Poppy knew it was coming.
She'd known since Tuesday, when Mom said, "Friday we go to the doctor." And now it was Friday. And now they were in the car.
Poppy held her stuffed bunny, Mr. Flops, tight against her chest. She squeezed him so hard his left ear bent sideways.
"Almost there," Mom said.
Poppy did not want to be almost there.
The waiting room had a fish tank. Blue fish, orange fish, one fat stripy one that bumped its nose against the glass. Poppy pressed her face close and watched. The stripy fish looked right at her.
"You don't have to get a shot," Poppy whispered.
The fish opened its mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. It did not look worried about anything.
A door opened. A nurse in pink sneakers said, "Poppy?"
Poppy's tummy went tight. She grabbed Mr. Flops by his bent ear and followed Mom down a hallway that smelled like bandaids.
The little room had crinkly paper on the bed. Poppy sat on it and it went crunch. She scooted left. Crunch. She scooted right. Crunch crunch crunch.
"That paper is very loud," Mom said.
Poppy bounced once. CRUNCH.
She almost smiled. Almost.
Then the doctor came in. Dr. Ramirez had a round face and glasses and a sticker on her coat that said BRAVE CLUB.
"Hey there, Poppy," she said. "How's Mr. Flops?"
"Scared," Poppy said.
Dr. Ramirez nodded, very serious. "Should I check him first?"
Poppy looked at Mr. Flops. His ear was still bent sideways. He did look a little rough. She held him out.
Dr. Ramirez listened to Mr. Flops's heart with her stethoscope. "Strong heartbeat," she said. She looked in his button eyes. "Eyes look good." She squeezed his soft belly. "Tummy's fine. Mr. Flops is very healthy."
"He needs a shot too," Poppy said quietly.
Dr. Ramirez pulled out a cotton ball and pressed it gently against Mr. Flops's arm. "There. All done. He didn't even flinch."
Poppy looked at Mr. Flops. He really hadn't flinched. He was very brave.
"Now," Dr. Ramirez said. "Your turn. Can I see your arm?"
Poppy's tummy went tight again. Tighter than before. She looked at Mom. Mom moved her chair close and held Poppy's other hand. Not squeezy. Just there.
"It's okay to be scared," Mom said.
"I know," Poppy said. "I've been scared since Tuesday."
She took a big breath. The biggest breath she'd ever taken. It filled her all the way up to her ears.
She held out her arm.
"Little pinch," said Dr. Ramirez.
Poppy squeezed Mr. Flops.
Pinch.
Poppy scrunched her face. Her eyes got hot. One tear — just one — rolled down her cheek.
And then it was done.
Dr. Ramirez pressed a bandaid on. It had tiny rockets on it.
"That's it?" Poppy said.
"That's it."
Poppy looked at her arm. The rocket bandaid. She looked at Mr. Flops.
"He needs a bandaid too," Poppy said.
Dr. Ramirez peeled off a second rocket bandaid and stuck it right on Mr. Flops's arm.
In the car, Poppy held Mr. Flops up to the window so he could see the trees going by. His bent ear was finally popping back up. Both their rocket bandaids caught the sun.
"Mom," Poppy said.
"Yeah?"
"I was brave since Tuesday."
Mom looked at her in the mirror. "Yeah, Poppy. You really were."
Poppy leaned her head against the window, Mr. Flops tucked under her chin, two matching rockets flying in the afternoon light.
