Member
op2024
Carlyle
Kaithe Dame
Experiment 249
Horangi
Cuervo
Rightful Heir
Ejected
Pen Name
Noctis
TIMESTAMP: Flashback, Yesterday (July 18th)
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Marco walked down main street and he was about halfway to the Hole in the Wall. He had his raycon earbuds in, blasting some song from his Naruto playlist, the Rock Lee Green Beast theme (which was his go to hype song), Marco was in the mood to put it on after he left the Godmother. His talk with Cat had sent him down a rabbit hole of thoughts, feelings, and a certain resistance he had in hyping up this meetup with Penolope.
As much as he tried, though, Marco couldn’t stop himself from thinking about what he kept thinking about since last week. She was close to Charlie Decker and Marco had still felt some tinge of anxiety. Even as he walked and had the projection of Cat on his shoulder urging him to not put too much stock into it and let whatever happen, happen in a natural way. He even heard Danny’s voice.
Those Belmontes were a lot of things. Huggers? Well Danny was only because he was Marco’s boyfriend, but not Cat. But they were sensible, comforting, and morally the best people he knew. He might’ve been making everything up and this was his conscious trying to set him straight. Or the voice in his head. Or maybe it was him.
God, Marco, you need to get a handle on this. It’s just dinner. It’s just dinner.
As he walked through the entrance and he had removed one of his earbuds, the sound of the bell above the door startled Marco enough that he dropped the bud on the floor, the sound of the Beautiful Green Wild Beast playing loud enough that he could still hear it as he leaned down to pick it up. He groaned as he pushed off his bad left leg and waved to someone, likely a Cleary, scanning the immediate restaurant floor and at each table looking to see if she was here.
And she was.
And she hadn’t realized Marco was here. Marco couldn’t see exactly where, but as he walked and had pocketed his raycon earbuds in the case and pocketed them, he got closer to the booth she seemed to already be sitting at. It was at the far corner, where the music wasn’t as loud. Somewhere they could hear each other speak. Smiling, he stood opposite of a seated Penolope, waving. “Hey..” As he spoke, his gut started to twist itself. It was too late to go back now. “S-sorry I’m late. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Marco said as he took a seat on the other end of the table. The cushion was nice. It felt nice on his butt considering he had been on his feet practically all day.
“You’re fine,” Penelope covered her anxiety with a timid smile. After pushing a menu to him, she opened her own and tried to start things off, immediately jumping into it, “I spent all my life waiting. Waiting for my friends to invite me to their serpent adventures, waiting for my dad to come home because I was always scared he wouldn’t, waiting for Charlie to…” Hiding her face with the menu, she took a breath in, and breath out, she wanted this. She had to talk. If she wanted Marco to open up, she had to be honest. “... waiting for him to ask me out…” Her voice went extremely low at the mention of her and Charlie never becoming an item. As her eyes scanned the menu, she mumbled, hardly audible, “Waiting… So yeah, you’re fine.”
As Marco took the menu and looked through it, he just listened to Penelope talk. He didn’t know what he could say after she was done, but hearing her speak in such a melancholy way, he couldn't help but feel sad for everything it seemed she went through. As he thought about what to say, because silence had taken the air around them for nearly ten seconds and he still had the same nervousness he had before coming here. “I’m..sorry..i mean, that you had to go through that. I…understand what it's like, worrying about your dad. Mine’s a cop and there’s always…that fear of not knowing if things are going to go bad for him.” Marco never opened up about that, but he couldn’t just remain silent, not when she needed that from him.
“I’m making peace. With what I went through, I mean,” Penelope shrugged, finding her footing once more. The Hole was more of a bar than a restaurant. They served hand foods for the most part but other than that, you came to the Hole for the craft beer. Not the food. Though they did have amazing wings. So correction. You came to the Hole for craft beer and wings. “My dad loves it, being a cop, so that’s got to mean something, right?”
Once Poppy asked that rhetorical question to the thin air the waitress approached them. The James girl was quick to order honey bbq wings on the bone, a side of fries, and a coke. She could get a drink, since they didn’t really card in Edenridge, but she wanted to spend her time with Marco sober. If she needed liquid courage was she really doing right by herself, as she tried to bring closure to Charlie’s victims? Maybe another day they could go out drinking. Tonight she wanted to focus on him. “Thanks, by the way. For meeting me for dinner.”
After Penlope ordered her food, Marco was quick to do the same. He went a different route with the wings. He opted for classic buffalo style, also on the bone, potato wedges, and Mountain Dew: Code Red. Was he showing his gamer identity in public? Only if the waitress was a fellow gamer. He drank code red almost religiously for the past year. He has a mini-fridge in his room and it has it and oreo cakesters.
He closed the menu and the waitress walked away with both of them. Smiling at Penelope, he said, “Yeah…sure thing! I have to admit..I didn’t think you’d text back so soon. Maybe I’ve grown to waiting but it was like…instant!” He half-laughed but also smiled. Feeling that maybe what he said came off negative, Marco added, “It’s not a bad thing by the way! It’s a very good thing!”
Penelope answered with a quiet smile. She didn’t consider how fast she responded. Prior to him messaging her, she was at Main Street Music perusing records to add to Charlie’s collection. Music had become a silent language between her and Rhonda, seeing how for a good while mama’s house had gone quiet. Did Pops come off as desperate? If she did, that was never her intention. All she wanted to do was respond right away so she could start moving again. With Marco, she truly believed she could start moving again. That being said, to say she wasn’t relieved would be an obvious lie.
