by T H Paul
“How do you know? You know nothing!”
“I know everything!” she screamed, trying to get up, coming at Penny a second time, catching her daughter unaware, knocking them both to the floor.
Penny staggered to her feet. Make her leave the house, make me be able to lift her up, make her gone. Nothing would happen, and as Penny started to drag her mother by the hair towards the front door, she was anything but light. Barbara let out another scream as Penny pulled her by the hair so hard that clumps of it were coming out in Penny’s hands. Make her disappear, make her stop fighting Penny continued to think, her powers at full throttle, but as ever, there was no effect on her mother. It has to be stronger; it has to be final––it has to be fatal the echo once again came back, it’s drum ever stronger, its force ever harder to repel.
“No!” Penny screamed again out loud, willing herself to be strong enough, to not be controlled by any of it anymore. She got the front door open, one hand still firmly gripping her mother’s long but matted black hair. “Out!” she told her, dragging Barbara over the threshold, leaving her slumped on the front path.
“I won’t go anywhere! I’ll stay here! Everyone will know!” she called back, before laughing again to herself. Penny kicked her over so that she rolled into the middle of the empty driveway.
“No, go! It’s over!”
“It’ll never be over,” the mother said, the last words she would ever speak to Penny, as that echo became as strong as ever. No, it’ll never be over. Do it now! Do it here. Right here. You can change her into any object you want; it’ll work now. It’ll work this time. She’s on the drive, and you need a car––make it shiny, make it new! Do it! Do it now!
Penny screamed with all her might, letting out a primal cry of profound rage, her eyes closed, her hands on her head as she finally gave in to the urge, no longer strong enough to resist, wanting it all to be over. Silence fell for a few seconds. Moments later a few doors around the cul-de-sac were opened, people looking out to see what the scream had been, concerned that someone was in danger. All they saw was the seventeen-year-old Penny standing next to a brand new Jeep. They quickly realised they’d heard a cry of delight. The doors soon closed again, a few neighbours nodding towards Penny, though she wasn’t looking. The night was suddenly silent, the voice inside Penny was gone, the rage non-existent.
Penny opened her eyes. She could not see her mother. The vehicle she’d imagined, however, just seconds before, was sitting right next to her. Keys were in the ignition.
Penny opened the driver’s door, which was unlocked, the car ready. It smelt like it was fresh from the showroom floor. Something that felt like fire ran through her body. She couldn’t even drive yet but had a beautiful car. And her mother was finally gone.
11
So now you know what happened to my mother. Am I proud of what I did? Do I regret it? Yes, and no. I do have a shiny new car, and I can tell you, the incentive to learn to drive after that was intense. I passed first time––without any magic required.
It made me fearful, however, how intense the urge had been. I couldn’t control it; it had got the better of me until I finally gave in and did its bidding. What if it came back, what if it forced me to do something equally criminal in the future? What then?
The most immediate challenge was income. My five mornings a week paper round just wasn’t going to kick it anymore. At least the house was owned outright, and there were no other debts. Small mercies, I guess.
Maybe I should have found a way of making my mother wealthy before I zapped her? Had I given it enough creative thought, I’m sure I could have come up with something. So, do I regret it? I regret not making her rich, first. That’s for sure.
The night Penny switched her mother, she would go back inside, her world suddenly calm again, and ponder some things. She first went to where she’d moved her mother's drinks collection and poured herself one. She’d never done that before, but suddenly it felt like the thing to do. People drank at a wake. She managed three sips but really couldn’t do anymore. She had no idea what her mother had seen in it. It had to go. It all did.
Penny would spend the whole night clearing out anything and everything that belonged to her mother. She started with the alcohol, pouring it all down the sink. If anyone were going to come looking, it would have to seem like Barbara was away, out, or gone. She couldn’t be still around.
By the third day, the house looked and smelt different. Penny had got into her little routine, and while it felt a little lonely at night there by herself, she felt freer than she had ever felt. She was seventeen now, old enough to live by herself. Old enough to nearly do anything, and all legally, too.
It was just three weeks later that she started driving lessons. She’d picked up a part-time job at the same supermarket Millie worked at, working a few hours on a Thursday and Friday night and all day on Saturdays. It gave her enough money for food each week, enough for two lessons with a driving instructor per week and a tiny bit of change left over.
By the time school started again, Penny felt like a new person. Millie would often come over––they’d hosted their first party the last weekend of the holidays––and Penny was happier than she had been in years, glad that she could have people over again. Penny felt a new responsibility like she'd never had before, which came from running a home. She knew she had a responsibility for her gift, too.
It was the summer of the Olympic Games, however; there was plenty before her to keep Penny entertained. One situation in particular Penny had dwelt on more than any other. It was time to outwork a downfall she had been planning for years.
The Heart of Penny
Book 3––Penn Friends series
What's it like to give your heart––but not your secret––to someone?
