Poppy

Gentle rays of sunlight warm Poppy’s face. She is lying on her back in the grassy yard, sunbathing after a picnic lunch of jam on toast with her grandma. They even brought little porcelain cups to drink tea in, and Poppy insisted on bringing an assortment of biscuits to munch on while reading. To their right sits Poppy’s flower garden, full of tulips, lilies, dahlias, and azaleas that she planted herself. Scattered across the backyard are little patches of mushrooms that Poppy convinced her parents to keep. Poppy loves looking at their different shapes, some spindly, some plump and stout. They stand out magically in the apple green grass of Poppy’s backyard, making her feel like a wild fairy in a vast meadow. Poppy closes her eyes, content.
 

As a matter of fact, this all happened because earlier in the morning, Poppy had a sudden urge to go outside and enjoy the lovely weather. After all, spring had just arrived, and Poppy loved going outside to breathe in the fresh air and admire the blue skies ornamented by fluffy white clouds. Poppy’s grandma, a nature enthusiast just like Poppy, immediately synced with Poppy’s thoughts. The two were quick to pack up a picnic basket and set up a cozy area in their backyard with snacks and books to read.

 

Now, Poppy sits up, putting her hands above her eyes to block the sun and look around. Despite the fun that she’s having, the rest of her family didn’t want to join her and her grandma on their picnic. Poppy glances at her grandma, who has fallen asleep with The Wonderful Wizard of Oz lying in her hand. In Poppy’s own lap is Inside Out and Back Again, a beautiful book written in free verse poetry about a young Vietnamese immigrant. Poppy loves to read and write, and she enjoys these activities all the better when she is outside, soaking in the sunlight and nature around her. Yet, while she workshops her own short stories on her lawn, her parents and brother stay inside, browsing the internet on their phones, watching TV, or clacking away on their computers. Nevertheless, Poppy decides to try and convince the rest of her family to join her picnic. Today feels especially magical, and picnics are much more fun as a group. Dusting cracker crumbs off her dress, Poppy stands up and stretches, then heads inside.

 

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When Poppy enters the dining room, she feels as if a switch inside her has been flipped; something inside her has turned off. At the dining table sits Connor, Poppy’s brother, squinting at his laptop screen. Connor is only a year younger than Poppy, but he is more skilled with technology than Poppy could ever be. His hobby is coding, and he has won many coding competitions. Poppy’s parents encourage Connor to code by buying him robotics kits and fancy technology. The dining room is littered with robots and machines that Poppy appreciates, though knows nothing about. Staring at the mess of wires and lego pieces and batteries for too long makes Poppy’s head hurt.

 

“Connor! Come outside with me! We have your favorite crackers!”

 

Connor glances over, pushing his glasses up his nose. He has spent so much time on his computer that he already needs glasses at the age of eight. “Hi Poppy! Do you want to see the project I’m working on right now?”

 

Frustrated, Poppy walks over to Connor, annoyed that he didn’t address the matter of joining her picnic. In her mind, she pushes down a feeling of dread: she knows that she won’t be able to understand anything Connor is about to show her. Her parents had signed her up for a coding class a long time ago, but she would scream and cry every time they brought her there until she was allowed to quit. The rigid logic and structure of code just doesn’t make sense to her. Quite frankly, it makes her feel inferior — the fact that her younger brother knows more than her about a skill that her parents always say is useful.

 

Unsurprisingly, Connor begins to explain the lengthy code behind a robot he’s programming to carry objects over to him. The string of words that flow from his mouth reflect off of Poppy’s head like rays of sun being reflected off of a mirror. Connor talks in a foreign language, one that Poppy can’t understand and can’t help but tune out.

 

Poppy has long understood to stop asking questions. The more questions she asks, and the more she tries to understand Connor’s complicated projects, the more confused she becomes. The characters on a keyboard are meant to form beautiful words, phrases, sentences, poems, stories – not random lines of nonsense. Yet, all of Connor’s friends — and Poppy’s too — would rather crowd around Connor’s robots than read a book with Poppy, or go play with her outside.

