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There was a rattling sound from above as the train timetables ticked over, showing another panel of departures, arrivals, delays and cancellations, the white lettering stark against the dark background. The sound of the changing board was quickly drowned out by the bustle of a thousand voices, and the trampling thuds of a stampede of footsteps.
Sam Greenwood was not a particularly nervous person. In fact, he was the sort who felt more energised when more people were around him. He revelled in being around others, but any time that he came to Zuzu City, the number of people made him long to be back home all the quicker. His eyes flicked up to the timetable again, waiting for the platform for the train back to Pelican Town to be announced, before darting to the huge clock hanging over the centre of the station. If the train didn’t leave soon, he would be keeping her waiting…
He chewed at his bottom lip. He’d promised to meet Penny this evening, and he was definitely going to be late at this point… and she didn’t have a phone so he couldn’t let her know.
It was the Flower Dance on Wednesday, and while it might not be his favourite of the town’s festivals, it was one that Penny loved. In truth, the only thing about it that made it tolerable was the fact that he would have the chance to hold her so close in his arms, and could let his imagination run away from him, let himself imagine that it was some sort of practice for a dance that would involve only the two of them one day. She always got herself worked up before the dance though. She had every year since they turned eighteen, terrified of messing it up somehow, so she would always ask him to meet her a few days before to practice in secret.
He let out a soft sigh. He would need to do something to make it up to her. He had wanted tonight to be special, to surprise her when they met, to sweep her off of her feet in a way that had nothing to do with the dance. He had had a crush on her for the longest time, but in the last year or so that they had started really connecting and spending time just the two of them. He wasn’t embarrassed to say that he was in love with her. He had wanted tonight to be the night that he told her.
He turned away from the board, weaving through the crowd of people and walking towards one of the vendors of the stores that surrounded the perimeter of the station. He should probably get a coffee or something to keep himself alert on the train back if his nerves didn’t keep him on his toes.
He was almost to the coffee stand when he stopped, noticing the stall laden with flowers. He felt his stomach give a little flip. If he was going to do this tonight, perhaps he should do it properly.
He swallowed hard and started towards the stall, scanning over the bundles of flowers, the beautiful blooms catching his eyes before the price tags did. He felt his initial buzz of nervous determination beginning to ebb. He couldn’t even afford to give her a bouquet… what was he thinking?
He had always been right hadn’t he… he would never, ever be good enough for her...
She was beautiful, intelligent, kind and the sweetest person he had ever known, while he was a loud, dumb deadbeat, and no matter how hard he might try, his music career would probably never amount to anything, just like his mother always said.
He tensed a little and shook himself, trying to bring himself back to the moment. His eyes flicked away from the huge bunches of roses, away from what she deserved but he couldn’t give… when he paused. Near the bottom of the stand was a small bunch of red and yellow poppies. He stooped down and picked them up. Almost on instinct, he reached out and ran his fingers over the silken petals. His mind began to flick back… it had been some ten years, but he remembered it so clearly…
His favourite classes at the moment were definitely their literature classes. Not that he had any remote interest in literature, but for a wonderful hour and a half, twice a week, Sam got to sit right beside Penelope Voss.
He could have kissed Mr Hudson when he had announced the seating plan for his class. He had been initially a little disappointed given the Seb was being sat on the opposite side of the room, probably down to their reputation for causing trouble when they were together in classes. Last year, Seb had managed to catch some frogs from the lake near his house and Sam had managed to put sneak around the school before classes started and deposit them into a large number of teachers’ water jugs. Mrs Wilkes didn’t come to the school for a week after, claiming she had been poisoned. Sam had willingly taken the rap for it to keep Seb out of trouble, but all of the teachers knew that the two of them worked as a pair, and there seemed to be some sort of conspiracy to keep them away from each other in classes now.
It didn’t exactly matter. Most of their prank planning tended to happen when they were on the bus to and from the school, or after hours when Seb would bring his keyboard over and they would practice their music together.
But in class time, each of them had ended up being sat with people who the teachers deemed to be ‘good influences’. Despite there not being a huge number of people in their class, literature was the only class that Sam found himself beside Penelope.
He spent most classes where he had a good view of her paying more attention to the way the sunlight shone in her copper hair, the way her blouses hugged her figure and the way the porcelain skin of her forehead would crease very slightly when she was thinking, than he did to his learning. But literature was the only class where he was near enough to her that he could smell the faint scent of her subtle floral perfume, and see the sparkle of her emerald eyes. He could follow the upturn of her button nose, trace the defined dip of her cupids bow with his eyes. His distraction was only heightened by the fact that she was left handed and he was right handed, so when writing in their books, their hands were so close that he could brush the back of his hand against hers if he could build up the nerve to.
He liked her so much it hurt, but she made him so nervous that he could barely speak two words to her.
He sat in his usual position, making it look like he was trying to think what to write next, but he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. She tucked her hair behind her ear as her pen danced across the page. Even her handwriting was pretty. Everything about her was delicate, and lithe and beautiful.
“Ok everyone, that’s it for today.” Mr Hudson said, snapping Sam from his thoughts. “Remember your creative writing project needs to be ready for collection at the end of tomorrow’s class. If you’re not almost finished, you have tonight to catch up.”
Penelope didn’t even look at Sam as she quickly closed the notebook that she had doodled flowers on the front of, scooping her bag from under the desk and hurriedly putting it in. She always did that after literature classes. Sam could almost believe she wanted to get away from him, but what reason would she have for that?
