Chapter Text
Brand slowly blinked open his eyes. He let out a long yawn, stretched, and groggily sat up in his bed. It took him at least five minutes to build up the energy to drag himself out of the bed. First things first: Coffee. Like a zombie from some horror film, he shambled toward the kitchen. Passing the little basement window in his living area, Brand could just see thick fluffy snowflakes floating down. He groaned in disgust; snowflakes meant snow, and snow meant two things: back-breaking shoveling, and teeth-chattering cold. He was suddenly grateful for his hand-me-down pajamas; they were oversized and purple, but at least they were thick fleece.
As if being cold, tired, and grumpy wasn’t enough for Brand, his coffee machine was acting up again. “Come on, don’t do this to me,” he grumbled at it. He’d been trying to save up to buy a new one for months, but every time he had enough money put away, he ended up needing to purchase something else: winter boots, winter gloves after his others went missing, a heavier winter coat. Stupid winter. And now that he was laid off his minimum-wage job for the season, he couldn’t afford much more than groceries and other basic needs.
Eventually, the darn coffee maker did cooperate. After finishing one large mug-full, plus a bowl of cereal, Brand continued on with the rest of his usual morning routine. Next on the list: change into proper clothes. Dark brown khakis dotted with several rips, thin grey socks, his best jacket (old and dull green with a broken zipper), and a plain pale-grey t-shirt.
While giving his short black hair a quick brush, Brand tried to recall what day of the week it was. Monday?… Nope, Tuesday. Today is Tuesday. Which means tomorrow is Wednesday. Which also means tomorrow is…
He scowled. To him, tomorrow is just another mundane day.
But to everyone else, tomorrow is a merry and jolly day. People will be gathering with family/friends, exchanging presents, sharing giant potluck dinners and listening to non-stop festive songs.
Brand groaned again. Ugh. Christmas. The worst time of year. He could already hear the commotion upstairs – the steady beat of cranked-up music, mumbles of multiple excited voices, screeches of laughter. No doubt Poppy had invited all her dozens of crazy friends over for some even crazier party.
Poppy… That girl was so ANNOYING! Never quits talking, and when she does it’s only so she can sing a stupid sappy song. Her bedroom is full of colours so bright it could blind you, so many hanging decorations you can’t even tell what colour the walls were. Ridiculously stubborn, loud, acts like an eight-year-old half the time with all her scrapbooks and spontaneous dancing, insists on seeing the bright side in every single thing!
He… he couldn’t STAND Poppy McQueen!
…That was a lie. The biggest lie in history.
Brand constantly tried to convince himself that he didn’t care about Poppy, search for reasons ( more like lame excuses) why he shouldn’t like her. But it was pointless. He’s always admired her, ever since the day he met her, when he was in fifth grade and she was in fourth. Since the moment they first saw each other she tried to befriend him – him, Brandon Woodward, the shy moody kid who no one else wanted to associate with. How could he not admire her? Sure, there’s no denying she can be obnoxious, and even overbearing at times, but she’s also the purest-hearted person on the entire Earth:
Poppy is constantly helping others, whether it’s going to great lengths to encourage her best friend Bridget to confess to her childhood crush, or paying for a random stranger’s milkshake if they don’t have enough change. No act of kindness is too big or too small for Poppy – she loves nothing more than to make people happy, and will always put everyone else’s well-being before her own. It’s mind-blowing to Brand how forgiving and unwaveringly happy she is – she couldn’t hold a grudge or be grumpy if her very life depended on it. Poppy can find the fun in literally anything, even the most hated chores and tedious tasks and bad situations. She sees the good in everything, and everyone, and brightens up a room like a ray of sunshine. She may be way too into crafts and do silly dances far too often, but she is not childish: she’s very responsible and well-organized (she’s involved in and/or in charge of so many school clubs and volunteer organizations, yet somehow she not only keeps track of it all but manages everything efficiently, one might almost say flawlessly).
