Poppy nods. “Yes, I see you have. And it’s about time. Now come on, I want you all looking your best. Go and change into your best outfits.”
For a second, I’m tempted to tell her no. Just give up on the whole thing and go to bed and refuse to participate. But there’s a glint in her eye I don’t like.
It’s been ten years since we last saw Poppy Greer. We don’t know what she’s become in that time.
The others can sense it too, the shifting tide of the day’s events.
We’re at the whim of whatever this bride wants.
And maybe we deserve it.
Fourteen
Poppy
February 20, 2010
Dear Diary,
JULIAN DAVIS ASKED ME OUT!!!
No, really. As in, actually asked me out. On a date!
I’m going on a date!
I know what you’re thinking. Me, going on a date? Poppy Greer, the biggest loser in the whole of Year Ten? The total saddo with no friends whatsoever, who spends most of her days walking around the corridors at lunch and break pretending she has somewhere to be instead of staying still and running into those four?
Well, it’s true. I’m not kidding.
I’ve always wanted a boyfriend. It’s been so unfair watching everyone else pair up and look so happy. The other day I was walking home and this older guy accidentally bumped into me and he was so tall, with this sweepy blond hair and bright blue eyes and for a second we stared at each other and I was convinced he secretly liked me. But then he carried on and didn’t look back, even when I stopped at the end of the road to give him a chance to return and talk to me.
Those four have all had boyfriends. Yes, even Tanya. Well, why wouldn’t they? They’re so pretty. Annabel wears her blonde hair in all these complicated plaits with different clips that glitter and catch your attention, and she wears her skirt so short, showing off her tanned legs. Every boy watches Annabel when she walks down the corridor. And then Chloe is so bouncy and bright and obvious—I don’t know how she gets away with unbuttoning her shirt so far down and wearing pink and black bras that can be seen so obviously underneath. She wears a ton of makeup too, even though we’re not allowed, insisting happily to the teachers that she’s all natural and rolling her eyes when their backs are turned. She’s had three boyfriends this year alone! Every week there’s a story about Chloe making out with one guy or another, and I’m so jealous I want to scream.
They’re all so thin and gorgeous. Their hair is always in place, never looking greasy, and they just know how to act around boys. I make a total fool of myself.
Tanya walks past me now as if I don’t exist, unless she’s joining in with the other three teasing me. She wears her skirts short too, barely covering her bum, and she’s started going to dancing classes so her legs look really toned. She used to be practically the same size as me.
I’m so fat. I tried shortening my skirt once but it just displayed my flabby legs even more and the four of them laughed so hard I had to tie my jumper around the back just to avoid everyone staring. And they weren’t staring for the right reasons, let me tell you.
The only boy who ever speaks to me is Ollie from Art, and that’s only when he wants some help. Now that we’re both doing GCSE Art he’s much more open to hearing my ideas because he knows that I get good marks. But he’s not interested in me, not like that. I think he’d rather die than have people think that about us. I think most boys would.
I thought I’d never get a boyfriend. But I was wrong! So wrong.
I can’t wait to shove it in everyone’s faces at school on Monday! They’re not going to believe it when Julian and I walk in hand in hand after our amazing date tonight. Oh wow, I’m just thinking, what if his hands are sweaty? What if mine are sweaty? Everyone will be looking at us and I’m definitely going to go bright red. But surely we’ll hold hands before then. Maybe even tonight.
What if we KISS?
I’m not sure I know how to do it. I’ve watched films obviously, and it always looks pretty gross to me, very wet and hard to breathe properly, and I’ve read in magazines what you’re meant to do. But I’ve never actually done it. I bet Julian has done it dozens of times. Hundreds. Thousands.
We sit next to each other in Maths. All hail Mr. Holmes! He put us together as we’re the top two and he said we should help each other get the best marks possible so we’re ready for our GCSEs next year. I thought it was just me who enjoyed our chats in lesson, thinking he must have viewed me as the same gawky chubby weirdo everyone else does.
I have tried hard though. No more short skirts! That’s not me. But I have new heeled shoes that those four haven’t made fun of yet, and even though they told me my new haircut makes me look like a thrown-away Barbie doll, I think it looks quite nice. I’ve bleached my hair and it’s cut in layers so it frames my face really well, hiding my round cheeks and double chin. I’ve also got new glasses, large black ones rather than the red small rectangular ones I had before that made my face look wide. I’ve even started wearing foundation, though I’m not sure I’ve got the colour right yet because Chloe said I looked like an Oompa-Loompa.
Esther and Annabel are in the same maths class too, and Esther even sits on the same table as me and Julian. She broke up with her boyfriend Aaron a month ago and she’s definitely been trying to get with Julian ever since. She laughs in this stupid high-pitched voice at all his jokes, even when he’s not really trying to be funny, and because she sits opposite him she does this thing where she leans forward on her elbows, squeezing her boobs together to make sure he’s looking at her cleavage. It’s so embarrassing, but I definitely thought Julian liked it, because he never failed to stop what he was doing whenever she did that.
He did tell her to stop once when Esther told me I was a know-it-all. He was quite sharp about it too, looking so disappointed in her.
He’s always been nice to me, despite everything. He’s not like the other boys, who ignore my entire existence and never invite me to parties. I overhear everyone on Mondays talking about the crazy activities that went on at the weekend, the drinking and wild antics, and I burn with jealousy. I always thought, when is it going to be my turn? I want to have fun too.
Well. My turn has finally arrived!
He texted me! Mr. Holmes encouraged us to swap numbers so that when it came to revision we’d have a buddy, but I didn’t expect Julian to ask me for mine when Mr. Holmes moved on to help someone else.
“You actually want my number?” I said, dumbfounded.
“Sure,” he said, so calm and casual, as if it was nothing. He has this amazing crinkly smile that shows off his dimples and he did it then, practically making me swoon like some heroine in a Jane Austen novel. “Why not? You kick my ass at algebra. I could use some help down the line.”
Esther’s face was in shock, mouth hanging open. She definitely fancies him. Pretty much everyone does, myself included! Who can resist those green eyes?
It was so satisfying to agree to his request in front of her. “That would be awesome. I mean, cool.” I recited it to him twice to make sure he got it right.
“I’ll put my number in your phone now,” he said, reaching his hand out.
For a second his fingers brushed against mine, and oh my God when I tell you I think my heart took off like a rocket.
“Oh, no!” I said. I must have squealed it I was so nervous. “I mean, I’ll just put it in. Just tell it to me like I did for you.”
I couldn’t let him see that my Contacts list held a grand total of five people: Mum, Dad, Wendy, Nan, and Tanya, whose number had gotten in only because she’d accidentally sent me it after informing all her contacts she had a new phone. It was too humiliating for anyone to know about. Not even any of the people in my GCSE Art class asked for my number, even though I knew they all hung out with each other on the weekends.
He raised his eyebrows (did I tell you he has a slight scar on his right eyebrow that breaks it up at the arch? it’s so cool) but shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Sure, no worries.”
And now I have six contacts, and one of them is the best-looking boy in the whole school.
So when the text arrived yesterday, that name Julian appearing on my screen, my heart started thudding, going into overdrive when I read the message. Here, let me write it out in full, because I still can’t believe it:
Hey Poppy, I thought you looked beautiful in Maths the other day. I can’t stop thinking about you. Do you want to be my Valentine? Meet me at Greville Smith Park, in the dome, tomorrow night at 6pm.
Beautiful! Julian Davis thinks I’m beautiful! And look at how he texts. Like he’s writing a love letter! It’s so amazing.
And he wants to meet in the dome!