Gamer1234556
Sodbuster
Chapter 25.5 – Penny
The bench outside the Saloon was colder than it looked.I sat there longer than I meant to, hands folded in my lap, staring at the worn boards beneath my shoes.
The town felt different at night—quieter, but not calmer. Like it was holding its breath.
Eric’s warning still lingered in the back of my mind.
I’d just be worried.
I told myself I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
Not when I reached the cart.
Not when I spoke.
When I stepped onto the grass.
As if he had been watching the road the entire time.
“Well now,” Marcello said warmly, folding his hands together. “If it isn’t Pelican Town’s brightest mind.”
I slowed, stopping a few feet from the cart.
“You know who I am?”
Marcello chuckled softly.
“My dear, in a town this small, curiosity travels faster than gossip.”
His eyes flicked toward the museum hill for the briefest moment.
“I don’t want flattery,” I said quietly. “I want answers.”
His smile didn’t fade—but something behind it sharpened.
“Dangerous things, those,” he said. “They tend to cost more.”
I met his eyes.
“I don’t have much money.”
“Oh, I know,” he replied lightly. “You’d be surprised how much I know.”
That should’ve been my warning.
Instead, I asked the question anyway.
“The Dwarves,” I said. “The early settlements. Before the mines collapsed. Before the records stop.”
Marcello tilted his head, studying me like a puzzle he already knew how to solve.
“Gunther wouldn’t give you what you’re looking for,” he said.
“And that is why I am here.” I shot back.
For a moment he simply watched me, fingers tapping lightly against the wooden edge of the cart.
Then he crouched and reached beneath it.
When he stood again, he was holding a thin book wrapped in faded cloth.
The fabric was worn soft with age, its edges fraying like something that had been handled many times… and hidden just as often.
He set it carefully on the cart between us.
The cover beneath the cloth was plain.
No title. No author.
Just age.
“This,” Marcello said, resting a hand lightly on the bundle, “isn’t official history.”
His eyes met mine again.
“It was never meant to be.”
My throat tightened.
“Why show it to me?”
Marcello’s smile returned, softer now.
“Because you’re not asking for power,” he said. “You’re asking for truth.”
He pushed the book toward me.
I hesitated before taking it.
The cloth felt dry and brittle beneath my fingers. When I lifted it, the weight surprised me—far heavier than something so thin should have been.
For a moment I simply held it there.
Like the past itself had been placed in my hands.
“How much?” I asked.
Marcello waved a hand dismissively.
“A thousand gold.”
My heart skipped.
“That’s—”
“Cheap,” he finished. “Consider it a personal interest.”
I stared down at the book.
Gunther’s face flashed through my mind—his careful kindness, his quiet refusals. The way he always stood between the past and anyone who wanted to dig too deep.
This was exactly the kind of thing he would have hidden.
Exactly the kind of thing he would have warned me about.
My fingers tightened around the cloth.
“I’ll take it,” I said.
Marcello smiled.
Not triumphant.
Not greedy.
Just… satisfied.
He always did.
“You’re distracted,” he said gently the next morning, setting down a box of donated artifacts. “Did something happen?”
I swallowed. “I’ve been… reading.”
That was all it took.
His eyes fell to the book on the table.
The color drained from his face.
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
I didn’t answer fast enough.
His voice hardened. “Penny.”
“People deserve to know,” I said, the words tumbling out faster than I could stop them. “The records stop abruptly. Entire civilizations don’t just vanish. Someone decided what was allowed to survive.”
Gunther closed his eyes.
“You went to Marcello.”
“So, you do know what he has,” I snapped. “You just chose not to share it.”
“That’s because some truths don’t bring justice,” he said quietly. “They bring consequences.”
“For whom?” I demanded. “The people in power? Or the ones who were erased?”
He looked at me then—not angry, not disappointed.
Afraid.
“That knowledge gets people hurt,” he said. “It always has.”
I clenched the book tighter.
“Then let it hurt,” I said. “I’m tired of silence being treated like mercy.”
The room felt smaller after that.
Gunther didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t take the book from me.
That somehow made it worse.
“I trusted you,” he said.
The words struck harder than any accusation.
“I still trust you,” I replied, my voice shaking. “But I won’t stop.”
For a long moment, neither of us moved.
Then Gunther turned away.
“Be careful, Penny,” he said softly. “Once you open certain doors… they don’t close again.”
I watched him walk back into the archives.
And for the first time, I wondered if uncovering the truth would cost me the only mentor I’d ever had.
The air had cooled by then, the town settling into its usual quiet.
As I passed through the square, I noticed someone stepping out of Emily’s house.
It was Eric.
For a moment I considered calling out to him. There were things I wanted to ask—about the mines, about the bookseller, about the way everyone in town seemed to avoid certain questions.
But it was late.
And Mom had been alone all evening.
So I kept walking.
The trailer park lights buzzed faintly when I arrived. I spotted Mom sitting on the bench outside, slumped back with her arms crossed.
“So, you’re back,” Mom grunted when she saw me. “Went to the library again?”
“I didn’t have much to do there,” I said.
It wasn’t exactly a lie.
But I wasn’t about to tell her about Marcello.
