Penny Dreadful, page 8
“I’m not really sure,” Penny admitted. “I just hear my dad say them sometimes. But I know they aren’t something you want to be.”
“Well,” offered Luella, “why don’t you try one more time, in words I know.”
“Okay,” said Penny. She thought of how much better she’d felt after her outburst at Momma’s Happy Land, screwed up her face, and took a deep, honest breath. Then, all in a rush, she yelled as loudly as she could, “Your clothes are dirty and so are your feet and I really think you need to comb your hair!”
This sentence felt interesting and forceful coming out of her, like a gust of wind. When she opened her eyes, she found that Luella looked hurt.
“What? What did I do wrong?” Penny asked.
“Well, since you were trying to call me names, I guess you didn’t technically do anything wrong,” said Luella, turning away. “You did a great job of hurting my feelings.”
“Oh,” said Penny. “Oh no.” Luella was so blunt and so tough. It hadn’t occurred to Penny that Luella could be hurt. Now Penny didn’t know what to do.
“Am I really that bad?” asked Luella. “I don’t understand what my hair has to do with the cookie. Or my feet.” She inspected her dirty feet.
“I don’t know,” said Penny, feeling terrible. This being honest thing was so difficult! Luella had called her a doormat. What was the difference? “I don’t think they do. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound so bad. You just—well, you called me a doormat. And your clothes are kind of messy, and I just never had a friend like you before.”
“A friend like what?” asked Luella, turning back around to stare at Penny. “Do you mean poor?” Luella’s tone was defensive, but her eyes looked sad and her voice was quieter than usual.
Penny wished she could go back in time and take back those words. Oh, why had she opened her mouth? Really, Luella’s clothes looked fine. Who said anything about money? Who even really cared about clothes, anyway? “I’m sorry,” she said. “Really. That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s okay,” said Luella, picking at a string that hung down from her cutoff shorts and sounding like it wasn’t okay at all. “You’re right. I am a mess, I guess. And you have such nice things. And your mother smells like a department store. But you don’t have to play with me. I don’t need more friends. There are plenty of kids around here for me to be friends with. Alice and Duncan and—”
Penny panicked. What had she done? This had been the most fun day she’d ever had, with her first worm fight, and her first fort, and she was dirty and sweaty and it had felt great. Better than in any book, even.
“No!” she said. “I don’t mean that at all. I really am sorry. I didn’t mean it. You don’t understand. When I say a friend like you I don’t mean what you think. I just mean—I’ve never—never had a friend before, I don’t think. Not any kind of friend. Not a real one.” In one short afternoon she had done more with this tangle-haired, barefoot girl than she’d done in her whole life of being friends with Jane and Olivia. “Gosh, Luella. You’re—you’re my best friend!”
Luella slitted her eyes and grinned at Penny. “Oh yeah?” Her voice sounded louder again.
“Yeah,” said Penny honestly.
“Yeah?” asked Luella again.
“Yeah!” said Penny firmly, meaning it.
“Well then. You know what you need?” Luella asked, making a fist.
“No,” Penny said warily. “What’s that?”
“You need a noogie!” shouted Luella, teaching her very quickly what that particular word meant.
“Yow!” yelped Penny. Then she laughed and sank to her knees in a fit of giggles.
BOOK THREE
TRANQUIL HILLS
MESSY GROWN-UP STUFF
That evening Penny got home at dusk, ready to burst with stories about Luella and Thrush Junction. When she stepped inside, she found the house full of a wonderful smell. “Mother! That smells good!” she said in a surprised voice, stepping into the kitchen.
But Delia was sitting at the table scribbling some numbers on a pad and punching angrily at a calculator. “Oh, I had nothing to do with it,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “That’s all your father’s handiwork. It turns out he can cook. Who knew?”
Dirk stood at the stove wearing an old apron and stirring a pot of soup. “It’s not so much, really. Nothing fancy. I just threw a bunch of stuff in a pot. It mostly came from Betty’s garden! Our garden. Why, we’re practically living off the fat of the land here.” He took a sip of the soup and added, “It is good, if I do say so myself. Makes me think I might be a pretty good cook if I gave it half a try!”
