The Unnamed Story of Penelope Oswald

 

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Introduction

My Dear Readers,

Hello. I have a habit of starting books and not finishing them but I am hoping that will change. I hope you stick with me on this journey even I am uncertain about. As this is my first book, I beg of you to leave me any advice. You can reach me here. 

Hate this book? Let me know why. Love it? Give me a reason. 

Penelope is a character that had been stuck in my brain for ages and I am sure from some peoples perspectives, she is me. Anyways. I hope you enjoy her story as much as I hope to enjoy writing it.

Love Always,

E.Ruby

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Mama Ivy and the Church Ladies

Andersonville, Georgia. Population 7,693    

July 1971

    There are two types of people in the world. Ones who take the bad stuff first and then the good stuff, and vice versa. Penelope decided she was one of the ones who took the bad stuff first. At least, at that particular moment it seemed that way. She had opened a  package of Opal Fruits and inside was a lemon and a strawberry.

    This brought along great conflict. Should she eat the lemon first and then savor the strawberry? Or eat the strawberry and be left with the inferior taste of lemon.  She decided to eat the lemon first to get it over with. She was a take the bad first type of person.

    Penelope must have looked ridiculous to anyone who had passed her sitting on her front porch looking very seriously down at two pieces of candy. She was known for being odd. As she finished the candy, she picked at the chipping white paint on the creaky wooden boards of her porch. Her legs hung over the side, her feet just barley grazing the tall grass.

    "It wouldn't be chipping if you didn't pick at it," Her mother, a potbellied southern women, would say to her. Known throughout their small Georgia town as Mama Ivy, Penelope's mother was well liked.   The church ladies came around to their white picket-fenced house with blue shutters every Saturday at noon. Mama Ivy would lead them out into the back yard where the grass was always freshly cut and offer them some of her homemade pink lemonade. Then the ladies would sit around a small table the rest of the afternoon in their straw hats and wide skirts gossiping about the latest town scandal.  

    "Did you hear," Penelope overheard one of the ladies- Miss Kennedy, she believed- one afternoon. "That the Beaumont cousins are going all the way to Arkansas for college next fall?" A collective gasp was heard and Miss Kennedy nodded knowingly. "So sad for their poor parents," Penelope heard her mumble. She would have stayed to hear more but Mama Ivy shooed her off.

    Although she would never admit it to anyone, Penelope wished she could go far away like the Beaumont boys. Since that afternoon, she had always found a reason to go out and sit with the ladies. She learned a lot, especially from Miss Kennedy.

    Miss Kennedy was a petite lady from Atlanta, and always wore long pastel skirts with big sashes. She was young, only 21, and still single. Supposedly Brett Douglass, the mechanic who was 24, flirted with her often. Penelope understood why. With her honey colored curls and freckled face, Miss Kennedy was an unconventional kind of beautiful. She did love her some gossip, though. Her ruby lips always turned into a smirk as she said the latest news in a hushed voice as if someone was listening, as Penelope was. 

    "Miss Kennedy has a rather large mouth," she commented to her mother one day. "Penelope Grace Oswald!" Mama Ivy chastised. "Miss Kennedy is a wonderful, cultured women. I hope you are like her when you are 21. You don't have long now." With a small smile to herself, she walked into the garden leaving Penelope. "I still have 5 years, sheesh," she mumbled before walking into her room.

    "Your mother is right," Penelope's best friend, Darla agreed. Darla was the daughter of the preacher in their town and therefore the most well behaved and pristine child. Penelope couldn't count on both hands the number of times she had dragged Darla into trouble against her will.

    Darla was very into fashion. Several times, she had tried to sit Penelope down and turn her messy brown frizz into nice curls, or line her eyes in black liner. Several times she had failed. "I'm not made to be beautiful," Penelope argued as Darla stormed out of the house one day; Penelope had not sat still long enough for Darla to paint her nails.

    Mama Ivy must have heard her because that  night as she was getting into her night gown Mama came in. "Darlin'," her mother started in her slow southern drawl. "You are so beautiful. You just haven't let out that beauty enough to see it yourself."

    Penelope struggled not to let out a snicker. "Yes, Mama," she replied obediently. This earned her a peck of endearment on her forehead and an "I love you, Baby," before she was left to herself for the night. 

    The secret was, Penelope knew she wasn't beautiful. Not like Darla who's hazel eyes sparkled in church. She wasn't an unconventional beauty like Miss Kennedy. She was frizzy haired, brown eyed, Penelope with a scar across her eyebrow from the time she fell out of a tree and Darla had to run for help. To Penelope it didn't matter that she wasn't beautiful because she could climb a fence in the time it took you to blow a bubble gum bubble. Her knees were so many shades of red a painter would be in awe. Penelope was her own kind of beautiful.

