Ms. Beauchamp smiled warmly at her from across the cheap, pressed wood desk. The multiple rings glittered on her chubby fingers while her beaded bangles clattered as she moved her hands to fold contently on her desk.
Penny stared at the lime green cellphone. She turned it over and over in her hands, feeling the number buttons and sliding it open to feel the keyboard.
“It’s really late to be a Christmas present,” Ms. Beauchamp said. “But, look, the keyboard makes texting your friends easier. Isn’t that a neat feature?” She settled more authoritatively in her chair. “Now, with that out of the way, why don’t you tell me about your Christmas vacation?” She glanced at her notebook. “And about this… gnome?”
“This is really mine,” Penny asked, holding up the phone. She inspected it more closely on Ms. Beauchamp’s nod. “They wouldn’t let me go to church.”
“I’ve spoken to them about that. As faithful as they are, I think they didn’t quite understand that a little girl would have such strong faith without an adult leading her on. They can’t promise every Sunday, mind you, not with their own church activities, but they’ll try.”
Penny did not believe that for a second, but gave a little nod. She began exploring the phone, finding it had Ms. Beauchamp listed as a contact along with the Lamberts’ landline. She could feel her case worker staring at her, waiting for more conversation. The gnome had been mentioned and brushed off during their brief meeting shortly before Christmas.
“You do have quite the fantastical imagination,” Ms. Beauchamp said after the pause grew too long. She consulted her notes. “There are records of it popping up at every placing.”
“Is it bad,” Penny asked. “I get bored. I’m trying to entertain myself.”
Ms. Beauchamp smiled again, shaking her head. She reached over and gripped Penny’s hands.
“Imagination is perfectly fine and normal,” she said. “Perhaps… tone it down around your fosters? Adults sometimes just get worried for no good reason.” She shuffled her papers and straightened. “Anything else for this meeting?”
“Since I have a phone of my own now… can I have the number for St. Brigid’s,” Penny asked hesitantly.
The case worker’s bubbly smile instantly faded. She fumbled her notes and cleared her throat.
“Your ride should be here,” she said dismissively.
She was sure to tuck the phone into her pocket before meeting Mr. Lambert out in the hall. They rode back in silence with a few disgruntled looks from him. She eagerly rushed from the car the moment it was parked, running up the stairs to her room.
“Don’t you slam that door,” Mrs. Lambert screamed up the stairs. In a calmer voice to Mr. Lambert, “Did the case worker say anything?”
“I didn’t see her,” he admitted. “I expect we’ll get a call tonight for a debriefing.”
“She better not write off her delusions as imagination. We’re entitled to a bigger stipend if she’s special needs.”
Penny shut the door and flopped onto her bed. She studied her new phone, flipping the keyboard open and shut. She would need to get Brooke’s number. It would be fun texting between classes or when they were trapped with their foster families.
A small camera icon drew her attention. She tapped it and the little screen showed her room. She grinned broadly, clamoured to the window, and pointed the phone at the neighbor’s garden.
Brooke was sitting in a snowbank near what usually was hydrangeas. She shoved her phone back in her pocket and hurried down the stairs, slowing at the annoyed hisses of the Lamberts coming from the living room.
“--add another kid,” Mr. Lambert said. “Or, trade her in, get one that’s really special needs. Maybe a deaf one. That’d be a nice change.”
“The Wilcox had a deaf one for a minute,” Mrs. Lambert mused. “It was a good chuck more, but the thing screamed too much. I don’t know if my nerves can handle that.”
“Just hope she’s reclassified then,” Mr. Lambert said.
“Better that then three of them,” Mrs. Lambert said. “They’re far too broken. I worry enough with that Aaliyah and our Emily getting along as well as they do.”
“Concerning,” Mr. Lambert agreed. “Too bad too. She’s such a cash cow. That drug-addled mother of hers will never get custody.”
The phone rang in the kitchen, breaking the conversation and the spell it had on Penny. She slipped on her rubber boots, and headed outside. She ran to the hedge that separated her yard from Brooke’s.
“Hey, Brooke!” She waved her phone. “Give me your number!”
The excitement over the new phone faded much sooner than Penny was expecting. Brooke put in her number, flipped between keyboard and no keyboard a few times, and then went back to scratching in the snowbank. Her bare fingers were raw and red from the cold.
“You okay,” Penny asked, plopping next to her. “You've been quiet since we got off break.”
“Holidays are hard,” Brooke mumbled.
It was much harder going through Christmas without the familiarity of St. Brigid's. She missed Aisling from sun up to sun down, and having the Lamberts prancing around in fake cheer for the neighbors while being snide to her and Aaliyah inside the house made the pain deeper.
A stifled sob startled her from her sorrowful thoughts. Brooke was wiping her eyes. Penny felt her own sting.
“Did you know, the world is supposed to end this year,” Brooke said.
“What?”
“Mayan calendar,” Brooke said. “It says the world is ending this year. …I don't think I'd care if it did.”
Penny couldn't fathom the world ending. It seemed dumb the world would end just when she hit double digits.