“So, what have you got now?” He asked glancing up at her as she stood.
“Maths.” She said without looking at him.
“Oh yeah, yeah, you’re in the, uh, year above class aren’t you?” He said, acting like he didn’t already know this.
Penelope had been in a private boarding school before her father had died a year prior and she had been forced to start attending the same state school as the other kids in Pelican Town. She was top of most of the classes that she took with her own year, resulting in some of the teachers making her take classes with the year above. She’d probably take half of their final year early. A lot of their peers thought she was a bit prissy and stuck up as she spoke so formally, and always had her long red hair up in a neat bun, dressing like she was fifty rather than fifteen. She never wore makeup or dressed in a way that the other girls their age did. Sam liked that she was different.
“Mmhmm.” She mumbled, sweeping her hand over her knee length skirt to make it fall neatly.
“Well, I’ve got basketball so it’s kinda in the same direction.” Sam said standing up too, shoving his own book into his backpack and swinging it over his shoulder. “Want me to walk you to class?”
She glanced up at him, and he almost winced at the cold look in those emerald eyes. “I am perfectly capable of finding my own way to my next class, thank you.”
He just blinked, trying to think of what to say, but didn’t get a chance as she turned and hurried from the classroom. Had he done something to upset her? Why was she mad at him?
“Wow, brutal.” Muttered a voice beside him and he looked down to see Seb at his shoulder. He hadn’t heard him approach, but Seb could be almost cat-like at times – you didn’t know he was there until he appeared. It had stopped making Sam jump out of his skin after a few years of knowing the smaller boy. “I know you ask her all the time, but I’ve never seen her shoot you down like that, dude.”
Sam let out a long sigh. “Yeah, she hates me.”
“Nah. She’s probably too nice to actually hate anyone. Maybe if you stopped being a creepy bastard…”
“Shut up.” Sam muttered, reaching over and ruffling his best friend’s hair. Seb batted his hands away cursing at him. Sam knew Seb wasn’t the biggest fan of physical touch, and for the most part he avoided subjecting him to it, but when he was deliberately trying to rile him, that was fair game. “If I was really that creepy you wouldn’t hang out with me.”
Seb raised an eyebrow. “You fuckin’ serious? I’m the only kid at this school who is weirder than you.”
Sam laughed aloud, stooping to nudge him with his shoulder. “We’re not weird, we’re just a different kind of cool.”
“That’s such a loser thing to say.” Seb grunted mutinously as they started along the corridor. He let out a long sigh. “Can we just bunk off of gym and go to the music room?”
“Dude, you know I would love to do that, but if I get any more unauthorised absence slips, Mom is gonna kill me.” Sam said before looking down at Seb in sympathy. “… is it still bad?”
Seb glanced away. The two of them had been placed in separate gym classes this year, so when Sam was doing football, Seb would be doing basketball and vice versa. Sam could have handled that no problem. What he struggled to deal with was the fact that it meant that gym was the one place that he couldn’t protect his best friend. While Sam was broad, and tall like his father, Seb had still yet to hit a growth spurt, meaning that the top of his head was still only level with Sam’s collarbone. He was scrawny, almost painfully slim, which Sam knew probably came from the amount of nervous energy he had due to the terrible time he had at home with his stepfather… but of course the other kids didn’t know that.
It felt like a punch to the gut every time he met up with Seb after gym to see a fresh red mark that would definitely bruise on his face, or a bloody nose, or one time his hair soaked from being shoved headfirst down a toilet. That had been the one time Seb had actually let Sam hug him. Sam just felt helpless. There was nothing he could do to make them stop, and the teachers certainly weren’t helping. Sam had offered to take on the guys that were doing it, but Seb had insisted that he didn’t. It was mainly the larger ones, the members of the school sports teams, the ones who would spend their evenings lifting weights and shit like that. While Sam would have done it in a heartbeat for Sebastian, the smaller guy always insisted that he shouldn’t.
“Dude, we gotta tell the teachers.”
“Tell them what?” Seb looked up at him sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Th-that I’m a little runt who can’t stick up for myself?”
“Seb, don’t be like-”
“That won’t do fuckin’ shit though!” Seb snapped. “If the teachers did do anything, it would just make it worse. They’d fuckin’ murder me.” Sam stared at him as Seb reached up and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting long, Sam noted, almost shaggy. It wasn’t a bad look on him. “Some days I just wanna… bring my mace into school with me and smash all their fuckin’ faces in.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Seb looked up at him, his eyebrow raising slightly before he let out a sigh. “… yeah, I do… but I wouldn’t actually do it… I’m a coward like that, Sammy.”
“You’re not a coward!” Sam said instantly. “It takes a lot for you to come into school every day, then go home and deal with that shit. You’re certainly no coward.”
Seb gave a wry laugh. “… maybe I’m just not brave enough to do something about it….”
There was something almost ominous about Seb’s words, that made Sam pause. Before he could say anything, Seb heaved another sigh. “Whatever man… I’ll see you at the bus stop.”
Sam just watched as Seb hurried away, his head down, clearly just wanting to get whatever was going to happen over with. He let out a sigh through his nose as he turned in the direction of the changing rooms by the basketball court.
