“I’m impressed by your dedication.”
“Really?” Chloe’s crass comment to Poppy last night still rings in my ears. I shouldn’t have laughed along; that was weak of me. “Hey, I’m sorry about Chloe last night,” I say now quietly.
Poppy looks surprised, both eyebrows raised. “I’ve heard worse. And anyway, you’re not the one who said it.”
“No, but I wouldn’t count on an apology from Chloe.”
This seems to amuse her. “Trust me, I won’t.”
“She can be difficult,” I say, trying to be conciliatory.
“I hope you find your necklace soon,” she says, as if we’ve been talking about that all along.
“Let’s have a group picture!”
Chloe’s excited squeal distracts us, and she gathers us together for a selfie. Poppy stands to the side at first, not sure if she’s included in this request, before I pull her in and put her between me and Tanya. Chloe holds the camera high, getting us all in, and we smile broadly.
“Everyone say ‘hen party!’” she shrieks.
“Hen party!” we echo, and there’s a real sense of togetherness. We’re all grinning at each other, and even Tanya cracks a smile.
“This was a great idea to come up here,” Chloe says as we break apart.
“Let’s have a look at the picture, then.” I take the camera from Chloe and study the image of the five of us. We’re all smiling, Chloe’s broader than anyone, but there’s something not quite right about it. Chloe has her hand gripped around Tanya’s shoulder as if she might fall over at any moment. Annabel is detached on the edge of the group, and isn’t quite looking into the camera. And Poppy being between me and Tanya just seems odd, as if she was always meant to be there but still somehow stands out like a sore thumb. My bruise is hidden behind Tanya’s back, thank God.
“It’s lovely,” I say, when I realise everyone is waiting for a response. I hand the camera back to Chloe. “It’s nice to have a picture of all of us.”
“And no phones necessary,” Poppy adds, triumphant.
Tanya goes to sit on a rock, while the rest of us return to looking at the view. Even Annabel has braved it, stepping closer to the edge.
“Not missing yours?” I ask Chloe.
“It’s alright.” Chloe puts the camera away and takes in the view properly.
Poppy walks beside Annabel. “Do you remember the last time the five of us were together like this?”
“At school?” Annabel says, frowning.
“More specific than that,” Poppy says.
It takes me a second to realise what she’s getting at.
“The art exam,” I say.
Poppy nods. “That’s it. Does anyone remember the exact date?”
“The twenty-second of May,” Tanya says, surprising me.
“That’s almost ten years ago exactly,” Poppy tells us. “A whole decade between now and then. Could you believe in ten years’ time from that moment that we’d all be together again?”
Why is she bringing it up? We all exchange an uneasy glance, knowing what happened.
Poppy darts forward and places her hand on Annabel’s back. She’s so quick none of us have any time to react. Annabel turns her head towards Poppy in horror, her mouth open, her hands rising in defence.
Poppy pushes her.
Annabel stumbles forward, but she’s too far away from the edge for it to do any harm. She lands on her feet and steadies herself.
It was a gentle push. A push designed to tease, not harm.
We’re all gawping at Poppy in shock as she bursts into laughter.
“What was that?” Annabel shouts, backing away from the ledge and standing behind me. Tanya steps forward and Chloe also moves around to join us so we’re standing in a line facing Poppy, who is still chuckling, wiping a tear from her eye.
“That wasn’t funny,” I say. “Annabel could have died.”
“Oh, come off it, Esther,” Poppy says, grinning away at us as if we’re having a normal conversation. “She was about a metre away from the edge. One tiny push wasn’t going to kill her.”
“Are you alright?” Chloe asks, as Annabel starts to tear up. “You’re fine, you didn’t get close to the edge, I promise you.”
“How could you do that?” Tanya says.
Poppy throws her hands up in the air. “It was a joke. You remember those, don’t you? The four of you? I seem to recall you used to like jokes a lot.”
She does remember. I knew it.
