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When Penelope’s eyes were first stitched in, the first thing she saw was blue.

Blue button eyes, to be specific. Colin’s eyes. Dark and shiny, without a single scratch to dull their light. They were lovely, deep. Remarkable. For a split second, Penelope’s entire world was a remarkable shade of blue, and it was wonderful.

After his eyes there was more blue to see—Colin’s soft blue body, his long arms and legs and extra-long tail, all covered in triangle things (sailboats, she’d learn later), pointy hook-shaped things (anchors) and squiggles upon squiggles upon squiggles (the ocean, the ocean, the endless ocean). He was handsome and large, well-stitched and sturdy. Penelope liked him immediately. It didn’t occur to her not to.

“This is Colin!” The Girl (for there was a Girl there, also) said as she shoved those shiny blue eyes into Penelope’s stuffed face. “And you’re Penelope! We’re all going to have so much fun together! Can’t you sew any faster, Mum?”

“Patience, Jules.” The Woman (Mum) kissed The Girl’s (Jules’s) hair before gently nudging both her and Colin a few steps back. “Penelope will be ready soon enough.”

Colin. Penelope. Penelope rolled those two names together in her stuffed brain and decided she liked the sound of them together very much. Colin and Penelope, Penelope and Colin. ColinandPenelopeandColin. Yes, very nice. Penelope was pleased.

“Another Bridgerton, I see,” a different person, a Man, said, leaning in close to watch as Mum stitched Penelope’s mouth.

The Man had a kind face and a scratchy-looking beard, and something about him reminded Penelope of Jules. His ears maybe, or his wide, laughing mouth. For that matter, Mum looked like Jules too, a bit—warm brown eyes and soft, red-brown hair. They were a kind-looking trio, and Penelope liked them too.

But not as much as she liked Colin.

Penelope would soon learn that The Man was named Dad and that he and Mum were Jules’s parents, but in that moment, Penelope was too busy trying and failing to crane her head to watch Colin. It became apparent quickly that stuffed animals (for that’s what Penelope was) couldn’t move very well on their own. Certainly not when a human was looking at them. But still Penelope tried, because she wanted to keep seeing Colin. It didn’t seem fair that she couldn’t. She’d only had eyes for about a minute, but what else could there possibly be to see when Colin was in the world?

Penelope would learn later that there were many other wonderful things to see: the waving branches outside the window, the glow-in-the-dark stars that shone above the bed at night, and dozens of other animals piled on top of each other on the shelves, windowsill and floor. Giraffes and lions, bears and alligators and even a long, stuffed snake that could wind himself all the way around Penelope’s small body multiple times if he so chose (and the snake, Gregory, who was a cuddly sort, would often do exactly that in the days to come). Yes, the world was full to the brim with wonderful things to see.

But Colin was the first thing Penelope saw, and he had to be the best. So, Penelope found herself looking at Colin the most. She simply couldn’t help herself.

Except now of course, when Dad’s head was in the way.

Once Penelope had accepted that maybe she wouldn’t always see Colin (disappointing, but perhaps life was disappointing sometimes), Penelope considered the word Dad used. Bridgerton. Another nice word, also brand new. And maybe…another word meant for her? She already had one nice word, yes, Penelope. But Penelope and Bridgerton also sounded nice together, about as nice as Penelope and Colin. Penelope Bridgerton, Bridgerton Penelope. PenelopeBridgertonPenelope. Yes, also very nice. Penelope hoped that Bridgerton was for her.

Instead, Jules gave Dad an exasperated look, her mouth turning down at the corners. “No, Dad. Penelope’s not a Bridgerton. Not like Colin.”

Oh, the stuffing inside Penelope’s chest, the bit behind her small red breast pocket (a heart, she’d learn later), seemed to wilt. Bridgerton wasn’t for her. Bridgerton was for Colin. It didn’t seem fair that something so nice wasn’t meant to be hers.

And Dad seemed to agree with Penelope, his eyebrows rising slightly. “Really? Penelope looks a lot like Colin. They’re both sock monkeys.” (Penelope’s heart-stuffing lifted at this—she had no idea that she and Colin were the same.) “They both have blue eyes.” (Penelope’s eyes were blue? Like Colin’s? Could anything be more wonderful?) “I think Colin would be a good big brother to Penelope.” (Big certainly fit Colin but brother was another word that Penelope didn’t know. However, anything that linked Colin to Penelope seemed like the nicest thing she could imagine)

Dad’s logic seemed correct to Penelope, and she waited with bated breath (figuratively, for sock monkeys didn’t breathe) to see if Jules would agree.

But Jules was determined. “No. They aren’t brother and sister. Penelope is a Featherington, Dad.”  She said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Colin and Penelope are best friends. Colin needs a best friend or else he’ll get lonely.”

“And we don’t want that, do we?” Mum surveyed Dad with an amused expression.

“Well, no. We can’t have Colin being lonely.” Dad scratched the back of his neck, looking a bit sorry that he’d started this discussion in the first place. “But siblings can help with loneliness too, y’know. And aren’t the Featheringtons all birds? Wouldn’t Penelope be more comfortable…”

“Don’t try to use logic,” Mum said. “Just go with it.”

Dad raised his hands in surrender. “Okay then, whatever you say.” Gingerly, so as not to jostle the last stitches that Mum was sewing into Penelope’s mouth, Dad shook Penelope’s sock arm. “Nice to meet you, Penelope Featherington.”

It was settled, then. No Bridgerton for Penelope. No brother with Colin. But Featherington was nice too, Penelope supposed. And best friends sounded like great fun—like warm cuddles and windowsills shared and secrets whispered deep into the night, just the two of them. Yes, Penelope would take best friends with Colin.

Besides, brother didn’t have the word best in it. Best friends must be better. At least, Penelope hoped so.

Furthermore, according to Jules, best friends meant you’d never get lonely. Penelope wasn’t sure what lonely meant, but it sounded bad, so it was probably good that Penelope and Colin were best friends and would never have to learn about lonely.

“All done!” Mum declared, holding Penelope up for Jules and Colin to see. “She turned out pretty good, don’t you think?”

“She’s brilliant, dear.” Dad said. “What d’you say, Jules?”

“Thank you, Mum! Thank you! Penelope’s perfect! Colin thinks so, too!”

And with that Jules seized Penelope by her stuffed armpits and darted out of the room, Penelope’s soft monkey body bumping comfortably against Colin’s as they went.

Penelope’s first afternoon outdoors was beautiful as a first day in the world could be—all warm sun and cool breeze rippling through the grass. The world felt new and vast, and everything, everything, everything belonged to the three of them: Jules, Colin, and Penelope. The sturdy tree with knobbly bark, the garden full of blooms in every color Penelope could imagine (and even more colors that she couldn’t, not yet), and the robins flitting back and forth among the branches. Flying, Jules called it. What a marvelous idea, to be able to fly.

Penelope learned a lot about flying that day. She and Colin soared together, flung through the air and dangled from low-hanging tree branches and swung on swings until Penelope’s (blue! Like Colin’s!) button eyes blurred. Flying was nice, and tummy-swooping, and all-around magical. But nothing gave her the nice, tummy-swooping, magical feeling that Jules did earlier when she declared that Penelope was perfect and that Colin thinks so too.

Nothing that is, until Jules ran back inside for a moment at the promise of biscuits, leaving Colin and Penelope alone, swaying back and forth lazily on the same swing.

Penelope watched Colin, and Colin watched Penelope, button eyes fixed on one another, and Penelope felt suddenly shy. What was there to say to a new best friend? What words would fit such a golden afternoon, full of sunshine and birdsong and flight? Nothing seemed quite right.

Thankfully, Colin spoke first. “Hi,” he said (in his own sock monkey way, for sock monkeys didn’t speak aloud as humans did). “I’m Colin.”

“Penelope,” she replied.

“I know,” said Colin, his eyes seeming to grow warmer somehow. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re my best friend. I’m glad we won’t be lonely.”

“Me too,” said Penelope, feeling stuffed so full that she wondered if she might pop.

They smiled their sewn-on smiles at each other, letting the words drizzle over the golden afternoon like honey. The ropes of the swing creaked comfortably behind their backs, the wind tickled their sock monkey ears, and all Penelope could feel inside was swoop, suspend, soar.

And life, at that moment, was perfect.

🧦

Perfect (adj)

1. Fitting its definition precisely.
2. Having all of its parts in harmony with a common purpose.
3. Without fault or mistake; thoroughly skilled or talented.
4. Excellent and delightful in all respects.

—Read aloud to Penelope Featherington from Jules’s dictionary by Eloise Bridgerton, two days after Penelope was made

Penelope learned many things in the coming days and weeks. She learned about Jules’s room, which was full of bright colors and hidey holes and other animals to play with. She learned that sometimes it was dark outside (night) and sometimes it was light (day), and about rain and clouds and all the cozy indoor games you could play when the rain and clouds kept you inside. Pillow forts and vines made of blankets, boats made of paper and stories upon stories upon stories.

She learned that sometimes stories lived in books, and that every book in the world sat on Jules’s bookshelf. At least, according to Penelope’s new friend Eloise, who knew an awful lot. Penelope had no reason not to believe her.

Eloise had a long green nose and lots of sharp, white teeth made of felt. An alligator, Penelope learned eventually, when Mum read a book about alligators under the bed to Jules one night. Eloise didn’t live under the bed (which was good, because under the bed was a scary place). Eloise lived near the bookshelf, which meant that she got to read everything—at least, all the books that Jules left out. Luckily Jules was a comfortably messy sort, so there was usually at least one book fanned open, which Eloise was kind enough to read to the others in the room. Being a stuffed alligator, Eloise had some trouble turning the pages with her unwieldy snout, but these bits and pieces of books were fascinating all the same.

“I’m going to know everything, someday,” Eloise told Penelope one day when Penelope was left tilted on her side near the bookshelf. “Like Lady Danbury.”

Lady Danbury was the oldest toy in the room, a stuffed owl with dingy feathers and faded eyes that had once belonged to Mum when she was little, and to Nana before Mum. Her perch was right next to Jules’s computer, where Jules did her schoolwork. Jules learned absolutely everything at school, so Lady Danbury must know everything, too.

Penelope didn’t think she’d ever be as smart as Lady Danbury, or even as smart as Eloise, but she did love to learn.

She learned about family from Eloise, who, like Colin, belonged to the word Bridgerton. Bridgerton was a type of family, full of brothers and sisters of all sorts. From what Penelope could tell, family meant having other animals around you all the time to tease and bicker with, cuddle and poke at. Bridgerton meant Anthony and Benedict, Daphne and Eloise and Francesca, Gregory and Hyacinth, and Colin. Bridgerton meant Mum Violet, who gave the warmest hugs with her long trunk and kept the rest of the Bridgertons from poking at each other too much.

None of the Bridgertons looked the slightest bit like each other: a big fierce lion (Anthony) and a tiny white cat (Daphne), a cuddly bear (Benedict) and a tall, spindly giraffe (Francesca) and a long, winding snake (Gregory) and a sleek brown otter (Hyacinth), but they were together. Inseparable. Family.