Not to mention her outer beauty: pretty pink skin dotted with light freckles, an adorable dimpled smile, beautiful dark-ginger hair highlighted with streaks of vibrant magenta, gorgeous bright amber eyes, an angelic voice…
Brand sighed, then yawned. Twice. I’m going to need another five coffees if I want any hope of making it through the next few days. After brushing his teeth, he headed past his small bedroom, through the living room, and back into the kitchen-area. His thoughts were still overrun with Poppy:
For some stupid reason he’s kept every single card she’s ever given him: anything from get-well cards to party invites to holiday cards: Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Valentine’s Day, Easter, Happy Birthday, you name it. He’s got at least six of each, one for each year since he moved to this town. He had no desire to go to any parties and never cared about any holidays… Yet all those cards were neatly stored, safely (and secretly) under his bed in a sturdy box.
But whether Poppy got on his nerves or not, whether he liked her or not, Brand knew he was being immature and downright ungrateful by complaining about her – she and her father took him in seven months ago, soon after his foster parents packed up his few belongings and kicked him out of their house. Not wanting to end up in another orphanage or foster home, he stole a camping tent from their yard before leaving, and set it up in a secluded forest at the other end of town. Brand lived there for almost a month until Poppy decided to secretly follow him ‘home’ after school (almost every day she'd wanted to 'pop over for a visit', and he had constantly harped at her not to by making excuse after excuse as to why she couldn’t, which inevitably sparked her natural curiosity).
And now here he is, living rent-free in the McQueen’s small but cozy basement apartment. He has a solid roof over his head, a warm bed, a kitchen full of food (much of which was bought over time by Poppy and Mr. McQueen, even though he insisted they needn’t keep doing that for him. ‘We were out shopping anyway, figured we might as well grab a few extras for you’ is what they would say. And no, they would never let him pay them back. ‘You can pay us next time’ ‘It was on sale / we had a coupon, no need to worry about such a small amount’ ‘Pay me in hugs or not at all!’).
Brand clearly remembered Poppy and her father both standing in front of his pitiful living space in the woods, insisting that he needs to move in with them. When he hesitated (not wanting to inconvenience them) they both refused to leave until he agreed. He recalled Poppy’s words perfectly: ‘So I guess we’re either all going to go live in my house, or we’re all living out here. Think you can make enough room for me and my dad to fit in your tent?’.
Brand felt a fresh wave of gratitude – if it wasn’t for Poppy (and Mr. McQueen), he’d be freezing and/or starving to death in that tent right now. He appreciated their support more than he could put into words… which was the whole problem. He wasn’t good at expressing even basic emotions. He was used to having no one to rely on. He was not used to having someone actually care about him. He hated that the McQueens do so much for him – because he does nothing for them in return.
What has he ever done to deserve such compassion from anyone, especially them? What could he ever say or do to repay such enormous gestures of kindness?
Brand had just picked up his plain white tall mug from the two-seat dining table when a knock on his door interrupted his deep thoughts. It was a plain ‘knock-knock-knock’, not 20 knocks or knocks that made a musical tune, so it must not be Poppy. Only one other person it could be then. Setting his mug down on the counter, Brand went around the corner to unlock and answer the door.
“Good morning, Mr. McQueen.”
“Brand, please – as I’ve said before, call me Percy. No need for ‘mister’ and ‘sir’ and all that.”
“Right, sorry. It just sounds strange without any formalities.”
Percy chuckled, his long ginger-and-grey mustache shifting as he smiled. “I’m just heading to the grocery store to pick up some snacks for the crew upstairs – I’m sure you’ve noticed we have a few guests.”
“Uh, yes. I noticed,” Brandon responded as politely as possible. Probably the whole town has noticed. Probably half the town is up there.
“Believe it or not, I was just the same when I was Poppy’s age… Anyhow, would you like me to pick you up anything while I’m downtown? Don’t forget everything will be closed tomorrow and the next day.”
“No, thank you, Mr. Mc – I mean, Percy. I’m all stocked up.”