Mom shifted in her seat.
“Emily and Shane fought,” she said. “Again.”
I blinked. “Really?”
Mom shrugged.
“Yeah. Kid finally snapped, looks like. Honestly? I’m surprised it took this long.”
I hesitated.
“I never thought Emily would lose her temper,” I said. “She’s usually so sweet.”
Mom snorted.
“Sweet doesn’t mean stupid. And that guy…” She shook her head. “Well, he’s her dance partner, ain’t he? We all know how that’s gonna go.”
Something about that made my chest tighten.
Emily deserved better than someone who treated her like that.
“Didn’t Eric offer to take Shane’s place?” I asked quietly.
“Too late for that,” Mom replied. “Besides, it was Marnie’s idea in the first place.”
I sighed.
Even if Emily wasn’t dancing with Eric… it still felt wrong imagining her dancing with Shane.
Jas had once mentioned that Shane called Eric a jerk.
For a while, I had felt sorry for Shane. Life clearly hadn’t been kind to him.
But hearing that—hearing how casually he insulted someone who had done nothing but help the town—
It made something inside me… fade.
“Hey,” Mom said suddenly, nudging my shoulder. “Look on the bright side.”
I looked at her.
“At least you’re dancing with Sam,” she said.
I nodded slowly.
“Sam…”
Mom chuckled. “Yeah. Nice kid.”
My mind drifted for a moment.
I remembered the day Sam came over and saw the trailer the way it really was—cluttered, dishes piled up, clothes everywhere. We’d spent half the afternoon cleaning it together.
Then Mom had come home.
She hadn’t taken it well.
Sam had tried to defend me.
That only made things worse.
I shifted my weight.
“Are you… still mad about that?” I asked quietly.
Mom looked at me for a moment.
Then she smiled.
It wasn’t her usual loud, joking grin. Just a small one.
“You know,” she said slowly, “I might get mad sometimes… but you’re still my kid.”
Her voice softened.
“And I’m still your mom.”
She shrugged.
“Couldn’t stay mad at you even if I tried.”
Something in my chest loosened.
I felt my eyes sting a little.
“Thanks… Mom.”
She gave me a lopsided smile.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sappy on me.”
I laughed softly.
“Good night.”
“Night, Penny.”
I lingered by the door for a moment, listening to the low hum of the park lights outside. The air smelled faintly of dust and old wood, the same way it always had.
Home.
I set the book down carefully on the small table beside my bed.
The cloth wrapping looked even older under the dim lamp light. The edges were worn thin, like too many hands had touched it over the years. Too many people curious about the same questions I had asked tonight.
Questions Gunther didn’t want answered.
Questions Marcello seemed more than happy to sell.
I traced my finger lightly along the edge of the cover.
Gunther had looked so worried when he saw it.
Not angry.
Not disappointed.
Afraid.
I’d never seen him look like that before.
For a moment I wondered if he was right—if some things really were better left buried.
But the thought didn’t last.
History didn’t disappear on its own.
Someone always decided what was remembered… and what wasn’t.
I exhaled slowly and pushed the book a little farther back on the table.
Tomorrow I would read it.
Tomorrow I would decide what to do with whatever I found inside.
Tonight, I just needed quiet.
My thoughts drifted to the Flower Dance.
It felt strange how quickly the town had moved on from the argument at the saloon. Everyone was already talking about decorations, music, and who would be dancing with who.
I was dancing with Sam.
I smiled a little at that.
Sam was kind. Easy to talk to. The kind of person who tried to make things better instead of pretending they weren’t broken.
He’d proven that once already.
Then my thoughts wandered to Eric.
I’d seen him leaving Emily’s house tonight.
For a moment I had almost called out to him.
But something about the way he walked—quiet, thoughtful, like he was carrying too many worries at once—made me stop.
Eric seemed to attract trouble the way storms followed mountains.
Not because he caused it.
Because he refused to ignore it.
I wasn’t sure if that was admirable… or dangerous.
Emily’s face came to mind next.
Sweet, patient Emily.
And yet somehow she was still dancing with Shane.
That part never quite made sense to me.
Emily always tried to see the best in people.
Sometimes I wondered if that made the rest of us look better than we really were.
The trailer creaked softly as the wind brushed against the siding.
I glanced toward the other room where Mom had gone to sleep.
We fought a lot.
Everyone in town knew that.
Sometimes it felt like every conversation between us turned into an argument waiting to happen.
But tonight had been different.
Not perfect.
Just… different.
Mom had smiled.
A real one.
I wrapped my arms loosely around myself and leaned back against the wall.
For all the shouting and frustration and messy days between us…
She was still my mom.
And I loved her.
I always would.
Maybe things wouldn’t get easier overnight.
Maybe the questions about the past would only make life in Pelican Town more complicated.
Maybe the Flower Dance would end in awkward silence and forced smiles.
But for the first time that evening, the worry in my chest loosened a little.
Tomorrow would come soon enough.
For now, all I could do was hope the people I cared about—Mom, Emily, Eric… even Sam—
would find their way through whatever came next.
And hope that the truth I was chasing wouldn’t break everything apart before we did.
Then I blew out the lamp.
And the trailer finally went quiet.