He ladled out a bowl of the soup for Penny. He set the bowl on a plate and set a slice of thick-cut bread and butter beside it. Then he handed the plate to Penny and waved a spoon in the air with a flourish before slipping it into the soup. “Your dinner, milady!” he said with a bow.
Penny thought it was nice that her father was so proud of his soup. She set down the plate, pulled out a chair, and sat down at the table. As she lifted her first sip of soup to her mouth, Delia looked up distractedly and said, “Penny, why don’t you take that along into the living room and eat it there?”
“Why?” asked Penny. “I haven’t seen you all day. I have things to tell you! I have a friend!”
“Yes, yes, that’s nice,” said Delia, not appearing to have heard Penny at all. “But your father and I have a few more grown-up things to discuss,” she said, tapping the calculator.
Dirk rolled his eyes at Penny behind Delia’s back, but he nodded and whispered to Penny, “Go on ahead, chickabiddy. We’ll hear all about your day later.”
With a frown Penny stood up from the table and lifted her plate carefully, trying not to slosh. Then she changed her mind and set it back down. She looked at her mother, crossed her arms, and said, “No.”
“Pardon me?” said Delia, looking up from her numbers. “No what?”
“No, I won’t go into the living room,” said Penny. “I’m tired of being shut out of things all the time. I’m not leaving the room until you tell me what happened today with those lawyers. I have a right to know.”
“Oh, darling,” said Delia, sighing and pushing back her chair. “I’m sorry. But you really don’t need to bother yourself with thinking about money. It’s not pleasant to talk about.”
“Yeah, Penny,” said Dirk, munching a leftover celery stalk. “Plus, it’s boring too.”
Delia shot him a cross look.
“I don’t care,” said Penny with her chin in the air. “Even if it’s boring, or unpleasant, I still want to know what’s happening. You guys are always closing the door on me.”
Delia shot Dirk a questioning glance, eyebrows raised.
“She’s got a point,” said Dirk.
“You don’t have to tell me everything,” said Penny. “But you could tell me something. I’m not stupid. I can understand.”
“No,” said Dirk, looking at Delia. “She’s not stupid.”
Delia sighed, turned her chair toward Penny, and relented. “Okay, okay. If you really want to know—”
Penny nodded firmly. “I do.”
“The short version,” said Delia, “is that we inherited this house, but with it we inherited a great deal of debt—ridiculous debt—that my aunt amassed caring for a herd of rare, sick llamas, who all died anyway. If you can believe that.” Delia let out a frustrated sigh. “When Betty needed money, she borrowed from the bank, against the house, so now that we own the house, we are supposed to pay that money off. We are supposed to somehow pay them a huge amount every month, starting next month.”
“Oh,” said Penny.
“Which,” said Delia, “we did not budget for when we left The City. And which we do not have, since the real estate agent hasn’t managed to rent out the city house!”
“Oh,” said Penny again.
“The other problem,” added Delia, “is that we also inherited all of Betty’s friends, so we don’t have the option of selling this place, because anyone who might want to buy it would also have to take the tenants rent-free, by the terms of the deed.” Delia sighed again. “Though, if the bank forecloses on us, the terms of the deed will be null and void. So the bank could turn everyone out, or charge whatever they like in rent. That hardly seems fair!”
Penny was trying to follow, but it all sounded very complicated.
“It’s quite a situation,” added Dirk with a sour smile. “Just the sort of thing someone might put in a novel. Ironic, eh?”
“But what will we do?” asked Penny.
Delia shrugged. “Tonight? Eat soup, I guess. Think it over. Crunch some numbers. Hope for a solution. Pinch pennies. Look for a job.”
“Oh,” said Penny one more time, since she didn’t know what else to say. She waited for her parents to tell her that everything would be fine, but all she heard was the buzzing of a fly caught against the window screen.
