by T H Paul
For an early teen student as Penny was back then, her school was okay. Exams were a few years off, primary school a few years behind. It was mainly the friendship circles which seemed to cause Penny most of her problems. She hung out with girls, she hung out with boys, and she hung out with variations of the two. No one day was ever the same group. She looked on at those who had stronger connections––the phrase BFF had been born in her school, it seemed––and wondered why it was different with her. Then again, these other groups never mixed. There seemed unmarked boundaries that the other girls could not cross. She had no such trouble, able to speak with whoever she liked, go wherever she wanted. She was free.
Anyone looking from afar would have said Penny was a very sociable girl, able to jump in and out of any group at ease. Indeed, that’s what it looked like from the outside, anyway. Who knew what was now happening inside her teenage body, as fate was colliding with puberty?
Sports day fell three weeks before the end of the school year. Suddenly the students of 8W had a star performer in Abbey, something for which Penny was at least thankful that she was in the same class. White––each class’s letter corresponding to a colour––was sure to win some prizes around the track, as no one could keep up with Abbey. She had already been given a trial for the County Championships by then, though the actual event would only take place once school finished for summer.
Abbey soon fell in with the football crowd. All the cool boys, or so they thought of themselves, were in that group. Football was by far the biggest sport her measly school did, and the fifteen or so who got to say they were on the school team strutted around like they were playing in the Premier League. And Abbey Pigtails now had their complete attention, though, given the change in her hairstyle since being discovered, even that nickname would have to change. Penny now left Abbey to it mostly, often starting to talk to her one-time best friend, only to find one boy or another approach, and she would then leave them to it. Before long, the two girls were hardly ever speaking with each other.
The biggest change came when Abbey moved house. Penny had arrived back from dance on Monday night to see the removal van just leaving. Abbey had not even said goodbye. Abbey’s parents had insisted their daughter train at the regional athletics academy each morning, which made it impossible to get there and back on time to school each morning from where they lived. Just three months after the dog incident, therefore, Penny’s neighbour and one-time friend was gone. They had long since been avoiding each other at school by that point, anyway.
4
So boohoo, my first friend had moved house––and it had been all my doing. If I’d just left her to it, she would have been savaged by that dog, and we might have still been in touch, assuming she made it out alive. Isn’t that the craziest thought. But I had to try and help her, didn’t I? I had to step in and mess it all up. It had to happen to me.
The new school year started the first week of September, the thirty-two students of what was now 9W returning, most with interesting tales of summer adventure. Abbey Lawrence, who had not only run her first County Championships during the previous holiday, she had also won it. There were already rumours of National trials coming up, though Penny heard these stories only through the grapevine, the schoolyard gossip which usually only ever exaggerated, or twisted, the truth. In Abbey’s case, however, it was for once accurate.
Of course, it was. Penny had inadvertently given this formally clumsy and slightly overweight girl the ability to run. The London Olympic Games were only a few years away, and there were even growing rumours about Abbey’s chances in such an event on home soil––a once in a lifetime kind of event of which every athlete dreamed. And there was no disguising that fact now––in all her toned and long-legged glory, Abbey was certainly an athlete. Penny could barely stand to watch it anymore.
Penny had other friends in the class and year group, and as the weeks of her third year at that school went by, she did her best to get to know others, too, while never getting overly close to anyone. As best she could, she avoided those girls who spent their entire time talking about Abbey. Penny had heard enough on the subject already.
Her class had thirty-two students, of which she was one, as was Abbey. That left thirty other boys and girls––the split actually half and half––for her to build meaningful connections with before she even had to consider the two hundred and fifteen others who made up her year group, spread across eight classes. Then there were the other age groups, though partly because she had no siblings at the school––she was an only child––she knew less of the other years than some of her classmates. The older years looked down on hers for being too young, and the lower years were indeed too young for her. She was happy, therefore, with her age group. She always had her dancing group too, though these had never been friends. They were dancers. Friendship and dancing, especially amongst a group of early teen girls, didn’t go hand in hand. They were competing for Mr Jenkins attention, something that Penny didn’t have to worry about too much. She was still his star, and her photo was being taken now more than any other girl in the group.
As September pressed on, it was made clear to them all what was coming next year––the start of their GCSEs. Much of the focus of this year, therefore––including pre-Christmas exams––was in preparation for what was to follow. Penny had yet to work out the ability to make her pass all her exams with minimal effort; she would get there before she turned fifteen. The Abbey situation was still relatively fresh, however, and she was new to her skills, still completely oblivious to the full range of potential that dwelt inside her. When that realisation came, it would already be too late.
Home life was beginning to get unbearable for the fourteen-year-old Penny––she was amongst the youngest in her whole year and had to wait until the summer to catch up with the others. Her parents were arguing more and more, and before the year was out––indeed a week before the summer holidays in fact––her father would walk out for good. Mr Jenkins, her dance teacher, would by then be firmly the sole male role model in her life, though Penny would fail to admit, that he had been performing that role for a long time already, by then.
