fic: you're always made up, 1/3
title: you’re always made up
fandom: Wild Child (movie)
author:stripedheartx
recipient: summerstorm
pairing: Poppy/Kate
rating: R
disclaimer: I don’t own Wild Child or any of the characters in it.
summary: they found spots in tall grass where the only things between them and forever were a few million miles and a couple white-hot stars.
A/N:You’ve probably never heard of this movie, but that’s understandable. It’s about a Malibu princess (Poppy) who gets shipped away to an English boarding school and decides to find a way to get kicked out with the help of a gorgeous English girl (Kate). You can watch it here.
A/N’s Immature Little Brother:You would not believe how many times I accidentally wrote "Poopy" instead of "Poppy" and how hard that made me laugh every single time…
This turned ridiculously epic. Or epic-ly ridiculous. I can’t tell anymore.
The day Poppy Moore arrived at Abbey Mount was really rather ordinary, as far as arrivals go. After all, it was the same day that Kate arrived, and Harriet, and the teeny eleven year-olds who hovered near the bushes looking for attention and praying they wouldn’t get it. It was the same day Drippy arrived, spilling half her suitcase down the stairs and nailing a third year in the ear with a renegade boot, something that seemed to be a tradition at the start of term.
The wind was chilly, like it had been all week, like it would be all year, and it ruffled through the bushes and through Kate’s hair the same way it did every September. Grey clouds blocked out a hesitant sun and when Kate pressed her fingers against the brick wall of the main building, her fingers came away chilled. Her nose was slightly pink. She had never been fazed by the arrival of a new student before, not in her long years at Abbey Mount, drilling one after the other.
The difference was, Kate supposed, Poppy Moore didn’t arrive. She made an entrance.
By the time Mrs. Kingsley called her over to meet the new girl, Kate’s heart was fluttering in her chest and she took a mental breath before moving.
That didn’t bode well.
;;
She left the curtains closed, as they had been all day, in an attempt to hide from the masses of sloppily uniformed girls scattered across her lawn. She had spent the last week hiding from a lack of such girls and the eerie quiet that made her footsteps echo down the corridors. It seemed unfair and slightly cruel that as much as she missed them, as much as she disliked the barren classrooms, she never felt ready when they arrived.
Tilting her cup so that her overly hot tea spread to the chilled edges, Mrs. Kingsley gazed at the shut curtains. She closed her eyes momentarily, enjoying the muted chatter of girls in the hall, girls on the lawn, girls clattering overhead. Before the end of the term she would be looking forward to a summer by the sea, and during her summer by the sea she’d be looking back to the challenges of running a school full of teenage girls. Now, here, was the medium. i>Here, was why she ran this school.
Here, and girls like Poppy Moore who seemed to be less than they were. Mrs. Kingsley set her tea back down and slid her glasses onto her nose. She could hear Freddie’s video games from the back room and a low groan and clatter when- she assumed- he failed to make it past the level. Moments later, the door opened and he stepped inside, rounding her desk to flop into the soft chair in front of it.
Mrs. Kingsley glanced up from Poppy Moore’s file and lifted an eyebrow.
Freddie smiled disarmingly.
"What do you need, Freds?" Mrs. Kingsley asked kindly, turning back to the papers spread before her. Her son shrugged and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He eyed the file and she glanced up to see his eyes scanning the front sheet.
"Who’s this?" He asked, reaching out to slide the sheet off the desk and onto his lap. Poppy’s picture fluttered under the paper clip that held it in place. "Poppy Moore." He muttered to himself, and then glanced back at his mum. "An American?"
Mrs. Kingsley sat back and pressed her pen against her mouth, nodding. Freddie grinned.
"Well." Freddie said, leaning to place the sheet back in front of her.
"Well." Mrs. Kingsley echoed dryly.
;;
If you had told Poppy Moore last week that soon she would be struggling through a torrent of rain and wind to rescue her trunk from a depressingly ordinary English thunderstorm, she would have laughed in her face. No, really. She would have laughed, probably insulted some aspect of your appearance in connection with your IQ, finished off your self-confidence with a rather biting remark concerning your choice of shoes and you would have been promptly dismissed. Poppy Moore didn’t struggle. Poppy Moore was a struggle.
It was annoying that she couldn’t take comfort in this fact now, as freezing water made its way under her collar and down her thin sweater. Her teeth were already chattering and she was only halfway across the lawn. It was embarrassing. And it was pissing her off.
She hated her new roommates. It didn’t help that they had decided to watch her adventure from their room (their dry room) while Poppy sprinted across the soggy lawn barefoot to retrieve her trunk from the gravel driveway. It wasn’t so much raining as pouring water in her face and down the back of her shirt, as if the storm were personally out to get her. They didn’t have rain in L.A. She hated rain.
