Chapter Text
Three things happened to Lucy Van Pelt after her mother passed away ten years ago.
1) Indescribable grief she thought she’d never recover from
2) A shock of responsibility placed onto her from her father, a recently widowed man.
3) Moving away from her childhood home and states away, believing she’d never return again.
To say her life went from peaceful bliss to a chaotic hell was an understatement. One second she was telling Linus snow came from the ground (how could she have told him that?) to having to be the woman(girl) of the house despite being only eight years old. Of course she knew some stuff already, and of course it wasn’t all her sole responsibility. Linus and Rerun adapted as well. However, as they grew up it became clear as the oldest she was in charge of god knows what. From her own school work and personal life to seemingly every domestic tension since their father was away.
If she was being honest, the move was inevitable. A fact she only grasped when she moved a second time. Then a third. Military things. When her father announced the fourth one Rerun groaned and sprinted off while Linus went to his room to start spreading the news, leaving only Lucy in the room with him. “Isn’t this a lot of moves for a ten year period, dad?” Lucy didn’t look up from her plate, in truth, she was bored. And annoyed. One more year of starting over. “It is Lucille-“ she scoffed and he put his fork down and gave her a stern look. She finally looked up at him, and he cleared his throat to start again. “However, I think you’ll like where we’re going.” Lucy scoffed in response. “Sure I will.” She shifted her eyes the other way, crossing her arms, and leaning back into her chair as a response. As if. He said that about their current location, and he knew how much she liked it in PA. “Lucy, I’m serious.” She looked back at him, about to say something before he continued, “It’s Santa Rose, Lucille. We’re moving back.”“What?” the words fell out of her mouth as she felt herself falling over, her chair tilting back all the way, breaking on impact and causing a loud crash throughout the house.
The boys scrambled out to see what was the matter. Did an intruder break in? Did she drop something? They had to go defend her. As they scrambled into the living room frantically scanning the room for suspicious figures, they saw an even wilder scene in front of them. Perfect, crabby Lucy Van Pelt with wood chips in her typically perfectly styled hair, a shattered chair back beneath her, and her hurrying to her feet with a look of wild disbelief in her stormy blue eyes. Linus and Rerun looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. What in the world did he tell her?
The impact of the ground didn’t even register at first. Neither did the fact the chair she had spent two hours trying to figure out how to put together broke. She barely heard the footsteps and shouting from her brothers, and when she did she quickly got to her feet, but didn’t do much else she’d typically do in that situation like shake out her hair and clothes. She was just so, so shocked. “Dad, what?” Her voice was in disbelief , and she placed her hands on the table. She swore she heard him say on the phone to her grandparents- “We’re never moving back to that damn town.” When she heard that she gave up any hope of seeing Charlie Brown and the boy she swore was going to marry ever again. In a fit of rage, Lucy had torn up all their addresses and letters that day, opened or unopened, kind or rude. Something she deeply regretted five years later, so to hear they were moving back… absolutely not. It was too embarrassing, and she couldn’t face any of her old friends if it was the truth. For her ego and her heart, he absolutely couldn’t be serious.
“I’m serious Lucille.”
“Dad, she seriously hates being called that,” a boys voice said to the side of them, breaking the tension in the room between the two heads of the house, creating a new tension all together. Oldest versus youngest. God, Lucy couldn’t see any worse fight over something as insignificant as her name. “Rerun-“ she was about to start, when he started going off on some tangent. “I mean, ‘Lucille’,” he mocked, “is just pretentious. I don’t even know why you and mother dearest named her that,” he glanced over at Lucy before adding under his breath “even if she is.” Lucy’s eye twitched. Now he was just looking to pick a fight. “Rerun-“ “And even if Lucille is pretentious, she has ‘Lucy’ as an alternate which is cute! And what she prefers to be called! Why is it so hard to say, ‘Lucy’?” His voice started raising and he started pacing, “It’s literally the same amount of syllables!” He started clapping, “Lu-cy. Lu-cille. It-“
Hands slammed on the table, and their father stood up, standing well above the boy. “Allen,” he said coldly. “Sit down.” The boy, Rerun (Allen) Van Pelt stood still. He had barely heard his ‘real’ name his whole entire life. To him, Rerun was his real name. Friends, teachers, family. To hear it from his father was so jarring, and the command was so harsh he just sat down quietly and found Linus had sat down on the command too. They exchanged a look of solidarity, as they sat across from each other. The two figure head’s of their respective families stood across from each other. “Lucille.” Oh, her blood boiled. Linus sensed it. “Take mine.” I’ll sit in the broken chair. She heard the subtext. She looked down at him, searching his eyes. Don’t pick a fight, Lucy.