Featherington was a family too, Penelope’s family. They were different from the Bridgertons, a noisy, pecking, overly bright sort of family. Like Dad said that first day, the Featheringtons were all birds, but they welcomed Sock Monkey Penelope all the same. They spent their days squawking about this and that and comparing feathers (which Penelope also had, in her own way—printed on her yellow cloth body, nowhere near as bright as Prudence, Phillipa, or Mum Portia’s). Although Penelope liked being a Featherington, deep inside where no one could see, she sometimes still wished that Bridgerton was for her.

But being friends with the Bridgertons was very good too. Friends meant books with Eloise and tight, squeezy hugs from Gregory. Friends meant leaning quietly against Francesca’s long, spotted neck and pretending to swim around Jules’s ocean-blue blanket with Hyacinth. It meant practicing loud, roaring sounds with Anthony and Benedict and draping lilac-purple ribbons across Daphne’s long, white fur. Yes, friends with the Bridgertons was a lovely thing to be. And best friends with Colin was the loveliest of all.

Penelope knew Colin almost as well as she knew herself. She knew he was big while she was small, able to wrap his long arms all the way around her with length to spare when he rested his monkey chin on top of her head. She knew he was blue where she was yellow, and Colin’s eyes were a darker shade than Penelope’s light blue eyes.

She knew his tail was strong and sturdy where hers was short and a little stumpy. She knew that Colin liked being carried outside to swing, that he liked watching airplanes in the sky over Jules’s house, and that he wasn’t scared of the shadowy place under the bed. And most of all, Penelope knew she liked Colin better than anyone in the world. Penelope had known it since the moment she’d first seen him, even before Jules had declared them as best friends.

Friends. Siblings. Family. These were all new words that Penelope had learned, all nice words that meant love, and companionship, and not lonely. Penelope felt these words all around her—in her stuffing, in her stitches, between the very fibers of her cloth.

But Penelope still wondered sometimes which of these words was best. Deep inside she knew it probably didn’t matter much, but she liked to know things. And some part of her, some wobbly, insecure part perhaps, still couldn’t help but flinch remembering that first day when Jules had insisted that best friends was for Penelope and Colin and brother was not.

Penelope wanted everything with Colin, the very best. She felt so much for him that sometimes it seemed like she was stuffed with Colin-feelings instead of fluff. Colin was so kind to Penelope, so dear, so patient with her (small and stumpy and yellow though she was), that Penelope couldn’t help but want the best word possible with him, whatever that word might be. She simply had to find out what that word was—a name for this nameless wanting that curled and twisted and bloomed in her chest.

Penelope found her chance to ask one Thursday after Jules had left for school, leaving Penelope on the very top of the bookshelf, two shelves up from where Eloise normally sat. The height was dizzying for Penelope, who was rather small for a sock monkey. As she moved, she tried not to look down. Even a small monkey could be brave if she was determined enough, and Penelope was very, very determined.

It wasn’t easy for stuffed animals to move on their own. The stiffer ones had an easier go of it—the ones with flat feet built to stand and the ones stuffed so full of fluff that they could walk in a shuffling, kneeless sort of way. The softer ones like Penelope, with squiggly legs and no real feet to speak of, had it harder. If they wanted to move, they slithered, they flumped, they rolled from here to there. It was a hassle, honestly—most didn’t bother, choosing instead to pass messages across the room from one animal to the next rather than putting in the effort.

But Penelope had a question for Lady Danbury, and it was important, and it was a secret. If it turned out that best friends were better than siblings, or family (like she privately, maybe a bit meanly, hoped it was), Penelope didn’t want to make anyone feel bad because of it. So, she spent all morning slithering, and flumping, and rolling her small yellow body across the top of the bookshelf so that she could reach Lady Danbury’s perch.

“Hello there,” said Lady Danbury once Penelope arrived. “You’ve come an awful long way.”

“I did,” said Penelope, not even pretending to be modest. A whole two and a half feet she’d moved, over twice the length of her own self, and she felt right to be proud of it.

“Well done, then,” Lady Danbury said approvingly. “Did you have a question for me?”

“I do.” Penelope used her last bit of strength to roll upright so she could look Lady Danbury in the eye while they spoke. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but it seemed polite. “I’ve learned lots of words since I’ve come here. I’ve learned the word friends, and family, and siblings, which seems like part of family but also different, somehow. But they all seem to mean love. Can you explain the difference to me? If you know, that is. It’s really not that important.”

Lady Danbury surveyed Penelope with wise, scratched-up eyes. If Penelope could blush, she’s sure that she’d be red all over (or orange perhaps, since she’d recently learned that red and yellow make orange, the same color as the fluffy pom pom on her hat). No one would roll a whole two and a half feet if the question wasn’t very important, actually. But Lady Danbury was kind enough not to point this out.

“Well,” said Lady Danbury. “It’s an interesting question. They’re the same in a lot of ways. If done right, all those words mean love. But usually, family means love that you’re born with. Friends means love that you choose.”

“I see,” said Penelope, as if she understood perfectly (which she didn’t). After all, Colin was the first being she saw when she was made. By Lady Danbury’s logic, that should make the two of them family, but Jules was very clear that this wasn’t the case.

And Lady Danbury also said friends meant love that you chose. Penelope didn’t feel as if she’d chosen to love Colin, not really. Love had simply picked her up and swept her away, carried aloft by one look at Colin’s shiny blue eyes.

If she and Colin weren’t friends, and they weren’t family, what else was there?

“I wouldn’t worry too much about these labels that humans give you,” said Lady Danbury as if she were reading Penelope's mind. “They’re based on human relationships. Life, love, everything is different for us than it is for them. Because we aren’t human, are we?”

“No, we’re not.” And thank goodness for that. Being a human seemed exhausting to Penelope.

“All three of those words mean exactly what you told me: love. Love is the most important thing we have. Love is one of the few things we stuffed animals can choose for ourselves. You should always hold onto love, Penelope. As tight as you can. Whatever form that love takes, and what you do with that love, is up to you.”

“Well, yes,” said Penelope, still a bit confused. Lady Danbury was smart, but she didn’t always make sense. Besides, they were getting off track from what she really wanted to know. “But is one of those words best? Best friends, maybe? None of the others have the word best in them, so I thought…”

“Best friends are nice,” said Lady Danbury, swaying on her perch. “But it isn’t automatically better than family. It depends on what you put into the relationship, don’t you see?”

“Yes, I do.” (No, she didn’t.)

Lady Danbury seemed to sense this. “Some families are close. Some aren’t. Some best friends are close for a while but not for always. Do you remember how Jules was best friends with Jessica, then Jessica moved away, and now Jules is best friends with Amanda? It’s like that. Relationships are about the work that you put into them.”

“Does that mean that best friends aren’t forever?” Penelope felt her chest stuffing plummet all the way to her toes asking this question, but she had to know. The thought had never occurred to her before. Colin was hers, and she was his, and it would be that way for always, wouldn’t it?

“Lots are,” said Lady Danbury. “But some aren’t. Things happen, sometimes.”

“Oh.” Distressed, Penelope rolled her stubby tail between her stump hands. It was exhausting to do after her long journey, but she couldn’t help herself. Not when the world as she knew it was ripping apart at the seams. “I see.”

“I wouldn’t worry about you and Colin,” said Lady Danbury shrewdly (for she knew everything). “You’re a set. You can’t separate a set.”

“I’m not worried,” Penelope lied. She knew that Lady Danbury was trying to help, but everything she was saying made Penelope feel itchy and achy and sad. Was this what lonely meant? She didn’t want to find out. “I should probably go. Thank you for answering my question.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? You came such a long way to see me.”

“No, that’s okay,” said Penelope. “I’ll come back another time.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

But Penelope was already slithering, and rolling, and flumping away, and wasn’t paying attention.

Jules owned a jewelry box that Penelope liked, covered in mossy green velvet. Green always reminded Penelope of her and Colin—yellow and blue together—so it was by far her favorite color. The box had a pleasant, squishy top and was just the right size for Penelope to sit on. Penelope usually came here to think.

Today, she came here to cry.

Sock monkeys didn’t cry the same way humans did, which Penelope was grateful for. Human crying looked uncomfortable, all leaking faces and squinty eyes, and overall it looked very, very wet. Instead, sock monkeys cried by curling into the tightest ball they could and feeling extremely sorry for themselves. So, Penelope did exactly that.

But just as she was about to feel the most sorry for herself (the most satisfying part of any cry, when you feel as if no one in the entire world has ever been as sad as you, which is its own depressing sort of comfort), Penelope heard a faraway voice.

“Pen? Is that you? Are you crying?”

It could only be Colin, for no one else called her Pen. They’d learned about nicknames early, once they’d discovered that Jules was actually short for Julia.  Colin had liked the idea so much that he’d immediately declared Penelope to be Pen (for the feather quills and old-fashioned fountain pens printed on her fabric, all outlined in red), and that was that.

“I’m not,” Penelope said, trying to unclench herself from her ball to show Colin that she was fine, but instead her body seemed to curl even more into itself.

“You are. I’m coming over.”

Penelope peeked over her crumpled up legs to see that Colin was far away from her, at least six feet, and lying on the floor while Penelope was high up in the air. It would take any normal sock monkey a long time to reach her from that distance. Most wouldn’t even try. But he was already slithering, and rolling, and flumping his way in her direction.

“Colin, you’ll never make it that far.”

“I will. Just you watch. Hold on…”

So Penelope held on, watching Colin inch slowly across the floor in his flopping, sock monkey way, crawling and huffing and eventually climbing his way up Gregory’s long body to the top of the bed (for Gregory was a helpful sort, and didn’t mind being used as a rope when the situation called for it). By the time Colin finally reached her, he looked very tired, indeed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, button eyes gleaming concernedly as he dragged himself the last few inches to Penelope’s box.

Penelope was tempted to lie, but she didn’t like lying to Colin. It didn’t seem like something best friends should do. Besides, there was no point in pretending that nothing was wrong. “I learned something sad today and now I’m sad.”

“Oh,” said Colin. “That’s no good. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“No,” said Penelope. “I don’t want to make you sad, too.”

Colin was a sensitive monkey, crying both when he was happy and when he was sad, when he was frustrated or when he imagined he was hungry or even when he was bored. Penelope didn’t mind—it was what made Colin, Colin. Still, she didn’t want to make him sad if she could help it.

“Okay,” said Colin. And instead of questioning further, he heaved himself up and pulled Penelope toward him, folding her into his body with his arms and legs and tail, and even his squishy middle crouching over to circle her, until only Penelope’s eyes peeked out from the nest of blue.

“What are you doing?”

“Hugging you,” replied Colin, squeezing her as if to demonstrate. “You’re my best friend, and you’re sad, so I’m going to keep hugging you until you aren’t sad anymore.”

“Jules will be home soon. You should go back.” It was true enough. Although Jules wasn’t an especially observant human, she’d certainly notice that Colin was up on the bookshelf when he’d been left on the rug.