Percy grinned at Brand’s fumbled correction. Then the older man added with a more solemn look, “I hope you’ll be joining Poppy and I for dinner tomorrow night.”
“I appreciate the offer... but no, I’d prefer not to.” Brand lowered his head as he added, “Christmas really isn’t my favourite time.”
“That’s a shame. Christmas is such a wonderful, joyful time.”
Brand’s response was barely loud enough to hear: “Not for me.”
Percy didn’t pester him any further, simply telling him that if he changes his mind the invitation still stands, then headed back upstairs. Brand closed his door, and stressfully ran his hands through his thick hair. Yeah, he really needed that second cup of coffee.
Unfortunately his coffee machine didn’t care what he needed. This time it wasn’t just being glitchy – it wouldn’t work at all. He couldn’t even get the darn thing to turn on now. Nothing. Brand cursed under his breath; he really didn’t want to have to go upstairs and use their machine, but if he didn’t have his second coffee he’d be asleep on his feet before noon.
He took a long, deep breath, mentally preparing himself to deal with the minefield above him. Just go upstairs, get coffee, come back downstairs, relock door, stay downstairs until Friday. Grabbing his supplies, he began his mission.
The noise was even louder and clearer than in the security of his apartment; he swore he was getting a headache already and he hadn’t even reached the top of the staircase. Great. Just peachy. There were people scattered throughout the entire house:
In the heavily-decorated mudroom, Sammy and her boyfriend Milton were just hanging up their coats. Her very-long blond hair was tied back with a giant red-with-green-spots bow, and her shirt was the opposite, green with red spots. He was wearing a bright red sweater full of reindeer, rabbits, and birds, and a fluffy green Santa hat was covering his orange-blond hair.
Sammy noticed Brand coming up the stairs first; the tiny athletic teen offered a loud greeting (she was smiling so he assumed it was friendly, but her unusually deep voice often made it tricky to tell). He returned a brief greeting either way, then Sammy continued on, up the small stairway to the main hallway.
In a much softer tone, Milton nodded to him, “Goodmorning, Brand. How are you today?”
“Fine, thanks. Just getting some coffee.” Out of all of Poppy’s friends, Milton was the most tolerable: calm, quiet, and respectful of Brand’s introverted lifestyle.
Milton smiled in agreement, “Coffee really is the only way to start your morning right. Well, enjoy your day, and your coffee. Merry Christmas, Brand.”
“Yeah, you too.” Once Milton disappeared up and around the corner, Brand took another deep breath before heading the same direction. He glanced down the east end of the hall: he spotted some kid with green hair (his name was Aspen or something like that) just as he disappeared into the dining room. Suki was heading upstairs with a music box in hand. Colourful lights were strung along the whole length of the hallway walls.
Brand didn’t need to follow Suki to know that the upper level was infested with people – he could hear them laughing and cheering, probably playing one of the many games in that large open room up there. He’d only been up there once, when he first moved in and Poppy insisted on showing him literally every inch of the massive house. She told him he was welcome to go up and play in the gameroom any time he wants. He hasn’t been up there since.
Brand headed for the west end of the hallway, which was a straight-shot to his targeted location: the kitchen. Get coffee, go back downstairs, stay downstairs, he kept repeating to himself. Satin and Chenille exited the living room to the left and gave him a synchronized ‘hello Brand’ as they passed. He responded with a casual ‘hi’ – though the twins were easy to tell apart (one had gradient-pink hair and the other gradient-blue, plus they never dressed the same), he always got the two sisters mixed up, so he never called them by name. Today, the pink-themed girl was decked out in a fancy red-and-white Santa-like outfit, while the blue-themed girl had a long green sparkly dress with lots of Christmas-y accessories.