Truth be told. Poppy was put at ease that he was still thinking about her offer. That he was willing to give her a chance. Marco had every right to ignore her but he didn’t and here they were. Both waiting for things to take off, one way or another. “I blame myself,” she earnestly admitted. Staring at her nails, looking away from Marco’s deep, curious eyes, Penelope reflected out loud, “If there’s anyone that failed him the most, it was the girl that…” she bit her bottom lip and glanced up at Marco sorrowfully, “… loved him.”
Bringing her hands to her legs, she absentmindedly rubbed them against her jeans, anxiously feeling the texture, the friction, “So… I hope whatever you’re looking for, I can help you find. I just,” her mind trailed off into many different directions as she tried to articulate her words carefully, “Don’t really have a plan. All I know is I need to see you, and all those Charlie really hurt. This really has nothing to do with him. It has everything to do with me. I need to see, and hear whatever you’re willing to tell me so I…” Can let him go. Frowning, Penelope found herself going silent, unable to finish her sentence. She was rambling again; clear signs of her nerves hitting the roof. Poppy had really hoped she could bury her worry but that was impossible when she was in what felt like an impossible situation.
Even with almost a week to think about it, Marco had no idea what he wanted out of this either. Sure, he had always had thoughts about it: why me? Why at that time? But at the same time, what could asking those sorts of questions actually do for him now? It wouldn’t change that he had a bum leg, that he might walk with a limp for the rest of his life. It wouldn’t change that his dreams of going pro were out of the question. None of that would change if he somehow asked probably the only person willing to do anything he wanted, answer any questions he might have.
For a few moments, Marco hadn’t looked up as he thought about…everything. Even now he still was partially looking down at the tabletop. “Can I be honest about something?” He said, part of his gaze looking back up. “I don’t really have a plan either. I mean, I don’t know what I need or want. Ever since you came to the Godmother last week, I thought about it nonstop and sure, I had questions that I thought I would want to ask. Why did he do it? Why me? Did he secretly have something against me? But now that I’m here, I just don’t know.” His stomach felt heavy, but Marco half-smiled. “I thought I hated him because of what he did and maybe part of me does, but I didn’t know him that well…or at all. I only ever greeted a couple times in the three years we were at the same high school together. So…”
Meeting her full gaze and a strength in his eyes, Marco said, “If you think it’s something you are able to do, could you tell me about him? You don’t have to, but…I’d like to know more about him and what he was like before…you know.” Marco didn’t know if that was wise, but a small part of him always wanted to know more about the boy who shot him and so many others. Maybe it was his more empathetic side or maybe it was seeing Penelope that really sealed it for him. He didn’t know, but what he did know was he didn’t hate Charlie Decker.
While her brown eyes had warmth like an everlasting hearth, there was a deep sadness in that glowing fire. Giving Marco a half smile, Poppy tilted her head, surprised at how selfless his question was. He wanted to know Charlie. Not Charlie from after the fire junior year to his last, dying breath, but the Charlie she grew up with and loved. Her Charlie. “There’s a Cherokee story called Two Wolves,” Her gaze was staring straight into the windows of Marco’s soul, right at him.
“Two wolves?” This was the first time that Marco had ever heard of it. He didn’t know much about Cherokee or really any Native stories or lore.
And Penelope didn’t expect him to. Instead, she acknowledged his bewildered state, her eyes ever so carefully gazing upon his face. Mentally, she wasn’t looking at Marco Brady. Mentally, she was looking at the boy that held her heart. Charlie Decker. Letting his memory encompass her entire being, Poppy wove a tale, a beautiful sad tale, “There’s a grandfather and his grandson. The grandfather tells his grandson that he has two wolves fighting within him. One is all the bad in us, the guilt, the anger, the jealousy, the lies, all the negative energy that challenges us and our purpose.”
She could see two halves of Charlie, the monster he became and the one that was crying for someone to pull him out. To help him. The side in him that was so desperate to shine. “The other wolf is what keeps us grounded, the emotions that remind us why we are here. The joy, the serenity, the love, the empathy, our compassion, our truth. The good wolf.”
Charlie was a lover, never a fighter but this world forced him to build indescribably tall and hard walls. This world ripped him apart until he barely was a person anymore. This world stripped him away from all the good until all he could see was the bad. “The wolves fight, and fight, and fight, until one finally dies. The grandson asks, which wolf wins in the end? And the grandfather answers: the one you feed.”
Charlie smiled at her as he faded from her sight and she was back at looking at the boy she hoped she could guide on the path of healing. A single tear trailed down her cheek, she gingerly wiped her face and went into answering Marco’s actual question, “His father, James Winters, ran the local church that is now the hottest nightclub in our area. Afterlife. He was blamed for that fire that killed several innocent people…. and the way he solved that? He put a bullet in his head,” Poppy glanced around to make sure only Marco could hear her heavy words. She didn’t want others to hear about all the dark she was laying out on the table. She believed in order to understand Charlie, you have to know the history. The history that set him up to fail. The history that haunts this town to this day. The history that forced his hand.