“I don’t care,” said Colin, squeezing her tighter. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Relationships are about the work that you put into them, Penelope remembered Lady Danbury’s words, and she suddenly felt overwhelmed, a happy sort of overwhelmed that spread throughout her entire being. Colin had crawled such a long way, a whole six feet, and scaled the side of a bed and a shelf to make her feel better. Colin was going to hug her until she wasn’t sad anymore. If Lady Danbury really did know everything, and if relationships were really about the work that you put into them, then maybe Penelope didn’t have to worry. Maybe for Colin and Penelope, best friends meant always. And maybe it didn’t matter if best friends were better than family.

Maybe, just maybe, Colin and Penelope together was the thing that was best, no matter what name anyone decided to call them.

And at that thought, Penelope found that she wasn’t sad anymore.

🐒

Colin was Jules’s favorite, and everyone knew it. Colin almost always got the best spot on the bed, tucked underneath Jules’s chin as she fell asleep. Colin got all the best pretend treats at the pretend tea parties (biscuits were his favorite, though he couldn’t open his mouth to eat them). And when one toy was allowed to go outside, it was usually Colin that went bumping underneath Jules’s arm.

As Colin’s best friend, Penelope sometimes went outdoors as well, but she couldn’t always tag along. Penelope was a very small monkey after all, and the world was just so big. It was easy to feel brave when she had both Jules and Colin to look after her, but Penelope still felt more comfortable staying in the bedroom most of the time. So whenever Colin left, she’d wait for him to return. When he returned, she listened eagerly to Colin’s stories.

And Colin was always full of stories. Stories of splashing in mud puddles and sharing sandwiches with Jules at lunch, stories of butterflies flitting through the bushes and the colors of leaves in autumn.

“All the trees look like they’re covered with Pen,” Colin announced one day when he returned, yarn hat windswept and smelling like fresh air and smoke. “Yellow and red and orange all over.”

“You’re teasing me,” Penelope scoffed. What Colin did sometimes wasn’t lying, not exactly. It was more that he got so caught up in his stories that he sometimes told them like he wished they were rather than what they really were. Leaves the same color as Penelope sounded wonderful, but she also knew what her eyes could see. The leaves outside the window were green all summer and now in the fall they were brown. Yellow leaves, indeed. What an imagination Colin had.

“I’m not teasing,” he insisted. “Wish you could come with me to see them, Pen. I miss you when I’m gone.”

This, of course, gave Penelope that blushy orange feeling that was growing more and more common whenever she spent time with Colin. She sometimes wondered if other best friends felt this way, but it seemed embarrassing to ask.

“I miss you too,” Penelope said, leaning into Colin’s side and letting the outdoor smell wash all over her. “But I like that you get to go places. And you always have a new story to tell me. I like listening to them. They’re my favorite.”

“Then I’ll save up all my best stories for you.”

Orange, orange, orange. Penelope felt orange from the top of her pom pom hat to the tips of her cloth toes.

Colin didn’t seem to notice, flicking his extra-long tail back and forth—a sure sign that he was thinking. “I still wish I didn’t have to leave you behind.”

“It’s okay. You always come back. That’s the important thing.”

That was the important thing. The most important thing. Colin left, and it was sad when he was gone, but Colin always, always came back.

Until one day, when he didn’t.

The day dawned a light gray, promising rain later. Penelope woke up to see Colin being bundled into the backpack. This meant that Colin would spend the day away from the bedroom. “Where are you going?”

“It’s Jules’s birthday today,” Colin said as his legs and tail were folded into the bag, leaving his head and arms sticking out. “They’re having a party for her at school.”

“How nice,” said Penelope, who had no idea what a birthday was. But party she did recognize: food and laughter and even dancing sometimes. “You’ll tell me about it when you get home?”

“‘Course I will. I promise.”

But Jules was late returning home, and so was Colin. Penelope started to worry.

“They’ll come back,” said Eloise when Penelope started fidgeting.

“They’ll come back,” said Benedict when church bells, six of them, started ringing outside.

“They’ll come back,” said Daphne when the sun, weak and grey though it was behind the clouds, started to dim for evening.

Penelope wanted to believe them. It wasn’t that unusual for Jules to be late. Sometimes she went to her grandparents’ house after school, and sometimes she went to play at Amanda’s house. She always came back. So would Colin. Still, Penelope couldn’t help but pull herself up to the windowsill to watch for their return. But it was dark, and it was rainy, and she couldn’t see anything except her own reflection.

When Jules finally did come back, the sky was darker still, rain splattering harder against the windowpane, and it was clear that something had gone very, very wrong.

Something had happened to Jules’s foot; it was obvious to see. Instead of running like she usually did, Dad carried Jules into the room while Mum followed close behind with what looked like two metal sticks, which she propped next to Jules’s bed. Jules was crying in her wet, squinty human way.

There was something wrapped around Jules’s foot, like a large sock. This sock wasn’t like anything Penelope had ever seen (and being made of socks, Penelope considered herself something of an expert on the subject). It was big, for one, making Jules’s foot look almost twice its usual size. Secondly, her toes were poking out the end. Any sock that couldn’t adequately cover one’s toes wasn’t a proper sock as far as Penelope was concerned.

Speaking of socks…Penelope tried peering around Mum and Jules’s heads, looking for the familiar flash of blue cloth. Where was Colin? He wasn’t in Jules’s bag where he’d been tucked safely that morning. Jules’s arms were empty as well. No Colin. No Colin anywhere. Maybe Dad left him downstairs. That must be it.

Mum was smoothing Jules’s hair. “I know it hurts. It’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

Jules refused to be consoled. “I want Colin!”

Penelope waited for Colin to appear—For someone to go downstairs and get him, for Dad to pull Colin out from behind his back, and say here he is, but it didn’t happen. If Penelope could feel cold, she imagined that she’d feel very cold indeed.

“Your dad looked all over, sweetie,” said Mum, gently. “He’s not going to find Colin when it’s dark and rainy out.”

This only made Jules cry harder, causing Mum and Dad to exchange worried glances.

Penelope sat frozen in place on the windowsill, her ears straining to hear. Colin was gone? Missing? This was worse than she’d imagined. Missing as a stuffed animal was one of the worst things that could happen. Missing could mean that an animal was lost, never to be found. It could mean that an animal was too damaged to be played with. For a stuffed animal, missing sometimes meant never coming back.

But Colin was strong, and sturdy, and well-made. Jules loved him the most. He wouldn’t just leave, would he? Jules needed him. Penelope needed him. He had to come back.

“I’ll go out and look again,” Dad promised.

Outside the window, lightning split the sky, causing Jules to yelp and burrow further into Mum’s arms.

“Wait until morning, dear. You won’t be able to…”

Ignoring Mum, Dad was already out the door. Penelope felt a rush of affection for Dad. At least someone was taking Colin’s absence seriously. And if Colin was just missing in the backyard, surely Dad would find him. The yard was big for a stuffed animal, but not for a human.  Surely, he’d come back at any moment with Colin cradled safely in his arms.

Peering out the window and into the dark, Penelope waited for Dad to come out. It was nearly impossible to see, and some anxious part of Penelope agreed with Mum, that there was no way Dad would be able to find Colin now, not when it was pitch black and the rain was falling in sheets. Still, they had to try, right? It was Colin. They had to find him.

Eventually Penelope saw the back light come on, and the illuminated circle of Dad’s flashlight bobbing across the lawn. The light shone into every corner, under every bush. As lightning flashed again, Penelope saw that a large branch had fallen into the yard, the very branch that Jules liked to climb onto sometimes to read, safe among the leaves.

Well, then. That might explain what happened to Jules’s foot. But it still didn’t answer the most important question. Where was Colin?

Penelope searched as best as she could from her vantage point in the window, following the beam of light in every direction, looking as hard as she could whenever lightning lit up the whole yard.

But at last the flashlight beam went out, as did the back light. When Dad appeared grim-faced in the bedroom doorway, hair plastered against his forehead and glasses streaked with rain, Penelope felt her heart stuffing sink like a stone.

Jules cried herself to sleep that night, but she did drift off at last, whimpering into Benedict’s fur (for he was Colin’s replacement for the night). As Mum finally rose to leave, Penelope heard snippets of her whispered conversation with Dad in the hall.

“…feel terrible. And on her birthday…”

“…got to be somewhere back there. He couldn’t have walked…”

“…looked everywhere…too dark. Maybe an animal picked…and carried…”

The darkened room burst into chatter once Mum and Dad disappeared down the hall. Even though the humans couldn’t hear when the animals conversed amongst themselves, they usually didn’t talk when the humans were present. It seemed impolite to have discussions around anyone who wasn’t able to join in.

“Colin’s missing!”

“Where’d he go?”

“What happened?”

“Missing!”

“Dad couldn’t find him.”

“Will he ever come back?”

Penelope eventually folded her cloth ears over themselves and pressed hard to drown out the noise. She couldn’t listen to everyone worrying anymore. Colin promised he’d come back. He always came back. And Penelope would find him.

So, with her hands still anchored securely over her ears, Penelope pushed her face against the windowpane once more, searching frantically every time lightning streaked across the sky.

Lightning. Searching. No Colin.

Lightning. Searching. No Colin.

On and on she searched, her button eyes straining to find Colin in the darkness. And this is how Penelope spent the whole night, her ears still twisted shut, her face still pressed against the glass.

🧦

Penelope hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but at some point she drifted off, waking to the sound of the back door slamming. The room had quieted down finally, everyone else having dropped off to sleep hours earlier. Rubbing her eyes, Penelope peered out the window again.

The sun was barely starting to peek over the horizon and Dad was already out searching in the misty dawn light, picking his way across the sodden grass. Penelope pressed her face against the pane once more and tried to squint, which was impossible with no eyelids, but she tried all the same.

The branch still lay sprawled across the lawn; its brown leaves scattered in all directions. It was a big branch that had fallen—big enough to hold Jules’s weight (until yesterday, that is), and too cumbersome for Dad to move on his own. Penelope had seen how humans took down trees, by chopping them into little pieces and sometimes burning them, and Penelope felt a bit sad that this particular branch would meet that fate; that she, Colin and Jules would never climb to this branch again, never spend an afternoon sitting in its green, dappled sunlight.

Suddenly, something caught Penelope’s eye. The smallest flash of yellow, a brightly colored beacon among all the green and brown.

A yellow leaf! A yellow leaf in their yard! Penelope couldn’t believe her eyes. Colin was telling the truth when he’d said that some leaves could turn yellow. She’d have to tell him all about it once Dad found…

But Penelope didn’t have the time to marvel at this realization, because there was something touching the tiny flash of yellow. Something blue. A blue arm. A blue Colin arm.

Colin was there, underneath the branch! She could only see the very tip of Colin’s arm, holding onto the little yellow leaf like a flag, but it had to be him. Was he hurt? Was he trapped?

Penelope pushed her face against the window harder, willing Dad to look more closely around the branch, but Dad was still on the other side of the yard. Humans really were impossible sometimes. With them being so big, there was so much that they just missed seeing.

