Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

There wasn’t much to know about Schroeder Felton. He was tall. He was blonde. He was  going into 12th grade, and attended George Thomas High. He was an only child, and the closest person he had to a brother was his best friend, Charlie Brown. He had an affinity for the piano, a love of classical music. It was his first love, and he was sure he’d never have a second. Some people called Schroeder boring, and others called him a once in a generation talent- either way he didn’t care. He was confident in himself, his music, and his future.

———

The next few days after his diagnosis passed by in a daze. Without his piano, Schroeder, did nothing. He was nothing. His days became an empty void of music going in one ear and simply no way to materialize in the real world. He saw the symphonies, heard the orchestra, felt the beat and rhythm yet all he could do was lay in his bed and be tortured knowing he couldn’t play any of it out. Everytime he tried to approach the piano room his mom came walking around the corner telling him to do something else. “Go work on your theory homework!” she said on Tuesday, and “Practice writing with your left hand” the next. “Go hangout with your friends for once. Anything but the piano room. No, Schroeder, you can’t just practice with your left hand.” 

All his attempts to touch the piano ended in defeat, and even when he succeeded it was futile because without his right hand it was useless because the melody was missing to his songs. His entire identity was built around music. It was what he lived, and breathed, and honestly he had no clue what to do without the black and white keys. With the loss of purpose, he had to cancel his upcoming shows for the next two months which was just another slap in the face. Goodbye Chicago, and goodbye to New York, the loss signed in ink. Ugh, he needed a distraction. Schroeder set his pen down, stood up from his desk, marched over to the family phone, and dialed the only person he knew he could depend on to pick up. Ring, ring, ring.

“Who is this?” The groggy voice on the other line picked up. “Why are you calling me at 6am?” The voice was sleepy, and tired, but still laced with absolute concern. “Charlie Brown,” Schroeder said in confidence. “I need a distraction.” Charlie Brown groaned. “Come over at nine, okay? Don’t be late.” Beep beep. Despite Charlie Brown’s grumpiness, Schroeder was ecstatic. No, he was elated. Despite his house only being a 15 minute walk away, and the assigned time being 3 hours away, Schroeder ran over to his closet to pick out the days clothes. He was so excited.

“Do you want coffee or tea?” Charlie Brown asked, shuffling around his kitchen as Schroeder settled into the couch. “Coffee is good,” he beamed. “Black?” His friend questioned. “Yup.” 

When Charlie Brown walked back over with two coffee cups, he sat down at the adjacent chairs, and they flipped through the channels silently together. The two had been best friends since childhood, and though neither of them said it, they considered themselves brothers. Normally they met up once a week on Wednesdays at the local diner to catch up, but Schroeder had mysteriously canceled last week for an unknown reason and then radio silence the rest of the time. Even though Schroeder was a man of few words, this silence was just uncharacteristic. When Schroeder had called Charlie at 6am that day, even though he was annoyed, he was without a doubt grateful.

“So,” Charlie said, putting his mug down. “Why aren’t you at the piano playing Chopin?”

“The real question is why you aren’t out playing baseball.” They both looked at each other, and then laughed. Schroeder had missed Charlie Brown. They hadn’t seen each other since the summer started, as he was always out and about. “Well Charlie Brown, I’ve been put on rest.”

“Rest?” Charlie questioned, tilting his head to one side. “You look fine.”

“Well,” Schroeder said, rolling up his right sleeve, “I was trying to hide it. Guess it worked pretty well.” Raising his arm to be visible, Charlie’s eyes widened at the black brace that wrapped around Schroeders wrist. “The doctor said no piano for two months.”

Schroeder searched his friends eyes, which simply stared at his wrist. He knew what he was thinking, the things everyone who he had told was thinking. The how to and the what for. Although, Charlie Brown’s head worked overtime, so he supposed he should just rapid fire. As Charlie opened his mouth to speak, Schroeder started talking. “Yes, I’m sad. Yes, it’ll affect my playing. To be honest, I don’t know how it happened. Julliard -“

“Schroeder.” He stopped talking, and looked up at Charlie Brown.