“Charlie never even got to meet his dad seeing how he was still in his mother’s stomach. So add that to being a southsider? He believed he was an outcast, not only feeling abandoned by everyone but us southsiders are told we’re just another statistic. We will never leave this town alive.” Penelope went silent when the waitress delivered their drinks and food. Quietly, she watched the woman take her leave before she focused her attention back to Marco, “That was only the start of a series of unfortunate events. Even through all that pain and all that struggle, trying so hard to take care of his mother’s medical bills in highschool when she was going blind — yes, by working with the serpents because no one else would hire him — he loved classic literature, like On the Road by Jack Kerouac. That was one of his favorites. He loved music, and has an impressive vinyl collection. Artists like Sound, The Midnight, Gavin Degraw, Tyler Hilton…”
There was a lot Penelope had said so far that Marco had no idea about. Maybe being on the northside, he closed his mind to it all. Or he just lived ignorant to all of the struggles that those on the other side of town had to live with every day. He didn’t know Charlie at all, but he wished he could have. Dealing with so much, trying to balance everything, that must have been incredibly hard. The most Marco ever had to balance was his secret relationship with Danny and soccer practice, but Charlie (and probably so many others on the southside) seemed to be playing life or death every day of their lives.
It… was a lot for the young Brady man to digest, so he opted to remain quiet.
Was this helping Marco in any way? She hadn’t talked this much since… Well, since Charlie was alive. She hoped he didn’t mind her talking his ears off. All she could do was speak from the heart and hope that this helped. “Charlie was a dork. He’d get bagels constantly for me and him and never enter through the front door, always through my window. We grew up together, you know? I could look out my window and see him write. He’d look up and ask me: what are you reading today? He loved life, he really did. Had interests just like any kid, like Power Rangers, Cowboy Bebop, Ninja Turtles. One hell of a geek. And god, he wrote so beautifully…. he was talented, had his whole life ahead of him.”
There was a choke in her voice. Grabbing her coke she took a sip of it, her hands subtly shaking, “He just wanted to belong but once Allison died, I don’t think he was ever the same. And I couldn’t help him. He chose to feed the wrong wolf.” Penelope’s eyes watered when the memory of that morning at the gym slipped in her head. That moment when he looked at her before getting shot, before Beau pulled her in to cover her eyes. She saw him and he saw her. And then there was nothing. His spark, that light, that fire in his eyes went out. Her lips started trembling. “I couldn’t save him, Marco. All he wanted was to feel safe. And I wasn’t enough.” No longer holding her drink, Poppy covered her face and sobbed into her hands. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Marco.”
Marco didn’t know how to feel. He had asked to know about Charlie. He asked someone who he assumed knew him better than anyone else did. He wanted to know where Charlie started and how he ended up shooting Edenridge High on their first day of their senior year - but this? He didn’t expect any of this. He didn’t expect that Charlie was a lot like he was at a time. And maybe that was the hardest part for him to process.
During it all, Marco hadn’t touched his drink and wouldn’t when he saw Penolope start to sob in front of him. “Don’t apologize, Poppy…Please, it’s not your fault - none of it is.” Marco reached across the table for her wrist, lightly tugging at it as if to get her to look at him. “I..I don’t know if I was one of his intended victims, or if he even had any. If it was just bad place, bad timing or what, but I’m glad you told me about him. I always wondered if he really was the monster people claimed he was. What he did was terrible and maybe some people can’t forgive or forget, but…” His voice trailed into silence. His stomach felt tight as he thought about his words carefully, hoping Poppy could see his eyes as clear as she could. “But I think...I can start to move past it, Poppy. I think I’m ready to.”
“He was a monster,” Penelope bluntly corrected, letting Marco pull her hand down so he could see her wet face. “No matter how good he used to be, he still fed the wrong wolf. He might’ve not been born a monster, but he became one.” Grabbing Marco’s hand, Poppy squeezed it, gathering herself as her gaze drifted in a daze, stuck on that horrible day, “Intentionally, he killed someone we considered family. Mordechai’s little brother. Danny. To get back at his best friend who made his time downright miserable in the serpents. Intentionally he shot the leader of Midnight Society’s head off because Q came off as an elitist prick. Intentionally he told me to meet him in the gym because I believe he wanted to take me with him, thinking death was some sort of kindness to me.”
Releasing Marco’s hand, Poppy shook her head to brush that horrible day out of her mind, “There’s no point in justifying him. Who he was and who he became are two very different people, Marco. And I can’t tell you if you were just in his way or if you were one of his targets… but I can tell you that you and me, we deserve to live. What has happened shouldn’t define us, right?” Poppy’s words started sounding like she wasn’t only talking to Marco, but also to herself. Trying to convince herself that death was not the answer. “Right?”
Marco nodded, smiling at Poppy. He still couldn’t make sense about if he was an intended target or if Charlie just saw him as someone who was in his way, but she was right. Poppy was absolutely right. They both deserved to be happy and live in whatever way they could. It’s been so incredibly difficult for him to do that because there was such a heavy weight pushing him down, but ounce by ounce, Danny has been helping lighten the load. Now Poppy was doing the same.
“Right..you’re absolutely right!” He understood it wouldn’t be easy, but with the people in his life helping them, Marco was confident they could do it.
