Twenty-Seven: Penelope Peters
2192 Words
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Penelope Peters
It was a new year, a new semester.
This year, I wouldn’t get suspended. This year I would not let myself get obsessed with Prince Cadoc of Wales. This year, I would focus on school. On life outside of the royal world. It was why during the first week back I went to the first meeting for the Hollow Hills Chronicle.
The school newspaper seemed like the perfect place to try to be a writer. Best of all, Cadoc wasn’t involved in it. Gwyneth was, but Gwyneth was in every after-school activity known to man.
She smiled when she saw me slip in. “Oh my god, I’m so glad you joined!”
I smiled. “Me too.”
“This will be good for you,” said Gwyneth, “I can’t believe you didn’t join sooner.”
“Well, the plan was to lay low,” I reminded her, “but that seems to have gone out the window. Might as well get involved.”
“Be careful,” said Gwyneth, “the editor this year is a senior, and he’s a bit of an ass.”
“Tell us how you really feel, Gwyneth,” drawled a voice from behind us.
I turned around, and standing there was a tall, good looking guy. With chestnut brown hair, hazel eyes, and a jaw that could have cut glass.
“Always,” Gwyneth replied with a smile, “besides, someone has to give the poor girl a warning about you. We’re not all raised by sharks, you know.”
“Of course not,” said the stranger, “you must be Penelope Peters. I’ve heard about you. I’m surprised you didn’t join us earlier. From everything I was told, you came to Hollow Hills because you want to be a writer.”
I winced. “I got a little distracted first semester. This semester, it’s going to be different.”
“Yes, well,” he said, “I’m Fletcher Flemming.”
“Like the author?” I said.
“He’s a distant uncle,” Fletcher explained, “and yes, I do have that Bond prowess in bed.”
“Careful, Fletch,” said Gwyneth, “you know she’s not just any girl.”
“Yes, well, until I see a ring on her finger, she’s fair game,” he grinned at me, like a cat that had caught the canary. “Is there a ring, Miss Peters?”
I laughed. “No ring, Flemming. But all I want this semester is to do what I do best. Write.”
“Well, how can you write if you don’t have something to write about?” he challenged.
“Touche, Flemming,” I said.
“You’re a scholarship student, aren’t you?”
I glared. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Not at all,” said Fletcher, “I’m a journalist. I’m of the people, for the people. I wanted to know because there’s some people that you should meet. Gwyneth was supposed to tell you about them. I’ve been pestering her for ages.”
“Oh, it’s not her fault,” I told him, ‘I’ve been a bit distracted. But that’s all going to change this year. This year, it’s all about me, and no one else.”
Gwyneth laughed. “That’s an attitude that I can get behind.”
I glanced towards her. “You’re going to help me with that.”
“I’m going to help you with that?” Gwyneth said.
“Yes. I want to have fun this year, and you know all about that.”
“Oh, this is a Pen that I can get behind,” said Gwyneth, “but you know I’m not the one to help with the fun thing. I have a million things on my mind. Audrey knows how to have fun.”
“We’ve a rebellious side coming out?” Fletcher asked. “Well, if you need help with that, I’ll be more then delighted to help you.”
“Oh?” I said. “And how, exactly, can you help me?”
“Every year, we have to have someone cover parliament sessions. I do it most of the time, but I’m in my last year. I’m prepping for college. Anything that I don’t have to do would be a fantastic help. Why don’t you cover it?”
“That’s not rebellious,” I said.
Gwyneth chuckled. “I don’t know about that. That’s Cadoc’s space. He has to attend some of those meetings. There’s nothing he would hate more than you writing your opinion. Especially if it conflicts with what he wants.”
I smiled, then glanced over at Fletcher. “Sign me up Fletch.”
“Is this sudden move for independence all about pissing off Cadoc?” Fletcher asked.
“It has nothing to do with pissing off Cadoc,” I said. “Despite what everyone thinks, my life does not revolve around him.”
“Well, if you want to establish your independence, you should do that by going on a date with me. Because you are fetching.” He smirked at me, looking like trouble in a private school boy’s uniform.
I glanced at Gwyneth.
Gwyneth shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’m not your keeper. I’m all for the s*x with random stranger’s thing.”
I smiled. “Never said anything about s*x with random strangers.”
“I am here to help you with that too,” said Fletcher, “in fact, I volunteer.”
“Look at you, Katniss Everdeen,” said Gwyneth, “You’d make a fantastic couple.”
“I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” I said.
‘Neither am I,” Fletcher told me, “I’m not asking to marry you darling. Only to have a little fun. Isn’t that all that you were looking for?”