She took pictures of the frozen grasses and their footprints in the snow until she was too cold to sit any longer. She bid Brooke goodbye, and crept back into the house. Her body tensed the moment she walked through the door. The irritated sounds of her foster parents were coming from the living room and kitchen as they yelled conversation at each other.
It sounded as if they had the debriefing call with Ms. Beauchamp, and it sounded like she was not going to classify her as delusional. She hurried up to her room, stopping when she found Aaliyah leaning in her doorway.
“They know you got a phone,” she said. “Just one piece of advice; they aren’t allowed to take it from you.” Her dark eyes studied Penny. “Does it have a camera?”
“Yeah,” Penny said, taking a tiny step towards Aaliyah. “I was just at Brooke’s taking pictures of the garden. It looks cool all—.”
“You are such a baby,” Aaliyah said with an exaggerated eyeroll. “Too bad you ain’t for adoption. You’d’ve been snatched up with the other babies already.”
She winced as Aaliyah shut her door with a firm snap. She looked at her phone, puzzled why taking pictures of a frozen garden was seen as childish, and headed into her room.
---
The halls were covered in pink, red, and white crepe paper chains and hearts. Penny held her phone to a cluster of ugly cupids, clicking a picture, and hurrying to catch up with Brooke.
Brooke had her bangs clipped out of her face with a small, plastic heart barrette. She was reading her English assignment with giddiness.
“Everyone is acting weird,” Penny said, her head swiveling to watch two girls a grade ahead giggle uncontrollably as a boy took books from the locker next to them without so much as a glance.
“Spring is coming,” Brooke said wisely. “Valentine's Day gets everyone excited. Oh, Penny, listen to this final note, ‘shows great promise and improves with every class’.”
“Hard to improve on an A average,” Penny said.
They stopped as a young man Penny quickly recognized as Mr. McBride rounded the corner. He pulled back to stop from colliding with them.
“Oh, Brooke, I almost knocked you and your friend right over,” he said, beaming at her. He held out his hand to Penny. “Hi. You’re not one of mine. Mr. McBride. Or,” he looked at Brooke, “Tony.”
Brooke bubbled up, holding her English assignment to her chest.
Penny curtly shook Mr. McBride’s hand. “Penny. Nice to meet you, Mr. McBride,” she said formally. She pulled her hand away and looked at Brooke. “Ready to head home?”
“I was hoping Brooke would help me set up for tomorrow,” Mr. McBride said.
“What’s there to set up,” Penny asked. “Don’t you teach English?” She recoiled at Brooke’s glare. “Want extra help?”
“It’s just putting papers on desks,” Mr. McBride said flippantly. “You go on home.”
Reluctantly, she headed out of the school alone. She sent Brooke a message saying they should hang out before dinner as she walked, more to have something to do than to wallow over the unease in her stomach. Mr. McBride seemed nice. Brooke liked him; she was happy around him. Penny couldn’t put her finger on why it bothered her seeing them together.
“Maybe I’m jealous,” she muttered to herself.
Brooke was her friend. She should be happy that she had an adult in her corner after having no one for so long. Her foster family–the Wilcox–were just as bad as the Lamberts, but with no other children in the home to divert their attention.
“Oh! That’s right!”
Penny turned back and ran for the school. She found herself in the nearly defunct computer lab moments later, typing away in the search bar for St. Brigid’s Home. She was directed to a sterile looking page with smiling kids she had never seen before, case workers in business casual that she never saw, and a director she didn’t know. There were no signs of Sister Mary Agnes, Mother Mary Clare, or any of the other nuns.
She put the number into her phone as she heard people outside in the hall, shut down the computer–unsure if she was allowed on unsupervised–and left.
Brooke was outside standing by Mr. McBride’s car. She was shyly waving goodbye, her face flushed and elated as a small box of chalky candy hearts was pressed to her chest. His eyes caught Penny’s as he pulled away and she found her insides squirming. She held back rather than catch up with Brooke, and watched her skip away.
A small, blue-white ball of light bobbed in her peripherals. She headed for the woods, stalking after the haunt with her phone at the ready. She switched her gaze from the ball of light to her phone screen as she tripped over logs and fought through branches, irritation seeping in at her inability to get it perfectly on her screen.
There was a squelch and a lurch down as Penny reached a clearing. She found her feet stuck in muck, and wiggling sunk her to her knees.
“Perfect,” she grumbled. She found the will o’ the wisp hovering in small circles just out of reach. She raised her phone, snapped a picture, and gave a snort. “It’s funny to you, isn’t it?”
She fell backwards, pulled herself back, and got her feet out with a wet suction sound. She flipped onto her stomach and dug her hand into each of the holes as they rapidly shrunk, managing to pull her shoes free.
The walk home grew increasingly uncomfortable as the February air froze the wet muck to her legs and arms. Her feet were frozen and ached, having decided to carry her mud-filled shoes. She snuck inside and inched her way up to the bathroom across from her bedroom, cringing at every small noise she made.