“Okay, enough mushy shit,” Poppy brought her eyes down to her wings. How long had they been sitting there? “We should eat…” she offered, in hopes they could levitate the conversation with something more lighthearted. Grabbing a wing, she nibbled at it before thoughtfully asking, “So, Marco… ‘side from Rock Lee, what else do you like? As far as I can tell, we’re so goddamn different but hey, maybe we can find a common interest, or something. I can tell you right here, right now, I don’t cook. If anything, I barely eat, but I’m getting there. Little by little, I’m trying. So mark that off your list of shared hobbies, ayeee.” She goofily gave him finger guns with her clean hand and now saucy finger tipped hand.
Once she was done, Poppy proceeded to clean her fingers with a napkin and nest her glass in her right hand. She forgot who told her but some northsider did mention Marco’s cooking way back when. Was it that jock boy that knew Francis’ locker combo? Danny Belmonte? He boasted a lot about things he liked. Sounds about right to be honest. She remembered junior year during a science lab project all Danny could do was talk about what his friend made for him for lunch and how excited he was to eat it. Her memory was shit though so she could be talking out of her ass for all she knew.
Chomping on a potato wedge, Marco almost choked when Poppy threw him a finger gun gesture, laughing as he immediately went for a sip of the radioactive-red mountain dew. There was a moment where he wondered how she knew that he cooked, but then Marco figured that she could have come across his socials. Made sense. He posted a lot back in high school, though not so much anymore. He’s been trying but it hasn’t seen much activity in a couple of years.
“Well, I game a lot. Not as much as I used to since I started working at the Godmother, but after injuring my leg, my abuelo pretty much got me a big gaming setup: a couple monitors, a projection screen for movies. Pretty much the dream. Also a big comic fan. Not just anime, but I like Marvel, DC, and a few Image and Boom Studios series’.” He took another sip of his Mountain Dew. “My favorite is anything Spider-Man and Flash related. Oh and I love anything by Garth Ennis and Michael Brandis.” Marco wasn’t sure if Poppy even knew who they were. “Any of that something you like to do?”
Wow. Marco had quite the set up in his bedroom. Penelope listened to Marco list his interests and it dawned on her she wasn’t a very interesting person. Her hobbies were limited and a lot of her life revolved around Charlie and around Max. Still does. It dawned on her after she lost Maxine, she was crippled, but after she lost Charlie, she no longer had purpose. He kept her busy even if it was her staying up all night worrying about him. He and Maxine expanded her reading palette since she fancied history and non-fiction. He would tell her there’s humanity in every story while Max would say that your longings are all universal, that literature shows you you’re not alone and that you belong. He shared his music with her, since most of her music was based on her mom playing between 80s music and 60s music while cleaning the house. Hell, if it wasn’t for Max, Poppy wouldn’t have discovered her style.
Poppy was always a wallflower who went unnoticed but the two people that did take the time to see her, and help her discover the things she loved… They both died. “I can’t say I’m well versed in any of that… I…” Poppy didn’t know how to answer this question. She could talk about Charlie all day, but she couldn’t even tell Marco what she liked? Was she so codependent on her dead friend that she didn’t really know herself? “…I love the people in my life, so a lot of my time has been spent… doing what they love,” Poppy hesitantly admitted. Everyone in her life. Charlie. Max. Jade. Decky. Little Danny. Her dad. Her mom. Everything she loved was because of them. “I’m sorry, I’m having a hard time thinking of anything.”
Marco shook his head, hands coming up to emphasize it. “No no, it’s okay! Really, I should be the one to apologize. I get so caught up in bragging about my hobbies that sometimes I forget to let the other person get a word in. Honestly, the only time I get like this is either at Swerve or when I’m feeling really comfortable.” Marco went to his dew, which was in the last quarter of it. His eyes kept going back and forth between his drink, his plate, and Poppy.
At the same time he did this, Marco thought about what she said. About how her interests were her friends' interests. He understood that feeling. Maybe not explicitly, but in spirit, he never had much of an identity past those he loved for the longest time. It really wasn’t until the time spent with his fellow geeks at Swerve and having those long conversations with Lolly while they gamed that Marco came to find that out.
Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. Or a plasma grenade to the face (metaphorically speaking). “This might be a total shot in the dark, but maybe after we finish eating, you might want to go to Swerve Arcana with me? I don’t know if it’s your scene or if it might be an odd fit, but there’s a ton to do there. Arcade games or if you’re more into visual media, tons of comics, graphic novels, and manga! Or really it’s just a great place to wind down and relax!” Marco wasn’t sure if it was a shot in the dark or not, or if it was too much of a leap to assume that Poppy would like it, but he felt like he had to do something to help.
His offer brought a smile to her face. He wanted to spend time with her. He wanted to hang out with her. He found enough common ground to show her a place he enjoyed. He liked her. And not in the romantic kind of way either, but as someone who genuinely took interest in her. Someone who saw her. Just like Charlie. Just like Max.
When was the last time she had such an innocent exchange? When was the last time she talked to someone for exploration and not for healing? When was the last time she got herself out of her bubble, outside of her grief, to live life and just be? Excited at the prospect, Poppy unintentionally let out a chuckle, amused at the thought of how out of practice she was in this social game. It was humorous, really. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that. Oh, and Marco. I did think of something I’m good at. That I like.”