“I know you were joking, but don’t do anything like that again.” I try to nod at Poppy, but she looks straight through me.
“If anyone should be afraid up here, it’s me,” she says. “After all, I know what you’re all capable of.”
Nine
Poppy
September 4, 2006
Dear Diary,
Oh my God. First day of secondary school! It’s as big and scary as everyone says. Even though I’m practically an adult now, just turned eleven, it didn’t matter how much Mum and Dad tried to convince me it was all going to be fine. I’ve already made a total idiot of myself.
Sorry, this isn’t how diaries are meant to start, are they? Oh well! It’s my diary and I can do what I want. But maybe I should introduce myself, because Mum’s always telling me it’s polite when meeting new people. Not that you’re a new person, but you know what I mean. If anyone in the future, like a hundred years from now, discovered this diary hidden underground, they’d be like, oh wow, if only we knew who this was and we could make her famous across history? So I’m not taking any chances! Even though I’m definitely going to become famous anyway. I’m going to be a famous artist, you wait and see. And then this diary will be even more amazing because it’ll be the diary of a famous person. Imagine if they found the diary of Picasso or Van Gogh or Leonardo da Vinci. It’s basically the same.
I’m getting ahead of myself again, aren’t I? My name is Poppy Greer, I’m eleven years old, and I live in Bristol. And today was the first day of secondary school, and it was a TOTAL DISASTER.
I’m talking absolute-embarrassing-face-red-mortal-humiliation level. And I want to put on a brave face about it and try and get over it but what if this is it now? I’ll always be known as that loser girl who embarrassed herself on the first day.
Thank God I have Tanya. She’s my best friend, has been ever since that first day when we were tiny little kids in reception. I was reading a book in the corner when she came over to me and asked what it was about, and we’ve been together ever since.
Now we’re both in Year Seven, it’s crazy to think how grown up we are. I’m going to love all of the different subjects that are on offer compared to primary school (but Art will still be the best of course!). The welcome assembly, filled with over two hundred other Year Sevens, had the head teacher explaining to us our curriculum and what kinds of things we’d be doing. It all just sounds amazing, and I got to sit next to Tanya while we were listening because she’s in my tutor group, thank God. I squeezed her hand when they started talking about the Drama department. Tanya loves acting and says she wants to be a famous actress when she grows up and I know that most people never get to achieve their dream but I really think Tanya will.
Tanya can star in Hollywood films and I can be displayed in all the famous art galleries of the world. My primary school teacher said I was the best at art she’d ever seen, and she could be quite mean when she wanted to be. She never made up praise for the sake of it, so I know she was telling the truth and I am talented.
Anyway. Let me get to the HORRIFIC INCIDENT, because that’s what I really want to focus on.
We were on a tour of the school in our tutor group with our tutor leading the way. (Oh my God, our tutor! Totally a distraction from the main point but I think he might be the cutest man alive ever in the history of men. And I’m definitely not the only one who thinks so!) Most of the girls were at the front of the group, following him eagerly, whilst the boys kind of sauntered along in the middle. Tanya and I stuck to the back, enjoying taking in the view of the school and trying to make sure we remembered the way round to things so we didn’t get lost. There was another group of girls hanging towards the back, even further than us, acting as though they didn’t care at all. Even though Mr. Edwards said we had to be silent, they were whispering to each other constantly.
One of them let out a loud snort of laughter. I glanced back at Mr. Edwards, worried he’d think it was me and Tanya, but he hadn’t even heard, continuing the tour and describing the History department now, as we entered a corridor filled with posters about the world wars and the suffragettes.
I shouldn’t have looked at them. I know, I know! But they saw me staring and got up close to us.
“I’m Annabel,” the middle one said. “And this is Chloe and Esther.”
Chloe was the one who had laughed really loudly, and she was still giggling. Looking back now it was so obvious she was holding something behind her back, but I was too busy focusing on Annabel, okay?