The formerly pristine white trunk stood wide open beneath the storm, collecting rainwater. Poppy gasped when she saw it and her hand fluttered to her mouth. She thought about crying but it was already raining and she was in England and- she heard footsteps splashing behind her and whirled around.
"Need a hand?" The accent was crisp and British. Poppy just glared, water slicking her bangs against her forehead, eyeliner leaving tiny trails along her cheeks. The other girl lifted an eyebrow, water dripping off her chin, and turned to leave.
"No- sorry." Poppy's hand flew out and she grimaced. "Help would be- nice." She admitted grudgingly. The rain thundered down around them, splattering against the rocks in the driveway and soaking through the British girl's clothes. Poppy attempted a smile and the girl, Kate, ignored it, stepped around her.
"Grab a side." Kate flipped the trunk closed and wrapped her fingers around a handle. Poppy hesitated, but lifted her own end and they carried it, haltingly, toward the warm glow of the foyer. Poppy reached up to push her hair off her face and glanced over at Kate quickly, wondering why a girl she didn't know would trudge out in a thunderstorm to help her move her trunk. It was- unexpected. Kind of unbelievable. Poppy thought of home, of her best friend Ruby who wouldn’t have ventured out to help.
They dropped the trunk at the top of the stairs, an ominous slosh sounding from inside, and Poppy pressed her eyes together for half a moment. When she opened them Kate was eyeing her warily, sympathy clear in her gaze. That, at least, made sense.
"Are you-"
"Help me get this up the stairs." Poppy said, leaning down to lift her side. Kate didn’t move for a second but Poppy refused to glance her way and, eventually, the girl bent to pick up the trunk.
They stumbled up the stairs, wet shoes leaving a trail of water behind them. Poppy was getting uncomfortably frantic, worried about things she couldn’t control. The girl with wild, frizzy hair-Drippy -held the door open for them and they dropped the trunk in the center of the room. Poppy fell to her knees. Josie bent and lifted the lid.
Her clothes were drenched. They were all swimming in water, faded and distorted under the lights and her shoes- fuck, her shoes! She felt Kate hit the floor beside her. Her hand flew to her mouth.
"No!" She reached inside, fingers dipping into a few inches of water. "No, no, no." She murmured. "Not the new season Gucci." She lifted a dripping scarf and cursed England, cursed rainstorms. "The Choos! No!" She cried, slipping her hand through the rainwater to lift up a soggy boot. Her face crumbled. She tilted her head up. "This is all only hand washable." She announced, venom in her words. Her roommates regarded her with sympathy and badly disguised amusement.
Poppy was getting pissed.
"Um, why…" Kate held a cool bottle of Welsh’s sparkling grape juice in her hands that seemed to have survived the storm. She shot Poppy a questioning glance.
"What? I might get thirsty." Poppy reached in and pulled out another bottle, setting it carefully to the side. Kate scoffed.
"You know, in the U.K. we have this amazing thing…" Kate lifted another sodden heel and tipped it, watching the water cascade into the trunk. "…it's called a tap."
Poppy glared.
;;
Clouds hung heavy and damp in the sky. It was dark, dim, and grey against what should have been light blue. Poppy wasn’t entirely sure that the sky over England even was blue. Today it was grey, yesterday it had been grey, for the past two weeks it had been relentlessly grey and damp at Abbey Mount and she hadn’t known that she could hate something so much in just two weeks.
And lately, especially after she ran out of lip gloss and ripped her favorite pair of leggings, especially since she hadn’t spoken to her dad in days, she kind of just felt like sitting in an empty room and crying. She reached forward listlessly and flicked on her heating lamps. Ruby was right. No sun didn’t do good things for her. England didn’t do good things for her.
She had tried everything to get out of Abbey Mount- intentionally and unintentionally. She’d said Buddhist prayers at lunchtime, left her room every night after lights out, broken into the headmistress’s son’s bathroom. The head girl, Harriet, even hated her and it wasn’t helping one bit. She was stuck here.
Poppy sighed and wrapped her arms tighter around herself, ignoring the way her damp hair soaked through the back of her shirt. The door opened but she didn’t turn, hoping it was Josie or Camilla who mostly left her alone. Drippy she could handle, but Kate, right now- she didn’t want to face that. Curiously, she turned her head to see who it was.
Kate. Of course.
She rolled her eyes and heard Kate’s answering sigh.
"For the tenth time, you need to make your bed." Kate announced from beside her own neatly folded blankets. Poppy rolled her eyes. That’s what maids were for. Or matrons. "Jesus, what's so bloody hard?" Kate stepped closer and picked up Poppy’s comforter. "Pick up, put down." She dropped it evenly along the mattress. "It's not rocket science." Kate glared at the American. Two weeks along and the girl’s prissy demeanor hadn’t changed a wink.
