14. Poppy Wells

14

Poppy Wells

“ C ome on, Jasper. I beat you by like ten minutes. You’re so old and slow now.”

“Hey, rein it in would you? Honestly, you’re worse than Jakson.”

I followed the voices round the side of the building. My fingers pushed open a small, wooden gate and walked through what seemed to be a back yard. A small white wooden fence outlined the area, paint worn and well-loved. Pebbles of all shapes lined the walkway up to the white decking with evergreen grass blooming all around.

A gray climbing frame lay in the center, with a small pair of swings and a sandpit to the left of it, and a fairly big sized inflatable pool to the right of it. Whoa . This place was a child’s dream—they had everything .

My throat tightened as I looked around, my feet moving on their own accord as I was too awe-stricken to move myself. I swallowed, the sound audible. I would’ve loved this when I was little. The small pool to help kids get used to the water where they could take it one step at a time. The daunting size of the ocean engulfs their tiny frames, so it was a genius idea to provide them somewhere safe and small to get used to being in the water. My fingers dropped down and ran along the edge of the pool sides.

I continued walking over to the climbing frame which resembled a dome shape with gray colored bars crossing over each other in a honeycomb pattern. A small smile tugged at my lips. Oliver would’ve loved this. My little monkey—he was always climbing up the furniture and crawling between the tightest of spaces.

Stepping around the frame, my gaze fell down on the small swing set—a singular wooden swing hung in the middle from a wooden frame above, held up by two gray strings. The more I looked at it, the more my heartbeat slowed and my mind calmed. All I saw when I glanced at it was everything that I had missed out on—all the memories of childhood that were never an option for me.

Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first.

Those lyrics by Taylor Swift echoed in my ears. It was mine first, it should’ve always been mine. But it wasn’t . It was stolen, ripped from my body and replaced with hours of training, set meals, and waves after waves—the cycle that never ended. Weighing scales and low carbs diets and training regimens that should never have been given to a six-year-old girl. Scolding for wanting to spend time with my friends, chastised for eating something as simple as a cupcake or piece of toast because those carbs would make sure I would never reach the Pros.

My entire childhood was a diary of a girl who lost her girlhood.

So what was I made for?

To reach the Pros and then what?

To be forced to think about his hand on my cheek, the burning sensation that followed as I squeezed my eyes closed so tightly to keep the tears from falling, each time I looked at a stupid birthday cake ?

To be able to see the bones through my skin because no six-year-old girl should ever be under eating whilst being trained to the absolute exhaustion?

But it was okay though, right?

Because I won nearly every competition I took part in. People cheered for me and loved me— no , they loved that they had someone as good as me representing them.

They loved the idea of me but they didn’t love me .

My dad loved the person who he could mold me into, he loved the girl I could become instead of the girl I was. That was all I was to him. A ticket to freedom—someone he only kept around so he could gain something, and once he realized he couldn’t get that, he left.

Simple as that.

And my mom?

She just didn’t love me at all because loving her only daughter was something she was incapable of. I was a burden to her because I was me .

A disappointment to her because I was the reason my dad hated her so much.

A murderer to her because I was the reason my little brother was dead.

I was everything to my dad in all the wrong ways and I was nothing at all to my mom. It was a constant battle and it felt I was stuck inside a washing machine being spun around and around and around.

I was never enough for him and always too much for her.

There was no balance between them—I was walking on a fine line, a tightrope made of glass so that every misstep was reflected at me a million different times. I couldn’t escape my mistakes, something I should’ve easily been able to brush off and never think about again, but I just couldn’t —that wasn’t how my brain worked.

I wished I would’ve stood up to him, I wished I would’ve told him how much I was hurting trying to keep up with the image he had for me.

But if I said anything, I was ungrateful.

If I complained, I was spoilt.

There was nothing I could do but learn to take his words and not let them get me down .

All it took was a slap or two when I was barely a child to know that crying wasn’t allowed under that roof. All it took was one forceful push against the counter when I was eight to know that there was no other future for me except the one he planned. I wished he was dead each time I fell asleep and felt so guilty for thinking those thoughts it made me physically sick.

