I didn’t want to accept Ethan’s help, but Mom’s call caught me off guard. I get it; we need the money, and that’s why she’s working extra.
I glance at the clock, anxiety knotting my stomach. I’m already thirty minutes late to take over for Mrs. O’Leary with my brothers, and she’s not going to be happy about it.
My fingers twitch, and I can almost make out our old arguments in my head. But here he is, offering a ride, offering help. A lump forms in my throat as the bitterness of our past meets the harshness of now.
Ethan’s sleek car pulls up, its polished surface glaringly out of place against the backdrop of the worn and weathered trailers. My stomach churns as his eyes, dark and inscrutable, scan the trailer park, taking in the peeling paint and the toys scattered in the dirt yards.
“This is me now,” I whisper, avoiding his eyes because I know he’ll find the apology I can’t voice. “Thanks for the ride,” I add, my words rushing out too fast, and I’m quick to exit the car, putting physical distance between us before he can see more than I’d like to show.
His eyes linger on me, a silent question hanging between us. I can feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken words, but I turn away, shielding my vulnerability behind a mask of indifference.
“Let me help you,” he offers, stepping out. His silhouette, tall and somewhat reassuring against the dimming sky, seems to linger on the edge of my world and his. But his eyes are asking more questions than I’m ready to answer.
I hesitate for a second, staring at his flashy, luxurious SUV and how it’s a sore thumb in a place like this.
His car, all shiny and expensive, looks so out of place here. It’s like a slap in the face, reminding me of everything we don’t have. I feel a weird mix of embarrassment and anger bubbling inside me.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I tell him, though my wavering voice inadvertently shows my concern. “Your car will be broken into in the next hour,” I add, trying to make my voice steady to hide the fact that, despite everything, I care about what happens to him.
He shrugs. “I don’t care.” But there’s something in his eyes, a stubborn set to his jaw, that tells me it’s not the car he’s worried about. It’s like he’s planting his feet in my world, refusing to be pushed out again, even if it’s only temporarily. It’s the same look that he used to have in high school when he was determined to cause mayhem, mostly in my life.
His nonchalance grates on me, a stark reminder of the divide between our worlds: his world, where a car is just a car, and mine, where it represents a lifeline, a means to survive.
I hand him the pizza box with the cake on top and sigh, leading the way through the trailer park.
My trailer, with its peeling blue paint and a single flickering porch light, comes into view, and my steps falter. “You have to leave before Mom gets back. She hates your family even more than I do.”
His brows dip in obvious discontent, but he nods.
I force a smile as I reach the porch, and Mrs. O’Leary, our neighbor, is outside, a cigarette dangling from her fingers.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. O’Leary! I wanted to be here earlier, but with work and all.”
She waves her hands, holding her cigarette, the ash falling in my mother’s planted mini roses. The only thing she has as a hobby.
“It’s alright, shorty, the show ain’t startin’ for another fifteen minutes.” She coughs and wheezes, making me wince. A stern reminder to never touch a cigarette.
She stands up. “Is that him?” she asks, her eyes looking over Ethan with curiosity and approval. But beneath her casual inquiry, there’s a probing, a seeking for gossip or scandal, something to break the monotony of trailer park life.
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes, keeping my expression neutral. Mrs. O’Leary is convinced I left the park and went to university because of a boy. As if I wouldn’t leave for any other reason. So I let her believe it; it is easier that way. “No, it’s not.” There was no boy, but she didn’t believe it when I moved out.
She takes a drag of her cigarette. “Too bad, he is charming.”
“Is Lacie here? You can introduce them,” I reply, gesturing to Ethan, who glares at me.
“No, I’m good,” he mutters.
I shrug. “Your loss. Lacie is great.”
“At spreading her legs!” Mrs. O’Leary barks with disapproval. “Talking about trouble, Lacie saw your James with the junkyard boys.”
My heart sinks. The junkyard boys—bad seeds in the making, vandalizing, stealing. A promise of a future behind bars. “Tell her thank you. I’ll have a word with Viper about it.”
“Viper.” Ethan scoffs. “Who’s stupid enough to be called that?”
“Someone you don’t want to meet in a dark alley. We’re lucky he’s fond of our little Poppy.”
I shoot Ethan a warning glance, silently telling him to keep his mouth shut. He gives me a knowing look but remains silent. Also, Viper is not fond of me; he’s fond of the idea of putting me in his bed, which will never happen.
