DISCLAIMER: I do not own Peanuts and most of the characters in this story. Charles M. Schulz created them. This disclaimer applies to the rest of the fanfiction.
PRESENTING...
"Letters to the Red-Haired",
a Peanuts fanfiction
The Red-Haired Finale
It was a warm breezy day in Minnesota, and Snoopy was laughing, and Charlie Brown was sighing.
He had just become a teenager now - a far cry from the young boy he used to be.
Today, he was laughing at a letter he received in the mail. The usual noises of the neighborhood hummed around him as Charlie Brown walked to the mailbox.
"More love letters?" Charlie Brown asked, rolling his eyes.
Snoopy shook his head, and showed him the letter. Charlie raised his eyebrows as he read it.
"Your brothers, Olaf and Andy, are visiting soon... in their plane!"
Charlie handed the letter back to him. "Your brothers like to travel a lot, don't they?" But Snoopy was ignoring him already, reading his letter.
Charlie Brown rolled his eyes, and muttered, "I wish I could travel... travel far away... no-one here appreciates me."
He opened up the mailbox, and found a few letters waiting for him. He took them into his house, past Sally watching TV, ("Hello, Sally-" "I don't need your help anymore!" She had yelled - he sighed. He was just trying to greet her, he didn't help her homework anymore...), quickly stopping by the kitchen to make some food and realising that she and Snoopy had eaten most of it. He couldn't ask his parents if to buy more groceries - they had disappeared, as usual.
"The adults always go do their own thing around here..." He muttered. He loves his family, but he felt he didn't see his dad unless he went to the barber shop. Even the adults of the kids around the neighborhood were always disappearing, doing their own thing. There was nothing more to it - and that was okay.
He had decided to not eat - he had been doing that more and more recently. Up the stairs, and into his room.
His desk had pencils, books, and a binder. He had a small pull-open drawer ontop of his desk as well, which continued precious belongings. He opened up a few of his letters - more "funny" hate mail.
You failed again? You failure face! You blockhead!
Insults flashed through his mind. He didn't remember what he had done for those insults - but the kids around him would insult him nevertheless. Linus always said to ignore it, or to overcome it, or something or other... but Charlie had heard it all a million tmes before.
It seemed to be a trend to hate on the teenaged Charlie Brown - moving from verbal insults to attacking him at home. He rolled his eyes, and threw them out. The last one had handwriting he recognised - a letter from his pencil-pal, Morag. A young lady from Scotland.
"Maybe I could travel to Scotland..." He smiled at his own joke, as he opened the letter and read it.
And he read it again. And again. And one more time.
He rested into his chair. The letter seemed to imply that she needed a roommate in Scotland... but she was obviously joking. So, he wouldn't go. What, was he going to get up and just travel to Scotland? Leave his sister behind? And his dog?
With people sending him hatemail, he felt a lot worse than usual. Maybe he could go talk to Linus, or Peppermint Patty, or even Lucy... but he won't. He hadn't talked to any of them in a while.
He placed Morag's letter in his drawer with special belongings - there were two piles in it. One had a pile of opened letters, all from Morag. The other pile was full of unopened letters - all of the envelopes coloured lightly red. All of them unopened.
He sighed. He did this a lot. It was trademark, to him - the sighing. He laid on his bed. He didn't want to sleep - dreams hadn't been nice recently.
He wondered... could he travel? Could he just leave this place? No-one here even liked him. He didn't believe that. He never would. People kept making it worse for him... he never bothered telling them to stop. It was just his way in this place.
But maybe... he didn't have to be in this place.
He was a lot older than he used to be. He was already very independent - his parents weren't around much. If he left... well. He couldn't leave a note, they would try to follow. But then who could he ask to help him leave?
He didn't realise it, but while he was thinking, Charlie Brown had stood up, sorting his belongings. Ones he wanted to take with him, ones he didn't...
......
Andy and Olaf were hardly seen without the other. They had finally gotten their plane license, and had finished celebrating with their brother Snoopy, and his little bird friend Woodstock. They were all in his doghouse (which was bigger on the inside) - Snoopy and Woodstock had both fallen asleep after too many drinks.
They decided to both get some fresh air, and walked outside together. The light inside the round headed kid's house was still on. They talked about where they would go next, and discussed sending a letter to their brother Spike. But, really, they were more keen to travel the world. They had traveled all over America and Canada, after all. Where would they go next? They needed to decide somewhere... and preferably a place to stay while they were there!
Suddenly, the door opened. Someone had been watching them. The kid, Snoopy's owner, was coming up to talk to them...? No. He had something in his hands...
A letter for them to read.
......
In the middle of the night, Charlie Brown had packed a suitcase. He hadn't went to his father, the barber, in a while: so his hair was starting to grow out.
The two dogs were confused to why this all had to be secret, but were willing to help out the Round-Headed Kid if it meant he'd be able to help them find a place to stay. They had already wished Snoopy goodnight...
Together, they met, and walked to their plane...
......
"Don't worry, Ma! We'll be fine, we'll be fine."
In Scotland, on the second floor of their housing complex, Morag had sat at her desk, writing another letter. Her mother needed reassurance they would find someone to pay the rent. Someone would appear!
"You'll see - someone will knock right onto our door!" Morag was saying.
Her mother sighed, and attended to the cooking. A thumping came from outside - someone was knocking onto their door!
"Don't worry, Ma! I'll get it, I'll get it..." She said, leaving her letters alone. She was writing a letter to her friend in America - Charlie Brown. He hadn't responded in a while... and Morag was a bit concerned.
I hope he's doing okay... She opened the door to find a teenage boy with springy hair, and a yellow shirt. He seemed messy - as if he had fallen into dirt.