Or maybe that was because my body was broken.

I was broken .

People could always watch from afar and judge, it was what they were made for. One glance determined your worth. But when you were someone like me? You didn’t get second chances—you got rotten fruit thrown at your driveway, eggs splattered across the windows. Whispers and snickers down the street and glares that followed your every footstep. Their judgment was my shadow—I couldn’t escape their opinions, it was like they were a part of me.

How could you be anything but broken when that was all people saw when they looked at you?

“ Hola , you must be Poppy! The new surf teacher, right? I’m Josep, but everyone calls me Pepe. My parents own the surf school, which means you have to give me extra special treatment, okay? Or I can have you fired.”

I looked down to find a small seven-year-old boy staring up at me, the same thick Spanish accent tainting his words, though he spoke faster than any kid I had ever heard. I stared at him, not knowing what to do or say.

Every part of my body was stricken almost in shock. He looked so much like…

Push the thoughts away.

Push the thoughts away.

Push the thoughts away.

“Not much of a talker, are you? Papa said you would be like that. He also said I shouldn’t bother you but I’m curious, if you couldn’t tell.” He shrugged and jumped onto the swing seat. The frame rocked and I felt it shudder beneath my fingers.

Say something, Poppy.

I was overflowing with emotions, I couldn’t even get any words out of my mouth. Josep looked like a carbon copy of my little brother. With trembling fingers, I tugged at the skin at the back of my neck .

He isn’t Oliver, Poppy. He isn’t him.

“Well? Are you actually going to teach me something?” he jabbed at me, swinging higher and higher with every push and kick of his legs. It was too high. It didn’t look safe. What if he was flung off and died?

“Watch me Poppy, watch me!” Pepe shouted and before I registered what he was going to do, he waited until the swing reached its highest peak and then pushed himself off the seat. He jumped off, body scrambling in the air for what felt like an entire lifetime. I swear my heart stopped for a full minute as I watched him come crashing down to the ground.

A gasp left my lips as he landed on his feet, but immediately toppled over onto his knees, face skimming the dirt. He cried out and I froze.

Did Oliver cry out like that?

How many hours did he spend shouting for me knowing that each one could’ve been his last?

My eyes began to sting, all my muscles paralyzed.

What if I was the last thing he saw?

The laughs of his older sister having the time of her life out on the waves as he drowned, submerged under the waves and never once coming back up for air.

I wasn’t the best sister to him. If I could go back in time and change places with him, I would in a heartbeat. I would’ve told him I loved him. I would’ve been a better example to him. I would’ve done something .

Because now, he was gone, and I was sill here.

And I spent every single second of the day hating myself for it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I blinked and I must have been dreaming because Jasper Ridge stood in front of me, a small boy holding onto his legs hiding behind him. Dirt covered his knees and a few cuts lined his forearms.

My fingers rested above my wrist as I silently counted my pulse. “What?”

One hundred and seventy two. I needed to get it down. I needed to calm down. Oh God, what if my heart was filling with blood? What if —

Jasper grunted, frustrated with me. Good . Let him be angry. I could deal with anger. It was better than crying, and over my dead body would I cry in front of him.

Get it under control, Poppy. Stay in control.

“Why do you have to be so difficult? He’s seven, Poppy! You should’ve done something to stop him. Why did you stand there and do nothing?”

You should’ve done something to stop him.

Why did you stand there and do nothing?

You should’ve done something to stop him.

Why did you stand there and do nothing?

Stop. Stop. Stop.

All I saw was white flashing spots in my vision as my head pounded. He had no idea how many times someone had said that to me. My mom spat those words at me like I was ridden with disease, a monster that she wanted no part in raising.

From everyone who saw me in the street, to the war zones that were the school halls, even all the way down to the beach from the commentators’ mouths as they judged me based on the rumors instead of my skills.

My dad was the only one who didn’t speak much that year without Oliver.

No , of course, John Wells didn’t speak after that. He just punched .