Poppy was too exhausted and too cold to argue anymore. She stood, shivering almost imperceptibly, definitely pathetically. She paused at her bed, suddenly realizing she had no idea how to make a bed. She took a corner of the sheet and tugged it toward the edge, trying to smooth it along the mattress.
Kate took in the girl’s damp, stringy hair and pale face, her fumbling hands, and sighed. Deftly, she lifted the other end of the sheet and tucked it under the mattress. Poppy’s hands stilled and Kate heard a gentle sigh. She glanced up. Poppy was rubbing her face, looking more miserable than Kate had ever seen her.
"Sit down and I’ll do that." Kate ordered gently as she moved to the other side.
"Thanks." Poppy mumbled, taking a seat on the newly made bed. Kate smoothed out the comforter and ran her eyes over Poppy’s figure.
"You’re freezing." Kate noted. "You need a jumper." She bit her lip when she saw the dark circles under Poppy’s eyes.
"Whatever that is." Poppy smiled a little self-deprecatingly and shrugged. "I don’t think I have one. I don’t think I have anything thicker than pershuto." Kate was already rummaging through her chest of drawers, pushing aside more worn jumpers for a soft, mostly new one. She tossed it to Poppy who held it gently between her fingers. "Thanks. I didn’t really come prepared- didn’t figure I’d be here this long." Poppy admitted. She slid the sweater over her head, Kate’s muffled voice becoming clearer when her head poked through the hole. It smelled like Kate- soft, with a bit of an English chill.
"…being from the phone company." Kate was muttering at her phone, eyebrow raised. The corner of her mouth quirked- wait, her phone?
"But, matron took all the phones." Poppy said, eyeing the relatively new one in Kate’s hand with surprise and a little confusion. Kate smirked.
"No, she took all your phones." Kate remarked, taking a seat beside Poppy on the bed. "She took our decoys. She has no idea that none of them work." The smirk didn’t fade from her face and Poppy realized she’d been on the outside of a common trick. "We keep our real phones hidden." Kate paused and studied Poppy’s face. "Here." She pressed her phone into Poppy’s palm. "Call your parents, call your therapist. Knock yourself out."
Poppy’s hands curled around the lifeline but she frowned. She looked up to study Kate’s eyes, hoping to find any indication of her intentions there.
"But why would you do this for me? You think I’m a total asshole." Poppy asked, too curious to stop the words. Kate smiled.
"No, you behave like an asshole. There's a difference." She paused, and Poppy glanced away from her inquisitive eyes. "Look, I know that I’m not some Malibu therapist, but I can guess that you're feeling scared and a little bit homesick." Kate’s hand traveled along the comforter, pausing halfway between their bodies and curling into the blanket. "Which, in my experience, doesn't actually make you a bad person." She smiled sweetly. "Just a normal one."
Poppy could have sighed in relief or thanked her again for those words- the ones she needed to hear. She clutched the phone closer to her, trying to stop herself from lunging across the bed and wrapping Kate in a hug that would make her feel like maybe everything would be alright.
"Sweet photo." Poppy watched as Kate leaned toward the bedside table and picked up the picture closest to her bed. "Is it your mum?" Poppy nodded, unable to do much more. "Is she gonna come out and visit?"
Poppy bit her lip but it had been years and the words came out more smoothly now.
"She died in a car accident when I was eleven." Poppy said softly. The silence stretched out between them like an uninvited guest, so loud Kate couldn’t hear her own heart beat over it.
"Oh." She murmured softly. Another moment passed. "Poppy, I’m so sorry." She said, just as softly, but it shattered the silence. Poppy tilted her head down.
"I know you’re not some Malibu therapist, but, um…" Poppy trailed off, but she was certain Kate knew where she was headed. Kate bit her lip, her face flickering with conflicting emotions. She turned and set the picture back on the bedside table.
"Listen, are you serious about getting out of here?" Kate asked, although she was sure she already knew the answer. She twisted her hands together on her lap.
"Yeah." Poppy answered, lifting her head quickly.
"Then you're gonna have to get yourself expelled."
"Okay?" Poppy tilted her head, smiling already
"Anybody purporting themselves in an improper manner will be proposed for expulsion before the honor court." Kate recited, lifting her eyes to the ceiling as she tried to remember the exact words. Poppy frowned.
"Wait, honor court?" Kate’s eyes dropped back down to meet Poppy’s.
"It's like a trial in front of the whole school. In front of your peers, your teachers, the head girl, and Mrs. Kingsley." Kate shook her head. "But, I’m telling you, it hardly ever happens. If you really want to get expelled, you can't just rock the boat." She met Poppy’s eyes. "You have to drive it up on the rocks, set fire to the galley, and throw gas on the burning deck. You have to take it all the way." Poppy grinned and their eyes locked for moment.