Almost to the kitchen now, he peeked into the livingroom along the way. More strings of lights and dozens upon dozens of decorations, including a five-foot-tall plastic snowman beside the large window. Cooper was over by the Christmas tree wearing a goofy reindeer toque and a festive hoodie (replacing his signature green hat / pink-striped hoodie). There were three or four people milling around who he recognized but couldn’t think of their names, two older teen boys on the sofa who looked like brothers but he didn’t recognize them at all (probably friends of Bridget and Griffin), and one guy he fully recognized and absolutely hated: Channing Rivers. He was relaxing on the loveseat, reclined back as if he was enjoying the beach in a lawn chair.
Brand curled his lip in disgust and kept walking. He hated everything about that guy: his stupid blue-green ponytail, his stupid hippie clothes, his stupid hippie attitude, his stupid arrogant grin, his stupid ‘chill’ attitude, his stupid ‘sweet-and-innocent’ voice, his stupid flirty behaviour toward Poppy.
And for whatever reason, Poppy loved all of Channing’s stupid qualities. ‘Channing this, Channing that, Channing is SO amazing’. Yuck. They had gone on a few casual dates since the summer: a trip to an amusement park out of town, a school dance, a couple of lunch hangouts – but apparently they weren’t ‘dating’, because they weren’t an ‘official couple’, or something like that. Whatever.
Lost in a mental rant, Brand entered the kitchen doorway and almost ran right into Billy. The bulky teen, who towered over everyone at six-and-a-half feet tall, adjusted the elf hat covering his light blond buzzcut. “Oops! Sorry about that, Brand! I should probably pay attention to where I’m going! Merry Christmas! Oh, I brought a big dessert tray, it’s over on the far counter! Feel free to help yourself!”
Despite Billy’s intimidating size, he was as gentle as a butterfly. He was bubbly and a bit of a scaredy-cat at times, but very kind-hearted and genuine. The only thing truly annoying about him was his yappy little dog that he takes with him everywhere – Mr. Dinkles. What kind of name is that anyway? The dog wasn’t in Billy’s arms or trailing behind him, so it must be in another room getting attention from someone else.
“Okay, thanks.” Brand had no interest in sugary treats, but he was working really hard to reduce his negativity towards others. It wasn’t fair to be so rude to people who were only trying to be nice. It wasn’t their fault he was living a desolate life. However, Channing was never genuinely nice, so Brand was content to channel all his rudeness toward that jerk instead.
“Hi, Brand!” A very soft but friendly voice greeted him from over at the dessert-tray counter. Her little pale-blond pigtails had green extensions, her freckled pale round face was accented with sparkly green makeup, and she wore a headband with two giant candycanes.
“Hi, Bridget,” Brand greeted Poppy’s best friend (or as she would say, her ‘bestest best friend ever’).
Bridget’s boyfriend Griffin was wearing his usual green baseball cap over his shaggy brown hair. He was filling his holiday-themed paper plate with holiday-themed desserts amongst all the holiday decorations, but paused to say a quick, “Wha’s up” to Brand.
“S’up.” If Brand had to pick one person to hang out with, it would be Griffin Bergenson Jr. The short and chubby high-school senior was very laidback and was not relentlessly upbeat like everyone else. He wasn’t shy by any means, but only talked when necessary, and could even be pessimistic and sarcastic sometimes. It was as if he and Brand shared their own language.
Bridget looked like she was about to burst with excitement (but at least she had some self-control, unlike Poppy). “Hey Brand, what do you think of mine and Griffin’s matching festive sweaters?” She turned around to reveal her outfit, and after she tapped his arm a few times, Griffin unenthusiastically turned too.
Brandon couldn’t resist a smirk. The couple looked like they had a food fight but with Christmas décor. “Yeah, no offense, but I wouldn’t be caught dead in those.”
It was Griffin who answered, “I didn’t think I would be either, but apparently I’m dead if I don’t wear it.” Deep blue eyes glared down at him (Bridget was short too, but a tad taller than him), and he quickly amended, “It’s not that I don’t like them, Babe! I know you worked hard to make them, and you know I love everything you do! But you have to admit, they are kind of… sort of…” Griffin searched desperately for an appropriate word, “a little… hideous?” His dark brown eyes narrowed as he braced himself for his girlfriend’s reaction.