Go to the branch, Penelope pleaded silently. He’s right there, go to the branch.

It took Dad ages to obey, and once he was finally there, Penelope held her breath (or she would have, if she could breathe) while dad searched.

But he didn’t search hard enough, and he didn’t look closely enough, because the next thing Penelope knew, he was moving on to inspect under a bush.

No! Penelope willed as hard as she could. Go back! He’s under the branch! He might be stuck! Go back!

But Dad didn’t go back, and he kept moving further away, and Penelope wanted to tear her pom pom hat to shreds in frustration.

Well then, Penelope had no other choice. She’d have to take matters into her own hands before it was too late—before Colin got too wet and dirty and damaged to be saved. There were squirrels in the backyard, and mice, and birds, including a crow that Penelope sometimes saw scratching around. Real animals couldn’t be reasoned with like stuffed animals could, and Penelope had to do something before Colin got seriously hurt. Penelope suddenly imagined the crow pecking at Colin’s shiny button eyes, scratching them, dimming their light, and the very thought made her want to cry. She’d save him before that happened. She had to.

But how could Penelope possibly help? She was all the way up here and Dad was all the way down there. It’d take ages for her to roll all the way downstairs, even if Mom or Jules didn’t find her first and move her right back to where she’d started. And the height from Jules’s window was dizzying, much too far for even Gregory to lower her down. Should she jump? No, that wouldn’t work either. Even if she could open the window by herself, she’d just land in a bush and then where would she be? Stuck like Colin, not able to reach him, and no one would know to look for her. It all seemed deeply, desperately hopeless.

From the bed, Jules stirred.

That was it, then. Jules was the only one who could see the yard from this point of view. She was the only one who could get Dad’s attention in time. Penelope would need Jules’s help, so she’d have to get her attention somehow.

But how? Moving was out of the question—it was one of the rules, everyone knew that: Don’t move when a human can see you.

Speaking wouldn’t work either. Penelope could scream at the top of her nonexistent lungs and Jules still wouldn’t hear her. She’d have to come up with another plan.

Maybe a noise of some sort, one that would get Jules’s attention. Something that would make Jules look outside. Something that Penelope could do without Jules knowing it was her.

Penelope’s soundmaking options were limited. Like most stuffed animals, most of her body was soft. Soft arms, soft hat, soft body, soft, soft, soft. Not ideal for making an attention-getting noise, or anything louder than a dull thump, which is exactly the sound that Penelope expected to hear when she dropped her head against the glass in defeat.

But no, instead of a thump, she heard a small click. The corner of her eye tapping the pane.

Her eyes! Her hard, button eyes! If she could click them against the glass hard enough, maybe Jules could hear it.

Pleased to have a real plan, Penelope opened her eyes as wide as they would go (which, with no eyelids to speak of, was no wider or narrower than usual) and heaved her body weight up onto her squiggly arms. It was a delicate process—she’d have to lean back far enough to make a sound when she fell, but not so far that she wouldn’t fall forward when she let go, or worse, too far, sending her tumbling off the windowsill.

Penelope let go. *Click*. Perfect.

Thank goodness my eyes aren’t weak and squinty like humans’ are, Penelope thought to herself as she readied herself to fall against the window again. More mess than it’s worth, if you ask me.

Heave, drop, *click*, heave, drop, *click*. Penelope didn’t think her arms could feel any squigglier than they already did, but lifting her whole-body weight so many times was exhausting. Still, she couldn’t quit. Colin needed her. So, she kept lifting and dropping herself, ignoring the increasing squiggliness of her sock arms.

At last, when Penelope felt like her arms were about to drop off from fatigue, she heard Jules yawn and stretch from the bed.

“Yes!” *click* “Look this way, Jules!”  *click*

Jules took forever to notice what was going on, first hugging Benedict close to her body before remembering that Colin wasn’t with her. This caused her face to crumple and she started to have another little cry.

Penelope kept going, safely tucked behind the half-open curtain where Jules couldn’t see. “He’s right there!” *click* “He’s outside!” *click* “Look at me, Jules! Look at me!”

At last Jules sniffed, shoved her tears away with the heel of her hand and glanced toward the window, and Penelope stilled immediately. Slowly, so as not to jostle her hurt ankle, Jules shuffled toward Penelope and gathered her soft body close to her chest.

“Colin’s missing, Penelope,” Jules sniffled pathetically. “I dropped him when I fell out of the tree and now Dad can’t find him. What if he got all messed up in the rain? What if a stray cat dragged him out of the yard? What are we going to do if we can’t find him?”

“He’s right there, under the branch!” Penelope screamed uselessly. “Look out the window, Jules!”

All around her, Penelope could hear other animals waking up and passing her message around the room.

“Penelope sees Colin!”

“He’s trapped!”

“Look down, Jules! Look down!”

After what seemed like an eternity, and just when Penelope was about to give up hope, Jules finally, miraculously looked down, taking a moment to watch Dad searching the yard. Then, like Penelope, Jules caught sight of the small yellow leaf.

“Colin!” Jules shrieked. “Dad! I see Colin!”

🐒

Once Dad brought him inside, it was clear that Colin needed a few days to recover from his outdoor adventure. Penelope only saw him for a minute before Mum whisked him away, but it was long enough to see that Colin’s blue body was splattered with mud and that one of his arms looked especially unraveled. So while Colin was away being washed and fixed, Jules needed someone to keep her company. To her surprise Penelope was chosen for this important job, and for the next several days, Penelope hardly left Jules’s side.

Penelope knew she hadn’t been chosen as a thank you for finding Colin. Although the other animals in the bedroom seemed to regard Penelope as quite the hero (which made Penelope feel squirmy and embarrassed), Jules was blissfully unaware of Penelope’s part in Colin’s rescue, as it was meant to be.

Nor did Penelope think she’d been chosen because she was especially cuddly or comforting. She did have a soft, squishy body and the squiggly arms and legs that a sock monkey was supposed to have, but her limbs weren’t as long as Colin’s, her stumpy tail wasn’t exactly useful and cuddling someone as small as her couldn’t be particularly satisfying. Not as satisfying as it would be to cuddle one of the bigger animals like Benedict or Francesca, anyway.

So perhaps Jules sensed that Penelope needed comforting while Colin was away. And with Jules being injured, Penelope’s small size at last had its advantages. She could be tucked into Jules’s jumper pocket as they swung from room to room on Jules’s new metal sticks (named crutches, Penelope learned), and she fit nicely into Jules’s side as they sat in the squashy sitting room chair, Jules’s leg propped up on pillows, a book sprawled across her lap or something playing on the television. Stories to distract Jules from the pain in her foot. Stories that Penelope got to experience, too.

In her entire short life, Penelope had never been so stuffed full of stories. It was a welcome distraction from missing Colin, and Penelope gobbled up every single one of them. There were stories of princesses and stories of animals and stories of ordinary little girls like Jules. There were even some stories about toys, which Penelope found especially interesting, albeit a bit unrealistic. Clearly whoever made these stories had never spoken to an honest-to-goodness toy before. The toys in these stories always moved around too much (it exhausted Penelope just to think of it), or too little (which seemed exceedingly dull) or wished for crazy things like becoming real one day (Penelope couldn’t think of a single toy who’d want to be a wild animal outside when inside was so warm and cozy, especially after Colin’s misadventure).

For once, Penelope was the one returning to the room each night bursting with stories to tell the others. It was an interesting change of pace, and Penelope enjoyed it as much as she could, but she missed Colin fiercely. Everyone did. His return couldn’t come soon enough.

On the fourth day of Colin’s recovery, a day so cloudy that it almost seemed as if the sun had never risen at all, Nana and Papa arrived to keep Jules company while Mum and Dad went out of the house.

Penelope liked Nana and Papa. They were old, soft, and crinkly-looking. Exactly the sorts of grandparents that you would see in storybooks. Nana was the best at baking Colin’s favorite biscuits (although sadly Colin wasn’t around to fake-gobble them up as usual), and Papa always made sure to politely greet whichever toy Jules happened to be holding at the time. Obviously Papa only did it to be silly, but the toys appreciated the gesture all the same.

On this particular day, Penelope was perched on the side table beside Jules’s chair when Nana and Papa swept in clutching multiple items: a silver “Get Well Soon” balloon that was threatening to break off its string from the gusting wind and a slightly bedraggled bouquet of flowers. The lights were dimmed in the living room, and a movie played on the television screen. Jules clutched Anthony (who had joined them that morning) close to her chest as if shielding him from the gust.

“Did the best I could to protect these,” Papa said, setting the vase down behind Penelope, scattering loose petals across the side table. “Rain got them a bit, but it’s the thought that counts, right?” He shook Anthony’s paw, then Penelope’s arm. “Hullo Anthony, miserable weather we’re having. And hullo Miss Penelope, how are you? Can you be a dear and hold these, please?” Papa wound Penelope’s stubby tail around the vase, sending another shower of petals raining down onto her head.

“Papa, you’re silly,” Jules laughed, reaching up to hug him. “Thank you for the flowers. Did you bring me a present, too?”

“Jules,” Mum warned as she tugged on her raincoat. “That’s not a polite thing to ask.”

But Nana and Papa weren’t offended in the slightest. “What kind of grandparents would we be if we didn’t bring our granddaughter a present?” Nana said, pulling a brightly wrapped box from her raincoat.

Jules squealed and for a moment Anthony was quite forgotten, getting squashed half underneath the chair cushion while Jules grabbed for the box and tore away the paper. Surreptitiously, Penelope tried to lean so she could see what (or who) was in the box. If it was a new friend, Penelope wanted to get a good look at them.

And in fact, the box did contain a who. One of the most beautiful whos that Penelope had ever seen, for that matter. She was a stuffed horse with a gleaming coat, shining brown eyes and a long, silky mane and tail. As the horse was pulled out of the box, her tail splayed across Anthony’s middle.

“Oh…” Jules breathed, seeming quite overcome. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear,” said Nana.

“Go on then, don’t leave us in suspense. Are you going to introduce us?” Papa said.

Jules scrunched her face in concentration, examining the horse from nose to tail. “Kate,” she said at last.

Kate, Penelope said to herself, committing the name to memory. Kate, Kate, Kate.

The repetition was necessary, for Penelope’s memory, like anyone else whose brain was made of stuffing, could be a little fuzzy.

“Pleasure to meet you, Kate,” Papa said, shaking Kate’s front hoof. “You showed up just in time. This one—" he pulled Anthony out of the chair, “—Is in desperate need of a beautiful lady in his life.”

Jules made a face. “Don’t tease.”

“I’m not,” Papa insisted, a twinkle in his eye. “Anthony was just telling me that he wished someone would gallop into his heart and be his One True Love.”

Jules still looked unconvinced. “Love means kissing. Kissing’s gross, Papa.”

“Well, they don’t have to kiss if they don’t want to. But look at them Jules, don’t they make a lovely pair?”