"Aye, aye captain." Poppy said and Kate smiled, standing up from the bed.
"Make your calls." She paused in front of the bed. "Oh, tip for best reception- on top of the cabinet." Poppy smiled, but then glanced over at the cabinet and frowned a little. Kate slipped out the door and Poppy was left staring at the phone, slightly overwhelmed.
;;
"Are you ready?" Kate glanced up from the computer screen. Poppy was hovering in the doorway of the computer lab, twisting her fingers together and smiling a little deviously. Kate smiled and returned to her unfinished e-mail.
"A few more minutes." Her fingers clattered against the keys, but her concentration was shot. "Did you get it?" She asked, eyes still on the screen. Poppy nodded, then realized Kate wasn’t looking at her and murmured a "yeah" instead.
Kate’s fingers shifted across the keyboard and she stood, slipping her coat from the back of the chair. She glanced up and caught Poppy’s eyes across the room; the moment felt slow, tight, close, before Poppy glanced down and pushed her fingers into her hoodie. Kate took a breath.
"Drippy’s meeting us in the great hall." Poppy beat her to it. "She said something about us being "bloody crazy"." Poppy waved her hand dismissively, smiling a little. "But she’ll still help." Kate laughed and fell into step beside Poppy.
"Where do you think we should put them?" Kate asked, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jumper.
"I was thinking that booth at the west side of the building- and the board in the lounge." Poppy offered. They passed a few empty classrooms and then through the crowded hall. Kate pushed open the heavy oak door. Across the damp courtyard, Drippy hovered by the literature building, arms folded tight against her chest.
"Took you long enough." She muttered when they reached her and Poppy rolled her eyes.
"Just get us in the classroom." Kate said, smiling at Drippy’s exaggeration. Drippy turned and opened the door, led them down a dimly light hallway, shoes clicking along the marble.
"I still don’t see how a few photoshopped pictures of Harriet is going to get me expelled." Poppy whispered, hovering close to Kate.
"It’s not how bad one prank is, it’s doing a load of them." Kate countered. "Do enough and they’ll have to call an honor court." They stopped at a thick wooden door and Drippy pulled a chain out of her shirt, started fiddling with the lock.
"There’s an easier way." Drippy said, and the lock gave way. She pushed open the door to reveal a room full clear tables and a lack of windows. Poppy pulled out Harriet’s picture and handed it over.
"Which would be?" Poppy asked, following her inside. Kate shook her head, trying to head it off.
"She’s just being-" Kate started.
"Shag the headmistress’s son." Drippy finished. Poppy laughed, but it faded out when neither of the other girls did.
"Wait, seriously?" She asked, glancing at Kate for guidance. Drippy shrugged.
"It’s a rule. No "fraternizing" with Freddie Kingsley." Drippy said. She bent over one of the tables and switched on the light, pulling her own picture from beneath her coat. Poppy seemed lost in thought, but she looked over to Kate once.
"Hey, what’s um-" She cut off her own question though, and Drippy and Kate eyed her curiously. "Never mind." Poppy blushed and Drippy shrugged, turning back to her work. Kate’s eyes lingered, for a moment, but she looked away, too. Poppy’s ducked her head.
;;
Poppy caught Kate staring at her before lights out one night, while the rest of the girls were huddled under their covers on the phone with boyfriends, family, girls in other rooms. Kate blinked twice then looked away and Poppy surreptitiously glanced into her mirror for anything off-putting. Her hair was loose and tangled, and her face was free of makeup but not totally gross. She frowned.
Poppy caught Kate staring at lunch one afternoon, two days after the Harriet prank. She was lifting a glass of water to her lips and kind of not really paying attention to a story Drippy was telling when she caught Kate’s eyes. Kate glanced down at her plate and lifted a bit of salad onto her fork. Poppy ran her tongue over her teeth, searching for a loose piece of lettuce. She didn’t find anything. She frowned.
Poppy caught Kate staring during their maths class while the teacher droned on, scribbling unintelligibly on the board. Poppy’s hair slid across her forehead and hung over one eye, but she was slowly working out a problem and she didn’t bother to brush it away. Kate reached across the inches separating their desks and lifted the strands behind Poppy’s ear. Their eyes met briefly. Poppy smiled.
Kate caught Poppy staring at her in the bathroom before bed while she stood at the sink, chatting with Josie. Poppy’s eyes were slightly unfocused, traveling along Kate’s body, and Kate froze with her toothbrush in her mouth. When Poppy met Kate’s eyes in the mirror she blushed tremendously and looked away, then disappeared into their room. By the time Kate had washed her toothbrush off, echoed Poppy’s blush, zipped up her bag, and walked back to their room, Poppy was curled under the covers and her light was out.
Although she waited until she was curled under the covers, Kate smiled.
part two.