The background noise––at worse that was all it ever was––of her parents’ crumbling marriage had already started before the Christmas holidays. Penny had long since stopped making a list of gift ideas; her mother lacked the willingness to spend the time shopping for, nor had the means to make such a list a reality. Penny spent more time alone, the absence of Abbey since their parting felt most as the colder weather of winter kicked in. Two other classmates lived within a few streets of her––both were boys––but besides them, she had very few options. At least, with winter fast approaching, the talk surrounding Abbey, and her new-found ability to run faster than anyone at the school had ever done before, was starting to wane. The athletics seasons––even for someone going to specialist training––was now over. It would start the following spring again.
5
They say Christmas is a time for family––I guess that’s true for most people, but it never was for me. Mum couldn’t be bothered. I certainly don’t miss that about her, and will often tell her as I’m driving around town just venting my frustration––wherever she is, I’m sure she can still hear me. Back then, when I was that early teen little girl who had yet to discover who I fully was, I’d hardly got going with my capabilities. I never even knew my potential.
The second time it happened to Penny was during that Christmas holiday. It’d been a particularly miserable time. Her father was away more than he was at home––playing away, her mother would later inform her when it was all in the open and Penny was old enough to hear the brutal truth––but Penny didn’t care. She had no relationship with either of them, especially the man who’d never been anything but a stranger to her, let alone a parent. It was as if her being born to him as his only daughter had been in fact a complication, instead of the wonder of life it could otherwise have been. The o
lder she got, the more distant he became, and the louder her parents argued.
During that Christmas holiday when her gift was to manifest itself for the second time, Penny had woken early with a start, after a rather vivid dream. The feeling that seconds earlier she had only been dreaming about being in her stomach, however, was still deeply rooted and far from ready to leave. In the dream, Penny had been making things float. Small objects at first, but levitating nonetheless. As she lay there, her eyes open and glued to the ceiling as only someone waking from such a dream could be, she turned her head slowly, as if fearful of what she would see. Cautious, but certainly excited too. Every hair on both arms stood on edge.
She knew it before she spotted it––in the middle of the room, her bedside lamp was floating. The circle of light itself that was coming from the lamp bounced around the ceiling, as the object swayed a little this way and that. The cable acting as to anchor the thing, still plugged into the wall so that the lamp was only about a foot or so above her bedside table, where it usually stood, motionless and lifeless.
It certainly wasn’t resting now, just an inanimate object serving a particular function. It was hovering. Floating. It was bloody levitating, and it was freaking awesome for that fourteen-year-old who felt confused about who she was, and who had just lost a best friend because of what she had inside her.
Penny sat up slowly, the feeling continuing in her stomach, as she made the connection again between what she was feeling inside and what was happening right in front of her eyes. She knew she was controlling the lamp somehow, that what she was feeling was manifesting itself inside her bedroom. She got off her bed and bent down to unplug the lamp, wanting to know how high it would otherwise go, but as soon as the light went out, its power cut off, the lamp fell. The feeling was still inside her stomach, but the object was no longer floating.
She tried to concentrate hard for one minute, willing her body to repeat what it had just done and willing her mind to work out what she was doing wrong. She was desperate to make good use of the situation, not knowing how or why it had returned, everything still so unknown to her as it was back then, but the questions now forcing her to experiment, ideas and thoughts that had been there ever since the Abbey incident with the dog. Questions this young mind was desperate to have answered.
Thankfully for her that morning, Penny lived in a home that despite the loud thumping of a lamp slamming back down onto a wooden table, nobody seemed to notice, nobody was bothered. Nobody was coming to see if she was okay if, in fact, she might have hurt herself. She didn’t dwell on that thought that moment, however, happy in fact for space she had to keep testing the feeling.
With the lamp now plugged back in, it’s light illuminating her otherwise still dark bedroom; it once again rose to the height it had been before––limited from going any higher by the length of cord attaching it firmly to the wall. Penny jumped, the feeling still present inside. Whatever had set it off in her––she could not now remember anything of the dream she’d just had while sound asleep––must have been a strong impulse. Penny quickly plugged in her hair straighteners, a prized possession and probably the best, most costly gift her mum had given her, a present for her twelfth birthday. Switching them on––as nothing had happened when she’d first plugged them in––and with the lamp still floating next to her, she focused on the feeling inside and thought about making her straighteners float as well. And they did. Now both the lamp and the GHDs were hovering next to each other above the floor, both anchored in place by their cables, yet both doing something they were not designed to do.
She was making them do this––was this what she was therefore designed to do?