Grumpily, she switched him seats, watching as he picked the chair up off the floor and pushed the debris away with the foot. Setting it up right, then finally sitting in the chair with splinters down its back. Humiliating. Lucy couldn’t believe her father had wanted her to sit in that chair. Lucy couldn’t believe Linus sat in it for her. She appreciated the gesture, but the entire situation just made her upset. Even if the situation at hand was caused by her clumsiness. She couldn’t remember the last time she did something so foolish, and she scoffed at the imperfection, cataloging it away as something to improve upon later.
Tension crackled in the room, electricity and sparks flying all around. Linus hated days like this. Days where his father would come back and made their home a house. Dysfunction to complete chaos. He just waited for what he was going to say next to make this day go from bad to worse. He glanced at Lucy, his sister. Whatever he was about to say, she already knew and obviously wasn’t thrilled about. It was something about the move, for the life of him though, he couldn’t pin point what about-
“Do you remember Charlie Brown?” The question interrupted his train of thought, and he blinked twice in confusion. “Repeat that?” No way their father was bringing up Charlie Brown at a time like this. He glanced at Lucy, who just looked ready to jump or leave in rage or both. “I said, do you remember Charlie Brown?” Their father repeated, and Linus realized he was serious. “Of course we,” he glanced at Rerun, remembering his age, “or at least I remember Charlie Brown,” he replied slowly. Just what was going on? “Do you two still write?” Linus shook his head. “We use to, but we fell out of touch. Lost the address.” Everyone’s address for that matter. Linus didn’t really remember why. One day he wanted to write a letter about some award and the next moment Lucy was bawling her eyes out because he asked where the address book was. The letter was quickly forgotten, and all contact with that side of his life. It was sad, yes, he admitted that. However he also knew it was inevitable, and they had already stopped writing frequently anyways. Just a natural progression of things so he let it be, something that made his sister breathe relief. He would never tell her, but seeing her be happy for once, even over something like losing the address book in turn made him happy. He’d do it a billion times over if he could see his crabby sister perk up again.
Coming back from the memory, Linus refocused his attention to his father. “That’s a shame,” he said indifferently. “It would’ve made the move easier.” What? Did he mishear things again? “What does this have to do with the anything?” It was a genuine question. “We’re moving back to Santa Rose, Linus.” Well, Linus understood why the chair was broken now. Looking over at Rerun, he recognized the meaning of this was lost on him. Lucy just got up abruptly and wordlessly, fleeing the room with tears in her eyes. Linus fought his urge to go after her and bit his tongue. Rerun jumped up while Linus forced him down. “You know how she is. Leave it.” Reluctantly, the boy sat. “The moving vans will start to come in a few weeks. Start packing. We move in August 12th. Now, I have some business to attend to.” I’m clearly not welcome here, and I’m getting a hotel. “Have a good day, kids.” Their father got up, and grabbed his coat, slamming the door behind him.
———————
Lucy’s heart pounded and tears pooled in her eyes. She didn’t get why she fled like a child, or why she had been so angry and then turned so devastated. In her heart, she knew she should be happy about the move back, but everything about this situation was humiliating. Firstly, she cried in front of her siblings, and now she was realizing she’d have to make herself up all new again. “Well,” Lucy thought aloud, leaning her head on the door, “not all new.”
They had known her up until she was eight, and by way of letters through thirteen. However, she knew most of that girl was dead as she had changed a lot in the past four years. Ugh.
Allowing herself a moment in indulge in her memories, Lucy thought back to her time in California. For the first time in forever, she thought of Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Peppermint Patty, and of course, her beloved Schroeder. She slapped herself. Her beloved Schroeder? Scratch that, her Schroeder? “That’s ridiculous,” she mumbled. She couldn’t believe that uncaring, sarcastic pianist still held a place in her heart.
Though her head was screaming at her to stop, she agonized over Schroeder. Admittedly, she was only concerned about moving back because of him. She was confident she could make right with everyone else. Say a few words, throw in a laugh, flip her hair, and past wrongs would be forgiven and they could start anew. Lucy van Pelt, for all her faults, was absolutely brilliant at wooing a crowd. Schroeder though? Forget it.
Lucy had an impeccable memory. She could tell you what she had for breakfast that morning the same she could dinner exactly eight months and two days ago. That’s why, every time she remembered Schroeder, she cringed. The memory rang so clear in her head the embarrassment of how she acted could kill her.
One thing about the van Pelt family: They never gave others, and especially themselves, something called grace. Each action scrutinized, and everything to be improved. Even at eight, Lucy knew the way she acted around him was foolish, but she truthfully couldn’t help herself. Running around the neighborhood playing baseball to earn a kiss from her ‘sweetie’, and leaning on his piano. Hearing him play melodies, and sonatas reminded her of home back when it was normal, and at the time she desperately needed that. Maybe that’s why she threw out some of her typical precautions of perception. Even in her letters to him after she moved, she acted senseless. She blushed at the memory of how she signed off her letters to him, “To: My dear future husband, Schroeder Felton.” Ugh! She threw her hands that had moved to her head down dramatically. What was she thinking? Throwing herself at him? And what’s worse, he wasn’t even interested.