When Papa placed Anthony and Kate side by side, Penelope had to admit that he was right. They both had shiny coats and long manes and were similar sizes. Indeed, they were quite the striking duo.

“And you don’t want Anthony or Kate to be lonely, do you?” Papa continued.

It was a good point; Penelope had to admit. She still wasn’t quite sure what lonely meant, but she did know for certain that it wasn’t good, and she didn’t want Anthony to feel that way. If Kate could help Anthony with that problem, then Penelope was happy for him.

But if Kate was here to make Anthony not lonely, wouldn’t she be his best friend like Penelope was for Colin? Best friend meant not lonely, everyone knew that. So what on earth did One True Love mean?

Surely Jules would argue with Papa, call him silly, say he was teasing. Surely she would insist that Anthony and Kate were best friends like Penelope and Colin were. This made perfect sense to Penelope.

And it would be nice to have another pair of best friends around. New pairs of best friends had been popping up in the bedroom for some time now—Daphne had Simon, and Benedict had Sophie, and Francesca had Michaela. Anthony and Kate would fit right in; Penelope was sure of it. Any moment now, Jules would say exactly that.

But instead, Jules turned everything Penelope thought she knew upside down.

“Well…” Jules tilted her head. “Okay. I suppose Anthony and Kate can be One True Loves.”

“That’s settled, then,” Papa said. “Anthony and Kate, together forever.”

Oh.

Penelope had spent so much time wondering if family was better than best friends, and this whole time there was a secret third thing she didn’t know about. Something that everyone agreed meant not lonely forever. How could such a thing be? Why hadn’t anyone told her?

She hadn’t forgotten how scared and confused she’d felt when she’d learned that best friends weren’t necessarily forever. She wasn’t worried about herself and Colin exactly. They both tried hard to be good best friends to each other, and according to Lady Danbury, that was how you made best friends last always.

But…if there was something, maybe not better than best friends, but different…something that everyone knew lasted forever, well. At any rate, Penelope had a lot to think about.

Once Mum and Dad had finished bundling up and had headed out into the weather, Nana went into the kitchen to start making lunch and Papa took a seat next to Jules. “You two should pay attention to this,” Papa said to Anthony and Kate, arranging them in Jules’s lap so that they faced the TV. “You’ll learn all about being in love from this movie.”

“Papaaaa…” Jules whined, swatting at Papa’s arm with a nearby throw pillow.

Needless to say, Penelope paid very, very close attention.

Penelope had seen this movie a few times. It was one of Jules’s favorites, and Penelope’s, too. The main characters of the movie were human of course. Humans sure liked to make stories about themselves.

However, this movie was different from a lot of human stories. It took place in a real-life jungle, with endless trees and rivers and green stretching on in every direction. And animals of all sorts, including plenty of monkeys and apes. Penelope usually watched them instead of whatever nonsense the humans were up to.

But this time, Penelope paid special attention to the humans—the ones who were apparently One True Loves and not best friends like she’d always assumed before.

At first, Penelope thought that Papa might be mistaken. Surely these humans were best friends. After all, they did all the things that Penelope and Colin did. They cuddled against each other’s bodies and laughed together and protected each other from danger. They even flew together like Colin and Penelope did. In almost every way that mattered, One True Loves seemed indistinguishable from best friends. It was true that these humans kissed, and Penelope and Colin didn’t, but kissing was such a human thing to do—not something that interested any stuffed animal with sense. There had to be something more to One True Loves that she was missing.

So Penelope looked and looked, and she thought about it until her head stuffing felt very tired, until at last she spotted some key differences:

1. One True Loves held hands: This wasn’t something that Penelope had given much thought to before. Penelope and Colin’s hands, like all sock monkeys, were stubs at the end of long arms. No palms to press, no fingers to clasp. But sitting together somewhere quiet and touching hands with Colin sounded nice to Penelope. Maybe Colin would think it sounded nice, too.

2. One True Loves gave each other things: Penelope and Colin did this for each other already, a bit. Colin gave Penelope all his best stories while Penelope gave Colin the biscuit crumbs she saved from tea parties. But it appeared that One True Loves gave different things than best friends did. Flowers, for instance. It had never occurred to Penelope to give Colin a flower, or that she might like to receive one in return, but now that the idea had presented itself, the thought of Colin giving her a flower made her feel orange all over.

3. One True Loves were forever: The movie didn’t show this specifically, but Papa had said it, and Penelope wanted to believe it with every fiber of her being. A One True Love was special, and it was for always.

And Penelope wanted it, she realized with a start. She wanted it…with Colin.

The idea was so sudden, so stunning, that Penelope’s tail lost grip of the vase, sending her tumbling onto her nose. Anthony and Kate, so absorbed in whatever it was they were talking about, seemed startled by the sudden movement. Papa and Jules, who had both fallen asleep a while ago, didn’t notice.

“Are you okay?” Anthony asked. Stuffed animals didn’t feel pain like humans did, but landing on one’s nose wasn’t comfortable by any means.

“I’m fine.” Penelope nudged herself over so that she was lying on her side.

Her mind was still swirling. She finally had a name for all the Colin-feelings inside her chest: One True Loves. Everything she thought she knew about the world, everything she thought she knew about her feelings for Colin, had suddenly changed.

The whole idea was a bit scary, to be honest. Being Colin’s best friend was Penelope’s favorite thing in the entire world. She liked making him laugh and having someone to discuss important sock monkey matters with. She liked being the one he told his best stories to. Would that change if they were One True Loves?

Furthermore, would Colin want to be One True Loves with her? Just because Penelope felt this way, it didn’t mean that Colin did. Colin cared for her of course, in the same kind, considerate Colin-ish way that he cared for his family, and his friends, and for Jules. But a One True Love was different, special. Surely there was someone out there who would be closer to Colin’s size, whose tail wasn’t so stumpy and who he could take on adventures outdoors with him. Maybe someone big enough for a proper cuddle, and someone who was a color other than yellow. Someone who looked like they belonged with someone as sturdy, and well-made, and handsome as Colin.

If Colin didn’t want to be One True Loves with her, best friends was still very nice. Penelope thought she might be very happy continuing exactly the way they were. But still, she wanted to know. She had to know. And to know, Penelope had to ask.

Another small flower dropped from the windswept bouquet above Penelope, landing directly on top of her head. Shaking it loose, Penelope held it in front of her with both hands, studying it.

It really was a pretty flower, in a shade of blue somewhere between her light blue eyes and Colin’s dark ones. All its petals were intact, soft and round with delicate veins spidering across them in a slightly darker blue. It was the exact sort of flower one might give someone special. Someone they’d want to ask to be One True Loves with them, maybe.

Yes, this flower was perfect. And Penelope was going to give it to Colin.

Very carefully, so as not to crumple a single petal, Penelope tucked the flower into her red heart pocket for safekeeping and hoped with all her might that Colin would return soon, before Penelope lost her nerve. That night, when she fell asleep tucked under Jules’s arm, Colin’s flower pressed safely against her chest, Penelope dreamed of him. She dreamed of how wonderful being One True Loves with Colin might be: dappled green light and holding hands and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that she and Colin were forever. Penelope dreamed and dreamed.

🧦

It was another two days before Colin returned to the bedroom, but at last he did, looking dazed from his outdoor adventure.

He’d been sent through the washing machine to remove all the mud, giving him a dizzy look in his eyes and some new crinkles in his ears from being folded, squashed and tumbled in circles. And his arm…oh, Colin’s poor arm.

Mum had sewn Colin’s arm back together, but it was bumpier than it used to be, and Mum had done a clever bit of embroidery to cover the bit that had detached, dark green thread in the shape of a feather. Although his arm was perfectly well, Mum had tied a little sling around it to make Jules feel better about her injured foot.

“Don’t even think about getting a tattoo just because Colin got one,” Dad joked as Jules hugged Colin so hard that Penelope worried his stuffing might pop out. “I know you got hurt too, but ‘get well’ tattoos aren’t a thing. Not in this house, at least.”

“Da-ad,” Jules rolled her eyes as she kissed Mum to thank her.  “I’m not going to get a tattoo.”

“Darn right, you’re not.”

The thread on Colin’s arm thrilled Penelope. She wasn’t glad he’d had to get it, of course, but Penelope herself had feathers printed all over her cloth, and now it felt like Colin was wearing a bit of her. It seemed like something that One True Loves might do. Touching her heart-pocket secretly, Penelope prayed that the flower was still in one piece and that Colin would like it. She couldn’t wait to give it to him.

Penelope didn’t get the chance for hours. Jules, understandably delighted about having Colin back, kept him by her side all day—parading him around the room, showing his battle scars to everyone.

Jules threw an elaborate party for the animals that afternoon, a party to celebrate Colin’s return and to welcome Kate into the room properly. There were piles of fake biscuits for Colin to gobble and games for the animals to play together, races (which Kate, a fast and competitive sort, won easily) and hide-and-seek and stories of Colin’s outdoor misadventure. Penelope tried to stay patient as the party went on and on, but it wasn’t easy when she felt so nervous and excited and jumpy inside.

And even after the animals had played together all day, after Jules herself had drifted off to sleep, the room was alive with chatter—everyone speaking over one other, trying to catch Colin up on the goings-on inside the bedroom while he was away, asking endless questions about his adventure. By this point Penelope’s patience was hanging by a thread, and she found herself sitting on her hands to keep from tying her hat-yarn into knots.

“What was it like being outside all by yourself?”

“Did any real animals come up to you?”

“I can’t believe your whole arm almost came off!”

“Were you scared?” asked Anthony from his spot next to Kate, his paw tucked safely against her hoof.

Penelope had been watching them carefully since they became One True Loves, hoping to get a better idea of what it might mean. For Anthony and Kate, One True Loves seemed to mean a lot of playful bickering and poking at each other. It didn’t make much sense to Penelope, but she did see how happy they were together. She hoped that soon she and Colin would be that happy together, too.

“No,” Colin flicked his tail from underneath Jules’s arm. This was the first word he’d been able to get in edgewise amongst all the questions, and Penelope waited for him to continue, to tell everyone about how not-scared he was, but he didn’t. Instead, he caught her eye for a moment, a puzzling look that made Penelope feel tingly all over. She touched her heart pocket again, wishing everyone would finally go to sleep so she could talk to him. Wishing she could ask him what that look meant. Wishing, wishing, wishing.

“You must be the bravest monkey in the whole world!” Gregory declared from his spot on the bedpost, to the general agreement of the rest of the room.

“I don’t know about that,” said Colin quietly.

Penelope, who was seated nearest to Colin, seemed to be the only one to hear this. Everyone else was too busy talking about how scared they’d be if it had happened to them, and how glad they were that Colin was finally back.

She tried to stay awake until the conversation died down, she really did, but before she knew it, Penelope was being woken up by Colin whispering to her in the darkness.

“Pen? Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Penelope fibbed, rubbing her eyes. Jules had rolled over in her sleep, leaving Colin pressed against her back rather than cradled in her arms. Colin’s white sling seemed to glow pale blue in the dim light.

“Can I tell you something? A secret?”