1
“Penny doesn’t have a heart,” is something I’ve been told by several ex-boyfriends, at the point that we were no longer together. Heartless Penny. It’s total crap, of course. If I didn’t have a heart, every time wouldn’t have hurt anywhere near as much as it did; the breakup wouldn’t have meant another broken heart.
I also wouldn’t have bothered to help anyone if I was a heartless, loveless bitch like some of them now think. I've helped lots of people, as you’ll see.
You now know about my parents, too. You know the kind of tricks they pulled, a little why I am who I am, why maybe my heart might be a lot more fragile and indeed damaged, than your average seventeen-year-old. Despite all I’d gone through in my pre-adult years, despite all the rejection and isolation, I did, however, possess the ability to feel; to even love.
Initially, however, I just lacked the friend to tell me how it was, those wise words of counsel any girl needs, someone who was there for me, watching my back, looking out for my interests. I’d find her, eventually, but it would take a few shipwrecks first.
As Penny moved into year ten of secondary school, which heralded the start of their GCSE program which would carry them through the next two years, it put Penny into someone’s orbit that would expose, in her, one of her lustful secrets. Since she had started at that school, she’d had a crush on her music teacher, Mr Hanson, a thirty-something Englishman who’d been at the school for five years. Seeing as Penny was now taking Music as one of her nine GCSE’s, Penny had four classes a week with him, four times the amount she’d had up until then. It was the one subject she was most looking forward to that year.
Penny wasn’t alone in regards to having teenage feelings for this particular teacher, several girls had joked about their crush on Mr Hanson, who had he not been their Music teacher, could easily have taught PE, given the fact he was a regular triathlete, with the body to go with it.
Abbey had been the one girl to have seen him in that context, now that she was running for her county––she was still a year away from her breakthrough. Penny couldn’t help resent her former friend even more, especially as Abbey had been the one girl she’d dare share her thoughts with concern
ing their Music teacher. Abbey, thankfully for Penny, wasn’t taking Music, and had her distractions following her breakup with Jack Ferguson, as well as her running, anyway. Penny was grateful for that, and they’d long since stopped speaking to each other, so the loss of friendship was no longer tangibly felt.
For the first week of school, and that first Music lesson which fell on a Tuesday, Penny had taken extra time that morning at home as she got herself ready, spending half an hour on her hair alone. She had sneaked a little of her mother’s perfume––had left home before her mother might have found out––and was walking to school with a skip in her step. Music was not until the third period, which fell right after the morning break. She hoped she would still look presentable enough by that point.
Several boys gave her appreciative looks during registration that morning––when Penny made an effort, she was an attractive enough girl––and that caused the girls to take notice, also, most certainly for other reasons. Peculiar Penny was making an effort today; it would go, I wonder who she’s trying to impress? Abbey had also glanced across to Penny when she had arrived to class that morning, but despite Abbey being the one girl who might have worked out the reason for Penny’s sudden transformation, she hadn’t wasted any time on it. What Penny did or didn’t do was no longer her concern.
Penny was first into the classroom for period three, her first Music lesson of that new school year. She felt nervous, jittery and self-conscious, though all of that was put to one side as Mr Hanson walked in through the doors, the class mostly girls––there were sixteen girls, three boys––that year. He was probably the one reason why that had been the case. Elsewhere, more boys than usual had taken Biology––helped, no doubt, by the flirtatious and attractive Mrs Bell, who taught that class.
“Settle down, please,” Mr Hanson said. Penny was already sitting down on a first row desk, right in front of his. “I’ve got a seating plan for you all this year; take a look and find your place. Then get out your exercise books,” he added, walking towards the piano, dropping his bag on the floor beside the stool, barely even noticing the students. Penny couldn’t help but feel her disappointment welling up inside––she’d been the only one sitting, her books already out on the desk in front of her, her pencil case poised and ready––as she rose from her seat and went to inspect the list. She knew before she saw it she would undoubtedly have lost her piece of prime real estate.
As she’d suspected, she had. Her spot––it was not that, of course, but she felt she had just given it up––had gone to a boy, a troublemaker usually, for which reason he was placed nearest to the teachers. This boy was already shoving Penny’s things to one side as she returned to retrieve them, the boy as if angry that a squatter had been in his place, Penny merely collecting them all up and moving to her spot a few rows back without saying a word. There were too many heads between her and the front for Mr Hanson to notice her. She sank into her chair––suddenly the year ahead felt somewhat less exciting.
“Hey, Black, what’s with all the make-up?” It was now lunchtime, and Penny turned to see a boy from her class, Gavin Rennell, leaning over the end of the table at which she was eating the remainder of her lunch. Penny wasn’t wearing any make-up, she didn’t need it, though she knew Gavin couldn’t tell the difference between her having done her hair, and wearing make-up. He just knew something was different about her. “It’s nice, I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Gavin added, as an afterthought. He was going a little red.
