by T H Paul
The Penn Friends Series Books 1-4
Penn Friends Boxset
T H Paul
Happy Content publishing
Copyright © 2018 by T H Paul
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
The Powers of Penny
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
The Parents of Penny
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
The Heart of Penny
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
The Dark Side of Penny
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Titles in Season One
Author Notes
The Novels By Tim Heath
The Powers of Penny
Book 1––Penn Friends series
What does it feel like to see a friend succeed only to have them dump you?
1
So, here you are, in my head. My mother once asked me what it felt like to see a friend succeed. I think she was just trying to make conversation––we didn’t talk much at the best of times, as this comment came at far from a good moment, for either of us. I hated her all the more for even asking me. That happened four years ago. Nowadays, people are probably saying all sorts about me––assuming they even talk about me. I guess I’ll never know. People told me that what I could do was a gift––my special secret––but you know what? It was a curse.
Penny Black––yes, her parents had a sense of humour, and yes, her father was an avid stamp collector, especially when it came to the most valuable and highly sought items he so longed to find––was in many ways just your average girl. Seventeen, not too pretty, not too ugly. One month she was blonde, the next she would go brunette. She was one of the tallest in her class, not due to any great height of her own as such, it just seemed a shorter than average group, at least for the seventeen girls who formed part of the thirty-two students with whom she spent most of her teens.
The college itself was a kind of halfway house between secondary school, which they’d all just left, and university, which most were still eyeing up with some trepidation. College seemed a natural fit for most there, and it certainly beat having to find a job right away.
Penny was likeable, intelligent, mingled easily amongst the crowds without being too tight to any one group.
Some called her a drifter.
She was outwardly happy, most of the time, anyway. Certainly, the side of Penn––she was always Penn to all who knew her, as she loathed her full name and the memories of scolding it brought back to her––that others saw would say she was a carefree girl. But inside, she was far from free. She was also far from ordinary.
Like everyone, because there’s no escaping your biology, she had a mother and father. Like most, she now had neither. Her father––always that, he’d never been a dad to her and certainly not a daddy––had left a few years before. Her mother, well, she was still around––technically. We’ll get to that later.
Penny possessed a special gift, a talent in her teenage years which she had learned through bitter experience to keep secret from others who would otherwise abuse her because of it. She had superpowers. Well, Penny had access to them, anyway. You see, by some twist of fate––there’s much more to it than that, of course, and we’ll get there in time––Penny Black could bestow upon anyone whatever ability, sense or gifting she could imagine. The only limitation seemed to be her imagination. When younger, this had been the only reason why she’d only used her powers for basic things––friends being happy, friends doing her homework, the pet cat being able to fly. Regular, childish experiments and fancies.
Now seventeen, things had dramatically changed over the last twelve months as she began to experiment and expand. Out went her mother, who still sat around the place, but Penny did at least have a new car parked on the drive of their modest three bedroomed family home where Penny had always lived.
Had she thought about it sooner, maybe she would have given her folks the ability to pluck money out of thin air––that might have helped a lot––but they were gone, so it was too late. She might one day have to use that gift on someone else, however.
As her teenage years progressed, living by herself as she finally was, there were plenty of crazy things that went on within those four walls that she called home. Penny came to realise the sad truth; with someone who has special powers but can only use them on someone else, it made being able to trust a friend with something so secretive––plus the newly bestowed superpower, whatever it might be––harder and harder. She’d lost friends time and time again, though had learnt to give some of them the ability to instantly forget what they’d just done, which explained why no one remembered when she’d just made them fly, or breathe fire, or disappear. She would then always withdraw the gift of forgetfulness immediately––otherwise they would never remember anything, which wasn’t nice.
So here she is; seventeen and with her life before her. She could hand out and take back any superpower she could dream up but stood there lonelier than ever. Far from a blessing, she was realising that such a gift could only lead to isolation and separation from all around her. Far from seeing all the right she might be able to do, it was purely the wrong connotations of her gift that had dogged her for years. A growing darkness was building, something she was ill-equipped to deal with, as nothing she did would make her happy, joyful or free from the depression that followed her around like a shadow. That shadow was growing longer by the year. She just couldn’t use her powers on herself, no matter how hard she tried; which she had, many times.
