Imaginary Friends

TW: Bullying, themes of mental health and eating disorders.

“Stop following us,” Marnie, the most popular girl in Mrs. Whatshername’s first grade class, snapped.

Poppy’s eyes widened. Her pants were a little too long, and her pink t-shirt didn’t match her bright green jacket. Marnie by contrast, had been dressed in an expensive autumn-themed ensemble. Her curated perfection only made Poppy stand out that much more.

“I just want to play,” Poppy said.

I smiled to myself. Poor Poppy. So desperate for friends, yet too inept to make them.

Her parents couldn’t watch her at recess, but they should’ve noticed something was wrong with her. Then again, if they bothered to see her flaws––bothered to help her––she wouldn’t need me.

Marnie’s pretty face twisted in a sneer. “We don’t want to play with you.”

Poppy glanced at me, looking for answers. She knew deep down no one wanted to play with her, but not why. That’s why she summoned me in the first place.

Despite being six, her classmates could’ve written a doctoral thesis on everything wrong with Poppy, but I find it fascinating how some children can be so blind. I loved the ones like Poppy. She stumbled through life, aware of her failings but too oblivious to fix them. I had a feeling Poppy would sustain me for a decade, if not longer.

Taking advantage of Poppy’s distraction, Marnie and her posse darted off, leaving Poppy all alone. Her teacher frowned, but did nothing to intervene. She never did. She hated Poppy, too. 

And Poppy was easy to hate. She stood a head taller than her classmates, her ugly face made uglier by her ever-present frown. She clung to a different classmate every week, hoping to make a friend. It was only October, and she’d already repulsed them all, leaving me as her only companion.

With no one else to run to, she trudged over to me, arms wrapped around her body and silent tears staining her cheeks. She sat on the swing next to mine, prompting a boy to abandon his swing. Poppy watched him go, face turning bright red as she choked back full-body sobs.

“Your mom is getting you a train set for Christmas,” I said, knowing my words would distract her.

She sucked in a ragged breath, but didn’t look at me. She rarely did when we were in public.

“She is?”

“Yep. A big one.”

She almost smiled at that, but was quickly distracted by a crow. We watched it land, pick something out of the wood chips, and disappear against the gray clouds.

“Did you know that crows are related to blue jays? They’re both…” Poppy trailed off, forgetting the right word.

“Corvids,” I said.

She brightened. “Yes. Corvids.” She slumped again. “Marnie says they can’t be related because blue jays are blue and crows are black.”

“You should listen to her.”

She almost looked at me, but thought better of it at the last second. “But I’m right.”

I gestured at Marnie, who’d organized a game of tag with the other students. “Does it matter? If Marnie thinks you’re stupid, then you’re stupid.”

She kicked her legs, keeping the swing low as she contemplated that. “Doesn’t Marnie want to know? She likes blue jays.”

“No,” I said.

Poppy’s brows furrowed.

“Poppy, no one wants to know those things. They wonder, but they don’t really care about the answers.”

“I don’t get it.”

Of course she didn’t. She’d never gotten it no matter how many times her big mouth made people leave.

I waved an airy hand. “You will. Stick with me, and I’ll fix you in no time.”

She stopped swinging, her light-up tennis shoes digging into the dirt. “How?” she asked, voice small and broken.

Power rushed through me. How was exactly the right question, and it’d only taken her a week to ask it.

“First, you can’t wear light-up shoes anymore.”

“Why? Thomas said they’re cool.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thomas is a boy. You need the girls to like you.”

She was silent for a moment, then asked, “How do I do that?”

“New clothes, new shoes, and don’t correct them when they’re wrong.”

“But––”

“No buts. They don’t like it, so don’t do it.”

She kicked the wood chips. “Okay. I won’t.”

I smiled at her, even though she wasn’t looking at me. “Good. Don’t tell them about the train set, either. Marnie thinks trains are dumb.”

“If I can’t talk about trains and crows, what can I talk about?”

“Whatever Marnie wants to talk about. Haven’t you noticed Sarah,” Marnie’s best friend, “agrees with everything Marnie says?”

“I guess. So I if I do that, we’ll be friends?”

“It’ll be a start.”

“Can I talk to anyone about trains?” Poppy asked, voice small again.

Poppy hadn’t noticed, but Marnie’s game of tag was over. She was watching her, taking note of Poppy’s every move.

I shrugged. “Your parents. They’re the only ones who like you.”

She flinched as though I’d slapped her. A necessary evil if she were to understand what I needed from her.

“No one else?” she asked.

“No one else.”

The tears started again.

“And no crying at school.” I couldn’t help the exasperation that leaked into my tone. “They’ll only hate you more.’’

Poppy wiped at them furiously. From a distance, it probably looked like she was punching herself.

Marnie shook her head in disgust. Thomas darted past her, and the game of tag started up again.

While Poppy hadn’t noticed Marnie watching her, she did notice the new rush of movement. 

“Marnie said I’m too fat to play with them.” Poppy did look at me then. “Am I?”

“Are you what?” I asked, needing her to say it. 

“F-fat?”

I considered her. She was tall more than anything, but her height emphasized the weight she’d gathered while her body prepared for its next growth spurt. Still, it wouldn’t do for her to believe she was normal.

“Do the rest of them agree with Marnie?”

She sniffled, but didn’t let more tears come. “Yes.”

“Then…”

She looked away. “Then I’m fat,” she said dully.

Another glimmer of power zipped over my skin. “Ask your mom to put you on a diet.” A savage smile tugged at my lips. “Your pediatrician already suggested it.” He hated Poppy, too.

“That’ll fix me?”

“It’ll make your quirks less annoying.”

She bit her lip, obviously not understanding why that would help. In truth, losing weight wouldn’t help until she stopped growing and her classmates caught up to her. But she didn’t need to know that.

Marnie skidded to a halt a few feet away, almost causing Sarah to bump into her. “Who is she talking to?” Marnie asked, not bothering to whisper.

Sarah sneered. “Herself.”

Marnie fell into a fit of giggles. “Or an imaginary friend,” she said, raising her voice so the other children would hear.

Poppy’s despair hung in the air. The thickness of it made me high. If Poppy’s constitution stayed this weak, I’d be able to keep her for a lifetime. All I had to do was keep her in this state for the next few years. Maybe I’d whisper in her ear every morning. Or maybe I’d abandon her, only to return when she needed me most. Another few weeks, and I’d know which strategy to choose. 

The bell rang, signaling the end of recess. Poppy kept her eyes firmly on the ground, not daring to glance back at me lest Marnie taunt her more. Her classmates rushed to line up at the gate, Poppy trailing a safe distance behind.