fandomhigh | Library; Monday [ 01/05 ].

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Library; Monday [ 01/05 ].

On the list of things one would expect to find when returning to work in the library, there were books. Maybe paper. The computer, to be sure.

Bananas were not exactly on that list, but, cup of sugar with coffee and cream in it in hand, bannans were exactly what Cal found on the front desk when he came to open that morning.

Well, at least it was very reassuring to know that Doctor Jones cared about their potassium intake for the new semester.

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Cal's flaw must be emotional, something no one else had to see. Hers was physical and emotional and mental.

"I'm not brave. I'm not even close to brave. Want to know something, Cal? I used to sit in my bedroom at home and accept suitors inside; gentlemen who wished to date me, possibly marry me. I'm an heiress you see, which made the mystery of my person meaningless, for I sat behind a two way mirror watching them, listening to them speak to me while they had nothing but the sound of my voice in which to judge the girl that has been kept a secret inside the Wilhern mansion the whole of her life. They were nice, polite, kind. But as soon as I opened the connecting door and stepped out so they could see me, see who they had been trying to impress, they ran. They ran in horror and in fear and didn't look back."

She paused, took a small, calming breath. "So tell me how I am brave? Because I ran away from that? Because I never knew what it was like to be outdoors and to walk in the park? My mother kept everything from me yet she is the only one who loves me, so I have to trust her. If I was brave, Cal, I wouldn't care. I scare people." A beat. "Do you?"

"You're brave," Cal said, after taking a good long moment to digest that, "because you went through all that and you're still standing here without that scarf over your face. Because you had to deal with complete fuckers who were dicks, but you're still here, at a boarding school, with people. Of course your mother was the only person who was able to love you because she was the only person who she ever allowed you to get close to."

He let out a long breath. "And, yes. I do. I...did. And people who weren't scared of it treated me like a fucking fetish freak of nature in a glorified side-show. I'm sure you've found out the same thing here that I am, and that people here don't seem to care like people out there do. But if there's people here that accept it, there's got to be people out there who do, too, they're just not as easy to find."

She was confused, as much as anyone who didn't know about him, could be. She didn't see a freak of nature. She saw a nice looking guy whom her roommate was dating. What was she missing? She was afraid to ask, afraid to push; she'd carried on far too much already. But last night... it was awful and that emotional wave took her on into today.

Reaching up, she rubbed at her eyes, squeezed them tightly shut to will away certain pictures her words brought forth. And then she looked at him. "You're trying to be encouraging, and I appreciate it. You're kind, Cal, and I can see what draws Claire to you. Eventually, I have to go home. People who are not from a place such as this where acceptance is the norm, will always have something to say about a person like me. It's why I have to break the curse."

Man, Claire had not been kidding about how Penelope was at the very least determined.

"Then why," yes, he was going to go there; he couldn't help it, something about all of that just set him off, "don't you just get some plastic fucking surgery instead of marrying some cad who's probably only in it for your family's fucking money?"

"I can't," she said quietly. "It was the first thing my parents did when I was born. Take me to a plastic surgeon to see if it could be fixed. It would seem the curse took care of that and rerouted the carotid artery, running it through my nose. Plastic surgery is impossible."

That...was a pretty fucking thorough curse. Cal stared at Penelope for a moment.

"And you'd still rather just marry some guy instead of trying to find someone who'll just love you for who you are?"

Penelope gave him a small, sad smile. "I thought I had. It would seem I just scared him too. You're thinking too hard, Cal. And I imagine on Claire's behalf, yes?"

That was a tough question to answer.

"Partly," he said, lifting his chin as if in defiance.

As much as she'd like to think he was going to say something else, she wasn't disappointed because she knew. And now she felt ridiculous for having opened up.

"It's okay. All I wanted was a book on witches."

"Good luck," Cal muttered. "Probably making a biiiig mistake."

And he'd leave it that, unless Penelope wanted to take it elsewhere, but probably not with a response like that. At least he tried. He just hoped this didn't get around to Claire that he'd been a jerk, but, whatever. She wanted to marry some dope and be unhappy but with a perfect nose, let her.

He was just bitter because everything Penelope was doing went against everything he was trying to stand for.

"Maybe," she replied, just barely peeking at him because he looked at her like he hated her. He didn't even know her. "But you can't know that, can you?"

"No," Cal admitted, "but you can't, either."

"Exactly," she said.

Cal let out a heavy sigh. "Big mistake," he muttered again, and then just fiddled with a banana on the desk.

"Stop saying that," she told him, glancing at the banana. "If I could have it any other way," she shrugged. "I just don't know what else to do. And mother says it will be fine, that I'll see."

"Yeah," Cal muttered, "You'll see. And I guess you were right..."

"About?"

"What I said about you being brave."

Yeah, it was low. But that was how Cal fought. Dirty, claws flying, spitting in faces.

She sucked in a tiny bit of air, blinking, knowing she heard him right but wishing she hadn't.

It was true, even if it was a jerky thing for him to say.

"I hope you'll know now what to tell Claire when she asks, or if I come up in conversation."

Cal shrugged. "I'll tell her I tried. She won't be surprised I didn't get anywhere." Considering she'd told him just as much.

"I know you can't see it, Penelope, but I do have a curse, too, and I could have fixed it. But I knew I would be unhappier like that than I would be if I just did what I wanted about it. I know what I'm talking about. Ask Claire, if you want. She knows. Take it or leave it."

Edited 2009-01-06 03:54 (UTC)

So her roommate didn't think very highly of her either. What a wonderful thing to know.

"I've listened to you, I will take what you've said and think about it; I never said I wouldn't. And I believe if you wanted to tell me about your curse, you would have. I won't ask Claire; that doesn't seem right."

She grabbed her books. "I'm very sorry if you felt you had to speak to me out of concern or care for her. I'm not a stupid person; I understand my situation far better than anyone else ever could. I appreciate your advice, whatever your intentions were." And then she turned to go.

Cal watched Penelope go, feeling a lot less of his earlier anger and just...a really heavy sort of sadness. It weighted down his shoulders and he leaned on the desk, cradling his chin in hand and thinking that he'd probably have been better off keeping his stupid mouth shut.

Which is why the next thing to hit the desk was his head.

Several times.

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