2
So now you know. And you’ll look at me as everyone does––there’s that strange girl Penny with her weird little secret. It won’t remain a secret for long, of course, not now the world is being told. However, I’m ready to move on if these idiots will ever let me. You still know so little. Will you judge me harshly the more you learn? Will you turn on me like they all did, those who said they were my friends?
Penny might have been born with the super-giving-powers, but they hadn’t manifested during her early years. They never did. They developed as she went through puberty. While most girls her age had to deal with just the physical effects taking place in their body––which she also had to handle––Penny had the added realisation that something altogether different was happening inside her.
Across the road from the entrance to their street was a park. It’d been an old quarry, long since abandoned, and had been grassed over and planted before construction of the houses had started. Along one side of the valley with its path, was long grass and a hill, with trees growing half way up; it was a feeble excuse for a wood. Penny had spent many a day climbing what trees there were––she’d always been an excellent climber––but Abbey was not so active, nor was she allowed to get her new shoes dirty, which had been yet another birthday present from her parents.
They’d been ambling along the path, talking about nothing in particular––Abbey was going through the list of gifts she’d got, Penny just pretending to be interested. Penny had given Abbey probably the dumbest of gifts––it was all her mum could afford to buy––and Penny had noticed the present discarded almost as quickly as it was ripped open. Penny didn’t blame her for this, as she would have done the same. They hadn’t discussed it at all since the party. Penny ran her hand through the long grass; the summer had been warm for once, the greenery lush around them, leaving no sign whatsoever that the area had once been just stone. It was partly the distraction of the lush nature around them, as well as pretending to listen to Abbey as she continued to go through her list, that was the reason they both hadn’t spotted the neighbourhood dog fast closing in on them.
The dog in question was an Alsatian and an angry one at that. None of the kids knew where the dog lived––most assumed it was just a stray, and the common myth was that it preyed on little children who had got lost, feasting on their mangled bodies when no one was watching, biding its time until it found its next victim. And there they both were.
As realisation set in, both girls let out a scream. Penny ran for the trees––she didn’t have far to go, could make it there before the dog would be upon her and was a good climber. The dog, its shaggy and always dirty hair bouncing as it closed in on them had gone after Abbey. Penny watched perched on the first branch of the tree as her friend ran, the chasing dog some distance but barking aggressively, closing the gap on Abbey with no effort. Abbey was screaming; Penny filled with dread. It wasn't the words in her mouth––she never could recall what she’d said if anything––but the feeling in her stomach she would remember most. Yes, there had been fear and plenty of adrenaline, it had helped her to take flight and climb the tree in the first place, now safely out of harm's way. But there was something more, too, bubbling away in her stomach. It was as she watched from that oak, the dog less than twenty metres from her friend and about to pounce at any moment, that it first happened.
It started with a thought.
The thought that raced through Penny’s mind in that second had been that if only Abbey could seriously run––much faster than a sprinting dog––then she would be able to get away. That thought, coupled with the mesmerising feeling bursting through her insides at that very moment, had an instant effect. Abbey started running as Penny had never seen anyone run before. It seemed as if Abbey’s legs couldn’t move as fast as they now wanted to, as they now were, but Abbey not only kept her distance from the still charging dog but soon was pulling away. She was gone. After just a few seconds, the dog stopped its pursuit. It was smart enough at least to understand this one was getting away.
But how? Abbey was one of the slowest girls in school, and everyone knew it. She had no aptitude for sports. How had she, therefore, managed to run away from that dog? Penny climbed down quickly and carefully from the ageing oak, working her way back along the tree line to avoid being detected by the still present, yet distant, dog and was back to the main road before long. She crossed over and ran home.
It was only the following day that Penny next saw Abbey. Neither girl could explain what had happened.