But Bridget just laughed. “Of course they are! That’s the whole point of them! They are literally called ‘ugly Christmas sweaters’! Now, come on, Griffy – let’s go and see if Chad and Todd want to have a ping-pong rematch upstairs! Bye, Brand!” Bridget grabbed Griffin’s hand and dragged him away in the direction of the livingroom before another word could be said.
It was then Brand glanced into the dining room – he could see the Aspen-dude sitting at the table, looking at something on his phone with Guy, who’s clothing was somehow even flashier than usual: snow-white with sparkling silver snowflakes from head to toe. He looked like a disco ball.
Alright, enough lollygagging – COFFEE. Get coffee, go downstairs, stay downstairs, escape all this holiday cheer. Except it seemed the universe wanted Brand to suffer today – this so-called coffee maker of Percy’s was a lot fancier than his old-fashioned straightforward machine. He fiddled with it for a significant amount of time, muttering increasingly strong curses under his breath, unable to figure out how to make a simple cup of coffee, getting more exhausted and frustrated by the second, sick of all the background chatter and bright lights and cheery décor all over and –
“Hey Brando!!”
He sprung away from the sudden chipper voice right by his ear, letting out an undignified squawk in the process. “Poppy! For the love of – what the heck is wrong with you?! How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me!”
Instead of her usual cheerful wardrobe (blue-themed shirts or dresses with either sparkles, frills, flowers, or all of the above, a decorated headband to match, and pink or light blue jeans), Poppy had dressed up to resemble a snowman: white shirt with a vertical line of big black actual buttons and long brown sleeves, white pants and short white boots, a black top hat (her thick slightly-wavy hair was loose underneath instead of up in its usual high ponytail), and a long red scarf. She even went to the extent of painting her nose orange, adding black lipstick with a few black dots along the sides of her mouth, and sparkly black eye shadow to replace her familiar sparkly magenta.
She looked so cute –
No! No she didn’t. Poppy looked… ridiculous! Yeah, ridiculous. So ridiculous.
The red-headed snow-girl was giggling like a madwoman, completely unaffected by his bad temper, as always. “But scaring you is so much fun! You have the best reactions! You’re always like – aaaaaagh!” She mimicked him with extreme exaggeration, flailing her arms all over and making a goofy face. When his only response was a steely glare, she added, “Oh, come on, Brand! Have a laugh once in a while!”
“Ha ha ha,” he muttered with zero emotion. Now craving coffee even more, he turned his attention back to the stubborn machine. He wasn’t sure which was more stubborn – it or Poppy. "And stop calling me that stupid nickname. It's either Brand, or Brandon."
“You’re not dressed up very festive! Where’s your holiday spirit? You gotta at least wear reindeer antlers or a Santa hat or something! I have like twenty extra hats and headbands, you can borrow one!”
Brand tried to tune out her dumb chatter as much as possible, still at war with the coffee machine.
Poppy only then seemed to register what he was doing. “Oh, is your coffee maker not working again?”
“It’s working just fine. I came up here to enjoy all your holiday activities.”
She gasped in delight. “Really? Oh my gosh, that’s – wow! I can’t believe you finally want – “
“Sarcasm, Poppy. I was being sarcastic!”
“Oh.” The trace of despondency lasted less than half a second, “Well you should stick around for some activities! Once the last two guests arrive – Maddie and Tara Duluth – we’re going to – “
“Poppy, look – I’m really not in the best mood right now, so could you just tell me how to work this darn machine before I pull my own hair out?”
“Oh, sure! Of course!” She did indeed teach him how to use the coffee maker, but all the while she informed him of her ‘super-fun’ activities planned out for the day: snowflake paper doilies, Christmas karaoke, ugly sweater making contest, a dozen different board games, some other random contest, beaded string something crafts, blah blah blah.
Brand’s coffee was finally ready after what seemed like an hour. After taking one long satisfying sip, he interrupted Poppy’s rambling, “Well, all that stuff sounds spectacular, but nothing I’m interested in. As I’ve directly stated a dozen times before. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, etcetera.” He hurried out of the room, but Poppy’s voice was still lingering in his ears – because she was following him!
