I awoke to the sound of Johnny Slye's voice. "You're brother's gonna be fine, Davey. He's in good hands."
"Good hands or not, I'd feel better if I took him back home to our mother."
"That ain't your choice to make, and you know that."
I opened my eyes. Rosie was curled up in bed next to me, asleep, her tiny arms clinging to my bicep. My head still hurt like hell. With what strength I had, I brought my hand up to my forehead, just above my eyebrow. I touched my fingers to where I felt the most pain, and a sharp pinch rushed towards where my skin touched bandages. Raised under those bandages...stitches? I couldn't tell.
"He's awake." I looked over to see David walking towards me. "Les, talk to me. How are you feeling?"
"Like shit," I replied as I lowered my arm and rested it on top of the blanket.
Davey frowned at my use of language. "You really had me worried," he said. "You had us all worried. What were you thinking?"
"David, go away. Let me rest."
"I won't go away. You think you're ready for responsibilities, but you're not! You need to grow up before you can even begin to think about caring for a child!"
"That's what he was doing, Davey," Johnny said behind him. "That's why he hurt himself. He gave Rosie his coat and got hypo-whatever-it's-called. That's why he fell."
"It doesn't matter how or why he hurt himself," David argued. "The point is that we've been dancing around this long enough. Les, I won't ask you again. If you don't go back home to our mother, I'll be forced to call the police."
"You can't do that!" I yelled. Pain shot all over my head, and I closed my eyes tightly in an attempt to make it go away.
"I can, and I will." David sighed. "I just want everybody to be happy. I'll be at mama's apartment tomorrow afternoon. Bring the girl, if you want. I'm sure mama won't mind taking her in." Davey paused for a moment. "Don't think I'm joking around, Lester Alan Jacobs, because I'm not. I'll see you tomorrow."
David turned and, after glancing at a very angry Johnny, made his way out of the bunkroom and eventually out into the street. Rosemary was awake by this time, and she was looking up at me.
"You slept for a really long time," she said.
"Did I?"
"Yeah." She sat up. "I got bored without you. Nobody would play with me."
I smiled weakly. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. We'll have plenty of time to play when I'm feeling better."
"Hey, Les." I turned my eyes towards Johnny. "Poppy Parkview's downstairs. She's been here for a couple of hours now. You want me to let her up?"
Poppy. I'd completely forgotten about her. "Yeah, sure thing."
Johnny walked over and put his hand on Rosie's shoulder. "You wanna go throw some snowballs or something, kid?" he asked.
Rosie's face lit up and she nodded enthusiastically. She jumped out of the bed and rushed to pull on her mittens and shoes. Johnny helped her with her coat, which I remembered to be grey and thin, but this one was red and brand-new.
"Hey, where'd you get that coat?" I asked.
"Your brother bought it for her," Johnny replied as he knelt down in front of Rosie. He began to fasten the clasps on the front. "He got you a new one too. It's brown. New mittens too, and a cap for her." Johnny held up a matching red hat, which he proceeded to shove onto Rosie's head.
"But he doesn't have the money for that..."
"Obviously, he does." Johnny stood up. "All right, kid, let's go."
"Bye Les!" Rosie exclaimed. Johnny took her hand and she dragged him out of the bunkroom. I sighed deeply. David was going to make me feel like I owed him for the clothes, and that it was my duty to go home. I wasn't going to let him pull me away from what I wanted and the life I'd built for myself.
Poppy's head appeared at the doorway. "Can I come in?" she asked quietly.
"Of course you can," I replied. "How's it rollin'?"
She gave me a small smile. "Don't even start with the 'how's it rollin''," she said. "Six told me about what happened and, well, I guess I just kinda felt like I should come and see how you're doing."
There was silence for a little bit. I wasn't a big fan of the silence. "How long have you been here?" I asked.
"Oh, about four hours," Poppy replied, and my jaw dropped. "Well, I've been in Manhattan for nearly a day now, but just four hours downstairs."
"Why were you waiting so long? You could have woken me up. You know I would see you."
"That's the thing," she said. "I didn't know."
There was more awkward silence. Poppy bit the outside of her lip as she stared down at my blankets. She was the most absolutely perfect creature I'd ever seen, and believe me, I've seen a lot of apparently pretty girls. But none were ever like this.
To the average guy, Poppy was just another good-looking accessory, but to me, she was everything. I realized it then as she sat at the edge of my bed, biting her lip and near tears because she was afraid. Of what, I couldn't say. It could have been one of two things. "Are you all right?" I asked.
"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine," she replied, but she didn't look at me. Her voice sounded strained.
"It don't seem like you're all right," I said. I lifted my arm and placed it on her hand, which was resting on the bed. It was bold, I know. It was just about the boldest thing I've ever done when I was around a girl, but it felt right to do it.
I heard her inhale sharply when she felt my hand, and saw her eyes dash down to see it. "Les—"
"Shh," I silenced her. "Don't say anything. Don't ruin it. I just want to sit here, alone with you."