After a few moments, he noticed something slightly crumpled on the ground and frowned, stooping down and scooping it up. The familiar flower doodles on the front of the notebook immediately let him know that it was hers. He felt himself frown. It must have slipped out of her bag. He should probably head to the maths classroom and return it to her…
He paused, glancing at the front of the notebook again. For a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, he didn’t want to return it just yet. He leaned against the wall of the old wooden school building, his fingers tracing over the lines of the petals of the flowers on the front. They were actually very good. Did she sketch in her spare time, he wondered? He glanced around quickly, almost guiltily, as though making sure no-one could see what he was doing as he flipped the book open. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, or if he was looking for anything. Maybe he just wanted to look at her pretty handwriting again.
His eyes scanned over the handwriting, beautifully neat, delicately formed, just like her. He carefully flipped through the pages, letting himself get lost in the art that was her words. It was only when he’d flipped to about halfway through the book that he paused, realising something. He didn’t exactly pay attention in Lit class, but he hadn’t seen anything in this book that they had done in this term. He turned back a few pages, just to confirm what he had initially thought.
Poems… it was filled with poems…
He felt a smirk play about his lips. Of course, she wrote poems. She was probably just like him, an artistic soul who looked expressed themselves through a medium that might not always make sense to everyone, like him with his music.
He flicked through the pages until he found the most recent entry.
Swaying softly in the breeze,
The poppies glow in the summer sun.
Their heads are bowed only by the bees,
Offering respite, ‘til their work is done.
Inside their silken petals, they rest
Their little wings tired from beating.
The poppy welcomes their honoured guest
And rejoice in this sweet chance meeting.
They bless their buzzy, fuzzy friends
With satin touch and heady scent,
Then suddenly, the bee ascends
And leaves, for the flowers use is spent.
The poppy reaches after, saddening
As loneliness descends again
And like a weed suffocating it, maddening
That all that is left is the echoing pain.
Sweet poppy, I beseech you, do not weep,
I’ll lie beside you in this field.
So let me stay, oh let me sleep,
And guard me with your silken shield.
Let the earth swallow me, take me beneath,
Lose me to the eternity of space
And wrap me in your satin sheets,
Held forever in the poppies silk embrace.
Sam blinked several times as he read the poem through twice more. Was there supposed to be some sort of deep meaning in this? He wasn’t sure, but the poem made him feel a sadness that permeated through him, making his heart ache.
“Sam!”
He looked up sharply, catching sight of blazing emerald eyes before he quite comprehended who was stood before him. “Oh!” He exclaimed. “Hey, I was going to come find you!”
Penelope looked furious. “Th-that is my personal property! You reading what is written in there is an invasion of my privacy!” She held out her hand. “Would you kindly return it?”
He felt the corner of his mouth quirk up. “Sure. No problem.” He said, going to hand it to her, before he lifted it just out of her reach. “Though maybe I should hold onto it a little longer.”
“I would like it back!”
“I’d hate to not take advantage of this sweet chance meeting, my buzzy fuzzy friend.” He smirked, his tone teasing.
For a moment, he thought she was going to shout at him, her eyes flashed with an emotion too quick for him to catch before her cheeks flushed red.
Then to his horror, her bottom lip wobbled as her eyes filled with tears. “D-don’t mock me…”
His smirk dropped as he tried to backpedal in his words. “What? N-no, no, no, I wasn’t…”
“Just give me the book.”
He placed it in her hands without hesitation. “Pen, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
“My name is Penelope!” She snapped, glaring up at him, tears running down her cheeks. “… never come near me again, Sam Greenwood!” And she turned and stormed away, leaving him standing somewhat bereft as to how that had managed to go so wrong so quickly.
“You want that bunch or not?”
Sam was snapped back to reality as the vendor spoke. “Um…” He glanced back at the poppies again. “… I thought these only grew in the summer.”
The vendor shrugged. “Grew them in my greenhouse.” He said, and Sam felt a little dumb for a moment. “Grow them all year round.”
“Right, right. That makes sense.” He said quietly.
“The express train to Meridion City will be the 17:25 from Platform Twelve, calling at Wildwood Forest, Pelican Town, Clarin Point and Meridion City.”
Sam looked up in a mild panic. He only had a few minutes! How could they cut it so close like that?! “Oh, shit.” He muttered, fumbling for his wallet. He opened it, peering inside. There were a few gold notes and a folded scrap of paper. He bit his lip as he pulled out the last of his cash and paid for the bunch of flowers as he started running through the station, darting between people as he sprinted in the direction of Platform Twelve.
A large digital clock declared the time as 17:24 as he rushed onto the platform, his feet pounding against the paved stone floor as he ran towards the doors. A loud high pitched beeping sound echoed along the platform, and he launched himself into the train, just as the doors closed behind him.
He panted hard, giving a little chuckle, more to himself than anything as he straightened up. A few people were watching him, looking almost suspicious, and he gave an awkward little grin. He probably had looked like he was being chased from the way that he had run. No wonder they were looking at him strangely.
He sat down in a seat by the window and gazed out of the window as the train began to pull out of the station. After a minute or so, the brick walls of the station opened up, and the train began to pick up speed as it started to make it’s winding trek out of the city. Sam settled into the hard fabric seat. Even with only a few stops, even though it was an express train, Pelican Town was still at least an hour and a half away.
He wished he had his guitar with him. He would always get lost in his own little world when he was playing his music, and time would lose all meaning. He placed the flowers on his lap and reached into his pocket, drawing out his earphones. The wires had gotten ridiculously tangled. He gave a sigh as he sat back, starting to untangle the rubbery wire, the earthy scent of the poppies filling his senses.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
Seb shook his head, tugging his fringe forward over the black eye that was already blossoming as Sam walked beside him up toward the mountain lake. “Nothing to talk about.” He grunted.