“Even if you would just stay for half an hour! That’s all! You could make some Styrofoam snowmen, or – okay thanks Suki, I’ll be right up! – Holiday Bingo is always a popular game, or Bridget suggested – hey Maddie, hey Tara, welcome! I’ll give you girls holiday hugs in just one minute! – Or, I bet you’d really enjoy – “
“No, Poppy!” He stomped down the stairs so roughly his coffee sloshed around and almost spilled. “No, no, no, and more no! Whatever you suggest, my answer is going to be NO!”
“Look, I know you’re not into birthday parties or slumber parties or school dances, but this is Christmas!”
“Exactly! All this holly-jolly festive junk – I hate it!” ‘Hate’ was a harsh term (Brand could even admit to himself that it was inaccurate). But Poppy’s persistent aggressive kindness was making him extra crabby.
Poppy’s footsteps had stopped; her sudden silence caused Brand to pause and glance back. She was standing at the bottom of the steps looking lost, bewildered – distraught, like he had thrown her favourite scrapbook into the fireplace. “Are you… are you saying… you hate Christmas?”
“Yes! That is precisely what I’m saying! I hate gifts, I hate celebrations, I hate Christmas carols, I hate listening to Christmas carols, I hate singing Christmas carols, I hate singing in general! I’ve told you dozens of times: I can’t stand any of those things! Now please, for the love of everything: leave me alone!”
“But how can you hate Christmas? It’s such a wonderful and joyful time!”
“Not. For. Me.” Brand attempted to head for his doorway again, but she continued after him with her classic innocent tone: “But it’s not just about all the presents and decorations and stuff. It’s about getting to spend time with your family and – “
“I don’t have a family!!” Brand spun around so violently that much of his coffee splashed out of the mug and onto the floor, but he didn’t care. Poppy froze again, this time looking startled. He’d never screamed at her like that before. Standing face to face, his eye level only a few inches higher than hers, she watched as the cold fire in his light blue eyes suddenly faded, replaced by a deep, dark sadness.
But his voice remained strong, “You have your dad, your aunts and uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, dozens of close friends you’ve had since you were little! I have no one!” He didn’t miss the look of hurt flash across Poppy’s face, but he couldn’t stop his words from pouring out. “Everyone who has ever meant anything to me has either abandoned me, or died!!”
Poppy was still staring with widened amber eyes and a slightly gaping mouth. Brand stifled a sigh – his head lowered, his shoulders slumped, his fists uncurled – his whole upper body wilted as if he had been drained of all energy. She’d never seen him look so defeated. Naturally she wanted to cheer him up, comfort him, reassure him, anything – but for the first time in her life, she was rendered speechless.
When he spoke again after a few seconds of silence, his voice was hushed and carried a slight tremble. “I have nothing to celebrate.”
The door slammed shut in her face. The locks clicked into place. And then nothing. The excited noise from upstairs seemed a million miles away. Poppy stared at the brown basement apartment door for almost ten minutes, before finally gathering her thoughts enough to half-heartedly return to the party.
Everyone was gathering in the livingroom – Cybil was exiting the kitchen with a plate of snacks, Mandy/Bella/Dennis/Karma had come from upstairs and passed by Poppy, and Suki (whose orange dreadlocks were now decorated with silver and gold stars) was going the opposite direction toward the bathroom.
Griffin and Bridget were chatting happily in the hallway by the kitchen entrance; but the second the older teen spotted Poppy, her cheer vanished, instantly replaced by a look of light confusion and concern. She said something to Griffin with a little smile, he nodded nonchalantly and disappeared into the livingroom. But Bridget did not follow him – instead her expression dropped again and she hurried over to her best friend.
Poppy quickly put on a forced smile, “Hey, Girlfriend! I hope you guys weren’t waiting too long for me!”
