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Monday - 8AM
“Today marks one of the most important days in the Crooked Calendar - The Shilling Test.”
The crowd erupted into excited whispers, but Penelope was not excited; she was prepared. She had been waiting for this week for years, and she knew better than most that it was the most important test to succeed at if you had sights on the Crooked Cup. And Penelope Lockett did not just want that Cup, she needed it. One simply cannot become the greatest crook of all time without that title in their resume. Which is why she had to survey the field.
Most of her classmates would be little to no threat, obviously Edgar was a contender, but his pride would likely prevent him from getting very close without attracting attention. Most of the new Merits seemed either disinterested or too enthusiastic to be much effective, barring of course the only real competition she could foresee: Gabriel Avery. They caught eyes as she looked over the competition and she could tell he was thinking pretty much the same thing.
Penelope and him had been uncharacteristically civil recently, but that didn’t mean she liked him. She tolerated him at best. Him and his jeans and his accent and his eyes and- all of it, she tolerated. Barely. But this week, he was pretty much the only thing standing between her and glory. And she wasn’t going to let anything get in her way.
Monday - 3:15PM
She thought Mr. Palombo liked her, admired her forgery work, saw her skill, liked how hard she worked. Apparently not, otherwise he wouldn’t have paired her with Avery, practically condemning her to irritation, and preventing her from concentrating. Like right now.
“Chairs have four legs, Avery. You can pick locks, you aren’t beyond the laws of gravity.”
He turned to her, leaning precariously far back, and smiled like the absolute knob he was. He had already finished their assignment (with infuriating accuracy, it hurt to admit), and was freely disrespecting the classroom with no reprimands from Mr. Palombo. Life was so unfair.
“Rembrandt uses impasto for highlights, Lockett, you don’t know better than the masters”, he retaliated, nodding his head towards her painting. Penelope ground her teeth and turned around to stare at her forgery. Damn it. She stuck the paintbrush between her teeth and started searching for her palette knife. Where was it?
As she searched for her knife, Avery returned his chair to a respectable angle, and reached down into his bag. Penelope was just about tearing her hair out when she felt something pass her lips. Turning her head in shock, she saw Avery twirling her paintbrush leisurely between his fingers. Penelope exhaled, mouth falling open in exasperation, and was about to say something devastating when she saw him approach again, and in the blink of an eye, tasted metal on her tongue where the wood was before.
Speechless, she stared motionlessly into the brown of his eyes and slowly closed her mouth around the knife, her lips grazing his fingertips as he pulled back and smiled, looking almost with pride at her stillness. Whilst she sat paralysed with the speed of her thoughts, he reached down into her pocket, took a shilling, and winked at her, before leaning back in his chair again.
“Pay attention next time, Lockett.”
Alright, Gabriel Avery. Game on.
Avery - 1 // Lockett - 0
Tuesday - 12:30PM.
Monday had been an embarrassment. It was bad enough losing a shilling, worse more to him, but like that? That was dirty, and he knew it. But Penelope wasn’t above retaliation, she would have her revenge. Which is what led her here, leaning inconspicuously against a wall in the central hallway, reading the first page of a book repeatedly, and very much not looking for someone in particular. And speaking of no one in particular…
“Avery!” she called, stopping him dead in his tracks. His arm was suspended in limbo, and she thought she could sense a modicum of fear behind his frozen eyes. She liked that. Penelope stalked over, admonishing, “Your tie is an atrocity,” - it was - “You represent this school, you know, a little decorum might be nice.”
“Maybe if you focused less on decorum, you might not be down a shill-”
Avery fell delightfully, rarely, silent as she grabbed him by the tie in question and pulled him towards her. Well, mostly silent, except for an almost imperceptible intake of breath. She glanced up at him, but his eyes were resolutely fixed on where her fingers were hooked around the back of the knot, lightly grazing his throat. She felt him gulp.
Penelope cast her eyes back down and focused on the task at hand, loosening and readjusting and trying and failing to ignore the way her hands were shaking. She could feel the quick rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat just below his Adam’s apple. Once it was neat, she pulled it tight, folded down the collar, and smoothed out his shirt, lifting her head to catch his eye.
He looked a little like a fish, mouth stuck slightly open and glassed over eyes. “Thanks,” he choked out, a little gravelly. Penelope promptly ignored how that made her feel, and kept eye contact as she completed the task she had set out for, trailing her hands down his chest, and finding his jacket pocket.
“You’re welcome,” she smiled sweetly, as she brandished her shilling between two fingers in front of him. The glassy eyes cleared in an instant, replaced with shocked indignance. Penelope turned on her heel, head high, and violently fought the urge to turn around. The pounding in her chest was just a coincidence.
Avery - 1 // Lockett - 1
Wednesday - 2:00PM
Penelope had spent the day looking over her shoulder. Now that she had started this thing with Avery, she was anxiously awaiting his next move. Her chest was tight and her pulse went mad when she thought of what he might retaliate with. Out of anger, obviously. Pre-emptive, nervous anger.