    ****

    "Did you hear," began Miss Kennedy on one particularly sunny Saturday, "that the Benson's are selling their home?" Mrs. Baglin, a women who thought extremely highly of herself, tutted her tongue before turning to Penelope. "Penny dear," she cooed. Penelope cringed. "Would you mind fetching my straw hat from inside? My porcelain skin can't handle this sun." She waved her hand in front of her flushed face as if to make a point. 

    "Yes'm," Penelope nodded, although she wanted to hear what was so intriguing about the Benson's selling their house. She hurried inside to the kitchen where a stack of purses, hats, and coats were piled on her kitchen table. After rummaging through the pile she found a wide brimmed straw hat with a peacock feather sticking out the side. She hurried back outside to see all the ladies- there were about nine of them- hunched over the small circle table exchanging frantic whispers.

    "What will my husband say?" Mrs. Garland asked Miss Kennedy.

    "That's only a block away from me! I don't think Benny and Jennifer will be walking to school anymore," Mrs. Estrange added on.

    "What happened?" Penelope inquired. All the ladies immediately turned to face her. Penelope handed the hat to Mrs. Baglin who looked even more flushed then before.  Not even a thank you was mumbled as she handed over the hat. Finally Mrs. Garland cleared her throat.

        "It's nothing a little lady like yourself need wonder about," Miss Kennedy finally said softly, her cheeks a rosy pink. 

    "Go inside, Darlin'," Mama Ivy said softly. Her voice was sympathetic but firm. "This is talk for the grown ladies." Penelope was about to object but Mrs. Moore, Darla's mother and the Preacher's wife, beat her to it.

    "Penelope dear, Darla just got some new magazines. Her aunt brought them from Atlanta. Why don't you walk over to our house and look at them with her?" She gave Penelope a soft smile leaving her no choice to obey. "Yes'm," she nodded. "Thank you."

    The chatter didn't pick up again until they were sure the 16 year old was gone.

    ****

    "But Darla," Penelope mused several minutes later. Darla lived but six doors down and the walk was a short one. Darla's house also had a white picket fence, but it's door was red and there were no blue shutters.

    Darla looked up from where she was sitting on the edge of her bed with a magazine in her lap briefly enough to see Penelope standing looking out the window in the general direction of her house. "Hmm?" Darla let out a noise enough to satisfy Penelope into thinking she was paying attention.

    "Darla, don't you want to know what they were talking about?" Penelope wondered aloud. "Yeah," Darla mumbled vaguely, flipping the page. "They always let me sit out there and listen!" Darla looked up at that.

    "Penny..." Penelope cringed. "Sorry, Penelope. Why would you want to sit out there anyways? It's the middle of July! It is so so hot out, I don't know how my mother stands it every Saturday." Penelope shrugged. "Mrs. Garland makes brownies," she tried meekly. 

    Darla flipped her magazine closed. "Let's go to the mall. I need new earrings. Apparently hoops are going to be big." Penelope made a face. The mall was a whole two towns over. "No way! Hoops?" Darla nodded knowingly. "Vogue said it, not me. Now let's go." She walked out her bedroom door, grabbing a straw hat and sandals on her way out. Penelope followed close behind. 

    "Darla, if you had a lemon and a strawberry Opal Fruit which would you eat first?" Penelope asked on the way to the mall. Darla scoffed, "I'd trade in the lemon for another strawberry, of course," she answered as if it was obvious. Penelope didn't talk much for the rest of the ride.

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A Boy Moves to Andersonville

    It had taken Darla three hours to decide not on a pair of hoop earrings, but on a new pair on brown shoes with a small square heel. Although she tried to convince Penelope to buy something too; she didn't. Once again she was mostly silent on the ride back to Andersonville. She doubted Darla noticed.

    When she finally got home, dusk was setting and mosquitoes were swarming around her. She walked up the creaky wooden steps of her porch and opened her door at the same time someone opened it from the other side. Penelope stepped back, expecting Mama Ivy to come out wondering where she had been. Instead it was Miss Kennedy.

    "Oh! Penny!" Penelope cringed. "You startled me!" Miss Kennedy had two rows of the straightest whitest teeth Penelope had ever seen.  "Sorry, Miss Kennedy," Penelope mumbled, stepping aside to let Miss Kennedy past. Miss Kennedy, however, took this as an open invitation to sit down on the old porch swing with floral cushions that the cat liked to claw. Miss Kennedy patted the seat next to her, motioning over Penelope. Though she tried to object, Miss Kennedy didn't give up. 

    "Penelope, dear! Please come chat with me!" Penelope thought that it was odd she was being made to stay and chat in her own house. Finally she made her was across the porch, choosing instead to lean against the railing across from Miss Kennedy. 

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