I thank Mrs. O’Leary and step inside the trailer, Ethan following closely behind. The scent of something sweet and burned wafts through the air. My brothers, James and Billy, are sprawled on the worn-out couch, which used to be my bedroom, their eyes glued to the small, static-filled TV screen.
James, the elder one, turns his head, and his eyes narrow at Ethan. “Who’s this?” His voice is laced with suspicion and a protective edge that makes me wince. He’s too young to be this guarded, but also, at age fourteen, his stupid hormones are acting up.
“I’m—”
“He’s a friend from school. His name is Jeremy,” I lie smoothly. “Gave me a ride is all.”
Ethan mutters something under his breath, but I don’t care as Billy turns toward me, and my heart squeezes with sorrow at the only life my little brother is really experiencing.
The birthday boy jumps up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the pizza box and cake in Ethan’s hands.
“Did you bring me pizza, Poppy?” he asks, completely ignoring the stranger in our home.
I nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah, bud. You’re turning double digits.
“Let me warm it up in the oven, and then you guys can eat.” I open the pizza box, and James immediately complains. “Billy likes mushrooms, not pineapple!”
I wince. I know that, but I hoped it would be enough to make them happy. I don’t often get picked for the free pizzas that customers don’t pay for or refuse on delivery. It’s based on job seniority, but today, because of Billy’s birthday, they allowed me to take the only big one that was refused.
Billy’s eyes light up, a resilient sparkle dancing in them despite the disappointment that must linger there. “It’s okay, Poppy. Pizza night!”
I put the pizza in the oven, and I hand him the Lego set from the charity store, my stomach twisting with guilt that it’s not the Star Wars one he wanted but an airport set that cost me only ten dollars and is fully complete. “Happy birthday, munchkin!”
“That’s for me?” He pulls it out of the bag, his smile not wavering despite the disappointment he must feel.
James scoffs. “What a lousy birthday! He wanted Star Wars, and you got him secondhand shit.”
The pain, disappointment, and anger I feel inside are almost too much to bear, and my brother’s bitterness cuts even deeper than the rest. And what I hate the most is Ethan witnessing all the ugliness that my life has become.
Tears start to prickle behind my eyes.
Ethan steps in, his voice calm and easy. “Poppy bought the Star Wars one, but she was too late to pick it up. We’ll bring it by tomorrow, okay?”
I whirl on him, anger flaring, but he simply meets my gaze, unapologetic. Why are you torturing me like that? I try to tell him with my eyes. Now I’ll have to find something to sell or get an advance on my salary or ask Jeff… yes, Jeff. I can ask him for an advance on the work I’m doing.
I exhale slowly. Okay, Star Wars is a go. I turn to Billy. “Yes, I’ll bring it tomorrow.” I press on the I, and my stomach growls a little as the smell of pizza starts to spread around the trailer.
“Yay!” Billy jumps around. “I told you, Jamie! I told you Poppy would do it.”
“Sure,” James crosses his arms on his chest. “Like I’m sure the cake is chocolate,” he adds, looking pointedly at the strawberry and orange cake. The only cake that was left at the store that was remotely birthday-themed and with a good-until date of today.
“Billy, can you go to Mrs. O’Leary’s to borrow matches? I forgot them.”
“Sure, I’ll be right back.”
As soon as I hear the door slam behind him, I grab James’s arm and pull him aside.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I hiss. “Are you getting a kick out of destroying your little brother’s birthday? Do you want everyone to be as miserable as you are?”
“It’s all just… lame, Pops. And you know it.”
Of course, I know it. “It’s the best I can do, James! You want to be a man, that’s right, huh? Then act like one! Help your little brother keep the little joy he has! Of course things suck, but pretend, okay? And I swear to God, if I find out you were with the junkyard boys, I’ll put Viper and his crew on your ass.”
“But—”
“No, fuck no, James! I’m tired. I’m tired of all of this and especially tired of your attitude. You’re acting like a spoiled brat.” I never wanted to slap my brother as much as I do right now.
James’s eyes flash with anger, but there’s a flicker of something else there, too—guilt, maybe. He jerks his arm out of my grip. “You think I don’t know how hard you’re trying, Poppy? You think I don’t see how much you’re giving up for us?”
