5. Poppy Wells

5

Poppy Wells

M y vision came back to me just in time to stop the medic from jabbing a needle into my arm, flooding me with God knows what chemical concoctions that probably costed a fortune —one that I certainly did not have the luxury of possessing.

Pushing myself further up the stretcher, I shot him a deathly cold glare, “don’t even think about stabbing me with that.”

The medic looked at me, brows scrunched in confusion as he debated what to do. If he made any sudden movements, I’d scream. If he tried to put me under to make me more compliant, I’d bring him hell and make him wish he didn’t fuck with me. And if he tried to call my parents, I doubt my mom would even answer the phone.

She didn’t even answer me anymore.

The medic turned his head, sending a look I could only describe as worried as if to say , dude what the fuck do I do? He must’ve been a rookie. A newbie on the job. I couldn’t say I blamed him though, he probably read my file or whatever and decided I was a grade A nutcase who should be in a mental facility or wherever they dumped the broken girls with poor excuses for parents.

“Leave her be.” A distant voice said. “If she’s being a bitch and refusing treatment then that’s her issue to deal with.”

I knew that voice.

“I’m disappointed in you, Son. Now go and let me deal with this before we get handed a big, fat lawsuit.”

I listened intently, leaning forward trying to peer around the edge of the ambulance door. Perhaps in hopes of trying to uncover who it was who hurt me…and then held me as the world caved in. My cheeks heated in embarrassment. Granted, I only had pieces of what happened, but from what I could remember, I was a total wreck . My tongue should be cut off and sold—my mom would definitely jump at that opportunity faster than accepting the phone call telling her that her daughter was being taken to the hospital.

I wasn’t, by the way, being taken to the hospital. Over my dead body .

I didn’t have medical insurance and there was no way I could even pay for the ambulance ride itself, let alone all the care from the doctors themselves. I unbuckled the straps over my stomach, and when a hand went to stop me, I shot the medic another not so polite glare hoping he received the message well.

Jumping to my feet, the edges of my vision spinning a little, I pushed a breath past my lips and ignored it—ignored them all. I practically sprinted down the ambulance steps, throwing my headphones on and letting the comfort of Matilda by Harry Styles thunder through my ears.

My plan was going spectacularly, the sound of engines grumbling and doors slamming hanging in the air, until I was grasped on the shoulder and spun around. My eyes came face to face with no one other than Daniel Gonzales, the owner of the surf school and the guy I was supposed to ask for a job.

“You need to be checked over by professionals, kid.”

Tears threatened to fall down my cheeks. Perhaps it was because he called me kid, or because the bridge of my Matilda was like it was written for me, or maybe because the first thing he said to me was about my health and the worry that hung in his gaze made me believe that he was genuinely concerned for me—I couldn’t even remember the last time my mom looked at me like that, like I was worth being worried for .

That I was worth anything, actually.

“I—” the words wouldn’t come to me. “I don’t have medical insurance,” I admitted.

My gaze fell in shame as the words finally tumbled out of my mouth. God, why the hell did I feel ashamed? He didn’t know me, he knew nothing about me, only the things people whispered behind my back.

I froze when the touch of his skin brushed against my cheek. It took my brain a good minute to realize what he was doing, and even then, I had no words for it.

He was brushing away my tears with his thumb.

He. Was. Brushing. Away. My. Tears.

I hadn’t even realized they had fallen. The mere action just encouraged more to leak from the corners of my eyes, and I was helpless to stop it. A chill swept down my arms, and as I stole a glance at my surroundings, I realized it was nightfall. I was going to be in such, deep shit when I got home.

I erupted like a fucking volcano of tears knowing that when I got home, I wouldn’t be told off, I wouldn’t be smothered in worry and attention…I would be ignored, brushed over, cast aside. I wasn’t worth a second glance from my own mother. I’d change my bandages throughout the night by myself. I’d care and exhaust myself making sure she was okay whilst my body was left rotting, slowly giving up on me.

Without a word, Daniel guided me inside and only when I was sitting down at a wooden table, covered in a delicate white cloth, did the tears stop falling. Well, until he placed a warm cup of chamomile tea in front of me. The mere kindness of the action made me want to scream until my throat was raw with pain, tears striking down my red-flushed face.

“I’m Daniel, by the way,” he said, closing one of the cupboards and leaning back against the counter. “My wife, Isa, and I opened this place up a good couple of years back now. We always said we wanted to live down by the beach, you know? The ocean feels like home to me, and I wanted to share that feeling with my wife and son, too. I actually think he loved it more than me, the little guy shreds waves better than any kid I know,” he chuckled lightly, the thick Latino tang of his accent seeping through, “and no that’s not me being biased, I swear.”