The day had been relatively quiet though, she hadn’t seen him at all. She tried not to think about why that disappointed her, probably because she didn’t like not knowing what he was up to, what he was hiding. She wanted to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn’t do anything that might jeopardise what she had going on here at Crookhaven. That was all.
Penelope was in the library looking for this sleight of hand book Mr. Velasquez had put on the reading list. After scouring the shelves, she finally came across the spine on the fifth shelf, a little over half a meter above her. She considered getting a ladder, but the two were already occupied and she would be dead before she asked anyone for help. So she straightened her back, went on her tiptoes, and with as much propriety as she could muster, stretched her arm up to reach the book.
She was tottering on her feet, but had just grasped the cover on the base when a larger, calloused hand appeared above hers, and plucked it off the shelf like it was nothing. What a prick. She had that.
“You had that, did you?”
Shit. She knew that voice. “Yes, actually, thank you, Avery. Can I have my book now?”
Penelope went to turn around and face him - this configuration was doing all sorts of weird things to her stomach - but an arm to her left holding her book half-bracketed her in. She took it resentfully with both hands, and the arm retreated, but not before a - stupid, smooth, accented - voice right next to her right ear whispered, “2-1 to Avery. What have I told you about paying attention?”
Penelope spun forcefully around as Avery stepped all the way back, holding a shilling in his right hand. He made an exaggerated sad face with a pouted lip and puppy dog eyes (which a weaker woman might even call cute), and slipped it into his pocket before letting the signature smirk take over and waving goodbye over his shoulder as he left the library. Penelope held her book close to her chest and watched him leave, already plotting her next move.
Avery - 2 // Lockett - 1
Thursday - 9:30PM
She had thought for hours after the library incident about what she could do to catch Avery off guard. He was leading, and Penelope knew she was dealing with an expert, so she knew she couldn’t do it the ordinary way. She had been practicing, taking shillings off students and honing her skills, distinguishing herself as the only person in the running for beating him. She had figured that the way to distract him best was by getting him at his weakest, and that meant striking late.
Earlier in the day, she had slipped one of her engraved fountain pens into his bag, and she was now on her way to “retrieve” it, though it only really occurred to her at that moment that she wasn’t exactly radiating “serious competition” in her pink pyjamas and bunny slippers, but she would be damned if she let this opportunity slip her by. All she needed to do was knock, ask for the pen, and he’d be too tired to notice her slipping her hand into his discarded jacket whilst he searched. Foolproof.
It was when she was approaching the door that she began to have second thoughts. What was she doing sneaking around corridors past curfew to a boy’s room? She felt a wave of shame and embarrassment wash over her. She was Penelope Lockett, for Christ’s sake, she was debasing herself! She couldn’t be seen like this, not someone like her. She was a Legacy, the Legacy, and now she was knocking on some random Merit’s door at night for what, a silly competition? What if her father heard about this? Penelope took a deep breath and began to turn away, but it was too late.
“Penelope? Is that you?”, a familiar voice sounded from behind.
Absolute mortification. Maybe this was all a nightmare she would wake up from, and she wouldn’t have to lie awake at night thinking about that one time Gabriel Avery saw her in her sleep socks. She pinched herself just to make sure. Damn it. Penelope turned extremely slowly, as if Avery were a dinosaur and she could keep out of his line of sight. Alas, it was not the case, as he was very obviously taking her in, in all her glory. Penelope felt her face turn crimson, and began to batter her conscious for ever considering this idea in the first place.
Avery’s smile lit up his face, and Penelope secretly, traitorously, thought that it was at least some small consolation to see those dimples if she had to go through this (entirely self-constructed) humiliation ritual. He took a few steps towards her in the dim light and she began to rethink this whole late night rendezvous thing. It also took him stepping forward for her to properly register that he was - in fact - without a shirt. Yup, this was her nightmare, alright. At least he had the decency to look a little ashamed, a red blush dusting his face.
“What are you doing here? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, nice slippers by the way”, he said, nudging her foot with his own. They were so close, she could see the freckles scattered across his nose. She wondered why that felt like a revelation.
“Um, my pen. I have a pen with my name on it? It’s my lucky pen, and I have a test tomorrow, and I think I might have accidentally dropped it into your bag in Forgery. Sorry.” God, that sounded so much better in her head.
Penelope watched with purely intellectual interest as Avery’s face lost its bravado and went the same shade of red as hers. He reached into his back pocket with closed eyes and a pursed mouth, practically emanating embarrassment. That was a nice change. “This one?” he said, eyes firmly locked on some wall past her, as he held out his palm and, in it, her engraved pen. Her name shone up at her in silver from his hand. She took it from him.
“Yes, exactly. Why did you-”
“I was just going to write something down, and I picked up the first pen I saw and then I put it in my pocket and I forgot it was in my pocket and yeah. Sorry,” he blabbered. All of a sudden, Penelope felt much better about her plan.