“It’ll be alright.”

———-

A few weeks had gone by since Schroeder had gone to Charlie Brown’s house, and a few things had changed. The time he spent thinking of music and playing the piano was still mostly empty, but parts of it were being filled. He went over to Charlie’s house often, and sometimes he saw Peppermint Patty (Patrica) and Marcie. Franklin as well. He started spending more time outside, going on walks with Charlie Brown and Snoopy. Playing ball when his wrist felt okay. Schroeder was getting use to this new routine, and part of him was wondering why he let himself get lost so entirely to music at all. 

One day when he and Charlie were skipping rocks at the neighborhood pond, they saw a moving truck weave through the maze. “I wonder where it’s going,” Charlie said, breaking the silence. “One of the two houses available probably. You know,” he threw his rock, “the haunted one or the old Van Pelt house.” Schroeder paused for a second after talking. The Van Pelt house. “Hey Schroeder,” Charlie grinned, walking up behind him. “What if we went to follow it?” He placed his hand on Schroeders shoulder, “It’d be a fun adventure.”

Before Schroeder could think about what was happening realistically, he was booking it through the neighborhood with Charlie. Passing school kids, and old friends while him and Charlie ran out of breath and on a mission. Peppermint Patty saw them at one point, and shouted. “Chuck, where are you going?”

“Following the moving van Patty, no time to explain!” Somehow Patrica started running with them too.

Schroeder led the charge, his feet taking him through the familiar curve of the neighborhood, around the corner, and down the hill to that little white house left so long ago. He didn’t know why he was running so frantically, at least that’s what he was telling himself. He ignored Charlie Brown’s gasps and Patrica’s yells to slow down even though she was the schools prized track star. Schroeder would say it was thoughtless moving, his feet just traveled frantically, but truly a voice and memory was echoing out to him. All he could see in his mind was blue, black curls, and a crabby voice talking about marriage. The image of her sitting atop his piano was so clear even though it was nearly nine years ago. Lucy…

Schroeder stopped. He saw the moving van halted near the driveway of the little white house he so desperately wanted to see again. His stomach lurched. Somebody was moving into the old Van Pelt house? Refocusing, he heard footsteps gradually coming towards him. Charlie reached out towards him, out of breath. “Schroeder…” he breathed, “if I knew you could run like that..” he bent over  and looked at his friend. “I would’ve never said ‘race you’. Who knew you were hiding this athletic prowess behind your piano?” He smirked, and playfully punched his friend.

Patrica came jogging up, less out of breath than Charlie but still worn. Admittedly, Schroeder was too. It was another thing that was starting to hit him after the adrenaline wore off. “Schroeder,” she started, “Are you sure you aren’t secretly an athlete?” she laughed, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “You and Franklin should race.” Schroeder scoffed. As if. “You’re out of your mind, Patty.” He started strolling up closer to the house. “Besides, I’m a musician before anything else.” He’d get back to his Beethoven, and Chopin soon. All of this was filler. Once he got back to them, he could stop thinking about blue with black curls. Patrica rolled her eyes. “Okay, Beethoven.”

The last time Schroeder stood before the Van Pelt house was nine years ago on a chilly autumn day. He had gone over because Lucy told him to stop by, and she had something important to tell him that day. Urgent she said. That day though, Schroeders mom needed his help with something, and had just given him a new piano piece. He knew Lucy was moving. He just didn’t click this urgent message with that- didn’t realize it’d happen so soon. So he phoned her saying he couldn’t come over, his mom said no, he felt a little sick. When he was coming up to her house, he saw their car and a moving van pulling away. Charlie Brown scolded him, and it dawned on him. “I never even said goodbye.”