As he finished up his mountain dew and he looked down at his plate with a few wings remaining, he propped his head up, a curious expression on his face. “Oh really?” His voice came off as excited. “What is it? Tell me!” She had his full and undivided attention. If there was anything that she wanted to do, even if it was off into the future, Marco would love to try. He’s always up for new things (well now he is).
Without skipping a beat, Penelope answered, matter-of-factly, “I like shooting things.”
As much as he tried, though, Marco couldn’t stop himself from thinking about what he kept thinking about since last week. She was close to Charlie Decker and Marco had still felt some tinge of anxiety. Even as he walked and had the projection of Cat on his shoulder urging him to not put too much stock into it and let whatever happen, happen in a natural way. He even heard Danny’s voice.
Those Belmontes were a lot of things. Huggers? Well Danny was only because he was Marco’s boyfriend, but not Cat. But they were sensible, comforting, and morally the best people he knew. He might’ve been making everything up and this was his conscious trying to set him straight. Or the voice in his head. Or maybe it was him.
God, Marco, you need to get a handle on this. It’s just dinner. It’s just dinner.
As he walked through the entrance and he had removed one of his earbuds, the sound of the bell above the door startled Marco enough that he dropped the bud on the floor, the sound of the Beautiful Green Wild Beast playing loud enough that he could still hear it as he leaned down to pick it up. He groaned as he pushed off his bad left leg and waved to someone, likely a Cleary, scanning the immediate restaurant floor and at each table looking to see if she was here.
And she was.
And she hadn’t realized Marco was here. Marco couldn’t see exactly where, but as he walked and had pocketed his raycon earbuds in the case and pocketed them, he got closer to the booth she seemed to already be sitting at. It was at the far corner, where the music wasn’t as loud. Somewhere they could hear each other speak. Smiling, he stood opposite of a seated Penolope, waving. “Hey..” As he spoke, his gut started to twist itself. It was too late to go back now. “S-sorry I’m late. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Marco said as he took a seat on the other end of the table. The cushion was nice. It felt nice on his butt considering he had been on his feet practically all day.
“You’re fine,” Penelope covered her anxiety with a timid smile. After pushing a menu to him, she opened her own and tried to start things off, immediately jumping into it, “I spent all my life waiting. Waiting for my friends to invite me to their serpent adventures, waiting for my dad to come home because I was always scared he wouldn’t, waiting for Charlie to…” Hiding her face with the menu, she took a breath in, and breath out, she wanted this. She had to talk. If she wanted Marco to open up, she had to be honest. “... waiting for him to ask me out…” Her voice went extremely low at the mention of her and Charlie never becoming an item. As her eyes scanned the menu, she mumbled, hardly audible, “Waiting… So yeah, you’re fine.”
As Marco took the menu and looked through it, he just listened to Penelope talk. He didn’t know what he could say after she was done, but hearing her speak in such a melancholy way, he couldn't help but feel sad for everything it seemed she went through. As he thought about what to say, because silence had taken the air around them for nearly ten seconds and he still had the same nervousness he had before coming here. “I’m..sorry..i mean, that you had to go through that. I…understand what it's like, worrying about your dad. Mine’s a cop and there’s always…that fear of not knowing if things are going to go bad for him.” Marco never opened up about that, but he couldn’t just remain silent, not when she needed that from him.
“I’m making peace. With what I went through, I mean,” Penelope shrugged, finding her footing once more. The Hole was more of a bar than a restaurant. They served hand foods for the most part but other than that, you came to the Hole for the craft beer. Not the food. Though they did have amazing wings. So correction. You came to the Hole for craft beer and wings. “My dad loves it, being a cop, so that’s got to mean something, right?”
Once Poppy asked that rhetorical question to the thin air the waitress approached them. The James girl was quick to order honey bbq wings on the bone, a side of fries, and a coke. She could get a drink, since they didn’t really card in Edenridge, but she wanted to spend her time with Marco sober. If she needed liquid courage was she really doing right by herself, as she tried to bring closure to Charlie’s victims? Maybe another day they could go out drinking. Tonight she wanted to focus on him. “Thanks, by the way. For meeting me for dinner.”
After Penlope ordered her food, Marco was quick to do the same. He went a different route with the wings. He opted for classic buffalo style, also on the bone, potato wedges, and Mountain Dew: Code Red. Was he showing his gamer identity in public? Only if the waitress was a fellow gamer. He drank code red almost religiously for the past year. He has a mini-fridge in his room and it has it and oreo cakesters.
He closed the menu and the waitress walked away with both of them. Smiling at Penelope, he said, “Yeah…sure thing! I have to admit..I didn’t think you’d text back so soon. Maybe I’ve grown to waiting but it was like…instant!” He half-laughed but also smiled. Feeling that maybe what he said came off negative, Marco added, “It’s not a bad thing by the way! It’s a very good thing!”
Penelope answered with a quiet smile. She didn’t consider how fast she responded. Prior to him messaging her, she was at Main Street Music perusing records to add to Charlie’s collection. Music had become a silent language between her and Rhonda, seeing how for a good while mama’s house had gone quiet. Did Pops come off as desperate? If she did, that was never her intention. All she wanted to do was respond right away so she could start moving again. With Marco, she truly believed she could start moving again. That being said, to say she wasn’t relieved would be an obvious lie.