 

Still, Poppy is determined to bring Connor to her picnic. “Connor, your eyes need to take a break. You’ve been staring at that computer for too long!”

 

Connor, sensing that Poppy is agitated, sighs. “Ten more minutes.”

 

Poppy can’t believe how insensitive Connor is. She recalls memories of Connor winning competitions, getting rewarded by his parents, and soaking in attention from his friends while Poppy stood to the side. She wants to take Connor’s computer, and stomp on it until the screen cracks. Connor doesn’t understand. 

 

With a frown on her face, Poppy marches to the living room where her parents are sitting. Her head is starting to hurt. She sees her mom scrolling on a cell phone, most likely online shopping, while her dad stares intently at the football game on his tablet.

 

“Mom, dad — do you guys want to come outside? Grandma and I are having a picnic. We have jam and toast and crackers and tea, and storybooks too. Please?” Poppy tries not to, but she can’t help sounding a bit desperate at the end. What if my parents say no? Is grandma the only person who will accept my hobbies? Poppy’s parents don’t respond at first, which forces Poppy’s ears to zone in on the white noise amid her parents’ silence. The noise from her dad’s football game only aggravates her headache.

Then, Poppy’s mom glances over indifferently, and murmurs, “We’re alright for now, honey. You go have fun!”

Poppy’s dad grunts in agreement, his eyes glued to his tablet.

 

Meanwhile, Poppy’s eyes begin to water. So they really don’t care. I should have known that everybody would be too busy on their devices to do anything. I don’t understand what’s so unattractive about going outside! I don’t understand— “why nobody is listening to me! Why is everybody except grandma so obsessed with staring at a screen?” Poppy sniffs, and a tear flows down her face. She covers her eyes, ashamed at her outburst. At the noise, her parents look over with concern, and her brother peeks in from the dining room. Poppy can feel everybody’s eyes on her, and she gasps at a sharp pain in her head. She hates the attention, and she feels like a fish out of water. All she wants to do is read a book in her backyard, immersing herself in stories of magic and the universe and parallel worlds. She doesn’t want to keep talking in front of her family — but what else is there to do but carry on?

 

“Why do none of you like reading? You gush over Connor’s coding projects, yet when it comes to me, nobody listens to my stories. Everybody thinks coding is cool – but what if I don’t like to code? What if I don’t like robotics or looking at a screen all day? What if all I want to do is read and write and play outside? What if I don’t want to become an engineer or technician or computer scientist like Connor when I grow up?”

 

Poppy peeks through her fingers, and sees that something has changed in her parents’ eyes. Their eyes have gotten softer, and all of sudden, Poppy feels someone hugging her from the back. She turns, and sees Connor looking up at her. Poppy’s anger at Connor flows away in an instant as she embraces her brother. Behind her, she hears the couch creak as her parents stand up. They come and hug her too, making her the center of a family group hug. Poppy feels comforted by their familiar warmth, and her headache subsides a little.

 

Then, her mother asks, “Well? What book are we reading?”

 

“Read us a fairytale!” Conner suggests.

 

Poppy looks at Connor in surprise, and he beams at her.

 

“Where are those crackers? I’m quite hungry!” Poppy’s father grins.

 

Poppy’s eyes water, this time with gratitude. Then, she smiles.

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“How about The Wonderful Wizard of Oz? Grandma can read it for us. And while we’re walking to the backyard, I have some book recommendations for each of you…” 

 

Poppy knows that something about being outside makes her feel free, almost like she could fly. The closer Poppy walks to the backyard, to that otherworldly yard full of mushrooms and flowers and picnics, the more certain she is that something magical inside her has lit up…

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Victoria is a high school student based in Massachusetts who loves to write short form stories. She is also a writer for her school's newspaper and political review. In her free time, Victoria enjoys reading, listening to music, and playing piano.

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