“What’s the matter, Poppy?” Bridget cut right to the chase.
Poppy smiled even wider, “Nothing! Everything’s great! Now, let’s go get this party started!”
She tried to walk away, but Bridget gently grabbed hold of her wrist, the worry in her pretty dark blue eyes growing. “Poppy. Stop. I’m your BFF. I can tell when you’re faking happiness. I can see it in your eyes. What happened? You know you can tell me anything.”
“I know, but… the party…”
“Can wait,” Bridget said as firmly as possible with her silky voice. “Tell me what’s wrong. Is it Brand? I saw you talking to him.”
Poppy gave a downcast little nod, so Bridget led her into the empty dining room. The upbeat ginger teen was famous for her endless positivity; she was the one everyone turned to when they were feeling stressed out, nervous, sad, scared, annoyed. So, in the rare times Poppy was feeling any of those emotions, she instinctively hid them to avoid upsetting people around her. The last thing she ever wanted was to be the cause of someone else’s unhappiness.
Bridget was the only one she ever felt comfortable venting to. Poppy would call her and ramble on for twenty minutes straight, or send a two-foot-long text message; Bridget would patiently listen and then offer compassionate but honest advice.
In a hushed voice, trying to keep the story short, Poppy explained, “I tried to convince Brand to join the party again, but he said he doesn’t want to get involved because he hates Christmas, but how can anyone hate Christmas? Then he said he has no one, no family or friends, which really kind of hurt my feelings, because what about me and my dad? Do we not mean anything to him?” She sighed. “We try to be kind to him, help him, be there for him, but he won’t let us! All he ever wants to do is be alone down in the basement!”
Bridget pondered for a moment, formulating what to say without hurting Poppy’s feelings further. She spoke even softer than usual, “I don’t think that’s what he meant, Poppy. Think about it: he doesn’t have parents, or any family members for that matter. He has no real friends, not like the rest of us do, no strong connections to anyone, so joyous Christmas celebrations would only remind him of what he doesn't have. He’s never had a home, living in an orphanage and then with cruel foster parents, so he probably still struggles to see this as his home – but that doesn’t mean he isn’t appreciative of you and your dad. He’s still adjusting. After living most of my life with no one but my terrible mother, when I moved in with Griffin and his dad at the beginning of this year, it took a long time for me to accept that I finally have a proper home and a real family, even though I was very thankful to be there.
“I know you want Brand to be happy. I do too. But you can’t force him to be. I’m sorry to say this, Poppy, but… begging him to do things that he doesn’t want to do, will only make him want to do them even less, and make him even more distant. He’s had a pretty rough life. It’s not so easy for someone like him to just ‘get back up again’, or see the cupcakes and rainbows in life. Not everyone likes to party the way you do, and… you need to respect that. Even Griffin and I don’t always feel like being in big crowds. You need to be patient with Brand. He’ll open up to you some day, but only when he’s ready. Not… when you want him to.”
Oh. Now Poppy just felt awful. Like she had emotionally been hit by a truck. Bridget was right. Poppy always complained when Brand would give her the cold-shoulder or snap at her to get lost – but he only behaved like that because he had tried politely declining her dozens of times, and she didn’t listen! She would just ignore him, laugh it off, act like she didn’t care what he thought or felt…
No wonder Brand doesn’t see her as a friend! Poppy, the queen of lifting people’s spirits, just made him feel like garbage – and on Christmas Eve of all days! She started to feel nauseous…
Suddenly Bridget’s arms were curled around Poppy’s slender frame. “I’m so sorry, Poppy. I shouldn’t have said anything – “
“No, I’m – I’m glad you did.” She shifted around to return her best friend’s hug. “I needed to hear that. I’ve never thought of it like that before.”
Seeing how upset Poppy still looked, Bridget had an idea. “Wait here for one second, Girlfriend.” She scampered out of the diningroom and down the hallway. Peeking around the corner, Poppy heard her call out into the livingroom, “Hey guys – Poppy and I are going to have a quick foosball rematch, we’ll be back down in a bit to start the crafts! In the meantime, exchange some jokes, eat some more snacks!”