“Of course you can.”

Colin flicked his tail again, causing Jules to stir in her sleep. He was quiet for so long that Penelope started to wonder if she’d imagined him speaking at all.

Then, he spoke at last. “Pen, I…I was really scared.”

“Really?” Penelope was surprised by this, but she tried not to let it show. Colin didn’t get scared. Penelope got scared plenty, but Colin didn’t. He wasn’t scared of high places, he wasn’t scared of exploring outdoors, He wasn’t even scared of the dark place under the bed. Colin may have been a sensitive monkey, but he was also brave. Everyone knew that.

Colin continued. “After Jules fell out of the tree, I kept waiting for her to come back and she didn’t. It was dark, and I was so far under the branch, and my arm was stuck. I didn’t know if anyone would find me.”

Penelope felt desperately sad for Colin sitting outside alone, not knowing if he’d ever be rescued. “Oh, Colin…it’s okay to be scared. Anyone would have been. What happened to you was scary.”

“It was,” agreed Colin. “That’s not the part that scared me, though. Not exactly.”

“I don’t understand.” Penelope couldn’t imagine anything scarier than being stuck alone and wet in the dark, worrying that no one would find you. “What was it, then?”

“I kept thinking…that if I stayed out there for long enough, if no one found me until I was too wet, or too muddy, or an animal carried me away, then I wouldn’t see you again.” Colin looked at her, button eyes winking in the moonlight. “And you…you would have been lonely. It scared me.”

“Oh,” Penelope didn’t know what else to say. What else was there to say?

Colin seemed troubled by her silence and rushed to fill it. “If you thought…that I’d left you, or that I wasn’t coming back, or that you’d be lonely, then I’m sorry, Pen. I really, really am. I never want you to feel that way. I’ll never do that to you again.”

“Why are you sorry? It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was, though.” Colin suddenly looked very, very guilty.  “I…I didn’t land under that branch. I crawled under on purpose. That’s how I got stuck. That’s why Dad couldn’t find me when he came looking for me.”

“What?” Penelope felt sick. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I saw something, and I wanted to get it for you.” Colin squirmed around a bit, trying to pull his arm out of the sling without waking Jules. He didn’t have much luck. “Can you help me? It’s in my pocket.”

Wiggling closer to Colin, Penelope opened Colin’s chest pocket, red and heart-shaped, matching hers, and pulled out its contents.

It was the leaf. The little yellow leaf that Penelope had seen from the bedroom window, the one that had stood out so brightly against the wet grass, a small yellow flag that pointed Penelope’s gaze to Colin that day. The leaf that had saved him.

“I told you that some leaves are Penelope-colored,” Colin said proudly. “I wanted you to see for yourself. But I suppose I went a little too far trying to keep it for you. I’m sorry.”

Penelope examined the leaf, marveling that Colin managed to keep such a lovely thing safe. Through the rain, through an injured arm, through a tumble in the washing machine, it was as pristine as ever, and the exact same bright yellow as Penelope’s cloth. And Colin had saved it for her.

“Are you mad at me?” Colin asked, worried.

“Of course not.” And she wasn’t, how could she be? “You’re safe, that’s all that matters.”

“Oh good,” said Colin. “Do you like it? The Penelope leaf?”

“I love it Colin, thank you. It’s even prettier up close.”

“You saw it before?” Now it was Colin’s turn to be confused. “How?”

“Well, I was watching out the window all night, looking for you, and I saw it on the ground…” Penelope felt Colin’s eyes on her, and she looked up. “What?”

“You…you were looking for me. You were the one who saw me. You saved me.” Colin said, awestruck.

Penelope felt orange as a pumpkin. “Jules and Dad saved you. I only helped a little.”

“You saved me,” Colin insisted. “You really are amazing; did you know that? The bravest monkey in the world.”

Now was the time, Penelope knew. Now, when the moonlight was streaming through the windowpane, and every other being in the room was asleep. Now that Colin had given her a beautiful gift, unlike anything he’d ever given her before, and now that he was looking at her like this, his button eyes gleaming, declaring that she, Penelope, was amazing and brave.

Penelope had never felt especially brave, but tonight, she knew she could be. She could be brave enough to ask Colin to be One True Loves with her. It was now or never.

“I have something for you, too.” Penelope reached into her own pocket to extract the flower, hoping she didn’t sound as wobbly as she felt.

The flower was a bit worse for wear than Colin’s leaf was, the petals starting to shrivel slightly. But Penelope held it forward anyway. “It’s for you. I suppose I already said that didn’t I? I was watching a movie with Jules the other day, the one that we like with the monkeys, and there were flowers, and…and I thought you might like one. Here.”

One of the petals hung askew, and Penelope burned with shame. “It’s not quite as pretty as your present, but I thought…”

“Penelope,” Colin interrupted. “I love it. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Penelope ducked her head, pleased.

“Would you mind putting it in my pocket? I want to keep it with me.”

“Of course.”

“And maybe…” Colin looked a little nervous. “Maybe you can keep my leaf in your pocket too, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much,” Penelope said, tucking the flower into Colin’s red heart before slipping the leaf into her own.

The quiet enveloped them for a moment as they adjusted to the feeling of their new gifts pressed against their chests. Then, they both started to speak at once.

“Colin, I…”

“Pen, I want…”

They giggled together. It was so nice being here with Colin, exchanging gifts and whispering secrets into the dark.

“I wanted to tell you something.” Penelope said.

“Me too,” said Colin.

Penelope motioned for Colin to go first.

“Pen, I…I wanted to say how glad I am that I have you. I want us to be together always.”

“Really?” Penelope suddenly felt light as a balloon drifting up into the sky. “You want to be with me forever?”

“Yes,” said Colin. “Do you want that…with me?”

Colin wanted forever. Colin wanted forever with her. He was saying everything that Penelope wanted to hear, and he looked so sweet and nervous and unsure, as if there was any world where Penelope would say no to him. It all seemed too magical, too wonderful to be real.  

“Of course I do.” The words seem to burst directly from Penelope’s chest. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Colin beamed at Penelope, and she could feel herself glowing in return. With his good arm, Colin pulled Penelope into a warm, squeezy hug. But just as Penelope was leaning into Colin’s embrace, just as she was about to say how glad she was that they were One True Loves together, Colin spoke again. “It’s settled then. Colin and Penelope, best friends forever and ever.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Penelope suddenly felt very foolish. Of course Colin wasn’t asking to be One True Loves. It was silly of her to assume that he was. This was all a big misunderstanding. But he had said forever, and Penelope knew he meant it. Colin wasn’t the sort to say something he didn’t mean. Maybe…

“Colin?”

“Yes?” Colin asked, his crumply ears tickling the side of Penelope’s head.

“You’re sure that best friends forever is what you want? You don’t want something…else? More?”

“It’s exactly what I want.” He pulled away for a moment to study her. “Ever since Jules said that we were best friends, and that we’d never be lonely, it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted. To be best friends with you for always. I can’t think of anything better, can you?”

Penelope felt about a thousand things at once. She felt elated and crushed, confused and heartbroken and sad and so full of feelings for Colin she wondered if she might explode into a cloud of yarn and stuffing.

It occurred to her in that moment that Colin was older than her, and smarter. He’d been so many places and learned things that Penelope could only dream of. Colin had to know about One True Loves already. He had to know about them, and he wasn’t asking to be One True Loves. Clearly it wasn’t something that he wanted. Not with her, anyway.

“Best friends forever is what you want too, right Pen?”

Penelope studied Colin’s face, the dearest face in the world, full of hope and nervousness in equal measure. He may not have wanted to be One True Loves with her, but he did want forever. She could give that to him. Even if it wasn’t quite the forever that she’d wanted, she could make this forever be enough.

“Yes, Colin.” She said, trying with every ounce of her stuffing to make herself believe it. “That’s what I want.”

As Colin pulled her against his body once more, Penelope squeezed him back with all her might.

“I’m so happy, Pen. Are you?”

“Yes,” Penelope sniffed, burrowing her face into his chest. And she could be. She was. As long as she and Colin were together always, that was what really mattered. She’d tell herself that until she could believe it was true.

But then Penelope’s hand brushed against Colin’s, still held in his sling. And secretly, before she could stop herself, she imagined, just for a moment, that they were One True Loves holding hands.

🐒

Every day in Jules’s bedroom followed a similar pattern. Jules woke up, went to school, came home, played games, and went to bed.

Every day was the same. Until it wasn’t.

Penelope was surprised to discover that humans, unlike stuffed animals, did something called growing up and getting older.

It’s not that toys didn’t change. Colin’s feather-stitched arm was enough proof of that. Toys got worn out, and faded, and broken sometimes. But for a toy, something had to happen to make them change. A fall, or a tear, or someone playing too roughly for too long. Humans, on the other hand, seemed to change simply by being alive in the world for long enough. Honestly, it looked exhausting.

First Jules grew taller, longer arms and longer legs and different clothes to cover them with. Her hair grew longer, then shorter, then longer again. She had sparkly metal put on her teeth, and when the metal came off, her smile was different than Penelope remembered. Jules brought different friends home than just Amanda, usually girls, but sometimes boys too, like her new friend Miles from next door. It seemed like every time Penelope looked at Jules, something was different.

Jules acted differently, too. She spent lots of time on her computer, and calling her friends on her new cell phone, and reading books. She scribbled pages upon pages into her diary. And she didn’t have as much time for her animal friends.

This was normal, according to Lady Danbury, Mum Violet and Mum Portia, who had been through all of this before when Mum was growing up.

“Humans don’t play as many games when they get older,” explained Mum Violet one day. “So, the way that they need us changes. Sometimes we go to a different family where someone will play with us. Sometimes we sit on a shelf and keep watch. Sometimes we’re put away until we’re needed again. We’ll have to wait and see what Jules decides.”

“That sounds scary,” Penelope said. To be a stuffed animal was to accept that there were some things about your life you couldn’t control, but in this case, not knowing her future seemed especially troubling. She loved the room, and her friends, and her family, and Colin most of all. It didn’t seem fair that they might not all stay together. It didn’t seem right that someone could split her and Colin up if they wanted to.

“It can be,” said Mum Violet. “But it can be exciting, too. And Jules takes good care of us. She’s the caring sort. I have a good feeling that we’ll all stay together. Besides,” she continued knowingly. “You and Colin are a set. Socks come in pairs, after all. I wouldn’t worry about the two of you staying together.”

Mum Violet didn’t know everything like Lady Danbury did, but her good feelings were almost always right. So, Penelope did her best to trust her.

“They’ll probably put us all in boxes soon and take us to the attic,” said Mum Portia on a different day. Mum Portia wasn’t an optimistic sort like Mum Violet was and saw no need to mince words. “That’s what happened before. Took me ages to smooth my feathers when we finally came out after being all squashed together like that. Hopefully Jules packs us better than Mum did.”