“So there has to be some form of energy running through it,” she said aloud––no one was listening, no one at home seemed to ever listen to her anymore. What she’d done to Abbey all those months before––something that until that moment, she had not been able to replicate, despite much effort––had now happened again, finally. Both settings had taught her something. Whatever it was that she had––and she didn’t know what even to call it, nor what it was, besides the feeling she’d come to recognise––Penny realised it wasn’t limited to only humans. She could control objects, too. Providing there was some form of energy––lifeblood in humans, electricity in objects––running inside, she could influence it.
But how far could she take it? What was possible? For the first time, she started to dream. The biggest question that rose that December morning, as the sun finally began to appear, was how she could control and conjure that feeling inside. It felt far from under control that morning, more like those days an eclipse might happen––something you observed from afar, watching in wonder but far from being able to cause yourself. But what if she could cause her own little eclipses? Not in the sky; though the thought was taking root. She dismissed it; that would cause too much focus on her.
It was going to be an exciting end to her Christmas and New Year's holiday. She had one week before she was going back to school, and Penny needed to know more about this gift she had. She had to learn to control it, to switch it on and off as she pleased. Like a skilled athlete––she’d seen the effort put in by Abbey, it was impossible to miss, as her former friend was paraded around like some trophy––Penny would hone her skills, grow them and test the farthest reaches of its possibilities.
6
It’s strange now, looking back. I’d been given something, somehow possessing something I didn’t know how to use, nor of what I was capable. It was exciting, though. I remember dreaming of what might be possible. Of course, I couldn’t tell anyone, nor did I have that option. For someone people would think of as popular, I was on my own. Still, it helped me hone and grow. Allowing others to get too close––as in time some did––would have only held me back early on, maybe got me discovered, even exposed. What life would I have had then? The freak with the weird ability. Penny the witch. Penny the outcast. I would show them exactly who I was––not a what, but a who––but on my terms.
School started back in the second week of January, the classmates of 9W preparing for yet more exams that were to happen at the end of the month. The teachers told the worried students that these were to help place them ahead of the start of their GCSEs the following year. They said the students were to relax, not to feel too pressured, and allow what they knew to come flooding back.
For the good students––Penny Black would have easily fallen into that bracket had she tried––they had been spending the break revising, swatting up as best they could to prepare for whatever was about to come. Penny had spent her holiday experimenting, however, making things move instead of studying what she needed to do. Penny had already come up with one idea, however, something which she was fascinated to put to the test. She first needed to select the right student, as well as fully understand how to switch on her secret gift when she wanted. At best it was fifty-fifty by the start of term. If Penny sat down in that hall on exam day and couldn't get her skills to work, she was in trouble.
Thankfully for Penny, with the new week gaining speed and the students beginning to get back into a routine, Abbey was far less the subject of everyone’s conversation as she had been in the autumn term. In many ways she was old news by then and being winter, her season was very much on the quiet, waiting for the start of spring when training would once again ramp up. Abbey, if it was even possible over such a short break, had grown even leaner over Christmas and New Year––and she’d picked up a boyfriend, too. The two lovebirds were seen holding hands the first day back. Jack Ferguson, who was also in their class, was in the school’s football team for their year group.
Jack had once taken an interest in Penny, she was sure, but whatever that interest had been, his focus was now on the very leggy Abbey; who was the sporting goddess of year nine.
The exams they were taking at the end of the month were limited to just the main subjects––Mathematics, English, History, Geography and the Sc
iences. So while these classes spent their time focusing on revision, all the other lessons that month continued as normal as possible. Penny loathed French, not only because she struggled with the language, but she hated the teacher. Everyone did. Had there been a better teacher, maybe Penny would have been a babbling Francophone by now, instead of the bored English speaker after over two years of lessons with Ms Coine. Coine wasn’t even French herself, the only non-native foreign language teacher the school had. She’d been there for decades, the rumours went. Coine had been Penny’s Head of Year also in year seven––the first year of secondary school––and Penny had been brought before Ms Coine no fewer than five times during that year. It seemed the mutual hatred had started in them both during that year.
Penny did enjoy Art and P.E., though had gone off P.E. since the emergence of Abbey and those legs of hers––even the P.E. teachers were making a huge fuss over the girl. Penny liked the main subjects, besides the fact exams were coming in these lessons soon, but Music was very much her thing. She had a natural rhythm to her, to go along with her dancing, or so her teacher said. Penny had had a crush on him for as long as he’d been at the school, joining the year before and taking over her music lessons. Mr Jensen might have been the only saving grace about school life, according to Penny, anyway.
As the final week of January approached, the first exams were about to take place. With all lessons on that Monday suspended––she would not have Music that day––the three exams she would have was two for English and one for Maths. It was now time, therefore, for Penny to put her theory to the test. If she weren’t able to pull this one off, she would be on her own. Penny might scrape through with a pass, but only just. However, it was a gamble she felt was worth exploring. If Penny could master it now, it would make the proper exams she would be taking in two years’ time a much smoother process, her studies in general far less pressured. She couldn’t fail.