Stories Based On Taylor Swift Songs

FOLKLORE: 124. Seven

124. Seven (1/6/21)

The trees above danced in the wind. Fortunately for me, the wind also swung the tire swing back and forth, and the coil of brown string got tied in a knot.

I stood on the edge of the tire swing so I could untie the string. Luckily, I had good balance, and I didn't stumble or fall, even as the tire swing swayed back and forth. The string came undone, and I pushed my brown hair out of my face.

"Hey!" A voice called, and when I looked down the hill, I saw Poppy running towards me. She raced through the fields, her overalls stained and worn through at the knees. When she reached me, she placed her hands behind her back and asked, "Can you please help me with my braids? I can't get it right!"

I hopped off the tire swing and led Poppy towards the plastic picnic table my mom set up during the summer. A tray of sweet tea and cups was sitting in the center of the table.

"Do you want some?" I asked her as she placed her brush and hair bands on the table for me. She nodded quickly, a small smile on her face.

I poured two glasses, then asked Poppy to sit on the bench so I could start working on the braids. My mom had shown me how to do my hair a few weeks ago, during a boring rainy day. I wasn't allowed to go see Poppy, who lived with her dad at the bottom of the hill, because my mom didn't want me to catch a cold. So she taught me how to braid my hair, and after a few tries, I finally got it right.

The same could not be said for Poppy, who struggled every time. Sometimes she would come over with her hair in knots, and I was left to help her out. Now she didn't even try, and just raced up the hill to ask me to do it.

"I like your hair, Poppy," I said as I brushed the black strands away. "Did I tell you what I want to try today?"

"What?" Poppy asked before handing me a hair band.

"I saw it on TV," I told her, choosing my words carefully. I knew the idea sounded crazy, and I wasn't sure if Poppy would be interested. "These two girls who were best friends cut their one fingertip and touched the fingertips together."

"Ew!" Poppy squealed. "What's that supposed to do?"

I had just finished her first braid, and was moving on to the second. "They said it's to..." I stumbled over the word, "solidify their friendship. Make it for real."

"But our friendship is already..." she stuttered over the unknown word as well, "solidify."

"I know," I replied, crossing the sections of hair over one another, "but we could still try it! It would be fun."

"It's not gonna be fun! It's gonna hurt! I don't wanna do it." Poppy crossed her arms against her chest. I knew I had crossed a line, so I silenced myself and decided not to bring up the idea again.

After I finished Poppy's braids, we ran off to the field and played pretend. First we were pirates, and then I told her about this place I saw on TV called India. Apparently it was a country that was very far away. Poppy liked the idea of going very far away. We pretended we were leaving for India, so we packed our dolls and sweaters and marched through the fields. We soared over the trees and houses, pretending we were airplanes. When we finally landed in India, I felt my stomach drop. A door had just been slammed shut. My mom was at work, so I knew it had to be Poppy's dad.

He stormed through the field, a horrible look on his face. He looked upset, but he was always upset, according to Poppy. He had been nice once, Poppy told me, but I didn't believe her. A man as mean as her dad had to be mean all his life.

"Penelope!" He called, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coveralls. "What do you think you're doing?"

"We're in India, Dad," Poppy explained, but I could tell she was scared. Her father only called her by her full name when he was angry, which was almost always.

"You're not in India." He clearly did not have any imagination. "You need to ask when you want to leave the house."

Poppy tried to defend herself, but she gave up through the first sentence. Instead, she turned to wave goodbye to me, and I watched as her and her dad returned to their house at the bottom of the hill.

I trudged up the hill to my house, and my dress kept getting caught in the weeds and long blades of grasses. When Poppy and her dad were out of earshot, I let out a loud scream. It was so frustrating that I couldn't see Poppy whenever I wanted to. Her dad was too strict, I guess.

The rest of the afternoon, I drank sweet tea in the living room and watched TV until my mom got home. The girls from yesterday were on again, and they were doing the same blood ritual. I realized it was the same episode, and the imagery only made me think of Poppy more. I let out a long sigh. I wasn't sure when I would see her again.

The next morning, I dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. I braided my hair, which only made me think of Poppy. The front door slammed shut, meaning my mom had just left for work. When her car was gone from the driveway, I left the house and raced down the hill to find Poppy. Usually, I waited for her to come over first, but based on how her dad acted yesterday, I thought it would be better to find her instead.

I was about to knock on the front door, until I heard silent sobs coming from the backyard. I moved ever so slowly, not wanting Poppy's dad to find me. The playhouse that Poppy had gotten for her fifth birthday was covered in vines, and wasn't as bright in color as it once was. The tears were coming from there. I knocked lightly on the door, and could hear Poppy's voice say, "Come in."

She was curled up on the ground, wiping small tears from her face. Her hair was knotty again, as if she had tried to braid it but had failed miserably. I gave her a small smile before sitting next to her.

"What's wrong?" I whispered, taking her by the hand.

Through tears, she explained, "My dad...won't let me play with you today. He says...you're a bad influence."

"Well, that's just rude," I said, copying a phrase I had heard from a TV show. "You know what? I think your house is haunted. Why else would your dad be so mad all the time?"

Poppy let out a small giggle. "You think so?"

"Yes!" I replied. "Remember that time I slept over last summer? And the floorboards creaked in the hallway? That had to be a ghost!"

Poppy nodded, thinking of the memory fondly. "I wish we could go to India for real. I want to leave."

My heart ached in my chest for my friend. I couldn't begin to understand the terrible life she must have with a dad like hers. He was so mean, and didn't let her do anything. In a small voice, I assured her we would go to India soon. I painted pictures for her, one where we were pirates sailing the seven seas, another where we were living together in India.

Poppy let one more tear fall down her face before looking over at me. "Can I sleep over tonight?"

"Yes!" I squealed, but then I realized that I was being too loud. "I'll have to ask my mom, but of course you can sleep over."

Poppy finally blessed me with a smile.