“Anyways,” he said, turning to his door and pointedly looking away from her, “best be going to bed. Night, Lockett.” Avery turned the handle and walked in, but not before turning back around one last time to look at the stupid slippers. He smiled, and damn it all, it was a nice one too.
Once the door was shut, Penelope made her way back to her bedroom with a spring in her step. It was only when she got into bed that she realised she had never even taken a shilling from him.
Avery - 2 // Lockett - 1 (1/2?)
Friday - 5:30PM
There was only half an hour before the deadline and Avery and her were neck and neck. They had both been busy in the past few days and had ended up on thirty-two points each, cleaning out the pockets of every other Crookling. Thirty-two points each, and all the glory to play for. Penelope had been plotting scenarios all day of how she could distract Avery enough. Granted, she was still haunted by the night before, so she may or may not have been also thinking about shoulders and smiles and little freckles, hence many of the scenarios were…ambitious, to say the least. Nevertheless, she was determined to win.
Still caught in a reverie of thoughts she was ashamed to admit, she heard a knock on her bedroom door. Penelope had proposed this, if it were to come to this scenario, but hearing the knock was another thing. Somehow it felt different to every other time he had come into her room. She chose not to think about it too hard.
“Hey,” he said, letting himself in and sitting down on her bed, “How is this thing going to work, then? Because you’re not getting anywhere near my pockets. Don’t even think about it.”
“Well,” Penelope said, her patience already being tested, “I’ve been thinking about what you were talking about in Velasquez’s class, about distraction,” she stood up from her desk and walked the length of the room, so that she was standing in front of Avery, looking down at him, “about how sometimes, we have to make our own distractions.” She reached down her hand and ran her hand through his hair, her nails making pathways in it. Avery stared up at her, entranced. Penelope thought to herself how much she liked this angle, and smiled.
“Oh, so you were thinking about me?” he replied, still gazing up at her.
“And what if I was?” Penelope asked, her head tilted, heart beating out of her chest. Avery’s mouth ticked up, and he stood up from the bed so that he was looking down at her, brushing the hair from her face and leaning in to speak into her ear, “I would ask you what you were thinking about.”
“Why would you assume there would be anything else? Bit egotistical, no?”
“Because I have been thinking a lot about you,” he replied, taking her chin into his hand and grazing his thumb over her mouth, “your lips,” He took her hand in his other hand and kissed it, “your hands,” and then trailed it down her side, “your waist.” Penelope felt completely out of her depth, near defeat. But then the hand that was on her waist came back into view, a silver shilling in its grip. “Pay attention, Penelope. That’s 34-30.”
Oh, this was war.
Penelope centered herself and schooled her face into something sweet. “Maybe you are right, Gabriel,” she heard him inhale at the sound of his name, “I do think about you.” She put a palm to his chest, forcing his legs to move back and hit the wall.
“I thought you didn’t like me,” Avery said, a little vulnerability creeping into his tone. Now wasn’t the time for vulnerability though, they could do all of that later. Now, was the time for winning. “Oh, I don’t,” she replied, smiling sweetly as he searched her eyes for the truth, “you’re incorrigible, you’re infuriatingly headstrong, and you have have absolutely no respect. You also think you can beat me,” she flipped the coin between them before dropping it in her pocket, “32-All, Avery.”
“You’re no saint yourself, Penelope,” he retorted, eyebrows furrowed. Penelope felt guilty, she hadn’t meant to offend him, just to distract him. “You’re stubborn, and you're conceited, and, and, self-righteous.” She stepped back, defensive.
“Then why are you so obsessed with me? Why do you barge into my room? Why do you ask for my help if you hate me so much?” she asked indignantly.
Avery took one look at her face and deflated, the fire in his eyes fading, an apology replacing it. “I don’t hate you, Pen. Far from it. I mean, you are all those things, “ he smiled and tilted his head like she couldn’t argue which - to be fair - she couldn’t, “but more than that, you’re a good person. You’re thoughtful, though you don’t always show it, and you care, and you want to do the right thing. You challenge me, and I like that. Penelope, I like you.”
“I…like you too, Gabriel” she replied, and as she said it, she knew it had been true for longer than she cared to admit. “And I still believe all that stuff too, by the way.” He just grinned in response, and looked as if he was about to lean in, when she stuck her palm back on his chest, holding him in place. “…wait, what’s the time?” Gabriel looked at her indignantly and blinked slowly.
“What’s the time? We just confessed our feelings and you’re asking for the time?”
“Ugh, you’re useless,” Penelope grabbed Gabriel’s arm and shoved the sleeve back to check his watch.
Then, she took his hands and put them on her face, leaned in, and kissed him gently, settling her arms around his waist. He responded eagerly, cupping her jaw and deepening the kiss, before she pulled back, Gabriel chasing after her lips.
Penelope stepped back, her flushed red cheeks glistening with a smile. “Don’t you know the first rule of pickpocketing, Gabriel?” She kissed the silver shilling in her hand, “Pay attention.”
The chapel bells rung out six times, and Gabriel Avery kissed her again.
Penelope Lockett had won.