Sam let out a long sigh. “Dude… I want to help.”
“I know.”
“Please, tell me how I can…”
“You can’t Sammy.” Seb muttered. Something in Seb’s tone made Sam almost want to cry. He couldn’t stand it. He hated feeling so helpless when it came to his best friend. He usually felt like he knew what to say, how to bring him out of his funks, or what to do to make things better, but right now, he just didn’t know. “No-one can. It doesn’t matter who I tell, or whether I stand up for myself, or whatever, because nothing changes…” Seb’s voice seemed to catch for a moment. “Nothing fuckin’ changes in this place.”
Sam chewed his lip. “… well then, we need to get out of this place.” he said after a few moments.
Seb glanced up at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You and me.” Sam said trying to smile at him. “We’ll get out of this town, and start our band. We’ll practice our music until we’re super awesome.” He mimed strumming his guitar. “Me blowing their minds on the strings…” He waggled his fingers out in front of him. “… and you doing your wizardry on the keys, and we’ll do the circuits in the city and all the record labels will beg us to sign with them!”
Seb just stared at him, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. “That would be fun.”
“It would be fun!” Sam nodded encouragingly, glad to sense Seb’s mood lifting very slightly. “We’ll have the whole shebang, the sex, drugs and rock and roll, all the guys wanting to be us, and all the girls wanting to suck our dicks.”
“Dude!”
“Maybe some of the guys will want to as well.”
“Not what I was saying!”
Sam grinned, throwing his arm over Seb’s shoulders. “And no-one will ever lay a finger on you again because you won’t just have me to look out for you. You’ll have an army of bodyguards, and if anyone so much as looks at you weird, or if you saw those pricks from school, or Demetrius or anyone you didn’t want there, you could have them thrown straight out, and maybe have your guys rough ‘em up a bit.”
Seb gave an appreciative smile that made Sam keep speaking. “A-and you can have sushi for every damn meal if that’s what you want, because you’d be a goddamn rock star and no-one can tell you how you have to live your life. Maybe we could even have your mom with us on tour so she can make her pumpkin soup. And I’ll have pizza and maple bars all the time, and we’ll probably end up all diabetic and shit, but who the fuck cares, because we’ll be fuckin’ rock legends!”
“Well, we’ll just have to get those good drugs to keep ourselves thin.” Seb shrugged, starting to play along. “Sex, drugs and rock and roll remember?”
“Yeah, exactly!” Sam nodded. “Though eventually we won’t want the sex anymore, and then it’ll have to be pizza slash sushi, drugs and rock and roll.”
“We’ll be dead by thirty.”
“But what an amazing thirty years it’ll be!” Sam laughed. “People will look back on our lives and say ‘goddamn, they knew how to live! And we’ll be there as ghosts like ‘fuck yeah, we did!’”
Seb gave a weak chuckle. “Fuck yeah…” he echoed. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he looked up at Sam. “Do you promise, Sam? We’ll escape this place and go to the city together.”
Sam put his hand over his heart. “Dude, I promise.” He said sincerely. “You, me and our music, and no-one and nothing else.”
Seb gave a lopsided grin. “I’m gonna hold you to that.” He muttered as they reached the house by the lake.
Seb’s feet drew to a halt as he just stared at the house for a few moments. “Hey Seb?” Sam mumbled and Seb looked up at him. “… you’ll be ok, yeah?”
Seb shrugged. “I guess.”
“I don’t have to start checking you for your mace before school?”
Seb gave a snort. “Please, I couldn’t sneak that thing in if I tried.” He gave a small nod. “I’ll be alright, Sam.” He said quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I gotta get on with that Lit project.”
Sam gave a nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow man.” He said with a small nod, waiting until Seb had let himself into the house before he turned to start walking back down the mountain.
He didn’t really want to go home yet. His mom was always pissy these days. She and his dad hadn’t been getting along quite so well lately. Sam knew it was just a rough patch. It was part and parcel of marriage from what he understood. Still, it tinged the periods of time that his father was home with bitterness, like a sweet dessert with a sour aftertaste. He glanced towards the other path off of the mountain. It cut through Mr Fletcher’s land, but as long as he kept to the perimeter, he was sure the old man probably wouldn’t care too much.
As he walked through the backwoods, he was struck by the way the path seemed to glow green from the sunlight shining through the canopy of the trees. He didn’t come this way often. Why would he? It was much more direct to head straight up the mountain from the town path if he was going to see Sebastian. There was not a lot of point coming this way. It was pretty though… the green made him think of…
He let out a sigh, fixing his eyes on the ground. He felt so stupid. Why had he tried to mess around with her? He should have just given her the book, maybe said he liked her poem, not started trying to tease her. He wished he could turn back time and do it over. He didn’t know how he was meant to make it right though.
As he reached the farm, he took a sharp left, starting to walk along the perimeter of the farmland. There was always something a little strange about the farm, like an energy that was a little forbidding. He and Seb generally kept their distance, same as most of the townspeople. Mr Fletcher was a very odd man, and Sam had never really seen him much around the town. He never attended the town festivals or anything like that.
As he walked past the crops, he paused, noticing a patch of flowers. He blinked several times. No way… no way was the universe really rubbing all that had happened today in his face like this.