“I never knew I had it in me, but suddenly I felt I just had to run faster,” Abbey had said through a mouthful of food as they stood in the playground at first break. “I mean, I’ve never run that fast ever! Nor have I ever made it that far.” Penny sat there in silence, watching her friend process everything––her slightly chubby, one-time slowest in the class best friend. Penny couldn’t help but associate the feeling inside, coupled with her thought to save her friend, with what played out in front of her eyes. She should have been happy that her friend escaped, but instead, the questions it raised were firmly keeping those emotions shut out.
Penny didn’t walk home with Abbey on Mondays, as she had dance lessons on those days, which meant she couldn’t continue her conversation with Abbey after school. Penny’s mum was waiting for her as she got to the school gates, and while glancing back for Abbey, who wasn’t in sight, Penny knew there wasn’t time.
“Hurry up,” her mum muttered impatiently. She always resented the timing of the lesson, especially given the school traffic, that made it a rush every single week.
Dancing was one of the rare things Penny did outside of school. So much of her life revolved around that same secondary school, those same children, that to escape all that, to be a part of something with a different group of girls, was not to be missed. Besides, she’d been dancing nearly as long as she could walk, and despite her mum’s constant grumbling, she had at least over the years faithfully taken her only child to various groups. Penny had been a part of the current dance class for two years already, and she’d grown close to the male teacher, partly because he seemed a better father figure than her own poor excuse. Mr Jenkins had spent his life in ballet and going by the photographs that hung proudly along the corridors of the dance school he’d personally founded; he’d been quite good. Mr Jenkins was forty-five now, his professional days as a lead dancer long behind him. He’d been teaching for ten years already.
“You’ve done very well today, Ms Black,” he said as the lesson finished. He always referred to the girls by their surname, as charming as ever. He patted her on the head, her hair soft and bouncy. They lined up as a troop––there were fifteen dancers in her group––and Mr Jenkins pulled out his camera for the traditional yearbook photo.
“Lovely,” he said, glancing through the screen to see that there was at least one useable image in there. “I shall see you all again next week.”
Penny’s mum was already at the door, in front of all the other mums. It was time to go.
3
I know I should have been supportive of Abbey’s new skills and I was at the time. I didn’t know what had happened, really, either. One minute she was about to be eaten by some homeless, rabid flea ridden street dog, the next she’s running faster than I’ve ever seen anyone move before. I knew I’d done it to her, too. I’d felt it happen in me. Like the first time I had my time of the month––a moment you won’t ever forget. A moment that tells you from now on life’s going to be very different.
School was strange for Penny over the few weeks that followed the incident in the park. Suddenly Abbey Pigtails (her real name was Abbey Lawrence, but she had always worn her hair the same way since primary school, so most girls called her that behind her back) was the star athlete. Watching from the sidelines, as if just a spectator to this now discovered superstar, Penny noticed that her ability to have made Abbey run had since caused a whole load of other changes, changes which Penny assumed had had nothing to do with her. Abbey lost some weight, for one thing, something that would have happened with anyone running as much as Abbey now was. Abbey seemed to grow taller, too, her legs (now often shown off underneath running shorts) were fast becoming long and thin. The boys were also suddenly starting to take notice.
Abbey was getting attention from everyone as she’d never had befo
re. Penny couldn’t help but begin to resent her, and with the new training Abbey was putting in now that she was on the athletics team, the two friends quickly started to drift apart. It would be the story of Penny’s life.
Penny threw herself more into dancing than ever before. In those classes, she found an escape from the world in which she spent most of her life. She felt free. No one knew Abbey there, and no one cared about the girl who could run faster than any boy in their year. It was all about the dancing and Mr Jenkins. Penny loved the way he’d often compliment her on her latest move, whispering little praises into her ear, which she assumed was so that the other girls wouldn’t get jealous. He certainly seemed to pay them far fewer compliments. She was his star, Mr Jenkins had said more than once. He was beginning to become her idol.