Page 19 of Switching Graves

Sonny

“Are you sure you’ve got all your paperwork? Class schedule? Supply list?” Aunt Divina peppers Poppy with questions from the passenger seat as Uncle Graysen pulls into the airport parking lot.

“It’s all online, Mom,” Poppy tells her, rolling her eyes in feigned irritation. When she turns her head and her gaze locks with mine, the playful expression falls.

“Driver’s license? Passport?” I add quietly, so her parents can’t hear.

“Yes, we triple-checked, remember?”

“I’m nervous.” I sigh.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about, Sonny,” Poppy gently assures in a normal tone as Aunt Divina barks out a mocking laugh and says, “I’d be nervous too, going to a foreign country with a bunch of strangers.”

“Mom,” Poppy chastises sharply, and Uncle Graysen shakes his head as he pulls into a parking spot.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure them, making sure Poppy sees that I truly am.

Holding up the lie for this past month has been next to impossible as we each prepared for the next year of our lives in opposite directions. Since Carol officially sold the flower shop two weeks ago, I managed to sell everything I own for some extra cash and return to my aunt and uncle’s house, which has put both me and Poppy directly under their microscopes.

Each time one of us gathered something for our respective trips, we had to store it in the other’s room to keep up the lie. It made packing a bitch. Especially because Aunt Divina took such a special interest in making sure Poppy had everything she needed, nosing around in her suitcase at random times. We settled on storing our suitcases in each other’s rooms and running across the hall any time we wanted to throw something in.

“Good because it’s time to go. We don’t want you two to miss your flights.”

“Isn’t it convenient that you’re both leaving on the same day?” Aunt Divina mutters as she slips out of the car, casting a suspicious glare across the hood at me, as if I’m somehow going to sabotage Poppy’s future.

“Yes, it is,” Poppy retorts confidently, flashing her mother a large, toothy smile.

She truly has no idea.

They walk us through the airport entrance and start toward the lounge for my flight before Poppy turns on her heel and stops us all in our tracks.

“I think we should part ways here,” she rushes out, eyes darting around at the people agitatedly passing.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. We’re seeing you off,” Aunt Divina insists, pushing past her daughter.

“It’s too hard to leave you guys. I’m afraid that if we wait until the last minute, I’ll lose my nerve.”

Aunt Divina rolls her eyes, looking to Uncle Graysen for back up. When he refuses to meet her stare, she releases an impatient growl. “We won’t allow you tolose your nerve, Penelope. This moment is just as much for us as it is for you. We’re seeing our only child off to college.”

I can’t help the way my heart drops at the subtle dig. I’ve been under their guardianship for nearly a decade, and she still refuses to acknowledge me as a child she cares for.

“This is what I want,” Poppy insists.

“Come on, Divina. We got her here. It’s not like she’s going to run away and join a circus or something.”

Realizing she’s outnumbered, Aunt Divina hesitates a moment, and then relents. “Fine. Call me the instant you land. I’ll be watching the plane on my phone.”

Poppy smiles triumphantly, winning a battle of wills with her mother the way only she can. “Thanks, Mom.”

They step toward each other for an awkward, strained hug, while I hang back to observe the exchange. Once they pull apart, Poppy pulls her dad into a much more comfortable embrace, and they mutter something into each other’s ears that I can’t hear before she steps backward beside me. Then, to my surprise, Uncle Graysen grabs me up into just as tight of an embrace as he shared with Poppy.

“Have a great time and don’t forget to call. You’ll always have a home with us, Sonny. We love you,” he whispers into my hair, then steps back to stand beside his wife. I have to blink back my tears before anyone notices.

Once they disappear behind a crowd of people waving off their loved ones, Poppy and I make our way through the airport in a heavy silence. Words seem impossible to describe the anxious emptiness I’m feeling over leaving her.

“This is my stop,” she announces as we approach her gate, pulling her suitcase to the side to step out of the way of rushing passengers.

I blow out a breath and pull the fake passport out of my back pocket with my name on it, then hold it out for her. “This is yours now.”

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