None of their words hurt as much as the ones inside my own head. Over the years, I’d beaten myself down more than they ever could. At this point, I’d be surprised if I made it to my next birthday.

“That wasn’t my fault, Jasper.” I shot back at him because it wasn’t… right? No. I mean, maybe? No. It wasn’t. But maybe I should’ve…

Stop. Stop. Stop.

He let out a steady breath, gritting his teeth. It was like my mere presence annoyed him. He ran his long fingers through his chestnut brown curls before dropping them down to rub his brow. I would’ve said he looked different, but he didn’t. He looked like the same old idiot I secretly cursed at every surf heat when I was seven.

Well, okay , maybe not the same because his face looked more defined and sharper now, and his gaze held an almost beautiful, lethal coldness that I hadn’t noticed before. The slight Italian accent he used to have was fainter now, less noticeable.

I’d even say he was more tanned than me. Though, I wasn’t as surprised by that as much as I thought I would’ve been. I hadn’t left my old house in years—the fear of leaving my mom and coming back home to find her blue-tipped fingers draping over the bathtub was too great a risk.

Besides, it wasn’t like I had a strong connection that side of my family. I’d never even met my grandparents. On either side, actually.

Sometimes, I found myself dreaming about knowing them. Having cousins and friends and a life that wasn’t controlled by a string of anxious thoughts in my head that seemed to spiral despite the most basic of tasks.

“Are you even listening to me?”

What happened to you, Jasper?

I shook my head. I didn’t want to know what reasons he had for making me feel like this. It was never justifiable. Not to me.

“Why can’t you take a hint, Wellsy? No one wants you here. Do everyone a favor and leave already.”

No one wants you here.

Do everyone a favor and leave already.

Wellsy.

I hated that nickname. I hated him.

My jaw threatened to fall open, but I clenched my cheeks so hard they began to hurt. I let them hurt. I liked the pain, I deserved it. Like always, I said nothing. I stayed quiet. There was nothing I could say because he had already made his mind up about me from the second we met. He hated me and I hated him. It was as simple as black and white. It was all I had ever known to be true in a world full of lies—Jasper and I would never get along.

Dismissively shaking his head, he didn’t spare me another glance from then on. His brows crossed, almost pained, as he knelt down to Pepe’s level and said something to him that I couldn’t hear from here. His gaze lifted up to mine and the little boy giggled and nodded.

They were talking about me.

Making fun of me.

I would too if I saw me in the street—I was a laughingstock, a joke. I knew it was all I would ever amount to, my own mother told me that enough. She’d curse me and that school I dreamed about getting into, muttering about the spoiled rich cunts and how my whore-self would fit right in with those bitches. I liked it better when she ignored me. It was easier to pretend she didn’t exist that way.

The little boy gave Jasper a detailed high five that consisted of about seven different movements and then took off like lightning speed out the back gate and down to the beach where all the other junior surfers were waiting.

I watched as Jasper stood, turning to me with a cold gaze.

He folded his arms over his chest and opened his mouth to shout at me again when Daniel came out, having probably heard us from the school. His heavily pregnant wife padded out the doors behind him, but unlike him, she stopped at the decking, leaning against the wooden railing, watching us all from afar.

“Ah, I’m glad to see you’ve already met!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Saves me from having to do those awkward 20 question introductions.” He let out a nervous exhale.

“Why is she here?” Jasper demanded, facing him.

He was ignoring me completely. Asshole .

“Me?” I defended, crossing my own arms over my chest. “What about him!”

They both turned to stare at me, and I wanted to crawl into a shell and hide. My fingers itched to scratch something.

“Well…” Daniel sighed. “Look, you two are the best surfers here and there is no one I would trust more than you two to lead these surf classes.”

I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me feel a little bit better. I just wished he’d said I was better than Jasper— because I was. I looked up his current scores when I got back, and they were seriously dropping. There would be no way he’d make the Pros or be crowned state champion with those kind of scores. Though, he could kiss the sponsors asses and I’m sure they’d throw their money at him anyway.