Delia looked at Penny. “I’m sorry the news isn’t happier, but do you feel better now that you know?” she asked.
Penny thought about the question and shook her head. “Not better, really. But different. I think maybe I’ll go eat in the living room now. Thanks for telling me—I guess.”
“You’re welcome,” said Delia. “I guess. Enjoy your dinner, dear. I still need to do this paperwork, and your dad has offered to tackle the dishes, but we’ll come in to see you later. Maybe we can all play a hand of cards or something.”
Only they didn’t. Dirk and Delia stayed in the kitchen for hours. Eventually Penny crawled into her creaky bed and went to sleep without reading. She had other things to think about tonight: real things, worrisome things.
The next morning Penny woke up and headed into the kitchen as usual. At the sight of Penny’s rumpled hair, Delia smiled apologetically. She made room at the table and shoved a pile of napkins on top of the calculator and the pad full of scribbled numbers. “I’m sorry I was so cranky and busy last night, dear.”
“It’s okay,” said Penny.
“No, it’s not,” said Delia. “But I promise, your father and I are done talking about money. For now, at least. Raspberry jam? Or strawberry? Both look good.”
“Both are good,” said Dirk. “They came from a little stand over at the gas station. Where they also happen to sell antiques and bluegrass records.”
“I don’t know,” said Penny. She still felt a little confused about the money matters from the night before, but since her parents both appeared to be feeling better, Penny decided to cheer up too. She grinned. “I’ll have both!”
“Nice move,” said Dirk, handing her two pieces of toast, thickly spread with jam. Then he poured her a glass of milk.
Delia made more toast while Dirk told Penny about the various fruit trees he’d discovered on his walk in the garden. Finally Delia cleared her throat and patted Dirk’s hand. She said, “That’s fascinating about the orchard, darling, but I think Penny said she’d made a friend. Wouldn’t we rather hear about that?”
“Oh, yes, certainly!” said Dirk, pouring more cream into his coffee. “Do tell, Penny.”
So, at last, with her mouth full of sticky jam and toasty crumbs, Penny had a chance to tell her parents about the day she’d spent with Luella, about the fort and the worms and the cookies. She even explained in detail what a noogie was, and generously offered to show them, though they declined. The whole time, her parents sipped their coffee and listened to her, looking quite happy despite their complicated woes.
“My grampy,” Delia said at last, with a smile that looked a little wistful to Penny, “would be so glad to know you’re here, running around like he did.”
“Hey,” said Dirk, “I bet you make even more friends today! I bet there’s a whole slew of kids around here. You should just go knock on all the doors and say hello, introduce yourself, see who’s around!”
Penny thought briefly about the girl with the shining blond hair and the flowers. She remembered standing at the bottom of the porch steps and blushed faintly at the memory. Then she thought of Luella and shook her head. “I only need one friend,” she said. “One best friend.”
Just then the doorbell rang. Penny jumped up and shouted out, “Hey! I bet that’s her now!”
Delia smiled and reached for the newspaper as Dirk stood and headed for the sink full of soapy dishes.
But the person Penny found at the door did not look like her tangle-haired friend at all. This girl had her wild dark curls neatly pulled into two short pigtails. This girl had rolled the ends of a clean pair of cutoffs so that they looked like smart denim shorts. This girl was wearing a pair of blue sneakers tied with flowered laces.
“You look—different!” Penny couldn’t hide her surprise.
Luella (because, of course, it was Luella, just cleaned up a bit) raised her hands to her little pigtails and gave them a twirl. “Eh, I figured I could try something new,” she said. “Besides, it probably won’t last long.” As she said this, a curl escaped a pigtail and sproinged crazily to the top of her head.
Delia made a place for Luella at the table, and while Penny ate her toast and a yogurt, Luella drank a glass of juice and planned their day. Penny licked jam from her fingers and nodded at Luella’s suggestion of a walk to Main Street for penny candy. The two girls chattered as Delia read the paper and Dirk fussed about at the stove. It was all very pleasant until Luella began to read over Delia’s shoulder.