Coming back to reality, Schroeder looked at the house. It was as if it was preserved, waiting for him. They saw the driver getting out of the truck and open up the back. Patty spoke up, “Let’s find out who’s moving in!” She said excitedly, racing to the driver of the van before he could get a word in. Charlie Brown sighed. “Oh brother,” he said as he walked after her so she wouldn’t make herself a complete fool.

“Sir!” Patty grinned, “I see you’ve got a moving van.” Way to state the obvious, Schroeder thought. How lucky the man was friendly. “Yes I do, ma’am. What can I do you for?” 

“Well,” Patty said, “Me and my friends were just wondering who your client may be. You see, we had some friends who lived in this very house a long time ago. Way back when we were young first year kids.” She made a gesture with her hand to demonstrate the height, and confused herself before shaking her head. “Anyhow, I’m sure you see why we’d like to know Mr. Oh please, if you’d tell us that’d be wonderful.”

The driver chuckled, throwing his head back. “Wow Miss, you sure talk a lot. I wish I could tell you, but unfortunately I’m under a contract of confidentiality. Can’t let it slip!” Patty sighed, disappointed. Part of her wanted to continue, but she sensed it was futile. Suddenly, Charlie Brown was behind her and dragged Schroeder behind him. “Oh please Sir, it’d be so kind of you did tell us. You see, our friend’s long lost girlfriend-“ Schroeder almost choked “-use to live in this home. You have to tell us! Don’t you believe in love sir?” 

“She was not my girlfriend,” Schroeder said.

“Could’ve been!” Patty chimed, slinging an arm over his shoulder.

“Should’ve been,” Charlie agreed, matching Patty’s stance.

“Sir,” Schroeder smiled through gritted teeth, “I’m so sorry you have to see this display. You see,” he said exasperated brushing off his friend’s arms, “These two fools call themselves my greatest allies but then pull stunts like this. Seriously, what is with you two?”

Before his friends could respond, the driver burst out laughing, wiping away fake tears. “You kids are funny, I’ll give you that. Since you’ve gone through all that trouble, I’ll tell you one thing. The people coming to the house have an uncommon surname. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“An uncommon surname? Could you elaborate on that sir?” Patty asked, moving her whole head and body forward. 

“Oh, I’m sure you kids will find out on your own. The folks living here actually should be around your age.“

All this information was lining up strangely, and Schroeder felt odd. Unusual last name, people his age. It felt so odd. “Really?” He said, hands in his pocket. “You have my word.” The driver tipped his hat. “If you can stay around longer, you can probably meet them. They were actually supposed to arrive earlier but I suppose they got caught up in something.”

Charlie Brown looked at his watch, and shook his head. “No can do sir, I have to get going.” He looked over at Schroeder, “My mom invited you for dinner. Actually, Patty.” He looked over at her. “You can come too if you want,” he said casually.

Patty almost fell over. “Well. Maybe..” she looked at her watch, and then jumped. “Oh, Chuck, I’m sorry, but not today. I told Marcie I’d meet her down by the brooke at 7, and now it’s 6:55. Oh, stars!” She started darting off, “Call me later, Chuck!” She called behind her, racing down the hill, before darting back up. “Sir, please tell the people who are moving in Patrica Reichardt from Meadows brooke street says hello, and welcome to the neighborhood!” And with that she was racing off again.

Charlie Brown watched her race off silently. “Well, what about you Schroeder?”

Schroeder did a mental checklist.

“We can see if it’s okay with my mom. My house is on the way to yours from this way anyway.”

“Alright,” his friend nodded, and they began walking off. “Oh yeah,” Schroeder said, stopping in his tracks. “Sorry about our immaturity earlier and disturbing you. I hope you can forgive us.”

The delivery man waved his hand, and dismissed it. “Don’t feel bad about anything. You guys are perfectly fine, great kids. It made my day more interesting.”

“Tell the new kids we say hello, from Charlie Brown and Schroeder!” Charlie shouted, and the two boys descended down the hill.