Jasper was doing better than me— Hell , I hadn’t even been on my board in years . Ever since Oliver…I shook my head. I wouldn’t go there. Not now whilst they were here. I’d rather chop my limbs off and feed them to lemon sharks than to let them see me cry. Wow. I really needed to get back out there on the waves if I had any chance of surfing in the Pros, but it was just too hard. My dad would’ve slapped me unconscious if he saw me like this.

I was his greatest disappointment.

Holding my board on the sand and being in the ocean without it was fine, I had no problem doing that, but surfing ? Nope. Not happening. It was ironic, I knew, taking a job teaching kids to surf when I couldn’t even surf myself anymore. I thought maybe this would help but now it just felt like a huge mistake. I couldn’t work there if he was here—I already put up with the abuse at home, at school and even down the fucking street. This was supposed to be an escape from it all. A few hours where I could escape the judgment of others and just live.

A shaky exhale left my lips as I focused my gaze back on them. Jasper’s fists were clenched as he gestured angrily between me and him. His face looked so punchable right now.

“—was here first. You know how much this means to me and how much effort I’ve put into this. You can’t do this to me.”

Each word felt like a knife to my stomach.

“It’s okay,” I muttered quietly. “I can go.”

Jasper’s shoulders relaxed as soon as I said the words, his brows loosening and gaze softening from its usual strain. Daniel, however, looked at me with a worried gaze, sadness shining his pupils.

“Poppy, you don’t have to. I promise,” Daniel winced.

“I don’t want to be here if he’s going to treat me like I’m a fucking serial killer going to mass murder a bunch of kids.” Shit. That sounded a bit harsh.

Daniel gaped at me, but the corner of Jasper’s mouth twitched. Now he was laughing at me? I made Jasper Ridge laugh. God, I could rip his throat out right now if it meant that sound would stop—not because I hated it, God no , but that was precisely why it had to go. It made it so much harder to hate him when he looked at me and laughed like that .

I shook my head, glaring at him, hoping if I did it hard enough it would make him combust into flames.

“I think he’s made it pretty clear I’m not welcome here.” I shrugged dismissively, and when his jaw clicked and his gaze turned pained, I mentally congratulated myself. There, Ridge. Taste what your own words feel like.

“No. ”

Me and Daniel both looked at each other in confusion before our gazes slid over to where Jasper was standing.

“No?” Daniel prodded, brows scrunched.

“ No as in no you don’t have to leave. We’re grownups, right Wellsy?”

I nodded in complete and utter shock because I knew no words would come out if I opened my mouth.

“Great then!” Daniel clapped his hands together and smiled. “As you both know about my injury,” he gestured down to his mechanical leg and knocked on it. The sound of metal echoed around us, and I swear I saw Isa flinch from up on the decking.

He laughed awkwardly. “It’s not great but I can’t run this place all on my own. I need to know I can count on you both here.”

Jasper sighed. “That’s a stupid question. You know you can count on me.”

I nodded. “You can count on me, too.”

Jasper shot me a look that I couldn’t decipher. How, in one glance, could he make me feel so worthless ? He and my dad would’ve been friends. They both know how to make me feel small and insignificant.

Daniel patted Jasper on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. God, why did people keep whispering around me? Was I really that bad?

With a nod, Jasper walked through the gate and down to the beach. He didn’t spare me a second glance. I wasn’t worth one.

Daniel walked up towards the decking where his wife was standing and gestured for me to follow him. For the next half an hour, he gave me a tour around the surf school. I learned that they lived above the school, and they loved each kid they taught like they were their own. I fucking wished my dad would’ve let me train here when I was little.

I knew why he didn’t—he’d be afraid that if I went here, I would’ve learnt that his abuse was wrong. He wouldn’t have been able to get away with everything he did for years.

After the tour, he handed me a pile of paperwork and told me to digitize the forms, file them, and then restock the medical room. I sat myself down on the chair at the front desk. It had wheels and you bet I spent at least twenty minutes wheeling myself around and spinning around on it. I smiled and I laughed, and I felt like a kid again.