Poppy turned her head to me. Here eyes had begun to water. She blinked, sending her tears to her eyelashes, and causing them to stick together. It was gorgeous. Her eyes caught mine, and she immediately began to cry.
"You could have died, Les...Six thought you were going to. He said that when he helped Johnny bring you in, your face was covered with—"She sobbed. "—With blood. And you were pale and wet and stiff. He came to Brooklyn and told me everything. I mean, it ain't like you and I are best friends or anything, but I like you." She sniffed and opened her mouth to be able to breathe. "I mean, I really, really like you."
I just stared at her. Obviously she was incredibly upset. I had no idea that what happened to me was such a big deal, but it seemed like everybody was pretty broken up about it—David, Johnny, and especially Poppy.
"And you don't have to like me too," she continued as tears fell down her perfect cheeks. "Really, you don't have to. God, I don't even know why I'm telling you this. We've only known each other for three hours, tops! And here I am pouring my heart out to you when you should be resting. I'm sorry..."
Poppy stood up, but I took her hand. "No, you don't have to leave," I said. "I don't want you to."
She sniffled twice and swallowed. "...Really?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Really. I like having you around. Come on, sit back down." Poppy set herself on the edge of the bed again and twisted so she was facing me. "So you ain't mad at me or nothin'?" she asked quietly before rubbing her eyes.
"Of course I ain't mad," I replied with a soft smile. I took my other hand and held it up to your face. "How could I be mad when you're here? Everything's just fine when I'm with you."
Her expression softened. "You're not just makin' that up, neither?"
"No, Poppy. I'm not."
I wiped the tears from her cheekbones with my thumb. "Les?" she asked.
"Hmm?"
"Can I kiss you?"
My heart skipped a beat, and my stomach turned (but in the good way.) I'd only ever kissed one girl, and that was on a dare. She had slapped me and snorted off while Johnny and Rum laughed their asses off—they knew she'd do it, and they'd set me up to get a good chuckle. Rum had a black eye for nearly two weeks when I caught up to him.
I ran my hand through her perfect red hair. "Nothing would make me happier," I replied.
Poppy smiled, and a huge weight lifted off of my chest as she leaned over and gently pressed her lips against mine. I could feel her hair brush across my cheeks and neck. She trailed her fingertips softly along my jawbone. It was the most right then that had happened to me in a long time.
But it ended too soon. Poppy pulled her face away from mine and smiled. "I should be going," she whispered.
"Your friends will worry," I whispered back. "You are a tight-knit group, after all." Poppy laughed a little.
"Please take care of yourself, Les," she said as she stood up. Her hand was still inside mine. "Lord knows what I'll do if anything happens to you."
My lips tasted like her. "Don't you worry about me. Just be careful, you hear?" She nodded. I squeezed her hand gently, and she turned away and left.
I waited a minute or two, and then let out a loud, ecstatic yell, which turned into a laugh. The day had been (nearly) perfect. If there wasn't a big, bloody cut on my head, I would have it made.
Over the next few weeks, I saw more and more of Poppy as I healed. Johnny had become an uncle of sorts to Rosie, and she was no longer the shy and sad child she had been at first, but now a laughing, smiling, beautiful little girl—my beautiful little girl.
Poppy would occasionally come to Manhattan and take Rosie out to sell papers, and buy hot cocoa and cake for the three of us with the profits. Nothing could be better.
I was surprised, though, that I didn't see or hear from David. This was the second time he threatened to turn me in and hadn't. I still maintained that it was because he did understand me, but didn't want to admit it for fear of not being "responsible." I loved my brother; truly, I did. He was just a big asshole most times I saw him.
My life was perfect—I had the most loyal friends a guy could ask for, I found someone to grow up for, and I was in love. I had finally found the excitement and happiness I had been craving for ever since I was eleven.
In April, my perfect world fell apart.
Buttons--You're here! For a moment, I thought I'd lost you to some kind of strange disease/natural disaster, but I guess not! Your reviews = something to look forward to. And that's totally a good thing! I wish all men were like older!Les...things would just be so much easier that way...
Bookey--school totally sucks. Just make sure you don't get caught during class writing fanfic...try explaining that to your teachers. that's my ultimate horror story...I'd feel so dumb. "Yeah...it's a story I'm writing based on this 1992 Disney musical about paperboys...it's really good!" yeah...or not
Dreamer--Ahh, band practice AFTER SCHOOL? WHAAAA? What's up with that? Weird. Um, have fun with that...? Or not. I don't even think anyone NEEDS to remind me to update soon. I put out, what, like a chapter every night? I'm so pathetically awesome. at least, I think I am
Repeat--I'm not saying anything about Rosie troubles right now, but I've got some stuff in my head that makes me super sad, so of course I'm gonna put it in to the story! But I'm not saying a word right now--it'll be more sad when the time comes!
Cricket--::::protecive arm around Rosie::: Noooo touchie! Ha, actually, you can if you wish. I'm flexible and awesome like that. So, you know, if I see you around in all black and a ski mask, ready to kidnap my characters, I'll know it's you, right? Right. Awesome.