“Thanks,” Penny said, sensing that was all she’d need to say––there was no need to answer the question––and accurate enough, Gavin smiled and after a few seconds of silence left Penny to it. Jack had looked up from his conversation, watching them both the whole time, not knowing what Gavin had in common with Penny, why he was even speaking to her. They didn’t seem to be particularly close, as Gavin moved away from Penny, his tail very much between his legs. Jack smiled. Gavin would watch Penny for a while from the table on which he sat. Penny laughed to herself. Gavin was a nice enough boy––a little clumsy, and not her type––and she was aware that he’d had a crush on her since year seven. It wasn’t becoming of him.
Penny sat alone, her lunch now finished––most kids, Penny included, ate their lunch at first break. She was now in the second oldest year group in the school, and she felt it. The year sevens and even year eights looked so small, so young, and she marvelled that she, too, must have looked like that as well. Back then she would have been sitting around a group of girls––always next to Abbey––and able to jump in and out, at will, to any group. She could still do that, to a lesser degree, though wasn’t with anyone at that moment. She again caught Gavin looking her way occasionally, obviously debating whether to come and join her––could he pluck up the courage to break away from the boys and sit with a girl?––but clearly, he was failing the challenge. If he were to stand up, Penny would then move before he approached again, anyway.
Just moments later, Penny couldn’t help but notice a particular year nine boy––he was the younger brother of a boy in her year group, who was also a total prick––picking on a group of year sevens. They seemed terrified. The smallest of the group––Penny was stunned that he was even old enough to be in secondary school––was the particular focus of the threats. As the year sevens tried to move away, the boy from year nine followed, knocking their bags off the shoulders, tripping their legs when he could––generally being a nuisance. Penny stood up and followed. He needed teaching a lesson.
Now away from the canteen area entirely––very few teaching staff on duty now––the year nine thug had the smallest lad cornered against the corridor wall, all his friends seemingly having now fled. Give him great courage and strength Penny thought, as she focused her gift and targeted the year seven boy who was standing there petrified and was about to be beaten up.
“You don’t scare me you worthless piece of trash,” he suddenly said, Penny smiling at the change of scene, as the year nine boy, picking up the total transformation, took one step back. He apparently hadn’t been anticipating any backchat.
“You listen here,” he tried, stepping one pace forward again––taking him not quite as close as he’d just been, but defiantly closer than he was a second before––but the younger boy pushed hard, sending the older lad stumbling back. A few onlookers laughed. The year nine thug caught his audience––he had seconds to work out if this one was worth the trouble; stay and show who was boss, or be shown up by the boy who was no soft touch and risk total school humiliation. He chose to back down. He’d have to pick his moment.
“If I see you again, squirt, you’d better run,” is all he said, finger pointing at the year seven boy, whose eyes now seemed to burn with fire, a confidence showing that hadn’t been there in the canteen, the transformation quite alarming.
“Yeah? You think?” There were laughs all around. The year nine lad backed away, shaking his head as if mesmerised by it all, but leaving nonetheless. A few of the crowd went and patted the younger boy on the shoulder.
“Well done, about time someone stood up to him,” Penny could hear others saying. Penny watched as the crowd moved away, the year seven lad smiling cheerfully, looking for all the world as if he could take on any challenger. She wondered about that for a moment, before taking away the extra courage and strength she’d just given him––she knew left unchecked, it could lead to all sorts of issues. She would, however, put inside the year nine boy an unnatural fear of the said year seven lad––she doubted he would ever dare to trouble him again.
Penny smiled as the bell went for the end of lunch. It was nice to be able to protect the innocent––there were at least some positives to her gift, some way of affecting the world around her without it costing her friendships. She followed the flow of students walking down the corridor and was soon at her English lesson, the class of thirty boys and girls milling around waiting for the teacher to arrive. Penny stood next to Kelly and Abbey, Kelly che
wing gum and looking at no one, Abbey working her telephone; two girls who had been on Penny’s mind for a while, though none of the three said anything to the other two.
2
It hadn’t dawned on me then, back in year ten, that boys might take a shine to me. With all the effort––pointless, as it would turn out; I don’t know what I was thinking might happen?––I was taking to try to be noticed by Mr Hanson. It seemed that while these efforts were falling on blind eyes to him, I was making the radar of nearly all the boys around me. That, in itself, would reveal some exciting developments.
The first boy to take the initiative with Penny and ask her out was a blond-haired lad named Geoffrey Begbie. He, like Penny, shared a love for music, was in her class on that same subject, and had been in White––10W as it currently was––ever since year seven. Their short relationship would last for all of October and November. He wouldn’t be around to give Penny his heart come Christmas, only for her to give it away, as they were already back to being just friends––just classmates––long before the holiday.
At this point in Penny’s already eventful life, her father had left. She had not been too close, and while she was upset, it was her anger at him for merely walking out on her that she hated him most for rather than any sense of the personal loss of a loving dad she might be feeling. Dance lessons had abruptly stopped, too. Penny still hadn’t told anyone about her involvement in that whole sordid affair.