Truth be told. Poppy was put at ease that he was still thinking about her offer. That he was willing to give her a chance. Marco had every right to ignore her but he didn’t and here they were. Both waiting for things to take off, one way or another. “I blame myself,” she earnestly admitted. Staring at her nails, looking away from Marco’s deep, curious eyes, Penelope reflected out loud, “If there’s anyone that failed him the most, it was the girl that…” she bit her bottom lip and glanced up at Marco sorrowfully, “… loved him.”
Bringing her hands to her legs, she absentmindedly rubbed them against her jeans, anxiously feeling the texture, the friction, “So… I hope whatever you’re looking for, I can help you find. I just,” her mind trailed off into many different directions as she tried to articulate her words carefully, “Don’t really have a plan. All I know is I need to see you, and all those Charlie really hurt. This really has nothing to do with him. It has everything to do with me. I need to see, and hear whatever you’re willing to tell me so I…” Can let him go. Frowning, Penelope found herself going silent, unable to finish her sentence. She was rambling again; clear signs of her nerves hitting the roof. Poppy had really hoped she could bury her worry but that was impossible when she was in what felt like an impossible situation.
Even with almost a week to think about it, Marco had no idea what he wanted out of this either. Sure, he had always had thoughts about it: why me? Why at that time? But at the same time, what could asking those sorts of questions actually do for him now? It wouldn’t change that he had a bum leg, that he might walk with a limp for the rest of his life. It wouldn’t change that his dreams of going pro were out of the question. None of that would change if he somehow asked probably the only person willing to do anything he wanted, answer any questions he might have.
For a few moments, Marco hadn’t looked up as he thought about…everything. Even now he still was partially looking down at the tabletop. “Can I be honest about something?” He said, part of his gaze looking back up. “I don’t really have a plan either. I mean, I don’t know what I need or want. Ever since you came to the Godmother last week, I thought about it nonstop and sure, I had questions that I thought I would want to ask. Why did he do it? Why me? Did he secretly have something against me? But now that I’m here, I just don’t know.” His stomach felt heavy, but Marco half-smiled. “I thought I hated him because of what he did and maybe part of me does, but I didn’t know him that well…or at all. I only ever greeted a couple times in the three years we were at the same high school together. So…”
Meeting her full gaze and a strength in his eyes, Marco said, “If you think it’s something you are able to do, could you tell me about him? You don’t have to, but…I’d like to know more about him and what he was like before…you know.” Marco didn’t know if that was wise, but a small part of him always wanted to know more about the boy who shot him and so many others. Maybe it was his more empathetic side or maybe it was seeing Penelope that really sealed it for him. He didn’t know, but what he did know was he didn’t hate Charlie Decker.
While her brown eyes had warmth like an everlasting hearth, there was a deep sadness in that glowing fire. Giving Marco a half smile, Poppy tilted her head, surprised at how selfless his question was. He wanted to know Charlie. Not Charlie from after the fire junior year to his last, dying breath, but the Charlie she grew up with and loved. Her Charlie. “There’s a Cherokee story called Two Wolves,” Her gaze was staring straight into the windows of Marco’s soul, right at him.
“Two wolves?” This was the first time that Marco had ever heard of it. He didn’t know much about Cherokee or really any Native stories or lore.
And Penelope didn’t expect him to. Instead, she acknowledged his bewildered state, her eyes ever so carefully gazing upon his face. Mentally, she wasn’t looking at Marco Brady. Mentally, she was looking at the boy that held her heart. Charlie Decker. Letting his memory encompass her entire being, Poppy wove a tale, a beautiful sad tale, “There’s a grandfather and his grandson. The grandfather tells his grandson that he has two wolves fighting within him. One is all the bad in us, the guilt, the anger, the jealousy, the lies, all the negative energy that challenges us and our purpose.”
She could see two halves of Charlie, the monster he became and the one that was crying for someone to pull him out. To help him. The side in him that was so desperate to shine. “The other wolf is what keeps us grounded, the emotions that remind us why we are here. The joy, the serenity, the love, the empathy, our compassion, our truth. The good wolf.”
Charlie was a lover, never a fighter but this world forced him to build indescribably tall and hard walls. This world ripped him apart until he barely was a person anymore. This world stripped him away from all the good until all he could see was the bad. “The wolves fight, and fight, and fight, until one finally dies. The grandson asks, which wolf wins in the end? And the grandfather answers: the one you feed.”
Charlie smiled at her as he faded from her sight and she was back at looking at the boy she hoped she could guide on the path of healing. A single tear trailed down her cheek, she gingerly wiped her face and went into answering Marco’s actual question, “His father, James Winters, ran the local church that is now the hottest nightclub in our area. Afterlife. He was blamed for that fire that killed several innocent people…. and the way he solved that? He put a bullet in his head,” Poppy glanced around to make sure only Marco could hear her heavy words. She didn’t want others to hear about all the dark she was laying out on the table. She believed in order to understand Charlie, you have to know the history. The history that set him up to fail. The history that haunts this town to this day. The history that forced his hand.
