Falling Behind

Three

"Still making snowflakes I see..." Pen looked up from the table and smiled at me. Three days had passed and she had come by, everyday, just to make paper snow. It wasn't enough that she had to do it here, she made sure I approved every single paper snowflake, and compared them all to the one I had made her.

"What about this one... Is it okay?" She held up a paper snow daintily, it was much more intricate and sophisticated then the one i made.

"It's your best one yet" She grinned, brightening up the room with her smile. Before continuing with her new found hobby.

"Say... Pen-" She looked up at me, squinting her eyes as a grin formed over my face.

"-elope..." She grumbled, finishing her name, as if the word 'Pen' was an insult.

"Why... why do you like snow so much... It's just frozen water..." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Why do chefs like to cook?" She didn't take her eyes off the paper as she spoke. I sighed, happily, I liked this Pen.

"I was wondering... would you like to do something else for the afternoon, something we could both do" She looked up at me, I like to think she was intrigued by my offer.

"Like what?..." I honestly became surprised that she even considered this as an option to spend the afternoon. I froze, realising I wasn't supposed to leave the house. I remembered her retorichal question about chefs.

"Um... well... you're always cooking things for Fern,... when you're round here... maybe we could cook something?" She looked back down and continued her snowflake.

"Fern's at a sleepover"  I bowed my head, forgetting how complicated it was to communicate with her.

"It doesn't have to be for Fern... we can eat it..." She looked up at me. Her eyes, riddled with mischeif, later on I learnt that this conversation was just her way of toying with me.

"I don't eat things that I've cooked" She kept a straight face but her eyes smiled, I thought of all the times she made Fern lunch, only enough for one person.

"Well then you cook for me and I cook fo you" She sighed, finally dropping the unfinised snowflake.

"What if you're no good at cooking? and you are gifted with an amazing lunch that I have made for you and I am given a formal invitaion to a rather awkward situation that on terms could have been avoided if you just...didn't cook... at... all"  I stood, thinking. I felt pressure as she awaited for my response.

"Well then... you cook and I watch, we'll figure out your lunch after Pen, just... you need a break from the snowflake" She looked around uninterested.

"Pen?... I don't know a Pen... whose this Pen?... Sounds like a bitch.... I don't know why, maybe it's just the name... I don't like... the name... it's annoying, isn't it? Pen. Pen. Pen-"

"Okay! Fine!... Penelope...please" She looked around uninterested once more. I sat in the seat across from her, placing my hands on the table in one last hope.

"Please Penelope, could you make me something... to eat... while I ...creepily...watch" She stared at me for a second before cracking a smile.

"I'll make you some biscuits" She brushed my cheek with her hand as she stood up and headed for the kitchen. I sighed, accidently letting my elbow slip and hitting my head on the table.

"Are you okay? What was that?" I heard Pen come back from the kitchen as my face hovered inches over the table top.

"Nothing...." She sighed walking back into the kitchen and I smiled, running to join her.

-

"Why don't you eat what you cook?" She smiled as I sat on the island bench in the middle of the kitchen. She didn't look away from her cooking as she spoke.

"Even the most selfish chef, cooks for others" Her voice sounded different, almost... French.

She did that quite often, somethings that she said, didn't sound like her normal voice. She didn't notice it and denied it when I tried to talk to her about it. Her mother once told me that it was that way because she watched a lot of TV when she was little. At the time, I laughed as if it was a joke, like the square-eyes joke. But in the past year I had learnt it was quite, in fact, saddly, true. Penelope, used to spend most of her time, as a toddler, in day-care, infront of a T.V screen, avoiding the other children. I learnt that developing children, develop speech depending on what they hear around them. Pen's mother often felt guilty that her daughter had spent such a large part of her developing stages, in this situation. Her mother was well aware of her daughters... speech habits. Luckily... her mother was also aware of Penelope, to avoid any unwanted scenes.

I snapped out of my little day-dream, slightly sad but I felt warm, remembering her reason for her cooking.

"Pardon?" She turned around, offering me some cookie dough. I smiled, taking it. I had heard her the first time , I just wanted to check.

"I said... even the most selfish chef, Is none the less a chef, therefore by definition, they cook for another" I smiled, a true smile. Her voice still sounded French, but she was happy, so I was happy.

Author's Note- Hey so this is the third chapter. Looking back, Pen kind of reminds me of a young, female, Sheldon Cooper xD. Thank you everyone for the likes and comments, It really helps me more the you could believe. I hope you guys like this chapter as much as the last two. And remember...

-Stay Minty x ;)