In spite of himself, he turned and walked towards the patch of poppies. He crouched beside them, a strange feeling almost of awe as he studied them. A bee buzzed lazily from flower to flower, the weight of them making the head bob for a moment, before the petals seemed to cradle the fuzzy insects, gently holding them until they took their leave. As the bee lifted from the last flower, it seemed to reach its petals after it, almost as though it really were mourning being left behind. Sam felt himself swallow as he reached out and gently ran his fingers over the petals.
They felt like satin…
“Who are you? What are you doing?”
Sam jumped, looking up and springing to his feet as he saw the old man hurrying from the farmhouse. He was a small, squat man with a beard that would put the man of the Winter Star to shame. His forehead was creased not just by his annoyance but with layers of wrinkles. “N-nothing, sorry, just looking.” Sam said, beginning to backpedal. “I-I was just looking. I promise.”
Mr Fletcher slowed in his step, his eyes scanning Sam up and down, giving a little grunt as he drew to a halt. “Just lookin’ eh?” He muttered. “… got a whole field of melons… an orchard of fruit trees… why the poppies?”
He blinked, surprised at this line of questioning. “… I uh…” He swallowed. “… I… I dunno…” he mumbled meekly. “… I um… they reminded me of someone… so I just wanted to… look.”
The old man just stared at him for a moment. “… someone special, eh?” He asked quietly.
Sam gave a nod. “Very special.” He replied, surprised at the softness that had come into the old man’s tone. “… but um… I think I might have blown any chance I might have had with her.”
“Well, you’re young.” Mr Fletcher said with a small shrug. “There’ll be any number of special someone’s coming in and out of your life.”
“No, none like her.” Sam said, a little surprised at himself as he said it. “She’s smart, and beautiful and… and…” He sighed. “… and doesn’t like me…” He gave a small rueful chuckle. “Maybe that’s why I like her. You want what you can’t have, right?”
Why was he saying this? Why was he suddenly telling the weird old man about his non-existent love life? He couldn’t describe it, but he got a strange feeling from the old man, like he was trustworthy, and just made him want to speak…
Mr Fletcher watched him for a few moments before he looked back at the poppy patch. “… they were my wife’s favourites.” He said suddenly.
Sam looked round at flowers, then back at the old man, suddenly feeling like he had trespassed on something sacred. Guilt rippled through him. “… I’m so sorry.”
The old man gave a little shrug. “They always made her smile, so I always made sure I planted a whole patch of ‘em for her every summer. Even now, even when she’s been gone some twenty years, I still make sure I plant a patch of ‘em for her.”
Sam felt himself frown a little. “Why?”
He looked round at the boy looking a little surprised. “Because that’s what you do when you love someone.” He said like it was obvious. “Y’know, poppies symbolise undying love. It holds as much meaning to me now as it did when she was here… maybe more. And if my love for her never dies, then it’s like a little part of her is still here with me.”
Sam lowered his gaze again. “I… I’m really very sorry.”
Mr Fletcher shrugged again as he stepped towards the poppy patch. “Don’t be. Love is a remarkable thing, and I’m glad that I got to experience something so beautiful in my life. She built a life with me and gave me a wonderful son. What more could a man ask for?” Sam watched as the old man stooped and broke off the poppy Sam had been stroking the petals of. “You seem like a young man who knows his own heart though.” He said turning back to him, and Sam noticed the small smile he was giving him. “You reckon that girl is special?” He held the poppy towards him. “You better go make it right.”
Hesitantly, Sam reached out and carefully took the flower from the old man’s hand. For a few moments, he simply stood, his hand coming up to run along the petals again… like silk… before he looked back at Mr Fletcher. “Thank you.” He said, a little breathlessly as he grinned at him. “Thank you so much!”
Without thinking, he turned and started to run across the farmland. He half expected to hear the old man shouting after him, but instead he thought he heard a hearty chuckle behind him. He didn’t look back, knowing now what he had to do.
He charged along the path down towards the Cindersap Forest, following along the river down to the house that overlooked the cliffs at the southernmost point of the valley. There was the Voss’s house. Benedict Voss had been a well to do businessman and had built his home in the most beautiful point in the world according to him. When he had died suddenly the year before, it had not had much of an effect on many of the townsfolk, save for the regulars in the saloon, who began to see much more of Pamela Voss on a regular basis.
The house was run down now, nowhere near as immaculate as it had been when Mr Voss was alive. There was a hole in the roof of the annexe and some of the wooden walls appeared to be starting to rot. It was almost like the house was dying too.
Sam ran a hand through his ruffled hair, trying to flatten it a little. He knew it would make no difference. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the door and knocked.
He heard shouting from inside and after a moment, a stout blonde woman opened the door, her hair in curlers, a cigarette hanging from her mouth. She was in a dressing gown, her face sallow, probably from the amount Pamela Voss drank these days. “What?” She demanded, her voice both suspicious and irate. “What do you want?”
Sam shrunk back a little, feeling a little taken aback at the hostility. “Um… sorry to impose, I was uh… can I speak to Penelope, please?”
She glanced him up and down before she rolled her eyes and shut the door.
Sam blinked several times. He was aware that Pamela wasn’t the most friendly of characters, but he hadn’t been expecting that. He felt himself wilting slightly, and glanced down at the poppy in his hand. Maybe this had been a dumb idea anyway. What did old Fletcher know about this sort of thing. Things were different back in his day.
