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"Letters to the Red-Haired", a Peanuts fanfiction

The Pencil-Pal Chapter

"Get o'ever here now!" Morag the pen(cil)-pal fumed as she stormed into the kitchen. Charlie sighed, and sat down, ready to see what he did wrong.

As he walked in, Morag shoved a jar of butter into his hands. "I know you 'ad to go to 'ork in tha morning, but couldn't you have lef more than just a wee bit of butter in the tub? And some bread in the loaf"

"I... I'm sorry? I don't eat breakfast."

"Ay-..." She faltered. "What?"

"I don't really... eat? Breakfast? That much?"

Morag's angry expression wavered. "So you din't have breakfast this morning?"

"I don't think I've had breakfast, or any butter, or bread, actually, since I arrived to Scotland."

She frowned, and looked at the empty tub.

Charlie scratched the back of his neck. "Look, maybe I did it without realising it? I'm sorry..."

Morag rolled her eyes, and placed the jar back down. "Ay, Charlie, no point taking the blame if you didn't do it. That'll just make us all feel worse." She smiled. "And we don't want that for you, do we?"

He looked away. She sighed. "Listen, I'll make us some food, and list'n, I expect ya to come down and give it a go!" He sat at the kitchen table.

"I will... work was a bit exhausting."

She took some raw chicken out of the fridge. "Was the red-haired girl 'orking on yer shift wit you?"

He put his hands in his head. "I thought I said we wouldn't talk about her..."

Morag spread her hands. "Yit 'ere we are!"

VROOM! They both jumped! A motorbike had zoomed past, fast, and a kerfuffle of letters flew in through the mail slot in the door.

Charlie frowned. "Why is that postman so, so fast?"

"I 'unno! He's actually new to me too!" Morag laughed.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! Started working about a week or two you arrived to Scotland. About a month ago, I s'pose? Anyway, help me pick up my letters, or at least chop some food while I do that..."

Charlie went to cut the vegetables as she picked up the mail. He smirked. "From all your thirty pen pals, I assume?"

"Oh, shush, you. They're all very nice."

Charlie prepared dinner now, as Morag read her letters, sometimes laughing or sometimes looking melancholy. They continued to converse, and eventually dinner was made, and eaten, and they were sitting on the couch, watching TV before bed. The newest episode of Doctor Who was playing.

"I like that they made him Scottish. Pretty thematic for where I am in life right now." Charlie spoke to himself.

The companion on screen was making a phone call to someone. She was tearing up. Morag looked at Charlie, and before she could say anything, Charlie knew what she was about to ask, and spoke instead.

"She's probably the same girl. I don't know why she's here, and what cosmic coincidence led the Little Red-Haired Girl to be on the same bus as me. But it really was probably her."

"How are you not sure, Charlie?"

"Well. I haven't seen her in years. And I never asked for her name, back then. The girl I'm working with, her name is Heather. So it could be the same person. Could also not be."

Silence aired between them for a bit. "Charlie, she's one of the reasons why you left, yes?" Asked Morag.

"Well... no. Sorta. I mean, I hadn't seen her for years, and I only left a month ago, but..."

"But?"

"But she did promise to write me a letter. And be a pen-pal, actually."

"Aike me!"

Charlie smiled. "Like you. It was the last time I saw her. And she never wrote, obviously... just when I thought things were looking up. But, no, things are always the same for wishy-washy Charlie Brown..."

He continued to watch the show while Morag thought about what he said. "That's not the main reason you ran away, though?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what?"

The episode had ended. Charlie Brown turned to look at her. "I just didn't want to stay there. Anyway. It's getting late."

Morag wasn't entirely satisfied with the answer, but she relented. "Well, pretty convenient that you ran toward Scotland, of all playces."

He smiled again as he walked to his bedroom. "You did say in that letter from a few months ago you needed someone to pay the rent, right?"

"You mean, my parents do."

"Yes. Well. Very nice that they were okay with a teenager paying rent."

"Lucky you found a job in time... but where will you go after the two months are up?"

Charlie didn't say anything, but looked away.

"Charlie? They're going to get someone else once they come back."

Charlie shook his head. "It probably won't be easy. I'll have to figure something else out, though. Anyway. I'm off to bed."

"Anyway, anyway..." Morag mumbled, shaking her head. "Alright. If you say so. Goodnight, Charlie."

"Goodnight, pencil-pal..." Charlie smiled.

Charlie closed the door to his room, and sighed. He lay on his bed, thinking of his working days ahead, and then drifted off to sleep, thinking of his past, and the reason why he ran away in the first place...

...

"Oh, Charlie Brown! You wishy-washy failure of a face!" Laughed Violet, and Patty.

"You blockhead! Just wait until I get my hands on you!" Fumed Lucy.

Shermy was shaking his head. "I can't believe you messed it up for all of us."

Frieda was unsurprised. "You're Charlie Brown, after all... at least you didn't touch my naturally beautiful curls!"

Peppermint Patty was annoyed. Marcie was quiet. Sally didn't even show up...