The group’s response was all positive: “Cool!” “Sure!” “Have fun!” “Ooh, more snacks!” “Hey, I know this really good joke!” “Let’s hear it!” “How about a joke-telling contest, bonus points if it’s Christmas or winter-related!” “Yeah!!”
Bridget returned to Poppy. “That should keep them occupied for a few minutes – or however much time you need.”
Poppy pulled her into another warm hug. “Thanks, Girlfriend.”
“You’re welcome. Now, let’s go play some more foosball.”
Poppy managed a small chuckle, “You know I’m not very good at that one.”
Fifteen minutes of playing foosball, despite her losing terribly to Bridget, was all Poppy needed to cheer up enough to return to hosting her party. Having lots of silly fun with all her best friends, especially Bridget, always lifted Poppy’s spirits…
However, today, it kept reminding her of Brand… all alone downstairs, without so much as a goldfish to keep him company. It was a challenge to keep his sad expression and downcast voice at the back of her mind.
~~~~~
The bulk of the party lasted until late in the evening. Suki, Karma, and Mandy left an hour after lunch to attend their own family functions. Aspen had to leave much earlier than expected, right before dinner, so Poppy convinced him to take a plate of goodies for the road. Maddie, Chad, Todd, Bella, and Channing left soon after dessert. By the time 9 o’clock hit, Bridget, Griffin, Billy, and Cooper were all the teens that remained in Poppy’s house, lazing on the couches while watching classic Christmas movies.
Now that the atmosphere had calmed down, Poppy had a chance to let her worries settle and collect her thoughts. So, after carefully planning her next move, she snuck downstairs during a commercial break. Anxiously, after hesitating a few times, she knocked on Brand’s door. She waited at least a minute, then knocked again. She waited two minutes this time, but didn’t hear so much as a peep.
“Brand?” Poppy called out. It had been cold and snowy and windy all day, but perhaps he had wanted to get away and walked into town? Doubtful – he was too cautious to be out wandering around in bad weather; plus, other than going to work at the little hardware store, he rarely left the basement even in good weather.
Poppy gently tried the doorknob, but it was locked, as always. Looking down at it, she noticed there was a small gap between the doorknob and the wood of the door. Lining her face up to peek through it, she could kind of see partway into the apartment, and from her angle she could just see him sitting at the couch. He was ignoring her… understandably.
“Brand, please! Please let me in! I really need to talk to you… I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be! I’m so sorry for hurting your feelings!... Please, Brandon, just open the door…”
Five minutes she waited. Nothing. Peeking into the gap again, the couch was now unoccupied. He was nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be heard. Fighting back tears, she returned upstairs, glancing back regretfully three or four times along the way.
…Brand stared intently at the television. It wasn’t turned on. Poppy had knocked several times on his triple-locked door. Though muffled by the door, he could still make out most of her words. The plead in her voice almost made him get up at one point, but he resisted halfway to standing, and roughly plopped back down onto the sofa. He couldn’t deal with this right now. It was all too much.
Eventually there was silence for a significant amount of time. Maybe she finally left. Maybe she was hanging around out there hoping he would open the door to check if she finally left. Either way, he did not go near the door.
Instead, Brand dragged himself in the other direction, around the corner and over to his bed. He knelt down beside it, and reached under to pull out the dark brown box of her cards. He opened it, and was greeted with a visual explosion of colour… and emotions. He felt his eyes starting to mist up. He was mad at Poppy, but was also mad at himself for being mad at her. She had a habit of taking things too far, but she always meant well. He never wanted to see her again, yet already missed seeing her, the thought of never seeing her again tearing his heart out. She was a common source of annoyance in his life, yet she was also the only thing in this whole world that ever made him feel even the slightest bit happy.
Brand closed the box and shoved it back under his bed. He crawled up onto it and buried himself under the blankets.
His half-filled coffee mug was still sitting on his kitchen counter.