He let out a sigh and turned back down the steps, glancing at the cliffs. He chewed at his lip for a moment, before he made a move towards them, intending to throw the damn flower over the edge.
“What do you want?”
He froze and looked back. Penelope was stood in the doorway, her hand on her hip, her emerald eyes cold. Even when she was angry, she was still so pretty, an ice sculpture made flesh.
He swallowed and turned back, and with no pre-amble, held the poppy out to her. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.” He blurted.
She stared at him for a few moments, before her eyes flicked down to the poppy he was offering. “… what?”
“I’m sorry I teased you earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you. Seriously, I would never have made you cry deliberately.” He babbled. “I’m really, really sorry.”
Slowly, she reached out and took the flower from him. Her fingers drifted up and gently stroked one of the petals. “… you read that one…”
He nodded. “I… yeah. Yeah, I really liked it.”
Her eyes flicked back up to him. “You… liked it?” She repeated.
“I did! It was really good.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and Sam got the sudden impression that this was the wrong thing to say. “… I see.” She said quietly. “Well, thank you for the flower.” She turned to go back inside, and Sam felt a flash of panic.
“… it made me feel sad.” He said quickly.
She paused and looked back at him. “… it did?”
He nodded. “I… I dunno why exactly, but it… it made me sad… and maybe it’s dumb, but I felt sorry for the poppy… being left alone like that.”
For a few moments, she didn’t speak, just staring at him. Then she quietly closed the door behind her and took a step towards him. “… do you know what poppies symbolise?” she asked softly. He opened his mouth to repeat what Mr Fletcher had told him, when she spoke again. “… death and remembrance.” She said softly.
He stared at her. “I… um… I was told something a little different.”
She shrugged. “There’s a few different meanings, but those are the two most well known.” She glanced towards where the sun was setting. “I went to my father’s grave last week, and it had gotten a little overgrown since I last went. It was surrounded by poppies. It’s been… on my mind a lot.”
Sam followed her gaze for a moment, before looking back at her. “… I’m sorry.” He hesitated for a moment. “Were you close with him? Your dad?”
For a moment, she didn’t react. Then she closed her eyes, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “We were a really close family. I know I was away during the week for school, but when I was at home, we were really close… Mother has been drinking a lot ever since… I… I don’t quite know what to do… it’s starting to fall to me to take care of the house… but…” She glanced up at the house again. “… I… I’m not very good at it just yet…”
Sam bit his lip for a moment. “… that must be really hard.” He said, slipping his hands into his pockets. He took a breath, glancing away from her. “… my dad is overseas most of the time, so it’s just me and my mom. It’s really weird. When he’s home, they fight a lot because he’s under a lot of stress… and when he’s away, she’s super tense, because she’s frightened.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “… that sounds terribly hard too.”
He gave a little shrug and looked down at her. “Well, it’s why I try to keep smiling. Because I know they need me to be happy. Maybe if I smile enough, one day it’ll make them smile again too. So it’ll all be worth it. Same as I bet your dad was happy if you were smiling.”
She blinked and lowered her gaze looking down at the poppy. “… do you think he’d be sad… knowing how sad I am now?”
Sam tipped his head slightly. “Do you think he’d be sad?”
She reached up and gently stroked at the poppy petals. “… I don’t know…” she said quietly. “He… he didn’t like it when I was sad… he said he felt lucky when I was smiling, all shiny like…”
Sam’s eyes widened very slightly. “… like a penny.”
She looked round at him again. “That was what he called me. His Lucky Penny.” She said with a small nod. “But… but I feel like… it’s a complex feeling… some days I feel sad, and then I feel bad because I know he’d want me to be happy, and some days I feel ok, and I think how disrespectful it is to be happy when he’s not here to be happy with me.”
Sam took a step closer to her, almost standing beside her. “What was he like?”
She blinked, looking surprised at the question. “Um…” she glanced away. “He was… great… he was really great. Everyone called him Benny, except my mother. She called him Bee. He was really clumsy, we couldn’t have anything nice, because he would inevitably knock it over. When he did, she called him Bumblebee.” She smiled a little at the memory. “However busy he was with his work though, he always had time for us. He loved us so much…” Her smile faltered slightly as her eyes became glassy. “She stopped calling me Penny after he died... everyone did..." She let out a soft sigh. "… I miss him.”
Sam wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but he reached out and gently put his arm around her shoulders. Suddenly she turned and wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her face into his chest. He jumped slightly at the sudden contact, before he slowly brought his arms around her, hugging her to him. In the same moment, she tightened her grip on him, her shoulders shaking a little. “Hey, hey, it’s alright.” He said gently, rubbing her back. “I got you.”
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, seeming to be trying to hold back tears. “I’m really sorry. I know I shouldn’t…”
“Shouldn’t what?” He said, holding her a little tighter. “You can cry, you’re allowed to miss him. It’s ok.”
Her breath hitched for a moment, as though she didn’t understand what he was saying, before her face crumpled and she began to sob against him. He just held her, rubbing gently at her back. After a few minutes, her sobs quieted to soft sniffles. Sam expected her to pull back from him, but to his surprise, she kept holding on to him. “… thank you.” She finally spoke in a small voice.
“Don’t worry about it.” He said mildly.
“No, I… I was really horrid to you earlier… but…” Her arms tightened again. “… no-one has hugged me since… for quite some time…”
Something about the way she said it made his heart hurt all the more. “Oh, Penny…” he murmured, holding her closer to him. “You can come to me any time you need a hug, hon.”