“What’re you looking for?” she asked, craning her neck to see what it was Delia had been reading. “Employment section, huh? You looking for a job? I heard my mom say the town needs a new garbageman. The last one drank.” She made a tipping motion with her hand as though chugging a beer.
Delia folded the paper, saying, “Sometimes, dear, it’s nice to respect other people’s privacy.”
“Oh,” said Luella with a slight frown. “Sorry. I was only trying to be helpful, but if you’re not interested, suit yourself.” She turned away and took a loud sip of juice.
Penny glanced over at her friend and considered that perhaps Luella was still working on the being honest thing herself.
Dirk rinsed a plate and gave a chuckle.
“What’s so funny, Daddy?” asked Penny, looking up.
“Nothing, really,” said Dirk. “I was just trying to imagine your mother as a garbagelady.”
Delia turned around and looked at him intently. “What’s so funny about that?”
“Oh, well,” said Dirk, registering surprise at her reaction. “I guess I just think of you as someone who likes pretty things. Nice smells and fresh flowers and good art. I just don’t think of you as a garbage kind of girl.”
Delia said nothing in response, but Penny noticed that the firm gaze she’d had at the law office had returned to her eyes.
“What kind of job do you want?” asked Luella. “What do you do?”
Dirk answered for her. “Delia here is good at all kinds of things, but when I met her, she was singing in a swanky nightclub in a long red gown. She was something else!” He whistled appreciatively.
“That’s true,” added Delia quietly. “And thank you, dear. But before I moved to The City and met you, I did all sorts of jobs. Some things even you don’t know about, Dirk.”
“Is that so?” asked Dirk. He looked surprised.
Delia nodded.
“Huh!” said Dirk. “Well, were you ever a garbagelady?”
“No,” replied Delia thoughtfully. “No, I never was that. But I waited tables and gave piano lessons and worked at a pet store, and one summer I was a nanny to a family with seven kids. I’ve done all sorts of things.”
Penny, who didn’t even know her mom played piano, was curious to hear more, but she was still in her pajamas, so she excused herself to get dressed.
When she got back to the kitchen, Dirk stood up. “Anyway, day’s a-wasting. You girls want a ride anywhere?” he asked. “I need to run back to town. I want to see if I can find some saffron for this marinade recipe I found in Betty’s old cookbook. It sounds interesting.” He was holding his finger to a stained page in a dusty notebook.
“Nah,” said Luella. “Walking is half the fun. Right, Penny?”
“Yeth,” said Penny as she stuffed in her last mouthful of toast. As she swallowed, she couldn’t help wondering how much her father really wanted to get back to his writing.
“Suit yourselves!” said Dirk, reaching for his keys.
Delia spread out the newspaper again and began to read.
“Are you ready?” Penny asked Luella.
“Always,” said Luella.
BETTER SORRY THAN SAFE
Penny and Luella had just reached the porch when a terrible bellow began to sound. Penny gasped, but Luella didn’t bat an eye. In fact, she didn’t even seem to have noticed the noise. She merely continued picking orange juice pulp from her teeth.
“Luella!” cried Penny. “Listen! Should we get my dad?”
“No,” said Luella, rolling her eyes. “That’s just Mr. Weatherall, and it’s almost certainly no big deal. But I guess we can go check it out. That way you can meet Duncan!” She took off in the direction of the little red house made of doors.
“Who’s Mr. Weatherall?” asked Penny, running to keep up. “And who’s Duncan?”
“You’ll see,” Luella called over her shoulder. “Come on!”
The screams continued as they ran. Just as they reached the door of the red house, everything went quiet.
“Oh!” said Penny. “I guess that means they’re okay.”
Luella made a face. “No. That just means Benadryl.”
“What?” asked Penny. “Huh?”
“It’s really nothing serious,” said Luella, knocking on the door. “This happens about once a week. Duncan sneaks around and eats something that’s on his list of allergy foods. When Mr. Weatherall catches him, he yells his face off. Then he stops yelling and gives him some Benadryl, just in case. It’s kind of weird.”