“Ask me in a month, and we’ll see where I’m at,” I said with a smile. “But I’ll take you up on that offer to cover parliament for the school newspaper.”
“Wonderful,” said Fletcher, “you’ll have to keep up with your school, of course.”
“Of course,” I said
“And you will have to write with an impartial view,” said Fletcher, “don’t let anyone influence what you write. Including Cadoc.”
“I have a mind of my own, you know,” I told him.
“I’m sure,” said Fletcher, a doubtful look in his eyes.
“She told the Prince of Wales to piss off when he asked her to be his girlfriend,” Gwyneth chimed in. “If that doesn’t say ‘mind of her own’ I don’t know what does. Don’t write her off, Fletcher. She’s brilliant.”
“Yes, I’m brilliant,” I agreed with a smile.
“Right then, Miss Peters,” said Fletcher. "Parliament is going to be voting on if we allow more refugees in. I expect you to be there to cover it. Since we’re a school newspaper, we can’t cover everything. But you’ve got to be there at least once a week, and you’re going to go with a man named Basil Crowe.”
“Basil Crowe?”
“Works for The Welsh Times,” said Fletcher, “he’s a great guy. Always helps me make sense about the things that are going on.”
“He sounds like a Bond villain.”
“He’s not. Only smokes cigars like one. He’s a bit of an ass, but if you can handle Cadoc you can handle anyone.”
“When is my first session?” I asked.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“Wonderful.”
“You know how we should celebrate?” he asked.
“I wasn’t aware that going to a parliament session required celebration,” I said.
“Everything in life requires a celebration. It gives us an excuse to get drunk, to deal with the horribleness of the world. Parliaments going to spew some bullshit. We should drink to deal with the bullshit.”
“How is that a celebration?” I asked.
“Because bullshit is whatever the hell we make it which means we can deal with it how we want. In this case, it means getting drunk as hell as the world falls apart. Are you in?”
There was a challenge in his eyes. Something that I liked.
“Okay,” I said, “let’s celebrate.”
“Raging Pen lives!” Gwyneth shouted. “This is going to be so much fun. I can’t wait to corrupt you.”
“I’m not that innocent,” I insisted.
“If you had a ribbon in your hair, I could call you Pollyanna,” she said, “have you ever even smoked?”
“I’ve drank,” I said.
“Once, because you were miserable, and heartbroken which hardly counts,” she said. “Never on purpose. Come on. You’re coming with us to The Burton Club.”
“The Burton Club?” I asked.
Gwyneth smiled. “It’s a private club. It was donated by Richard Burton to the school. Typically, it’s only for seniors but in this case, seniors can bring guests. Or if you’re a legacy you can get in as long as you’ve got one of the legacy coins.”
“Elitist,” I chided.
“That’s Wales,” Fletcher said, “now are you coming or not?”
I hesitated. Getting involved in this world was how I had managed to get suspended last time. But I couldn’t spend my entire life living in the shadows, hanging out in my room, doing nothing.
“I’m coming,” I said with a nod.
Gwyneth let out a squeal and wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re living a little!”
“Well, it is my life. I might as well live it well right?”
We spent the rest of the afternoon working on the newspaper, dividing up articles. For the first time since coming to Hollow Hills Academy, I felt like I was actually part of the school. My world didn’t revolve around Cadoc or Jasper. I was making my own rules this time.
I didn’t think once about Cadoc. Or about the letter. Or about the unopened Christmas gift that still sat on my desk. All I was thinking about was the fact that I was sixteen, that I had something to live for finally. I had taken the first steps to being a writer and I had done this by myself. Without any help from Cadoc.
After my meeting finished, I left the newspaper offices with Fletcher and Gwyneth. As I was walking I passed Cadoc, with Eddie Spencer. He gave me a polite nod but he made no move to talk to me. He didn’t even flinch when Fletcher had draped his arm around my shoulders.
It would have been so easy to say something as simple as hi. To give him a smile. To act as though New Years Eve had never happened. To pretend that he hadn’t commanded me to kiss him as if I were some type of servant.
I couldn’t let myself get wrapped up in him the way that I had before. I had to create my own identity outside of him. Because otherwise I would end up getting suspended again. Or expelled because I couldn’t keep my head on straight when it came to him.
But I nodded back and we kept on as if he hadn’t punched my ex-boyfriend on New Year’s. As if we didn’t have a romantic history that sounded like a Patsy Cline song. If I had it my way, I could make it through the rest of the year without having to see him. No heartbreak. No stupid mistakes. Just being a normal sixteen year-old girl. Without having to worry about getting commanded by Prince Cadoc of wales.
- Writer
