Chapter Text
Colin 10 / Penelope 8
Colin is sitting at the kitchen table, pencil gripped in his hand, tongue stuck between his teeth in pretend concentration. Under the table, he anxiously kicks his legs, toes skimming the cold tiles beneath because he’s still not tall enough to properly reach the floor below.
Across from him, his mum is feeding baby Gregory in his high chair, cooing as she encourages him through every bite. Even though her attention seems firmly focused on the baby, Colin knows she has one eye fixed on him, keeping him placed at the table, even as his attention wanders and he itches to slide off the chair and move around.
He’s so far behind at school, unable to keep up with any of the schoolwork continuously piling up, no matter how hard he tries. He tries, he really does, and he doesn’t feel dumb, not really, but nothing he does seems to work. And now he has tutors and his parents having whispered conversations where he hears his name. So he feels so guilty all the time, because they have all the girls and Gregory and the new baby coming to be worried about, he shouldn’t be adding to their worries.
Anthony doesn’t add to their worries, he’s a proper grown up, always helping out. That’s what Colin should be doing, instead of some stupid kid who can’t even finish a math worksheet.
Instead, he’s stuck at the table, not allowed to go and play until his worksheet is finished. He’s been struggling through quietly, not wanting to add to the burden by asking for help, but he’s only halfway through, and his attention is well and truly elsewhere, specifically upstairs where he can hear the others moving around and laughing.
Anthony and Benedict have disappeared with their friends already, so where Colin truly wants to be now is upstairs with the girls, even though Daphne and especially Eloise would whinge and try to shoo him away. Truthfully, even if his brothers were home, Colin would likely still want to be upstairs with the girls because Penelope was there, and Colin always liked to spend time with Penelope.
She never tried to get rid of him like Eloise and Daphne, or just tolerate him with quiet detachment like Fran. No, Penelope always came and sat with him, and talked with him, always asked him interesting questions that made him think. She would have even probably sat downstairs and helped him with his homework, even though she was younger. She wasn’t like him, she was smart, and quick, and his worksheet would probably be a breeze to her.
Penelope was his best friend, despite the fact that she was also Eloise’s best friend and their parents were well and truly over them fighting over the fact. “Penelope is allowed to have two best friends,” his dad had declared the last time he broke up Eloise and Colin. “Isn’t that right, Penelope?”
She had looked so surprised at that, like it had never even occurred to her that she had permission to have two friends, and she had blushed profusely, because she was very shy, but she had nodded in agreement, and his dad had declared the argument well and truly done for good.
Colin had been fine to accept that, and share Penelope’s friendship, but the way Eloise had immediately steered her upstairs and away from Colin at the table this morning when she arrived made him think his dad was going to have to break up another fight eventually.
He is frowning down at the next problem on his worksheet, trying to force himself to concentrate and do it, when his dad walks in, followed by the delicious scent of the stew he was cooking for lunch. “Hey spud,” he says, dropping a kiss on Colin’s head, as he picked up the worksheet and took his pencil. Colin waits a moment for him to comment on the lack of progress, but Edmund just places it all on the buffet unit behind them and starts pulling out plates. “Lunch is ready, so we’ll take a break and get to work after, okay?”
“Okay,” Colin agrees, as he finally lets himself stand up, shaking out the tension from his body, before reaching for the cutlery his dad is now holding, wanting to help set the table. Edmund holds them just out of his reach though, and gestures upstairs.
“I can do this, you can go tell your sisters to come down and that lunch is ready.”
“Okay!” Colin says again, happier, the permission to finally get upstairs granted. He’s racing towards the stairs, rejoicing in just being able to move about, when something in his brain clicks and he stops dead in his tracks and looks back over at his parents, who are both watching him with mild amusement. “What about Penelope?”
“What about Penelope?” Edmund repeats, as he’s laying out forks.
“Is Penelope also staying for lunch?” Normally, she is there for hours and hours, and stays for multiple meals, his parents always glad to have her around. Occasionally though, her mother comes over, snippy and scowling, and she has to leave early, under a cloud of doom, whilst Eloise and Colin stand at the door and watch them walk back across the road. He’s suddenly gripped by the fear this is one of those times, and he’s missed his chance to see her because he’s been stuck at the stupid table all morning.
“Of course Penelope is staying for lunch,” Violet chimes in now, a hint of laughter in her tone. “Did you think we would starve her?”
Colin frowns, feeling like he’s working through another math problem. “It’s just that you said to go and get my sisters.”
Now, he sees his parents exchange glances. “Penelope is included in that,” Edmund reassures him. “She is practically one of us after all.”
He clenches his fists as he feels his frustration rise in him, and he tamps it down. He wishes Penelope were here now with him, explaining things, because she always got what he meant, straight away. Or Benedict, alternatively, who took a little longer but was quicker than the rest of their family at figuring out what he was trying to say. “Penelope,” he says slowly, as he tries to work out his words before he says them. “Is not my sister. And you said sisters.”
He kinda thinks he’s been a little rude, actually, and waits for his parents to say so, but instead his mother looks like she’s trying to hide a smile, and his father gives a slight chuckle. “Right, I get you, spud.” Edmund crosses the room now towards him and ruffles his curls, as Colin ducks away, scowling and wishing again he was taller, because their father never does that to Anthony and Benedict. “Please go and fetch your sisters and Penelope for lunch.”
Satisfied he’s been understood, Colin turns to leave the room, practically jumping up the first few steps in excitement. “Did the other two start that young?” he hears his dad’s voice say behind him.
“I told you,” his mother is saying in response, her laughter bleeding through. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“Yeah yeah. Going to need to keep an eye on that. And you, little one, are never growing up.” The baby squeals in laughter, but by this stage Colin is upstairs properly and running towards the playroom, and completely unconcerned with whatever his parents are talking about below.