"Morag?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Yes...?"
"You said you needed a room." He said.
She was confused. "I said that? Not my mum?"
The boy took a deep breath, and spoke clear:
"Hello, my name is Charlie... Charlie Brown..."
......
"So the two dogs you 'ad drove you in a plane, flew you all the way to Scotland, and just as they were touching down accidentally ejected you from their seat?"
Charlie winced. It was a funny image - him being thrown from the plane with his seat having a built in parachute.
"I don't know... I'm lucky I landed in the middle of the street at night. It took a while to walk here."
Morag smiled. "Why didn't you use the bus?"
He scratched his head. "Because... I didn't think of that. I'll use that next time.
"You better." Morag said. "It's nice to meet you in person."
Charlie frowned. "It is?"
Morag tilted her head. "Yes, of course it is. It's sudden, but it is. Now, listen, my parents will be leaving for a trip soon. I think you can stay for as long as their gone, if you can pay the rent.
Let's see if we can use the money you got on you, but you'll need a job too, soon..."
They continued to talk about Charlie's living arrangements. After that was done, he stayed the night there - wondering where the two dogs had gone.
They'll probably move onto another place. He thought, as he was trying to sleep. They like to travel. They got me to where I wanted to be. They probably don't want me there.
Probably for the best. Less people from my past around here.
How would they find me, anyway?
He sighed.
I can't believe I made it all the way to Scotland.
But here I am...
Here I am.
Charlie would talk about his time in Minnesota to Morag. She kept pressing to hear more, and eventually he told her about how excluded he felt. She was understanding.
When he talked about the Little Red-Haired Girl, Charlie hesitated. He said that she promised to be his pen-pal. He said that she never wrote back - that she never sent any letters to him.
But he knew better.
"Just the usual bad luck of good ol' Charlie Brown."
With a single shared look, Heather already knew the answer to her next question, but she had to be sure.
"Did you get my letters...?" She whispered.
He nodded.
She turned to her house, red in the face. It was getting dark. One of the lights was on upstairs. She turned back to him - tears on her face.
"Did you not response because you thought you... thought you weren't worth it?"
He shook his head. The two dogs behind them had backed off in distance - they were at the curb.
It was just them two together.
"You... you really disappointed me...!" She tried to raise her voice, but she didn't enjoy doing that. She didn't like being upset. She didn't want to be upset. "I had no friends for a long time...
Can you just tell me why you didn't respond? Why?"
He closed his eyes. "Everyone around me, even my friends, end up not liking me. I didn't want the same to happen with you.
Before I left for Scotland, everyone had been mean to me, more and more. I wanted to get away from that. Even if I told them to stop, they wouldn't stop right away..."
"You could still tell them to stop."
He frowned. "It would take a lot of time."
"So you ran away instead?"
Heather had moved up a few stairs to her house door. Charlie looked up at her. "It's okay to run away from a bad situation."
She stared at him. "Yes. It is. But..."
She faltered. She wanted to tell him that this was running away taken too far, literally and figuratively, but how was she to know that? That wasn't her place to say. However...
"You still could've responded to me. I meant what I said. I would've been your friend."
He shook his head. "I believe you... but I think I would've changed you. It's not that I didn't have faith in you. I didn't have faith in me to get close to you. It wouldn't have... worked. We couldn't have stayed... friends..." He looked away, realising what he implied.
Heather's heart was beating. The wind had picked up - was it about to storm? The clouds were gray...
"No? So we haven't been friends? On the bus? Working at the fish and chips store?" She asked.
He said nothing. He sounded miserable.
Heather looked at him. Charlie Brown. Someone from her old home, long ago...
But he was so different now. But he didn't believe it.
And she had tried to convince him a long time ago. And he still wasn't being convinced.
What more could she do?
She turned to open the door, and go inside, and leave him alone, and for her to cry...
...
But then he said,
"I'm sorry."
Heather looked over her shoulder. He was still there.
"I'm sorry."
He said it again. He was breathing heavily, but he was firm. He stood strong. He meant what he said.
"I'm sorry."
The breeze became light. She turned to him. He opened his mouth - then closed it again.
"I find it hard to believe in myself. Sometimes, I think that this failure face is all I am... because I do fail a lot. And I mess up. I haven't messed up much since being here, but..."
He shook his head, stopping himself from going on. "Point is...
You're my friend. I should've mailed you back. I'm sorry I didn't. The fact that I met you here... I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't check, either. I didn't even remember your name.
But I know. You're friends with me... and Morag... and people from home are too... I just don't want to admit it because of how they treat me as well. It's an odd situation... I had to get away from it... and now you're here. I didn't want to see anyone from my past... but that's what you need."
She blinked. "Huh?"
"You wanted a friend from home. I'm sorry that I couldn't give that to you..." He smiled. "But I can be that person now... and maybe I can believe that I'm better at talking to people than I realise. Maybe I'm not that bad."
Heather looked at him. She walked down the steps. She stared directly into his eyes - he was unwavering.
She huffed. "Okay, Charlie Brown. I accept your apology. But I have one condition."
He blinked. "What?"
She smiled. "Come inside and meet my grandmother. Your two dogs can come, too..."
She quickly whipped around, and went inside, leaving the door open for him. And then she turned back once - "Well?"
He smiled, and gestured for the two dogs. Together, they went inside the house, meeting her grandmother. They laughed, and played games, and ate dinner before Charlie and the two dogs had to leave back for Morag's at nighttime.
Heather smiled, tired, as they left. She waved from the door - and they were gone.
Her grandmother asked her a question from inside. Heather thought for a moment, and then answered her;
"No, he's not a stranger. He's an old friend of mine. Charlie Brown."
One short epilogue to go!