“Charlie never even got to meet his dad seeing how he was still in his mother’s stomach. So add that to being a southsider? He believed he was an outcast, not only feeling abandoned by everyone but us southsiders are told we’re just another statistic. We will never leave this town alive.” Penelope went silent when the waitress delivered their drinks and food. Quietly, she watched the woman take her leave before she focused her attention back to Marco, “That was only the start of a series of unfortunate events. Even through all that pain and all that struggle, trying so hard to take care of his mother’s medical bills in highschool when she was going blind — yes, by working with the serpents because no one else would hire him — he loved classic literature, like On the Road by Jack Kerouac. That was one of his favorites. He loved music, and has an impressive vinyl collection. Artists like Sound, The Midnight, Gavin Degraw, Tyler Hilton…”
There was a lot Penelope had said so far that Marco had no idea about. Maybe being on the northside, he closed his mind to it all. Or he just lived ignorant to all of the struggles that those on the other side of town had to live with every day. He didn’t know Charlie at all, but he wished he could have. Dealing with so much, trying to balance everything, that must have been incredibly hard. The most Marco ever had to balance was his secret relationship with Danny and soccer practice, but Charlie (and probably so many others on the southside) seemed to be playing life or death every day of their lives.
It… was a lot for the young Brady man to digest, so he opted to remain quiet.
Was this helping Marco in any way? She hadn’t talked this much since… Well, since Charlie was alive. She hoped he didn’t mind her talking his ears off. All she could do was speak from the heart and hope that this helped. “Charlie was a dork. He’d get bagels constantly for me and him and never enter through the front door, always through my window. We grew up together, you know? I could look out my window and see him write. He’d look up and ask me: what are you reading today? He loved life, he really did. Had interests just like any kid, like Power Rangers, Cowboy Bebop, Ninja Turtles. One hell of a geek. And god, he wrote so beautifully…. he was talented, had his whole life ahead of him.”
There was a choke in her voice. Grabbing her coke she took a sip of it, her hands subtly shaking, “He just wanted to belong but once Allison died, I don’t think he was ever the same. And I couldn’t help him. He chose to feed the wrong wolf.” Penelope’s eyes watered when the memory of that morning at the gym slipped in her head. That moment when he looked at her before getting shot, before Beau pulled her in to cover her eyes. She saw him and he saw her. And then there was nothing. His spark, that light, that fire in his eyes went out. Her lips started trembling. “I couldn’t save him, Marco. All he wanted was to feel safe. And I wasn’t enough.” No longer holding her drink, Poppy covered her face and sobbed into her hands. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Marco.”
Marco didn’t know how to feel. He had asked to know about Charlie. He asked someone who he assumed knew him better than anyone else did. He wanted to know where Charlie started and how he ended up shooting Edenridge High on their first day of their senior year - but this? He didn’t expect any of this. He didn’t expect that Charlie was a lot like he was at a time. And maybe that was the hardest part for him to process.
During it all, Marco hadn’t touched his drink and wouldn’t when he saw Penolope start to sob in front of him. “Don’t apologize, Poppy…Please, it’s not your fault - none of it is.” Marco reached across the table for her wrist, lightly tugging at it as if to get her to look at him. “I..I don’t know if I was one of his intended victims, or if he even had any. If it was just bad place, bad timing or what, but I’m glad you told me about him. I always wondered if he really was the monster people claimed he was. What he did was terrible and maybe some people can’t forgive or forget, but…” His voice trailed into silence. His stomach felt tight as he thought about his words carefully, hoping Poppy could see his eyes as clear as she could. “But I think...I can start to move past it, Poppy. I think I’m ready to.”
“He was a monster,” Penelope bluntly corrected, letting Marco pull her hand down so he could see her wet face. “No matter how good he used to be, he still fed the wrong wolf. He might’ve not been born a monster, but he became one.” Grabbing Marco’s hand, Poppy squeezed it, gathering herself as her gaze drifted in a daze, stuck on that horrible day, “Intentionally, he killed someone we considered family. Mordechai’s little brother. Danny. To get back at his best friend who made his time downright miserable in the serpents. Intentionally he shot the leader of Midnight Society’s head off because Q came off as an elitist prick. Intentionally he told me to meet him in the gym because I believe he wanted to take me with him, thinking death was some sort of kindness to me.”
Releasing Marco’s hand, Poppy shook her head to brush that horrible day out of her mind, “There’s no point in justifying him. Who he was and who he became are two very different people, Marco. And I can’t tell you if you were just in his way or if you were one of his targets… but I can tell you that you and me, we deserve to live. What has happened shouldn’t define us, right?” Poppy’s words started sounding like she wasn’t only talking to Marco, but also to herself. Trying to convince herself that death was not the answer. “Right?”
Marco nodded, smiling at Poppy. He still couldn’t make sense about if he was an intended target or if Charlie just saw him as someone who was in his way, but she was right. Poppy was absolutely right. They both deserved to be happy and live in whatever way they could. It’s been so incredibly difficult for him to do that because there was such a heavy weight pushing him down, but ounce by ounce, Danny has been helping lighten the load. Now Poppy was doing the same.
“Right..you’re absolutely right!” He understood it wouldn’t be easy, but with the people in his life helping them, Marco was confident they could do it.
“Okay, enough mushy shit,” Poppy brought her eyes down to her wings. How long had they been sitting there? “We should eat…” she offered, in hopes they could levitate the conversation with something more lighthearted. Grabbing a wing, she nibbled at it before thoughtfully asking, “So, Marco… ‘side from Rock Lee, what else do you like? As far as I can tell, we’re so goddamn different but hey, maybe we can find a common interest, or something. I can tell you right here, right now, I don’t cook. If anything, I barely eat, but I’m getting there. Little by little, I’m trying. So mark that off your list of shared hobbies, ayeee.” She goofily gave him finger guns with her clean hand and now saucy finger tipped hand.