My anger deflates, replaced by a weary sadness. “James, I’m not giving up anything. You and Billy are everything to me.”
He looks away, his jaw clenched. “Stop pretending everything’s okay, Poppy. It’s not, and it’s not going to be.”
I reach out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I know it’s not okay, James. But we have to keep going for Billy. He’s still a kid; he needs to believe that things can get better.”
James shakes his head, pulling away from me. “And what about what I need, Poppy? What about what you need?”
I don’t have an answer to that because the truth is, I don’t know what I need anymore. All I know is that I have to keep going for them.
Billy bursts back into the trailer, holding up a box of matches triumphantly. “Got ‘em!”
I force a smile, turning back to him. “Great job, bud. Let’s light these candles and make a wish, yeah?”
Billy nods eagerly, his earlier excitement returning. I get the pizza out of the oven, and to put a little humor in the situation, I light the candles on the pizza. He looks at me, his eyes wide and hopeful. “Are you gonna make a wish too, Poppy?”
I nod, my throat tight. “Yeah, bud. I’m gonna wish for all of us.”
He grins, and for a moment, everything is okay. We’re a family celebrating a birthday, and the rest of the world falls away.
Ethan observes from the doorway, his expression inscrutable. I avoid his gaze, focusing on Billy as he blows out his candles, his face lit up with pure, innocent joy.
And I make a wish. I wish for better days for us, for a way out of this endless struggle. I wish for happiness for my brothers, for a future where they don’t have to fight so hard to survive.
But most of all, I wish for strength. Strength to keep going, to keep fighting, even when it feels impossible.
Because that’s all I can do.
“Do you want some?” James asks, extending me a slice.
Despite the spasms of hunger, I insist, “No, I’ve already eaten. Go ahead without me.”
A sudden beep from my phone startles me, a stark interruption in the midst of our makeshift celebration. It’s a text from Mom.
Billy opens the Lego box and starts looking at the building instructions with James, who is following my advice and is faking excitement a lot better.
I motion for Ethan to follow me outside, away from the prying eyes of my brothers. Stepping into the cool night air feels like a reprieve from the stifling interior of the trailer.
“You need to leave. My mother is on her way,” I whisper harshly.
Ethan’s gaze softens. His fingers graze my arm, a slow, simmering heat spreading from the point of contact, awakening a flutter of something deeper within me. “Poppy, I can help. Let me help.”
I shake my head, my voice barely audible. “You can’t help with this, Ethan. This is my life now.”
“How are you going to get home? It’s late. I don’t feel comfortable with you taking the bus,” he insists.
“I’m not your responsibility. I never was. I’ve taken the bus more times than I can count, but my mother will be driving me home tonight.”
The determination is back in the set of his jaw, and I know he wants to argue.
“Ethan, please!” I press on the word. “You need to leave. I can’t have my mother see you here. She’s been through enough. You agreed,” I add sternly.
He simply nods, releasing my arm and stepping away. “If you ever change your mind, if you ever need anything, I’m here, Poppy.”
Oh yes, the pity of Ethan Hawthorne. That might be even worse than all the contempt he gave me when he called me Pauper.
I nod, unable to trust my voice, and stare as he walks away, his figure gradually disappearing into the darkness.
Once he’s gone, I go back inside, where my brothers are happily building the airport. I join them on the floor, pushing aside thoughts of Ethan, of pity, and of Star Wars Lego sets.
My mother arrives twenty minutes later.
“Where is my birthday boy!” she calls as soon as she steps inside the trailer, but her bright smile and cheery tone don’t fool me. I can see her weariness and worries in the taut lines of her face, in the dark circles under her eyes, and it makes me hate Ethan’s family and my father a little more.
But Ethan is different, isn’t he? My heart holds no hate toward him, only a confusing mix of resentment and longing. And that, in itself, feels like the biggest betrayal of all.
“Poppy bought me the Star Wars Lego set!” Billy says, jumping up from the spot on the floor.
“Did you?” Mom asks, ruffling Billy’s hair, but her eyes are confused and worried.
I nod, forcing what I hope is a carefree smile. “Yes, it was on sale,” I add with a breathy laugh. “Okay, time for cake! Someone needs to go back to campus!”
I cut the cake, only taking a sliver, knowing that Mom will be grateful in the morning to have some left to put in the boys’ lunches.
“Do you want me to drive you back?” she asks, already reaching for her purse on the counter.