“My dad was the one who taught me to surf too,” I admitted, taking a small sip of the tea before halting just as it touched my lips. It was burning them, but I let it. I held it there and let the pain wash over me until I couldn’t breathe anymore.

Blinking, I put the cup down before he looked at me like the entire town did—like I was a madwoman whose entire family deserved to be locked up. I hadn’t admitted that to anyone before. God, I hadn’t talked about him to anyone. Not since the accident. Not since he didn’t even take a second glance at me, crumbled up in tears on the front porch, as he drove away. The dream I chased down the street. The dream that got away.

Daniel seemed to read the words tangled in my mind across my face, as he didn’t push me for information. “I knew you surfed,” he said with a smile, “you’ve got that determined look in your eyes that only a surfer could recognize. How long have you been surfing for?”

I paused.

Since as long as I could remember, my feet were glued to a board.

“Since forever.”

“And when did you stop?”

I gazed wide-eyed at him. How did he —

“I haven’t surfed in a long time either, kid.”

Nodding, I offered him as much of a smile as I could manage. I knew he couldn’t surf anymore since his accident—I remembered my dad telling me about it, threatening it would happen to me if I didn’t stick to my routine and concentrate on the waves. Friends were only ever distractions.

Poppy Wells didn’t do distractions… no matter how badly she wanted to.

Even from here, I could taste the salty air—could feel August slipping away from me, time never being on my side. It was blurred between bottles of wine and pill bottles, when wanting to be a star that hung from the heavens was more than enough to deter me from slipping out from under the sheets. The familiar crashing of the waves against the cliffs soothed my aching limbs and bustling mind.

“Do you want to tell me why I got a panicked call from one of my staff telling me that there was a girl passed out in his arms in the medical room?”

My fists clenched defensively.

“You’re lucky one of them was there or you could’ve been in some real danger, kid.”

“ First of all , it was your teacher that hit me in the face with the door, giving me a nosebleed and minor concussion. And secondly, I didn’t ask to be taken there, he just did . So none of that was my fault.”

I stood up, pushing back away from the chair, ready to walk away.

“Oh, and I was here for the teaching job actually, if you need to know why,” I said, trying to sound unaffected when I was anything but that, before pulling out the blood-stained leaflet and placing it down on the table, “Not that it matters anymore. I just want to go home.”

Not that I had a home to go home too. I had a house .

There was a big fucking difference.

I wasn’t made for comforting conversations, or friends, or happiness . I wasn’t made to be happy—I was made to surf, to be the invisible daughter, to be the greatest shame. I’d forgotten how my laughter sounded.

I’d forgotten how it felt to be loved.

This was a mistake. I didn’t know why I even thought coming here was a good idea in the first place.

“Poppy, wait! I’m not mad at you. If anything, I’m mad at him for doing this to you,” when he noticed the whirlwind of emotions clouding my face, he sighed. “I’m sorry it happened like this, kid. I wanted to see you after…what happened, but my movement is limited these days. That’s not an excuse though, and I’m sorry again it took this happening for us to meet again. I was hoping to catch you at one of your heats…but it was like you disappeared, Pops. One moment you and your little brother were running through the waves laughing and playing like the kids you were, and the next minute you and everyone else were gone.”

I didn’t know what to say. The pounding of my heart echoed in my ears so loudly I could feel it in my bones .

“And the job, Pops…you didn’t even have to ask. If I knew you were back in town, I would’ve gotten my wife, you remember Isa? To ask you to come down here again like you and Oliver did when you were little. It’s yours of course, if you still want it.”

I nodded after a moment, too shocked to speak. Perhaps I was in shock, because it sure as hell felt like it. I didn’t remember him at all…my dad had always told me to stay away from him, so I did. I thought it was because he wanted to kidnap me or sell me to his friends back in…Columbia, was it? I couldn’t remember anymore. He had spun me gory tales of young kids going up by the cliffs where the surf school was and never coming back down. The mysterious lure of it appealed to me and…

No . I would not fall three steps backwards after spending every fucking day since the accident working up the strength to move even one step forward.

“That’s great, Pops. All shifts will start after your classes since you’ll be on the same rotor as one of the other teachers. He’s the grade above you, maybe you two know each other already?”

I swear mischief glinted in his eyes. I blinked, and it was gone, replaced by… happiness . Jealousy began to pool in my gut but I pushed it away because allowing that ugly, blackened hole inside me to grow was like accepting death by a thousand cuts.

