I definitely was not sleeping. I had the craziest day. But I’m going to bed now. Double lock those doors, Arrow!
GreenArrow11
Shoot. I didn’t check my messages before going to sleep, so I forgot to double lock.
Sadly, I was attacked.
By an elf.
Why did I add that last part?
I could unsend it, but if I do, she’ll know therewasa message, and she’ll wonder what I’m hiding.
But it’s not like Grace and I are a couple.
And obviously nothing is happening with Poppy.
I set my phone down, spit and rinse, and then get ready.
In the room, Poppy’s on the floor in her pajamas. Planking.
Okay, then.
“Morning,” she says with a strained smile. “Sorry, give me two more minutes.”
“How many minutes do you plank for?”
“Five. I hate it.”
“Not bad,” I say. I step around her and sit in the chair in the corner of the room so I can pull on my shoes.
“I already did my fifty pushups, but I still have a five minute wall sit after this before we can go. Or I could always do it during a rest stop. I’m sorry!”
“Stop apologizing. I’ll do them with you,” I say. I get down onto my elbows and toes and start planking. “So, this is your thing? Planks, pushups, and wall sits?”
“Yes,” she says, out of breath. “It’s the worst.” She pants. “My dad and I made a challenge when I was in high school.”
When he was in prison,I think. “Does he still do them every day?”
She gives a short laugh. “Honestly, I doubt he ever did them.”
My core is starting to feel a light burn, but Poppy looks worn out. “You think he lied?”
Her face gets redder. “Uh, yeah. I don’t know. I visited him about four or five years ago, and when I asked about them, he looked at me like I was …” Her timer beeps and she drops to the ground, panting. “Like I was naive.”
Anger explodes in me. “What? For believing him?”
She breathes heavily. “I assume so. So I just laughed and said I was joking, and he seemed relieved he didn’t have to explain how the world really works to me.” She gets up and moves on to the wall sit, resetting the timer on her phone.
I stand and join her. The wall isn’t big enough to give us a lot of space, so I’m less than a foot from her. But my face is a foot higher, too. “So why’d you keep doing the challenge?”
She looks up at me, the back of her head pressed against the wall. “It’s good for me.”
“Come on,” I say. “That can’t be the only reason.”
She wrinkles her nose, and her breathing gets heavier. “I think I’m holding on to the dad I thought I’d have. I expected him to be repentant, you know? To feel bad and want to connect? But he was just angry and ugly.”
I hold her eye. I’m not used to conversation like this. I don’tdofeelings and back story, or whatever this is. But now that I’ve started asking questions, it’s like I can’t stop, at least with Poppy. Maybe talking to people is a matter of momentum. Or her story is just that compelling.
