Chapter Text
Zipping up her warm yellow coat and pulling a matching knit hat over her unruly red ringlets, Penelope Featherington was sure that it was going to be a wonderful day. It had to be—it was the first snow of the season, a winter wonderland replacing the street she had moved to just one week earlier. Her mother was still unpacking boxes on her own, her father having left for a business trip the day after they arrived, and her sisters were sleeping late. Though it wasn’t ideal for her mother to feel so bothered by her very existence, the eight-year-old had been more than happy to be told to get herself dressed and go play outside by herself for the morning.
In the snow—she was sure there could be nothing better.
As soon as she stepped out on the porch and shut her front door behind her, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before skipping out into the fresh snow and toward the street, where children who must be her new neighbors ran around laughing and playing. She had not yet met any of them and wasn’t sure she should interrupt their games, so she happily kept to herself, wandering about looking at the landscape of her new home under the blanket of winter. Moving to a new place in the middle of the year wasn’t easy, and she was sure that starting school when the holiday break ended wouldn’t be, either, but she had to admit that her new neighborhood was beautiful, couldn’t help but hope for things to be better here.
Searching around, Penelope saw a stick that must have fallen along with the snow from a nearby tree. She decided this was as good a time as any to claim this as her home, so she slowly began to form the letters of her name through the snow. After perfecting the first P, she stepped back to admire her work, then crouched down to work on the rest of the letters, not paying a bit of attention to her surroundings until a gasp got her attention, her eyes shooting up and widening at the boy barreling right toward her on a sled. She knew that she should get out of the way, but she was frozen in place—he was going too fast and she could not make her feet move.
“Look out!” the little boy screamed before jumping and throwing himself from the sled, flying directly into the post of her mailbox and yelping loudly as he grabbed his arm while the now-empty sled knocked Penelope down for just a moment, leaving her dazed but unharmed.
“No no no no,” Penelope whispered to herself as she ran as fast as she could through the deep snow over to him, dropping to her knees as tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry, I–”
“Well that wasn’t very well done of me, was it?” The boy’s voice was soft as his deep denim eyes sparkled at her through his own unshed tears.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “That was all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. You were just playing,” he responded with a shrug, reassuring her as he sniffled and held his arm tight. “And I wasn’t really paying very much attention until the last minute. Are you okay? I’m sorry my sled hit you.”
He was sorry? What on earth did he have to be sorry about, the boy who was injured and showing her an unreasonable amount of kindness anyway?
He had been hurt and wanted to know if she was alright.
She eyed him curiously, the little boy who was so unlike anyone she had ever met before.
“Of course. Are you okay?” she asked, looking him over as though she could discern his injuries by sight alone, which may have felt sillier had he not been doing the very same to her.
“My arm hurts a lot,” he finally admitted, doing his best to smile at her as she crouched beside him in the snow.
“And your chin is bleeding,” Penelope whispered as he grimaced, a few fresh tears streaming down his cheeks at the very mention of the blood.
“Oh no!” A little girl came running up beside him, staring down at him with a furrowed brow. “What happened to you?”
“Daph, get Mom. Or Ben. NOT Anthony,” the boy said before his little sister ran off and Penelope stared at him quietly until his gaze met hers, offering her an explanation. “My oldest brother will think I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
He winced, holding his arm gingerly, and Penelope came closer.
“I want to help,” she thought aloud, her eyes still overflowing. “Tell me how to help.”
“Can you–” he stopped midsentence, blush covering his cheeks at his unspoken request. Penelope could not imagine any reason that he should be embarrassed, not when this was her fault to begin with, not when he was hurt, not when she truly meant that she wanted to help him.
“What do you need?” she asked, reaching for him as he bit his lip, another few tears escaping his brave, beautiful eyes.
“Can you just hug me?” he asked softly as she kept her eyes on him, surprised that that’s what he wanted, that he trusted her to comfort him in a way nobody had ever done for her, nor had it ever been asked of her. “Only if you want to, not if you don’t–”
Penelope moved forward and wrapped her little arms around him as far as they would go, being extra cautious with his injured arm tucked between them and letting him cry in earnest as he buried his face in her shoulder after trying far too hard to be brave.
“I do want to,” she said firmly, bringing her hand to the back of his head on instinct to comfort and protect him.
“I haven’t seen you before,” he whispered after a moment, his breathing finally slowing.
“I just moved in this week, right there,” she said, pointing to her house as he looked up to see.
“Oh, you’re one of the new kids!” he exclaimed excitedly, wiping his eyes and sniffling as she smiled.
“Penelope,” she offered, wanting him to know her—maybe she had just met him, but she already knew she wanted to be his friend. “And my sisters are Prudence and Philippa. They’re older.”
“Penelope,” he said, trying it out on his tongue before grinning so widely she thought he might have forgotten for a moment that he was hurt. “I like that name.”
“Thanks,” she said, looking at him expectantly as he blinked back at her. Raising her eyebrows at him, he furrowed his own and then smiled as he finally realized what she wanted.