“…I can get Isa to email you the schedule and everything else if that would be easier?”

I must have spaced out because those were the last words I caught, so I just nodded. “Yes, that would be great, thank you.”

The crashing of waves echoed in my ears as the moonlight blared down on the open ocean. We must have been talking as we walked as we ended up stood outside the surf school, the night sky dancing above our heads.

“Take care of yourself kid,” he paused for a minute before adding, “and if you need anything at all, don’t even think twice about coming here or asking us for help. We’re here for you Pops.”

With a nod, I offered him as much of a smile I could master before walking down the road, careful on my footing. I pushed the emotions away, locking them in a cage deep inside me. What was it that Elsa said? Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let it show …or so mething like that. I refused to think about what he said until I was buried under my sheets and deep into a tub of ice cream with my favorite marvel hoodie on.

Just as I tugged my headphones on, letting the comfort of Camden by Gracie Abrams hum through them, I crashed into a wall. Well, I thought it was a wall until a pair of fierce green eyes met mine.

“Whoa there, princess,” he said with a smile, grabbing onto my arms to stop me from falling. What the hell was happening to me . I was invisible, a wallflower, a damned fucking nobody in this towns eyes. What the hell had I done to deserve this bad karma?

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” I muttered beneath my breath, my head still spinning from before, but when I looked up, I flinched .

Nate. Ohmygod it was Nate . Why did it have to be Nate?

I needed to leave. Now .

“No problem, princess,” Nate smiled, before tugging at the wire of my headphones. “Nice headphones.”

He laughed and the sound made me want to gag . A million memories threatened to resurface—of him and his friends towering over my helpless body curled up on the sidewalk, the sound of their laughter ricocheting around me like a cruel joke. Bile arose in my throat, and even though I swallowed it back down, the bitter taste remained.

I pulled my headphones off, stuffing them into my pockets before he had a chance to hear the song pounding through them. I didn’t need him to know how much I related to that song. I didn’t want him to realize who he was talking to and humiliate me again like I was some little kid in the grade below him. I didn’t want it to start all over again.

I was the butt of all his jokes. And I was sick of it .

“Alright then…are you feeling any better?”

“What?” I squeaked out. Each one of my fingers trembled.

Hold it down. Hold it down. Hold it down.

Nate’s thumb brushed over the bridge of my nose and down across my cheek to the edge of my jaw. I recoiled backwards. Everything around me started to blur.

You’re not there anymore.

He can’t hurt you.

He can’t touch you .

You’re okay.

You’re fine.

Breathe.

“Oh… yeah , I’m fine,” I replied shakily. I’d said the words I’m fine so fucking much they didn’t mean anything anymore.

Wait…how did he know about what happened?

“How do you know about that?” I asked cautiously, tugging my arms away from him, but his steel grip remained, pulling me back towards him. Every part of me was trembling yet he still didn’t let me go.

“Don’t you remember me?” He laughed like he hadn’t been one of the leaders of the group of people who bullied me relentlessly through middle school. Of course I remembered him. How could I not? I remembered every single thing he did to me and I would continue to for the rest of my life. He bore the face of my nightmares. The sound of his laughter was my own personal hell.

I hated it.

Every day of middle school, I walked the halls with my head hung low, trying to make myself as small as physically possible. Him, Miya, their friends…they all made me terrified of leaving the house. Something as simple as walking home became a battlefield . It was relentless. They were mean, and cruel, and downright horrible …and-and what had I done to deserve it? Why had I been the target of their abuse?

What was so horrible about me? What was so unlovable ?

I was tame. I was kind and sweet and gentle. I laughed and I loved and I dreamed.

Until they made me mean.

I never knew how to defend myself until they gave me a reason to.

It wasn’t him at the surf school. It couldn’t have been him . Him who helped me, held me…It couldn’t have been. Could it have been? I knew he surfed. He was the captain of Willow Cove High’s team, the town on the other side of the bay. The rivalry between them and Hawthorne Hills Elite Academy’s surf team went back years. It had been going on for so long now it was like it was a tradition for the two teams to hate and pull pranks on each other.

My head began to throb again, and I resisted the urge to fall asleep right there. I was so exhausted I could barely keep up with his words.

“Don’t you remember?” He continued. “I can call the medics back if you need me too…”

“ No —” I rushed to say. Play dumb. Play dumb. Play dumb. “no, it’s okay, I remember you…?”

He didn’t remember what he did to me .