She started washing with a loofah, keeping all her clothes on and trying not to get soaked by the shower. She would need to sneak her muddy clothes into the dirty laundry and simply pray that Mrs. Lambert didn’t notice them.
“Penny,” Aaliyah said, banging open the door. Her eyes flashed at the mud coating the bathroom. “Oooh, you’re in trouble.”
“Please, don’t—.”
“Mrs. Lambert! Mrs. Lambert, you should see what Penny did!”
Penny stumbled from the shower-bath, slipping and falling in a heap on her mucky shoes. She scrambled to the door, slamming it in Aaliyah’s face just as heavy steps sounded in the hall. The door was flung into her, cracking across her forehead.
“What is all this,” Mrs. Lambert shrieked.
She felt herself dragged from the bathroom; she flailed and freed herself, and ran on all fours into her room. She threw the door shut and felt the doorknob instinctually for the lock that should have been there while a small memory floated in the back of her mind of the Lamberts lecturing her shortly after she arrived on how they didn’t allow foster kids the ability to lock the doors.
Mrs. Lambert burst through the door. She screamed and ranted as she dragged Penny back to the bathroom. She ordered her to clean and threw down a musty smelling mop.
Aaliyah gave her a gloating smirk before stalking off to her room.
Penny began wiping the floor with shaking hands. Her ears strained for the slightest sounds; Emily returned home and gave her an exasperated glance on her way to her room, Mr. Lambert returned and angry hisses between him and Mrs. Lambert quickly ensued. She had the floor finished before her nerves settled.
She crept back to her room. She moved her desk chair in front of the door. It wouldn’t stop the Lamberts from coming in, but it would be more of a hassle than just walking through the door. She shed her wet, muddy clothes, and changed into Goodwill sweats. Her phone was clutched in her hands.
She listened hard for a second to make sure all was relatively still outside, then hit the contact number for St. Brigid’s.
“Home of Hope,” a woman answered.
“Oh. …Sorry. I thought this was St. Brigid’s Home….”
“It was. Can I help you with anything, young lady?”
“...Why is the name different,” Penny asked uneasily.
“Homes change names from time to time. It’s nothing to worry about,” the woman said. “Are you looking for help? Can I have your name?”
“I’m looking for Sister Mary Agnes. Can–May I speak with her?” There was a pause. “Aisling Fox? Her non-nun name is Aisling Fox.” Her heart was starting to beat rapidly at the increasing tenseness coming from the other end. “Is Mother Mary Clare there?”
“No…. May I ask again who is calling?”
“P-Penny. My name is Penny Fox.” She gave a hearty sniff. “Penrose. They might have me under Penrose Fox. I-I used to live there. Aisling is my aunt.”
“Oh… I see,” the voice said sympathetically. “I’m afraid I don’t have any contact information for anyone from before the changes. You see, Penny, St. Brigid’s Home was found to be in violation. Too much influence from outside of the state.”
Penny was having trouble catching her breath; it coming in short, rapid bursts. “W-when?”
“Last summer. I believe near the end of July. Start of August. Sometime around then.”
Roughly a week after she was sent to the Lamberts. It made sense why none of her letters went answered. It made sense why contact had completely stopped. Aisling was not her legal guardian in any respect. There was no obligation for anyone to let her know where she’d been sent. She may not have even been allowed back to St. Brigid’s, going from her mother’s funeral arrangements right into being cast aside.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you your aunt’s contact, but is there anything else you want?”
“N-no,” Penny choked out. “I-I-I just wanted t-to know why she stopped writing. Bye.”
She held the phone feeling numb. Aisling was gone with no way to find her. No help was coming in her distress with the Lamberts.
She slowly focused from nothing to her muddy clothes. She opened her phone, and a small, sad smile formed as she stared at the picture she had taken of the ball of light.
------------------------------
I think Penny's been with the Lamberts for around 5 months in the first part and 6 months in the second. I cannot remember the name of Penny's cellphone. I think it was an early Samsung with one of those edgy teen focused names that they used to do when they had stripped down versions of cellphones for kids. The lime green was the most common one that popped up when I typed the name in to an image search. (LG Rumor, I found it in my search history.) Man, they used to just make things with personally as far back at 2012. This phone could take photos but not videos, and I believe there was no internet access (and data plans, calls, minutes used to be such a big thing).
Appalacia/West Virginia has a whole lore with will o' the wisps too, but they're more commonly/locally called haunts/haints. The blue-white ones are not supposed to be malevolent. They apparently come in green, yellowish like a candle, and red too.
A Tier half-transformed as a dracleon back in 2005.
Coronation, 2009
I have made at least 2 attempts at drawing the Alan Parsons Project song "Snake Eyes"... this is one from 2011...
...And this one from 2013. I like aspects of both; maybe the layout of this one but mixed with the realism of the other? I need to study my cobra anatomy if I'm going to try again, hah.
Twila Sketch, unknown
And here's just an Ace with epic scarf. I just really like scarves. This was dated 2014!
Train in the Distance, 2014?
Ava Harley, 2016