As much as Lucy was embarrassed about Schroeder, she was upset too. He was just too indifferent about her. He’d give her hope by letting her sit on the piano, then crush it by walking away at her declarations of love and the prospect of marriage. He said he wouldn’t marry her unless she was the last girl on earth. How could she forget, he let her kiss a dog before him! She gagged at the memory, then was remorseful. Snoopy was probably long gone. How devastated Charlie Brown must be.
Enough of it! Lucy decided to stop dwelling on the floor and get up. She had to start going through her clothes. Moving meant decluttering and reinventing, two things she was a pro at. She marched over to her closet, and started wrecking her whole room. This plaid skirt? Absolutely not. The stripped sweater? Yeah, okay. She kept squinting, and tossing. Yes. No. Yes. No. No- thud.
Lucy groaned, reaching over to grab the belt she had just dropped. She went to pick it up, when something else caught her eye. A shoebox with Santa Rosa scribbled in messy handwriting on the top. Rational thought left her, and she seized the box in a second, sitting down with it in the clutter of her room. Slowly, she opened it. Inside was a number of things. Shredded letters, gifts, photos, the old tin can she use to collect nickels in. She smiled at the memory, thinking of all the money she’d taken from Charlie Brown, and wondered how much more she would’ve collected if she stayed.
Humming, she picked up things in the box until the box was practically empty and its remnants were scattered on the ground in organized piles. Now at the bottom of the box, she stared at a number of letters opened and one unopened. Oh, she remembered now. There was one person whose letters she couldn’t bear to shred. Hesitantly, she went to pick it up and began to read.
Lucy,
My piano is free now, but at what cost? I heard the news from Charlie Brown, although you told me in person. I did not think you were serious when you told me, and I apologize for that. Take this as my sorry and goodbye. I am sorry.
Apologies,
Schroeder + Beethoven (he misses you)
She moved to the next one.
Lucy
You’re moving again? Send me your new address so we can keep in touch like we have been. How have you and Linus and Rerun been? Is Rerun still playing ball? Oh, and do you win that debate tournament you were so nervous about? Actually, I know you won. Don’t have to tell me twice.
I’ve been learning a new piece lately- I think you’d like it. I’ll play it for you when you visit sometime, which, by the way, you haven’t made good on that promise. Don’t take this to mean anything, but I still think of you when I open the lid of my piano. Again- don’t get it twisted. We’re not getting married, although, yeah, we aren’t.
Anyways, send me your new address.
Schroeder
Lucy read that last sentence and smiled bittersweetly, remembering how touched she was that he wanted her new address. She softly touched an annotation she had in the margins of the letter; He really does love me. She was so hopeful then.
Lucy
You’ve probably noticed, but this isn’t a normal letter. It’s a postcard from Princeton. My family is in New York for the next week trying to make think seriously about university even though we aren’t even in high school yet. Anyway, I thought you’d like it because I remember you writing you dreamed of going to a college out east, specifically Princeton. I know they don’t admit women yet, but it is 1963. Times are changing. By the time we go to college, it has to change. Right? Besides, it doesn’t hurt to dream. Dreams can become reality as long as you work hard enough.
Fun fact, I broke my angel-child streak to get this for you. I even tried to get in a taxi on my own to go. Unfortunately, I didn’t have 20 bucks. Expensive right? I had it though. I would’ve done it if my parents hadn’t tailed me and insisted we just ride the metro since I wanted it so bad. They were so furious with me, haha. As payment for my inconvenience, you owe me a holiday visit. You and Linus—even Rerun. And don’t tell me your dad won’t let you. We both know you make all the decisions for your house. We all miss you, Lucy. Come home.
Make good on your promise,
Schroeder
Lucy couldn’t stop her heart from fluttering all over again when she read the passage. He acted so unthoughtful, so whatever about her, but then in the same breath said he’d spend 20 dollars just to get her a dumb postcard for a university she couldn’t even attend? She chuckled. Even if it was in the past, she knew he must still be like this. Secretly attentive, quietly extravagant. The only thing he was vocal about was his music, and you only truly knew how deeply that went when he played.
Schroeder: bad with words. Incredible with actions.
She decided she was done reminiscing. At this rate, she’d fall in love with the memory of him all over again. She couldn’t have that. She didn’t want to fall in love. Not in her senior year of high school, and especially not him. She tossed the letters inside her box, and continued cleaning but left the box out on display, trying to ignore the building worry inside of her asking how she’d act when she saw her pianist again.