The thought made me sick.

He didn’t remember anything he put me through.

Nothing .

If he did, he wouldn’t be acting like that. So kind, so caring .

There was no way.

He didn’t remember anything, yet I would forever be forced to remember the looks in their eyes as they towered over me and poured freezing cold milkshakes all over my body. The laughter that left their lips as they tore at my clothes, ripping off patches off fabric and cutting off chunks of my hair. I’d remember that for the rest of my life.

But he never would.

And just like that, it erased every single second of torture they put me through all those years like it was nothing .

But it wasn’t you , the voice inside my head was screaming at me, but it was dark, and I was concussed. For all I knew, it could’ve been him, and I was just being paranoid again . Exhausting myself over hypothetical scenarios again .

“Nate,” he answered with a smirk.

“ Right —”

“Well, if you’re feeling better, I was heading to Jakson’s party. You could come with me, you know?”

I snorted before I could stop myself.

My palm plastered against my lips as I realized what I’d done.

Such an idiot, Poppy.

“You just knocked me out and now you’re asking me out on a date ?” I questioned him. That was weird, right ? Shouldn’t he be telling me to go home and rest, not go with him to a frat party ? My mind was spinning. The whole fucking world was always spinning inside my head. All I wanted, for once in my life, was a moment of quiet .

“Well, I didn’t want to ask you out when your blood was dripping all over my shoes… ”

I groaned, covering my eyes with my hands. “I am so sorry about that—”

“Don’t be,” he lowered my hands and winked, “I’m not bothered about my shoes princess, I’m bothered about you .”

Okay, I know that was meant to be romantic, but I felt nothing .

I shuddered as a slice of cold breeze hit my back. Without hesitating, Nate threw off his jersey and tugged it over my head. I shimmied the clothing on, letting it fall down to just above my knees. I was wearing shorts, but this completely swallowed them. Nate smirked, standing back to take a look at me whole.

“Thanks,” I muttered, wrapping my arms around my chest.

“Does that mean you’ll come with me?” he asked hopefully.

I resisted the urge to pinch my temple.

It was only one party.

A few hours at most.

I wouldn’t have to go home.

I could have fun.

I could be happy .

“Yeah,” I offered him a half smile, as much as I could summon. “I guess it does.”

This didn’t mean I forgave him.

This didn’t erase what happened to me.

I repeated the words over and over inside my head, my anxiety flooding my system with panicking outcomes and parasitic thoughts.

Just breathe, Poppy. Nothing bad is going to happen.

Grinning like an idiot, Nate threw one of his arms over my shoulder and guided me down the road and along one of the many streets of beach homes and summer lake houses. Strips of green lined the road and paths, as well as the equally spaced palm trees. Each house was practically identical—the same materials, same style, same everything . It almost looked creepy, as well as the fact that everyone knew each other almost a little too well.

By the time I could hear the blazing music and echoes of tipsy students chanting as we neared the party destination, I learned that Nate liked to talk about himself a lot —like a lot . I learned that he was hoping to lead his surf team to victory this year. I tried to ask him something else, something that wasn’t about surfing , but he just kept talking and I felt… invisible to him. Like I was just an accessory for him to show off to his friends and then abandon me the second a new shiny girl passed his vision.

“…and she was a good hook up, you know? But I passed her along to Emilio. I swear the freshmen get hungrier every year,” He laughed to himself.

Did he really just talk to me about his latest hookup?

Just before I could tell him this was most definitely a mistake, he hopped in front of me and opened the door for me, gesturing for me to step inside. Like an idiot, I walked through the door, him following behind shortly after.

The chaos inside hit me like a wave. Within five minutes someone had already puked over my shoes, stripped their top off and started fucking against the door, and had been walked into by at least ten different people.

God, I fucking hated parties.

Tipsy students were bouncing around the halls, probably on something and soaring high as a kite on a wave of ecstasy. The main hall opened up into a spacious lounge area that was overlooked by a balcony of the second floor. I could just make out the cupboards and lights of the kitchen behind it. Pearly-white walls matched the gold and beige beach theme, with cream pillars and cushions decorating the pristine couches.

“Wanna grab a drink for me, princess?” Nate asked, before sending a wink to a group of guys by the pool table. I wanted to laugh, until I realized he was serious.

The nerve of that man—

“Actually, I think I’m going to—”

I was cut off by the screaming of four different people over the railing from the floor above, but before I could register their words, Nate pushed me forwards, and his gaping face, which started laughing at my expense, was the last thing I saw before everything went black .