Once she was done, Poppy proceeded to clean her fingers with a napkin and nest her glass in her right hand. She forgot who told her but some northsider did mention Marco’s cooking way back when. Was it that jock boy that knew Francis’ locker combo? Danny Belmonte? He boasted a lot about things he liked. Sounds about right to be honest. She remembered junior year during a science lab project all Danny could do was talk about what his friend made for him for lunch and how excited he was to eat it. Her memory was shit though so she could be talking out of her ass for all she knew.
Chomping on a potato wedge, Marco almost choked when Poppy threw him a finger gun gesture, laughing as he immediately went for a sip of the radioactive-red mountain dew. There was a moment where he wondered how she knew that he cooked, but then Marco figured that she could have come across his socials. Made sense. He posted a lot back in high school, though not so much anymore. He’s been trying but it hasn’t seen much activity in a couple of years.
“Well, I game a lot. Not as much as I used to since I started working at the Godmother, but after injuring my leg, my abuelo pretty much got me a big gaming setup: a couple monitors, a projection screen for movies. Pretty much the dream. Also a big comic fan. Not just anime, but I like Marvel, DC, and a few Image and Boom Studios series’.” He took another sip of his Mountain Dew. “My favorite is anything Spider-Man and Flash related. Oh and I love anything by Garth Ennis and Michael Brandis.” Marco wasn’t sure if Poppy even knew who they were. “Any of that something you like to do?”
Wow. Marco had quite the set up in his bedroom. Penelope listened to Marco list his interests and it dawned on her she wasn’t a very interesting person. Her hobbies were limited and a lot of her life revolved around Charlie and around Max. Still does. It dawned on her after she lost Maxine, she was crippled, but after she lost Charlie, she no longer had purpose. He kept her busy even if it was her staying up all night worrying about him. He and Maxine expanded her reading palette since she fancied history and non-fiction. He would tell her there’s humanity in every story while Max would say that your longings are all universal, that literature shows you you’re not alone and that you belong. He shared his music with her, since most of her music was based on her mom playing between 80s music and 60s music while cleaning the house. Hell, if it wasn’t for Max, Poppy wouldn’t have discovered her style.
Poppy was always a wallflower who went unnoticed but the two people that did take the time to see her, and help her discover the things she loved… They both died. “I can’t say I’m well versed in any of that… I…” Poppy didn’t know how to answer this question. She could talk about Charlie all day, but she couldn’t even tell Marco what she liked? Was she so codependent on her dead friend that she didn’t really know herself? “…I love the people in my life, so a lot of my time has been spent… doing what they love,” Poppy hesitantly admitted. Everyone in her life. Charlie. Max. Jade. Decky. Little Danny. Her dad. Her mom. Everything she loved was because of them. “I’m sorry, I’m having a hard time thinking of anything.”
Marco shook his head, hands coming up to emphasize it. “No no, it’s okay! Really, I should be the one to apologize. I get so caught up in bragging about my hobbies that sometimes I forget to let the other person get a word in. Honestly, the only time I get like this is either at Swerve or when I’m feeling really comfortable.” Marco went to his dew, which was in the last quarter of it. His eyes kept going back and forth between his drink, his plate, and Poppy.
At the same time he did this, Marco thought about what she said. About how her interests were her friends' interests. He understood that feeling. Maybe not explicitly, but in spirit, he never had much of an identity past those he loved for the longest time. It really wasn’t until the time spent with his fellow geeks at Swerve and having those long conversations with Lolly while they gamed that Marco came to find that out.
Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. Or a plasma grenade to the face (metaphorically speaking). “This might be a total shot in the dark, but maybe after we finish eating, you might want to go to Swerve Arcana with me? I don’t know if it’s your scene or if it might be an odd fit, but there’s a ton to do there. Arcade games or if you’re more into visual media, tons of comics, graphic novels, and manga! Or really it’s just a great place to wind down and relax!” Marco wasn’t sure if it was a shot in the dark or not, or if it was too much of a leap to assume that Poppy would like it, but he felt like he had to do something to help.
His offer brought a smile to her face. He wanted to spend time with her. He wanted to hang out with her. He found enough common ground to show her a place he enjoyed. He liked her. And not in the romantic kind of way either, but as someone who genuinely took interest in her. Someone who saw her. Just like Charlie. Just like Max.
When was the last time she had such an innocent exchange? When was the last time she talked to someone for exploration and not for healing? When was the last time she got herself out of her bubble, outside of her grief, to live life and just be? Excited at the prospect, Poppy unintentionally let out a chuckle, amused at the thought of how out of practice she was in this social game. It was humorous, really. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that. Oh, and Marco. I did think of something I’m good at. That I like.”
As he finished up his mountain dew and he looked down at his plate with a few wings remaining, he propped his head up, a curious expression on his face. “Oh really?” His voice came off as excited. “What is it? Tell me!” She had his full and undivided attention. If there was anything that she wanted to do, even if it was off into the future, Marco would love to try. He’s always up for new things (well now he is).
Without skipping a beat, Penelope answered, matter-of-factly, “I like shooting things.”