I finished all my jobs for the day by around seven and called up to Daniel and Isa to tell them I was clocking out and going home. I had even bribed them, offering to do more work just so I could delay going home but they both said they’d feel guilty overloading me on my first day.

Now I just had to decide between walking slowly and risk being assaulted on my way home or just go home and deal with what was waiting for me there. I groaned. There was nothing positive about this situation. No light at the end of the tunnel. No stickers and gold stars. No appreciation and acknowledgment.

Nothing .

It was just a never-ending void of pain. I was caught in a rip tide of darkness, and I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to be saved anymore.

I decide to walk back along the cliffs and down to the beach to avoid the main streets. I didn’t have to worry about Jasper seeing me either because his third class of the day ended an hour and a half ago.

And why do you know that, Poppy?

I shook my thoughts clear of the voice inside my head. It wasn’t stalker like at all. I just knew his schedule because it was next to mine on the wall by the front desk.

But why did you look at it?

Because— wait, why was I defending myself…to myself ?

I was officially crazy.

You’re just like your mother, Poppy.

Just as fucked up in the head as she was.

Just you wait and see, little Orca.

Just you wait and see.

The pavement beneath my feet softened to sand and I let out a quiet moan. I would never get tired of that feeling—it felt like I was coming home. I shook my shoes off my feet and picked them up in one hand. The sand crept between my toes as I walked. I didn’t want to get sand in my shoes and besides, I loved the feeling of sand.

I was completely content in my own thoughts as I walked back, thinking about which book I could sneak out of the public library tomorrow when a figure out on the waves caught my eye .

Jasper .

He was sitting down on his board, the waves brushing up against his bare thighs. They gleamed under the setting sun, muscles carved with strokes of precision. I bit my bottom lip. Wait —what?

No . I just checked him out—I just checked Jasper fucking Ridge out. God , I was going to hell. I hated him. I did…r ight ?

There was a smaller figure out there on the waves with him. I squinted and realized it was little Davis. My thoughts wondered back to our conversation earlier. Maybe he knew about what she said to me. After all, Lia and him were best friends. But if he did, then surely he would’ve told someone by now?

I shook my head free of that thought train. Kids made things up all the time. I was sure it was nothing, and even if I told someone…what if I was wrong? Then I would’ve destroyed a perfectly good family just because I was projecting my own family trauma onto them, you know? Hearing what you want to hear and all that.

I watched him guide the little girl through the waves, telling her exactly what to do and what to look out for. He was gentle and patient with her, and it was like seeing a side to him I’d never seen before. A side of him that was actually sweet and kind. A side that I didn’t get to see because he hated me.

The thought suddenly made me feel… what exactly ?

I didn’t deserve to see any other side of him apart from the cocky and snarky teenage boy who had replaced my wax with lip balm so I’d have no grip and make a complete fool of myself on the waves in that heat.

Maybe— maybe, I could let myself be vulnerable enough to feel anything but hatred towards him. But hatred was so easy to feel, especially towards Jasper Ridge. Maybe that was because he made it easy by battling with me, adding petroleum into this growing wildfire between us. As if from the very first glance, he knew that was what I needed.

I needed something real and raw and passionate and fiery—something other than what this town had given me. I was so sick of fake love and adoration. No one was real with me and I hated them for it. I was being crushed underneath all of their weight and maybe he saw that. Maybe Jasper Ridge did save me in that way, but it hardly counted if he also helped break me .

Regardless, in the end, I hated him and that should’ve been enough for me.

But why was it suddenly not?

I forced myself to continue walking away, the sun following me until it settled beneath the horizon leaving a lonely darkness in its wake. When I pushed open the front door and shut myself in my room, I realized that my mom was still not talking to me.

I didn’t sleep that night until four in the morning and only when I dragged my ass out of bed two hours later did I realize that I had made the stupid mistake of leaving my hoodie draped over the couch because when I looked in the pockets, I cursed so loudly the floorboards beneath my feet shook.

My money was gone.