And Linus had said, what had he said?

Charlie Brown couldn't remember... he couldn't even remembered what he did wrong... he just remembered everyone hating him... everyone hating me... everyone hating Charlie Brown... they all hate me... why do they all hate me? Why can't they be nicer to me?

No. Because I'm nothing here. I can't be anyone I want here. No-one likes me here!

Can I do anything else? Can I? No... maybe I just... I need to leave... I need to get out of here!

And so I ran. I ran, far, far away, Charlie Brown ran far, far, away... and soon he was flying, in the air, the wind had taken me, and then...! I was falling! Falling, falling, falling, and then...!

Charlie woke up with a start. His heart was beating. He looked out the window. It was late. The memory of his nightmare was already being lost to time. It was a disconcerting dream, with details muddled together, and points of view not making sense. He sat down in silence for a bit, trying to recover.

Morag was probably already in school. And Charlie, looking at the time, had to get to work anyway.

So he put on his shoes, and with a deep breath, left the house.

...

Work continued for the rest of the month. Charlie had gotten pretty good at talking to customers, and he often complimented Heather's memory.

"Does your journalist brain somehow mean you're really good at remembering where all the ingredients are stored?" They joked together, and sometimes Charlie thought he saw a faint blush on her, but she was so naturally rosy-cheeked that he couldn't tell. He didn't want to think about that too much.

The store was closed on Saturday, so they were making an extra huge cleaning effort. Charlie was more tired than usual. Bad dreams hadn't really stopped for him, and if there was days with no dreams, then it was because he couldn't bring himself to sleep that much. Heather looked at him concerned, but as usual, didn't press him on his tired state.

Instead, they talked about writing, and baseball as well, which was something Charlie liked to talk about. He couldn't really talk to Morag about American baseball, but Heather was happy to listen. They did this through the month, and did so again today, as they cleaned benches, floors, the fryer, the vats...

"And make sure you clean every last bit!" Said their manager, holding their cat, coming into the room. She was holding a sign, which said "NO DOGS ALLOWED" on it. "Watch the shop, I'm putting this up outside."

Charlie sighed as the manager walked out. "What does she have against dogs?" He said, frowning.

Heather laughed. "Her cat hates them. She mentioned it to me the other day."

"How did that topic come up?" Asked Charlie, perplexed.

Heather had almost finished mopping the floor, and wasn't looking at him, but she was smiling. "You can ask her questions nicely, you know. That's what I did. I know you keep saying talking to people's not your strong suit, but I keep saying you need to give yourself more credit!"

Charlie scrunched his lips up. "I suppose..." And he continued cleaning.

In the past, he had been pretty smitten by talking to pretty girls like Heather. But he had tried to avoid focusing on any sort of feelings when talking to people. He was more focused on trying to make people's days happy. For others, it just meant they were changing their priorities, and not focusing on romance so much. Charlie felt this wasn't the same for him - he just didn't want to think about it.

Together, they finished cleaning, said goodbye to the manager, and Charlie walked Heather to the bus stop again.

"You're just a bit more silent today, Charles." Said Heather, after a bit of silence. "Everything alright?"

He was still silent. Heather leaned forward and looked up at him.

"Charles?"

"Oh!" Charlie blushed slightly. She's closer than usual. No, I'm just more aware than usual... she's close a normal amount. "Yes, hello. I'm alright. Lots of thinking, of course!"

She shook her head, smiling. "Are you sure?" They had arrived at her bus stop.

"Yes, I'm, I'm fine... but thank you for -"

VWOOOOM! "EEP!" "Heather!"

Letters and envelopes flew by everywhere - into the bins, onto the nearby bus that was just arriving. The motorbike zooming past had scared Heather, causing her to trip... but Charlie had caught her as the mailman's motorbike sped fast.

I caught her... Charlie was shocked. How did I do that?!

He had caught her by her back. They looked into each other's eyes. There was no sound for a moment. His heart was beating. SHe had almost fallen, but Charlie had caught her.

"Thank you, Charles..." She whispered.

Charlie opened his mouth to respond, but a letter flew into his face. He wiped it off, he stood up, and yelled to the mailman: "CAN YOU SLOW DOWN! AND WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING NEXT TIME!"

The motorbike was so far away that Charlie felt he was going to be ignored, but surprisingly, the motorbike suddenly stopped. And then, shockingly, the motorbike turned around, and started heading towards them...

Dear Charlie Brown,

I wanted to thank you once again for returning my belongings. As I've said, you are very kind.

I said for us to keep in touch - so please, write back soon! You haven't responded to my previous letters.

We've fully moved to Canada now. It's nice here, but I miss being back home. I'll be starting high school soon. My parents are already talking about moving again - to Scotland, of all places...

I hope you are doing fine. Please respond soon!

From your pen-pal,

Heather

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope you enjoyed The Pencil-Pal Chapter! Four chapters left. Next up: The Mailman Chapter! Enjoy! Oh, and again, leave a review if you haven't! Good, bad, and anything you found interesting - I'd appreciate it!