“Oh—Colin. Mine’s Colin,” he answered as his cheeks turned even more pink, pulling away just enough to place his uninjured hand in hers to shake it, which she did with a giggle. “I’m ten.”
“I’m eight,” Penelope shared.
“Colin!” another boy called out, immediately causing Colin to cry again.
“That’s my brother,” he said. “The wrong one.”
Penelope held him tighter and pressed her forehead to his temple.
“Is he mean?” she asked hesitantly—she knew what it was like to have family be unkind, but couldn’t bear to think of anyone treating Colin that way.
“No, he just doesn’t understand me,” he said as he tried to regulate his breaths. Penelope wasn’t sure how anyone could not understand this sweet, sensitive boy. He seemed perfectly easy to understand to her.
“Colin, what happened?” The older boy—Anthony, she now remembered Colin having called him—hit the ground, his eyes wide with concern as he took in the sight of his brother in her arms.
“It’s my fault,” Penelope told her new friend’s older brother, cradling the back of Colin’s head in her little hand and moving her fingers beneath his knit hat to soothe his curls, needing him to know she had him in the way she had always wished someone had her—the way she was pretty sure he would, from how he had gotten hurt for her today. “I was playing and didn’t see him coming. Colin jumped out of his sled to protect me. He kept me safe.”
She felt Colin’s other arm tighten around her, giving her one squeeze before staying there softly. It felt like a thank you, but one that she didn’t need. She had simply been telling the truth—he had protected her, and she knew then and there that she would always protect him, too.
The older boy's eyes met hers as he cocked his head curiously before nodding and returning his gaze to his little brother.
“Colin, can you move your arm?” Anthony asked, leaving Penelope no choice but to release the back of Colin’s head and pull back from him slowly, stopping only when he gripped her hand with his free one to keep her close by.
“It hurts a lot,” he said as he raised his eyes to meet his brother’s gaze, trying to fight back his tears.
“Are your legs okay?” Anthony asked, his face softening slightly as Colin nodded. “We need to go home and get you to the hospital.”
Colin let out a sob as Penelope let a tear fall down her own cheek for him.
“I can walk with you to your house,” she said quietly, wanting to offer what she could and not knowing what else to do. “If you want.”
He nodded quickly and his brother looked curiously between them before seemingly deciding it was alright for her to join them on the short walk across the road.
“Okay that works, just walk to the house,” Anthony instructed, his eyes meeting each of theirs as they nodded in agreement. “I’m going to run and tell mom, and we’ll get you into the car.”
“I have seven brothers and sisters,” Colin explained as Penelope helped him to his feet and held his hand tight, her other hand helping to cradle his wrist against his chest.
“Really?” she asked in surprise—never having met a family so large—and he chuckled and nodded.
“Yeah. Anthony’s the oldest; he’s eighteen. I have another older brother, and a younger one. And four little sisters. The youngest is just a baby,” he said as his eyes twinkled. He must love them very much, she thought as he continued. “So it’s eight of us, plus my mom.”
Penelope nodded slowly, taking in everything he was telling her and trying to make sure she would remember later.
“They’d all really like you, if you wanted to come over and play sometime. Not today, probably,” Colin looked down at his arm, then up at her with a sheepish half-smile.
“I would love to,” she said as they arrived in front of his house, his mother rushing out to him from inside and not stopping until she reached them.
“Oh dearest,” she cried out, kissing him on the forehead and holding a piece of cotton gauze to his chin that Anthony must have told her was needed. “Let’s get you in the car, we’re going right now. Your brothers will watch the little ones.”
“Okay, Mom,” he said quietly, but didn’t move to let go of Penelope’s hand, nor did she drop his. She wouldn’t until he did, until she knew he was okay.
Colin’s mother’s gaze dropped to their joined hands, noticing Penelope in earnest for the first time, having been too consumed with worry for her little boy to take in the full scene earlier.
“And who is this?” she asked with a smile.
“Penelope,” the little girl answered, hoping she was making a good first impression despite the circumstances.
“She’s Colin’s friend,” Anthony supplied, and Colin’s cheeks and ears turned pink as she squeezed his hand again, then noticed unshed tears in his mother’s eyes as she nodded.
“We just moved in across the street,” Penelope offered before knowing she needed to be entirely honest. “But it’s my fault Colin crashed.”
“It is not,” he countered immediately, not willing to let her blame herself for even a minute though she knew she was at fault.
“Well it doesn’t much matter whose fault it was, I’m sure that it was an accident,” his mother said, her eyes kind and her voice understanding. “But we do need to get Colin to the hospital about this arm, Penelope. Perhaps he could see you later.”
Colin walked toward his mother’s car, pulling Penelope with him, though she would not have let go of him regardless. When they reached the car, her little hand opened the door for him.
“Thanks for taking care of me, Pen,” he whispered as he leaned in so she could hug him one more time, letting her rub the back of his head again as she tried to pour her care into him before she had to say goodbye, overwhelmed by the feeling of how quickly the world could change—grateful for this day, for him, for her new friendship.
“Any time, Colin.”