He only realised after he said it that he had used the wrong name for her. She had told him to call her Penelope. He debated correcting himself, but when she said nothing, he resolved to just remember to call her the right name next time.
“Thank you.” She murmured again. “I really appreciate that.”
She finally relinquished her grip on him and drew back, looking up at him. “Are you going to be alright?” Sam asked gently.
She gave a nod. “Yes, I’ll… I’ll be alright.” She said, wiping at her cheeks. “I… I better go get on with dinner… plus have that Lit project to finish tonight.”
“Yeah, same.” He said, putting his hands back in his pockets. “But… well… listen, you know where I am anytime you need a hug, or someone to talk to or… whatever.”
She offered him a small watery smile. “You’re very sweet Sam. Thank you.” She said softly. She glanced down at the poppy still in her hands for a moment, then back at him. “Well… I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” He said with a nod. “See you tomorrow.”
He waited until she had stepped back inside, spotting her look back at him with a small shy smile before she closed the door behind her.
It was only when he was on the path back to the town that he suddenly realised how close he had been holding the girl of his dreams… however, he didn’t feel the thrill he had always thought he would feel after hugging her. He just felt good that he had been able to make her feel a little better, and give her what she had needed.
As the train pulled into Pelican Town, Sam slung his bag back onto his shoulders and waited for the doors to open, his leg jiggling nervously. He was already thirty minutes late to meet her. He hoped she wouldn’t think he had flaked on her. Maybe he should stop at the trailer to make sure she hadn’t already gone home.
The second the door to the train opened, he leapt out, sprinting across the tracks before the train could move and down past the spa building, down the slope towards the mountain lake. As he past the carpenter’s house, a thought flitted through his mind, and he took out his phone, snapping a quick picture of the flowers and sending them to the group chat he had with Seb and Abby, before he continued running down the mountain.
His phone started buzzing as he was running past the community centre. He snatched it out of his pocket, quickly reading.
SamBamThankYouMaam: *IMG249*
Cra8: Fucking finally.
0uija8ored: Unconventional choice, but I’m into it.
0uija8ored: Go get her Sammy!
He grinned appreciatively, shoving the phone back into his pocket and began sprinting again, determined to reach the beach before she could think that he might have forgotten about her. He was coming for her, whether she realised it or not.
The town square was empty as he ran through it, his feet pounding on the cobblestone streets, over the bridge on the river and down the steps to the beach. He looked around quickly, and spotted her stood in their usual spot, near the old plank bridge to the rockpool dune.
She was still as beautiful as the first day that he had met her when they were fourteen. She was gazing out towards where the moon was rising over the water, her face serene, the spring breeze ruffling her knee length skirt. She had her favourite yellow blouse on, her hair done up in its bun, same as she always did, though she wore it a little looser than she had when they were in school.
As he started to run across the beach towards her, she looked around and spotted him, her face breaking into a bright beam. Sam’s heart skipped a beat. Sometimes when he looked at her, he thought that she could outshine the sun.
To his mild surprise, she started to run towards him. She had taken off her shoes, and there was something almost joyful about the sight of her sprinting towards him, barefoot and grinning. As she reached him, she sprang up, wrapping her arms around his neck. He caught hold of her and twirled her around, making her giggle in delight.
“I was starting to think you weren’t coming.” She said a little breathlessly as he set her down, her arms still draped around his neck.
He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, my train was cancelled, and I couldn’t get in touch with you to let you know. You know I’d never forget you.”
She giggled again. “I knew. That’s why I hadn’t gone yet.” She glanced him up and down, appraising his outfit. “You scrub up pretty well, Mr Greenwood.”
He laughed glancing down at his suit. “Oh, I actually went to the interview in my usual clothes, but I decided to dress up to meet you.”
“Oh, of course, I should have realised.” Her expression softened slightly. “How did it go?” she asked quietly.
Sam’s grin spread across his face. “I got it!” He said brightly. “You’re looking at Joja’s newest employee.”
She let out a little squeal and hugged him again. “That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you, Sam!”
“Thanks.” He chuckled, hugging her back. “Couldn’t have done it without your luck though. But it means I can finally start saving to get my own place. It’s only part time right now, but hey, more hours might come from it, right?”
“Of course!” She said brightly, finally drawing back from him. “It’s a foot in the door. And it means you can focus on your music too!”
He chuckled. “Yeah, can work on getting a demo disc together and stuff.” He glanced away. “But um… I… I think I might have another motivation to start saving for a place…”
She blinked, looking a little confused. “… well don’t leave me hanging, what is it?”
He took a deep breath, feeling his heart beating against his ribs. He stepped back from her and held out the bouquet. “… um… these are for you.”
Her eyes widened, looking confused and awestruck all at once. “… Sam…”
“I… I um…” He chuckled awkwardly. “I had a whole speech prepared, and now I can’t remember any of it.” He said with a laugh. “I um… I like you a lot… no… no, more than that. I’m in love with you Penny. I have been since the moment I met you. And I mean, back then it was like child love, y’know, just like schoolyard crush sort of thing, but it’s been ever since, since we’ve been friends, and I’ve gotten to know the warm, kind, wonderful person that you are that I…” He gave her a soft smile. “… I… I want to… I want to be with you. I want to spend time getting to fall more in love with you… if you’ll have me…”
Slowly she reached out and took the bunch of poppies from him. “… Sam…” she repeated softly. “… you’ve… felt like this… the whole time?”