“Don’t let Mum Portia scare you,” Lady Danbury said when she overheard the general chatter throughout the room. “We could leave our box whenever we wanted. There was lots to do in the attic, and hardly anyone ever came up there, so we could move around as we pleased. If we’re put into storage, we’ll make it through. We’re tough, and we have each other. We always come back out eventually. It’s just a different way to live for a while.”

In the end, all three of them—Mum Violet, Mum Portia and Lady Danbury—turned out to be right, in a small way.

It happened during late summer one year, on a day so hot that the birds parked themselves in the bird bath and refused to leave. So hot that the squirrels lay flat and still in the tree branches, looking like tiny fur rugs.

On that day Jules left the house, and she didn’t come back. Not for days, not for weeks, not even for months. Without warning, she was gone.

Uni, Mum and Dad called it, discussing Jules’s absence as they passed by the bedroom one day. They seemed a bit sad that Jules was gone, but they didn’t seem especially worried about it. They simply tucked Jules’s toys into cardboard boxes, carried them to the attic, and left them there. And then, all the animals had to decide what to do next.

It was an interesting way to live, being a toy without a child around to play with. For the first time, the animals got to decide for themselves what they wanted to do—what kind of games they liked to play, and what ways they liked to occupy their time. It was difficult at first; no one seemed to know quite what to do with themselves. But eventually, they came to see that Lady Danbury had been right. Life without Jules was different, but they were all together, and that was the important thing.

Benedict discovered that he had a talent for art, so he spent his days creating elaborate pictures on the dusty boxes in the attic. Hyacinth found that she liked collecting rocks (and was thrilled when Lady Danbury informed her that otters in the wild liked rock collecting too), and so she kept a pile of shiny stones that she’d arrange into patterns and toss between her front paws.

Penelope herself discovered that she was rather good at inventing stories. Sometimes she would spend whole days creating new ones to share with the others before they went to bed at night, cuddled together in a heap on the floor. Unlike the human stories that she used to hear with Jules, Penelope told stories about toys—where toys had adventures and were heroes and lived happily together as long as they wished.

And Penelope told stories about One True Loves. She simply couldn’t help herself.

Without Jules around to say otherwise, best friends were becoming One True Loves all over the attic. Indeed, it seemed as if Penelope couldn’t crawl two inches without tripping over a new pair of One True Loves—Benedict holding Sophie’s little rabbit paw inside his big bear paw, Gregory and Lucy exchanging little gifts back and forth, and Eloise and Phillip paging through dusty books together.

And Penelope was…Colin’s best friend.

Penelope didn’t feel bad about her relationship with Colin. She didn’t even feel jealous of all the One True Loves around her, not really. She knew that her friendship with Colin was every bit as special, and real, and forever as a One True Love would be. But she was still curious, and she still wanted. She looked at him, handsome and blue and well-made, and she wanted. She looked into his shiny button eyes and she wanted. She cuddled and laughed and shared secrets with him and she wanted. She couldn’t stop herself from wanting if she tried.

“What’s it like?” She asked Kate one morning as she braided her glossy tail. “Being One True Loves?”

“I don’t know,” said Kate. “Anthony drives me crazy sometimes, but I wouldn’t want to argue with anyone else. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” said Penelope. (She didn’t—She and Colin didn’t bicker for fun like Anthony and Kate did.)

“What’s it like?” She asked Francesca one afternoon as she leaned against Francesca’s long neck.

“I don’t know,” said Francesca. “Sometimes everything in the attic is so loud, and with Michaela…I can find a quiet place inside myself to think. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” said Penelope. (She didn’t—Colin made her feel all jumpy and electric inside, not quiet and calm.)

“What’s it like?” She asked Eloise as they read books together one evening.

“I don’t know,” said Eloise, creaking her big jaw open and shut while she thought. “Phillip and I are about as different as two animals could be, but the differences make things fun. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” said Penelope. (She didn’t—she and Colin had their differences yes, but they were remarkably similar in most ways and the deep understanding of each other is what Penelope liked best.)

“Are you sure you aren’t One True Loves already?” Hyacinth asked Penelope one morning while they pretended to skip rocks across an old blue tablecloth. “He’s always looked at you like you are.”

“I’m sure,” said Penelope glumly. “I tried to ask a long time ago, when we were still in the bedroom. He said he wants to be best friends forever and ever.”

“And what about what you want?” Hyacinth said. “What you want matters too, Penelope.”

“I know it does,” said Penelope, even though she wasn’t quite sure she believed it. “But I can’t make him want something if he doesn’t.”

“Forever’s a long time. A lot can change. Look at us,” Hyacinth waved her paw around the attic, at all the animals going about their daily lives. “We’ve all changed. Colin, too. You should try asking him again. Think about it, okay?”

And Penelope did think about it. She thought about it for days. She thought and thought until her stuffed brain was sore.

Things were different, she realized. She was different. She was braver, smarter, more clever than she ever used to be in the bedroom. And Colin had still liked her then, when she didn’t feel like she was any of those things. Maybe Hyacinth was right. Maybe Colin had changed too. Maybe…maybe Penelope was brave enough to try asking him one more time.

Her mind made up, Penelope folded a flower for Colin out of paper, one that could join the blue flower that she’d given him all those years ago. She folded and folded until it was perfect, and she went to find Colin.

Since moving to the attic, Colin spent most of his days sitting in a quiet corner. He never seemed to be doing anything in particular, and when asked, he would simply say that he was thinking. And that’s exactly where Penelope found Colin now.

“Colin?” She peeked around the dusty box that Colin was leaning against. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, come in.” Colin scooted over to make room. As Penelope settled down, she realized that Hyacinth was right, Colin had changed since they’d left the bedroom. He was quieter; he thought more. He didn’t join in as often when all the other animals played games, and he didn’t seem that interested in exploring the attic with everyone else. Penelope loved him all the same (perhaps more, if it was possible), but it worried her to see him out of sorts.

“I made something for you,” Penelope said, presenting her gift. She felt braver, surer about asking Colin to be One True Loves this time, but the flower still rattled in her hands as she spoke.

“Penelope, it’s beautiful, thank you.” Colin said. “You really are so good to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Penelope wanted to continue, to tell Colin how she felt, to ask him to be One True Loves with her, but Colin didn’t take her flower. Colin sounded sad. He sounded so sad that Penelope couldn’t help but hesitate for a moment, studying him.

At first glance, he looked the same as always. Same large, blue body, same blue eyes. But where Colin used to sit tall and proud, now he drooped. Now he leaned. Now his shiny blue eyes seemed to have lost some of their luster. “Colin? Are you okay?”

Colin was quiet for a moment. “Do you ever feel…lost?”

“Lost?” Penelope was confused. Colin had been more places than any of them. If there was anyone she trusted to find their way, it was him. “Well, sometimes. The attic is big, with lots more hiding places than there were in the bedroom. But if you get out and explore, I promise it gets a lot easier…”

“No, I don’t mean that. I mean…I mean that since Jules left, I…I feel lost. Like I have nothing inside to give.” Absentmindedly, Colin started rolling up the ends of his toes and letting them unfurl.

“What do you mean? You’re the bravest, cleverest, most adventurous monkey I know.”

“But I'm not,” Colin said. “I went outside on adventures because Jules took me. I had stories to tell because she gave them to me. I was brave because she said I was. I never did a single thing that Jules didn’t want me to do. Without Jules, I’m nothing.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is, though,” Colin said. “Everyone else is finding out what their purpose is. What they like, who they are. Look at you, so full of stories created out of your own mind. That’s so clever, Pen. I could never be like that. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“I know who you are,” Penelope said fiercely. “You’re the kindest, most caring being I know. You’re the one who cries when anyone else is hurt, not just yourself. Because you feel everything that much. You’re the one who crawled under a tree branch so you could bring me a leaf that matched my cloth.” Penelope patted her pocket where the yellow leaf still sat. “You’re the one who hugs me until I’m not sad anymore. That’s who you are. You’re Colin,” Penelope said as if that explained everything (which for her, it did). “You can do anything you want to do.”

Colin looked like he wanted very much to believe her, but Penelope could tell that he still had doubts.

“And…and if…you really don’t believe that you’re anything without Jules, If you really believe that you’ve never done anything for yourself, then I guess we’ve never been best friends after all this time.”

He looked as if he’d been punched directly in his soft stomach. “Pen, why would you say that? That’s not true.”

“You said yourself that you only did what Jules wanted you to do. Jules said we were best friends, remember? If what you said is true, then that means you’ve only been best friends with me because she told you to. Do you really believe that?”

“Of course not. You’re the most special thing in the world to me. I would never…”

“I know,” said Penelope. “You’re special to me, too. I may not know everything, but I do know that I would feel the same way about you even if no one told me to. Because we’re Colin and Pen, and we’re meant to be together. We can decide that. Not anyone else.”

Colin considered this but said nothing. Scooting closer to him, Penelope touched both hands to his, causing Colin to look down in surprise. “I know who you are, Colin,” she repeated. “And I think you know too, deep down. I think you know what you want. It’ll just take some time for you to find it, and that’s okay.” Taking the paper flower, Penelope tucked it into Colin’s pocket along with the remains of the blue flower from so long ago. “So for now, I’m going to sit here with you. And I’m going to hug you until you aren’t sad anymore. Because you’ve always done the same for me.”

And wrapping her short arms as far around Colin as they would go, Penelope did exactly that.

🧦

The first day after Penelope and Colin’s conversation, Colin stayed in his small corner all day thinking, tracing feathery patterns on the floor.

The second day, he heaved himself up to the attic window, rubbed a small peephole in the grimy glass, and watched the clouds pass by overhead until the sun sank below the horizon.

The third day, Colin followed Penelope like a large, silent shadow as she went about her day. He watched quietly as Penelope helped Hyacinth polish her shiny rocks. He hovered at the fringes as all the animals had a pretend picnic on a scrap of checkered cloth. He listened nearby as Penelope and Eloise created a story to tell everyone that night. Everywhere Penelope went, Colin was close behind. Every time she looked up at him, he’d just smile his stitched-Colin smile and kept watching her.

And that night, after Penelope had shared her nightly story with everyone, the last thing she saw before falling asleep was Colin’s blue button eyes, glinting in the dark.

On the fourth day Colin disappeared, and no one saw him for a whole week.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out where he’d gone. Somehow, he’d managed to drape his favorite green blanket over one of the more hidden corners of the attic, and behind that blanket, he was clearly working on something big. Something important. Something that had Colin making scraping, shuffling, heaving noises every day from dawn until dusk. And every time someone tried to peek in to see what he was doing, they were shooed away by an irritated Colin claiming that “it isn’t ready yet.”

Whatever it was, it stirred much curiosity throughout the entire attic and there was talk of little else while Colin worked. Gregory thought that Colin might be building an airplane or a boat to start going on adventures again. Hyacinth claimed it was an elaborate playground for everyone to climb on. Meanwhile Eloise sniffed, said Colin wasn’t clever enough to build any of those things, and insisted that he was simply making noise for attention.

