Penny curled her injured finger self-consciously, glancing toward the clinic. "No need—it's not serious. It'll heal on its own."
She offered Ron a small smile. "Thank you… for the book from Kalos."
The cut wasn't deep, but positioned right on the knuckle, making it prone to reopening. A fresh bead of blood welled.
Ron said nothing. He simply guided her inside.
"Really, it's fine," Penny murmured as Maru knelt to clean the wound.
She was used to these small injuries. Since childhood, she'd shouldered household duties alone—Pam was never patient enough to teach her, leaving Penny to fumble through chores. Cuts went untreated. Washing dishes with bleeding fingers was routine.
"Still necessary," Maru said gently. Her thumb brushed a faint scar on Penny's ring finger. "This'll help it heal cleanly. Avoid water."
"Okay."
Penny's throat tightened. Overkill, she thought—but warmth bloomed beneath the sting. "Thank you," she whispered.
Maru stood, turning to Ron. "Oh—Ron? I've meant to mention this. The clinic offers free annual check-ups for all townsfolk. Everyone has a scheduled day. Would you like to pick one?"
Only Linus and the Wizard remained unregistered—Linus rejecting modern medicine entirely, the Wizard simply beyond its reach.
Ron nodded, scanned the wall calendar, and pointed.
"Set," Maru said, pulling a folder. She jotted his details—then paused. "Wait—what's your birthday?"
Penny lifted her head.
"Winter 15," Ron said.
Maru noted it. As Penny rose to leave, Ron held the door open. "Remember to change the bandage. Keep it dry. Three days, and it'll be fine."
"I will."
Alone in the RV, Penny opened the book.
She loved nearly all books. As a child, with Pam distant and insecurity heavy, the library had been her sanctuary. She'd reread every volume until the spines cracked—but those pages offered an escape. A world that asked nothing of her. A quiet harbor.
Things are better now.
With Pam now sober, hope had taken root. And lately… she'd dared to imagine more.
What if… the person I like… liked me back?
The thought summoned the old shadow. You're ordinary. Not brave like Abigail. Not warm like Emily. Not radiant like Haley. Not wise like Maru. Not graceful like Leah.
'Maybe… once the house is built…' she thought weakly.
But insecurity wasn't built in a day. It lived in memories: huddling in bed during storms, scrubbing floors while Pam ranted drunkenly, believing kindness was conditional. Even now, healing, the reflex remained—to shrink, to hide.
The door creaked open.
"I'm back!" Pam hung her coat, bustling over. "Made two desert runs today—dropped Emily off too. What happened to your—?" She froze, staring at Penny's bandaged finger.
"Just a slip. Ron insisted on taking me to the clinic." Penny said with forced lightness. "It's nothing. Don't worry."
"Hmm." Pam turned to the sink. "Rest up. I'll handle chores." As she washed a bowl, she glanced back. "You've hurt yourself before… doing housework?"
Penny blinked. "What?"
"Your hands." Pam's voice softened. "I never noticed… but these scars—they're everywhere." Her eyes caught the old mark on Penny's knuckle, pale as a moonbeam. "Sorry," she whispered. "Did it hurt? Washing with cuts like that…"
A memory surfaced: "Why's this taking so long?"
Pam set the bowl down. Didn't turn around.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Penny." Her shoulders trembled. "I don't know what to say. All those years… what I did…"
Clarity had come slowly—like waking from a fever dream. Sobriety revealed the wreckage. And the ache of what couldn't be undone.
Then, softly: "Do you… like Ron?"
"Huh?"
"If I'd been kinder," Pam murmured, voice cracking. "If I'd given you what you needed… praised you… tried to be a mother…"
Penny wouldn't have had to watch other girls step forward while she stayed silent.
Penny's world had been built by books—gentle, compassionate, patient. She saw beauty in everyone.
Everyone except herself.
------------------------------------------------------
40+ Chapters Ahead: patreon.com/EphemeralShadow
There's something for free patrons too! Free Patrons receive 1 chapter in advance :)