He gave a little chuckle, as he reached into his pocket and drew out his wallet, reaching in and drawing out the piece of folded paper. His cheeks darkened as he held it out to her. Hesitantly, she took it from him, and carefully unfolded it. She let out a quiet gasp.
When Sam sat down beside Penelope the next day in Literature class, she actually glanced up at him with a small smile, which he immediately returned. It was like it was a secret that only the two of them were privy to. “You manage to finish?” Sam asked softly.
She nodded. “Yes. You?”
“I was up until the wee hours of the morning, but I got it done.” He grinned. “It’s probably rubbish, but it’ll get me a grade, right?”
She made a little noise of agreement, as she looked away towards the front of the classroom, while Sam finished unpacking his things. As he sat down though, there was a small piece of folded paper on the desk beside his book that he was sure he hadn’t gotten out of his bag. He frowned as he reached out and picked it up, carefully unfolding it.
He froze, just staring at it. It was a pencil sketch of a poppy, beautifully drawn and delicately shaded until it looked almost realistic. Almost instinctively, he wanted to reach out and stroke the petals. In the corner was a small written note.
‘Sam, thank you for the hug. Penny.’
He glanced at her, but she was looking firmly away from him towards the front of the room. However, he couldn’t mistake the slight blush that seemed to have risen to her cheeks.
Penny just stared at the picture she had drawn ten years ago. It was a little worn from where it had been in his wallet, and some of the lines were slightly smudged. “… Sam…” she whispered.
“… the whole time.” Sam murmured, taking a small step towards her. “Sometimes, when I’m upset, or worried, I take that picture out, and I run my fingers over the petals… and I think about your smile.” She looked up at him and he smiled gently at her. “… I love you… my shiny Penny.”
Her eyes shone for a moment, before she flung herself at him, her arms going around his neck. She had caught him off guard however and he stumbled back, landing flat on his back in the sand with a laugh. “You big dork!” She giggled, propping herself up slightly to look into his face, grinning, radiant with joy. “I can’t believe you kept this! It was just a scrap sketch!”
“Well, it was a masterpiece to me.” Sam shrugged, albeit a little awkwardly from his position.
She laughed again, smacking gently on his chest. “No, stop it, you don’t get to be a romantic on top of being the sweetest man in the world!”
“That’s how the cookie crumbles, babe.” He said, his hands coming to rest on the small of her back, holding her there on top of him.
She raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you call me babe?”
“Since two seconds ago.” He shrugged with a grin. “… I can call you something else if you want?”
A grin spread across her face. “… actually I kind of like it.” She said quietly. “… I guess you could call me girlfriend if you really wanted to?”
He blinked looking dumbstruck for a moment. “Wait, is it a yes?”
She laughed aloud. “Of course it is! I thought you knew how I felt!” She leaned up slightly placing a hand on the side of his face. “I love you too, you strange, silly man.”
He chuckled softly, one of his hands rising up to rest on the back of her neck as he leaned up slightly. In the same moment, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his. Electricity shot through Sam’s veins as he kissed her, sure it was probably making his already ruffled hair stand on end, the hand on her back pulling her closer to him. She felt like summer, like holding a ray of sunlight in his arms, warm, and bright and beautiful.
Finally, she drew back, her eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze and she let out a giggle. “So… I guess that makes The Flower Dance on Wednesday our first dance as a couple.”
He shrugged. “No, I don’t think so.” He said, pushing himself up, tugging her up with him.
She made a little sound of surprise as he pulled her upright. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Sam pulled her into his arms, placing a hand on her waist, holding her hand and shoulder height. “… I would rather our first dance as a couple be just you and me, and no-one else watching.”
She let out another little laugh as he led her into a slightly clumsy two step. “Samson Greenwood, could you not be adorable for two seconds and focus on not stepping on my toes.”
“I will make no promises one way or the other.” He grinned, pretending to stamp on her feet as he drew her closer.
For a while, they just danced there in the moonlight, her head resting against his chest, her arms around his neck, while his hands lingered on her waist.
“… I worked it out you know…” he murmured after a while.
“What?” She looked up at him, frowning slightly in confusion.
“Your poem.” He said with a small shrug. “You remember I spent a tonne of time in the museum a few years ago?” She gave a little nod. “I um… I was trying to get a bit more… cultured I guess… I wanted to try to get you to think I might be smarter than I am.”
“Oh, Sam…”
“I know, I know, it was a fool’s errand.” He chuckled. “But I did start realising like… how poets use stuff to symbolise their feelings and stuff… I never forgot your poem you know? Even now, I could probably recite it to you…” His hand came up and pushed a stray piece of hair off of her forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand it back then, Penny. If I had, I’d never have teased you. I wish I had been smarter, and maybe I…”
“Sam…” She murmured, smiling gently at him. “… I don’t think you realise how much you did for me that day.” She leaned up and gently kissed his cheek. “You were my first real friend. You made me feel like it was ok to smile again. I have always, and will always be grateful to you for that…” She cupped his cheek with her hand again as she beamed at him. “… my sunshine.”
A grin spread across his face as he dipped his head and kissed her deeply again.
Though neither of them exactly told anyone of what had happened that night, the way that he smiled at her when she had arrived at the flower dance on Wednesday, the way his eyes had lingered on the summer poppies woven into her hair, and the way he had held her so close to him as they danced might have given them some idea.
And if that didn’t, the way that they had kissed at the end of the dance had definitely tipped most people off.