries alike! My mom asked for a basketful, the occasion? New neighbors! And what better way to make a good first impression than a baked good? I stroll away from the garden and into the kitchen through the back door, where my mom is rolling out a pie crust. She gives me a look, so I rush over to the sink and pour the berries into a strainer, twisting the knob to make water spill out. I slide the strainer under the faucet and give it a shake, rinsing off the fresh fruit. And by the time the berries return to the basket, the pie is already ready to be filled. I step forward and hand the basket to her, and she carefully puts the berries into the pie dish, on top of the crust. When I stare a little too much at the juicy blueberries, she gives me a more dirty than suggesting look, pulling the dish away before sliding on her oven mitts.
"No, Poppy. You can't have a slice, it's for the neighbors."
I whine, "Please~"
"No~"
With that, she slides the pie into the pre-heated oven, I step aside, watching until the oven is closed. That's when I kneel down and peek. There's not much to see other than a raw pie.
"Now that that's done with, please go shower. Your feet are dirty."
That's true. They kind of are, but I guess that's just what happens when people like me decide to go outside barefoot. I stand up and head for the bathroom.

My brown hair drips as I place my now clean feet on the bath mat, the waves sticking to my wet skin. I secure a towel around my waist, double-checking to make sure it won't fall before opening the bathroom door. A gush of cold air forces me to scamper out, rushing over to my sunlit bedroom. Once in, I slam the door shut and drop the towel. The hot sun soothes the loss of the towel, making it bearable to spend a few extra minutes figuring out how my new dress is supposed to be put on. I'm supposed to personally invite them to dinner at our home, and I'd like to look nice for it. I don't want them thinking lowly of me or my family, in fact, I'm hoping to make friends with the son they have. I don't know much about him, but being in a new city, in a new neighborhood, must be difficult. I imagine it'll be hard to make friends, no matter how good of a guy he is. And no one deserves to be lonely. It's the least I can do. So I slide on my nicest pair of shoes and my shiniest charm bracelet, dressed to impress. Stepping back a few feet, I stare at myself in the mirror. My floral, yellow sundress ending at my knees. I spin around and the skirt of it twirls. I smile and nod at that to my own reflection, I can't help but try to trigger that beautiful effect again as I walk - no, twirl to the kitchen. But instead of giving off grace, I bump into the kitchen table, luckily not enough to hurt.
"Oh, Poppy..."
I hear my mom say behind me, "First, don't spin around like that, that's how you hurt yourself. And second, please, please please stop using all the hot water!" she points to a fully baked pie on the counter for reference, which I dismiss.
"Oh, it's finished?"
I lean over it, holding my hair back so it doesn't fall forward. I sniff, then sniff again.
"It smells nice, Im sure they'll appreciate it... speaking of them, should I go deliver it now?"
"Yes, since you took so long in the shower it's already cooled."
With that, I grab the pie and skip on out.
"Hey! Be careful with that!"
I take into account her words as I approach the small set of stairs leading onto my porch, which I slowly make my way down. I stay walking, for now. What good would a welcome pie do if it was splat on the ground? I ring their doorbell once I get to their front door, which, being my neighbor, isn't far from mine.
I stay waiting there, holding a pie for a good five minutes. I wonder if they're even home... I lean over to peek, the lights are on... I feel a little stupid just standing out here, but I don't want their first impression of me to involve ding-dong-ditching. It's when I get really nervous that the door cracks open, then suddenly swings all the way, forcing me to take a step back to protect the pie and my face. That's when I see him! That must be the son, he looks young, about my age, as my mom said.  He has dark brown hair, all messy and uncombed. How can someone with such short hair have such messy hair? His eyes match his hair, and his clothes... are just black. A black tank top and grey sweatpants. To be fair, he's a guy, men can be lazy sometimes. But also they just moved here! I can't expect him to be wearing a suit and tie. So I smile politely, offering up the pie. He doesn't return my smile.
Instead, he shows off his most noticeable attribute. He's tall, really tall. And he towers over me menacingly, looking down to the pie then at me with his sharp eyes.
"What's that?"
"Um, it's a... a peace offering pie. My mom made it to welcome your family to the neighborhood."
"Tsk, we don't need it. We won't even finish eating it, after all, I don't like pie. Especially not... whatever that is."
"Oh..."
I look down at the pie, does it look that bad? Surely it doesn't, is it... something with my clothes? This dress is brand new, my shoes were thrifted but never worn, and my bracelet is a light color of gold with flower charms on it. I don't look weird, the pie doesn't look weird. I guess he really just doesn't like pie.
A second head pops in, one of a woman looking just like him.
"Oh, hello! I'm sorry about my son... he's having some trouble adjusting here."
"Mom... don't say that..."
He murmurs, glancing from me to his right where his... mom, is standing beside him.
She ignores him.
"Even if he doesn't like pie, I do, but I can't finish that much by myself, can I? Why don't you ask your mom to come over for dinner? We can all eat it together."
"Oh! But you just moved here... we couldn't... why don't you come over to our house? That's actually why I'm here... to invite you to our home."
"Oh! Well, that's very kind of you, young lady. We'll be there. You're the ones who live in the green house next to us, right?"
"Mhm."
She smiles, "I look forward to it....?"
"Poppy."
"I look forward to it, Poppy. I'm Sophia, and this lovely gentleman is Oliver."
"It's nice to meet you two, I'll introduce you to my family personally at dinner!"
"Oh, you're so sweet... I wish I had a daughter."
She puts her hand on her heart, faking a pout.
"Well, you run along, I wouldn't want us to keep you waiting."
So I do run along, but not before giving that boy one last glance.