“No. I’m good.” She looks so drained. I can’t bear to keep her up one minute more than necessary after the fourteen-hour shift she had today.
“Well, I better go!” I kiss the top of Billy’s head, hug James, and give a lingering hug to my mother. “I love you, Mom. You’re the best,” I whisper in her ear. I know she needs to hear that, and her ragged intake of breath is proving as much.
The bus stop is dimly lit, the flickering streetlight casting long shadows on the pavement. My stomach growls, a harsh reminder of the skipped meals and the hunger that is now a constant companion.
A car pulls up, and my heart skips a beat as Ethan’s eyes, dark and intense, meet mine through the open window.
“You lied to me, Poppy,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper yet sharp as a knife.
I square my shoulders, refusing to let him see how his words affect me. “This is where I live, Ethan. These are my people.”
He opens the car door, a silent invitation. “Humor me.”
Reluctantly, I slide into the passenger seat, and he places a brown paper bag on my lap. The scent of warm food wafts up, and my stomach twists painfully.
“What’s this?” My voice is steadier than I feel.
“You’re hungry,” he says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.
My fingers clench around the bag. “I don’t need your pity.”
He pulls away from the curb, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “It’s not pity.”
We drive in silence, the tension between us palpable as I reluctantly eat the cheeseburger he got me.
“Is this why you’re so thin?” His voice is gentle. Concerned. “Because you don’t eat enough?”
I glare at him, irritation bubbling up inside me. “What did you think it was? A fashion statement?”
He shakes his head. “It never made sense. You were perfect.”
Perfect. The word hangs in the air, heavy and unexpected.
“Thank you for pointing out that I’m not to your taste anymore,” I let out mockingly.
“You’ve always been my tas—” He halts, a sudden vulnerability flickering in his eyes, and I can see him blush as I stare at his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. “You’ve been living there for two years?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.
“No,” I whisper, my throat tight. “We were at the homeless shelter for two weeks.”
He swerves slightly, his eyes flicking to me with surprise and something else… is it pain?
I laugh, a bitter, humorless sound. “What did you think when I said poor? Brenthill?”
He doesn’t answer, and I glance out the window at the passing buildings. To be honest, I used to think Brenthill was poor as well. Now? I would be overjoyed to live there.
“I’ll go pick up the Legos tomorrow for your little brother,” he says suddenly.
Finishing the burger, I give a dismissive gesture. “You don’t even know which one he wants.”
He shrugs. “No, I don’t, but I thought we could go together and pick the right one,” he suggests, a hopeful tilt to his words.
My eyes widen in disbelief. “No, absolutely not!”
“Why not?”
“Because your charity won’t change our lives, Ethan. And I can’t have my brothers getting used to dreams that won’t come true again. James… he’ll start asking for things I can’t give.” I cut myself off, firmly deciding. “No. I will go and buy him the set he wants.”
“With what money?” His voice is gentle, but the question stings. “You can’t even afford a proper cake or two pizzas.”
I wince at his words.
“No, Poppy, I didn’t mean it like—”
“Enough!” My voice breaks, a sharp edge of desperation cutting through each syllable. “It’s fine, and you know what? I’d rather you go back to calling me Pauper. I can sell this. It’s fine.” I pull my locket out from under my shirt and clutch it in my hand, its familiar coolness offering no comfort this time.
The Lunar Locket, with its crescent of rose gold and a moonstone glowing subtly like a captive piece of the night sky, has always been my silent comfort that rests against my chest, a constant reminder of that mysterious morning it had appeared on my doorstep. Tiny stars embedded around the moonstone twinkle with a faint iridescence while a hidden compartment at the back whispers of untold secrets. It’s more than jewelry; it’s a piece of the past, the only piece of luxury I had managed to keep, and a mystery that has become a part of me.
His expression softens, and he slows the car as we reach my building. “Let me buy it. I was the one who made the mistake. It’s the least I can do.”
I hesitate, then nod slowly. “Fine, get him the Millennium Falcon, please.”
He stops the car, his eyes searching mine. “Poppy…”
“No, there’s no discussion about this.” I open the car door. “Thank you,” I add quickly before stepping out into the night, the locket heavy in my hand, a tangible weight of the past and the choices yet to come. I clench it tighter as if trying to hold on to a feeble control that’s slipping through my fingers.