As for Penelope, she couldn’t even begin to guess, but she worried about him. He’d been acting so strangely since they’d talked, and for the first time, she had no idea what Colin might be thinking. She’d been so sure in the moment that comforting Colin was the right choice, that it wasn’t the right time to ask to be One True Loves, but now Colin had disappeared. Now Colin was all alone. Now Penelope missed him desperately as she listened to his rustling, bumping noises behind the green blanket, and she had no idea when (or if) he would come back out.

Then at last, Colin woke her up one morning just as the first streaks of light started to stream through grimy window. “Don’t wake the others,” he said, motioning for her to follow. “Come with me.”

When Penelope at last peeked behind the dusty green blanket, she could hardly believe her eyes. Somehow, Colin had managed to build his own little house. The blanket, thin and threadbare that it was, allowed speckles of sunlight to filter through the ragged cloth. There was a big, comfy nest in the corner where he could sleep, and a cheerful-looking braided mat on the floor to serve as a rug. There was a string of old Christmas tree lights to illuminate the space after sundown, and a pile of the smaller, more manageable sized books by the wall. The baseboard was lined with small trinkets—shiny bits of sea glass and shells rummaged from some long-forgotten box, little scraps of paper folded into boats and birds, and pieces of brightly colored cloth woven into garlands.

“I wanted to show this to you first,” Colin said shyly.

Penelope didn’t know what to say. The house was beautiful—the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She had no idea how Colin had put this together all by himself.

“What do you think?” Colin asked, worried, and Penelope realized that she’d been quiet for far too long, too busy gaping at Colin’s creation. “All of this is just a start, of course. I have lots of things I want to add. Furniture and decorations, and more books. But I thought you might like to see—"

“Colin, it’s wonderful. I can’t believe you made all this.”

Colin looked immensely relieved at Penelope’s approval. “Oh, good. I hoped you’d like it.”

“I do,” said Penelope. “But why…”

“You said that I already knew what I wanted out of my life, just me, with no one else telling me what to do. So I thought about it, and I thought about it, and I realized that it was this.” He gestured his long sock arm around the space. “I realized that I wanted a home, one that I made myself. I wanted a place where I could keep all the things I like the most. I wanted somewhere that my family and friends could visit, where we could talk and tell stories and watch the clouds out the window. So, I made it.”

“It's magical, really,” said Penelope. “I’ll visit you here every day. Maybe I can build a little place next to yours and we can be neighbors.”

“But Penelope,” said Colin, confused. “I—I made this for us.”

“For…for us?” Penelope rubbed her cloth ears, convinced that she hadn’t heard him correctly. “Are you sure?”

Colin nodded enthusiastically, pulling her further into the space. “I made the little birds for you because you’re a Featherington, and I picked out all the books that I thought you might like since you like stories so much, and I put everything close to the ground so that you could reach it. And look, I found your jewelry box to sit on.” He brought her over to the little green velvet box tucked away beside the books. “I made a home for us, Penelope. Me and you. Because I…” He hesitated for a moment, before seeming to gather his courage and continuing. “I like you. Not just as a best friend.”

“You do?”

“I do,” said Colin. “I think I’ve known it for a long time, and I want us to be together. That’s what I want, that’s all I want. If you want it too.”

Penelope couldn’t help herself. She smiled. She beamed. And before she could stop herself, a laugh burst out. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. She laughed hard, she laughed long, she laughed until she almost tipped over on her side.

Colin caught her, his eyes concerned and a little embarrassed. “Pen, I…”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Penelope giggled. “I’m not, I’m not, I promise I’m not. I’m just so happy.”

“Really?” Colin seemed to glow. “So, you want to be with me?”

“Didn’t you know this was all I ever wanted, too?” Penelope said. “I gave you two flowers, Colin. I held your hands. Those are things that One True Loves do. I’ve been trying to ask you for years. What did you think I was doing?”

Colin looked even more embarrassed. “I suppose if you put it that way, I’ve been awfully foolish, haven’t I?”

“Not foolish,” said Penelope, patting his squiggly arm. “Kind. Wonderful. Colin. That’s what you are. I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else in the world.”

“Still, I think I owe you an apology. An explanation. Something.”

"I promise, I don’t need…"

“Please. Let me,” insisted Colin, twisting his tail between his hands. “I need you to know that I wasn’t best friends with you just because Jules said so. I was best friends with you because I liked you. If I ever made you feel like that wasn’t true, I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know that,” said Penelope. “No one could be as dear to me as you were if someone made them do it. And I know that you felt it too, deep down.”

“I did. You’re right,” Colin said. “But…I think I was a little right, too. I cared too much about how Jules saw me. I was her favorite, and I wanted so badly to be as wonderful as she thought I was. As brave as she thought I was. When Jules played with me, I felt…good enough for you. I thought if I was different than what she wanted me to be, then maybe you wouldn’t…like me as much. And I really, really liked you, Pen.”

“I liked you too, Colin. I’ve always liked you best. Ever since I first saw you.”

Colin’s stitched-on smile seemed to grow. “I was so happy when Jules asked Mum to make you. I watched her pick out your yellow cloth. I saw Mum sew in your blue button eyes. I thought I’d never be happier than I was that first day when all three of us played together. When I knew that I’d never be lonely. But I’ve gotten happier every day since I’ve known you. I’ve watched you be exactly who you are—sweet and curious and caring and clever, and I liked you more and more.

“I liked everything about you. I liked you so much that sometimes I wondered…if there was more than being best friends. I wondered if I’d want that with you if something more than best friends existed. But Jules kept saying we were best friends so…I just thought I must be wrong. I thought that all best friends must feel the way I did. I thought that best friends was the most we could be. I guess I was wrong about everything.”

“You were,” teased Penelope. “But that’s okay. We know now. That’s the important thing.”

“It is,” said Colin, taking both of Penelope’s cloth hands in his. “So, I guess…so we’re both absolutely sure…Penelope Featherington, I like you the most, out of anybody in the whole world. I want us to be together always. Will you be One True Loves with me?”

“I will,” said Penelope, feeling like an entire sunset of orange. “Of course I will.”

Penelope didn’t know what possessed her to do this. It was such a human thing to do, not something that any stuffed animal would think of. But before she could second guess herself, Penelope raised up on her squiggly sock toes and planted a kiss right on Colin’s stitched-on mouth.

Penelope had thought that sock monkey kisses might be strange—that maybe kisses were just for humans, that maybe Jules had been right to dislike the idea of kissing. But this kiss with Colin, this bumping, soft, squishy kiss felt right. It felt perfect, because it was them.

“Oh,” said Colin, surprised, touching his mouth with his hand. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know,” said Penelope. “I just wanted to do it. Is that okay?”

“Better than okay,” said Colin, grinning loopily. “I liked it. If you ever wanted to do that again, I’d like that too.”

“I will,” said Penelope. “Any time you want. I promise.”

And more than anything, Penelope looked forward to keeping that promise.

🐒

When Penelope went to sleep that night, curled up in their soft nest with Colin’s arms wrapped around her, she dreamed.

She dreamed that she and Colin were swinging through a vast, green jungle, the sunlight filtering through the leaves. She dreamed that they sat on a tree branch together, the wind tickling their ears. She dreamed they could do everything that sock monkeys can’t do—swim in a real river and soar over the treetops and eat sticky fruits until juice ran down their fronts.

She dreamed that they watched the sunset together hand in hand, her cloth glowing the brightest shade of orange. And when she looked over to Colin in her dream, she was surprised to find that he was the deepest shade of purple.

“You look different,” Dream Penelope said.

“So do you,” said Dream Colin. “I always feel purple when I’m around you, Pen. Purple all the way to my toes. Because you make me feel blushy and red inside, and blue and red make purple.”

“Well, you’ve always made me feel orange,” said Penelope, examining her orange arms and orange legs, orange middle and orange tail. “Because red and yellow make orange. I’m glad that you can see it too.”

“I always thought this was how best friends were supposed to feel around each other,” said Colin. “Nervous and happy and…and purple.”

“Maybe…maybe we’ve been One True Loves this whole time. Maybe we just needed to figure it out for ourselves.”

“I hope so,” said Dream Colin, enveloping her in a nest of purple. “I really do.”

And Dream Penelope felt warm, and she felt safe, and when she woke up, all she could see was the shiniest blue.

“Good morning,” said Colin, bumping his nose against hers. “I had the nicest dream about us last night.”

“I did too,” said Penelope, stretching her little arms above her head. “We were in a jungle. You were purple, and I was orange.”

“I think I had the same dream,” said Colin. “Do One True Loves share dreams together?”

“I don’t know,” said Penelope. “But I think you and I do.”

“I hope so,” said Colin, enveloping her in a nest of blue. “I really do.”

And they snuggled closer, the green light filtering through the blanket. Their own home, their own little jungle in the corner of a dark, dusty attic.

🧦

Time moved differently in the attic than it did in the bedroom. The sun still rose and set, but without any human rhythms to guide the stuffed animals, time seemed to blend and stretch and blur. After a while, no one was quite sure how long they’d lived up there, but they knew that they were content.

After Colin and Penelope’s home was built, other houses started popping up throughout the attic. Some, like Anthony and Kate, and Simon and Daphne, found big roomy boxes where they had lots of space to stretch out and run around. Others, like Eloise and Phillip and Benedict and Sophie, chose spots that were a bit smaller, but with lots of pretty things to decorate the space. For a period of time, it seemed as if everyone was working on their home—arranging it, decorating it, making it a cozy place to stay. Whole afternoons could be spent visiting one home and the next, admiring how everyone had carved out a space all their own.

Colin and Penelope continued to add to their small home: trinkets and knickknacks, books and decorations. They took pretend tea in the afternoons, piles of fake biscuits and mismatched dishes filling their table (an especially large book covered with a yellow-and-blue checkered cloth). Colin made bouquets upon bouquets of paper flowers for Penelope to arrange in a cup, and they squabbled about things so foolish that they couldn’t remember why they argued the next day. When the sun went down, they’d spend time with their friends and family, laughing and sharing stories together. And when they cuddled into their nest at night, they’d whisper more stories into each other’s cloth ears—their best stories, the ones they wouldn’t share with anyone else.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Penelope asked one night when they were cuddled together like this.

“Always,” said Colin.

“That first day, when Jules said that I wasn’t a Bridgerton? That made me sad. It’s such a nice word, and it belongs to you. I wanted it to belong to me too.”

“Oh,” Colin flicked his tail, thinking. “Well, it could belong to you too, if you want.”

“But Jules said…”

“What Jules said doesn’t matter as much as what we want, Pen. Do you want Bridgerton to be for you?”

Penelope nodded into Colin’s chest.

“Then it’s yours. For as long as you want it.”

“Forever,” said Penelope. “I want it to be mine forever.”

“Good, I hoped that you would.” Colin bumped his mouth against her head. “Goodnight, Penelope Bridgerton.”

They drifted off to sleep after that, sharing sweet dreams.

Every day that Colin and Penelope spent together was happy.

Every day was always the same. Until one day, when it wasn’t.

It had been so long since a human had come to the attic that when The Girl’s head popped up from the floor, the animals almost didn’t remember how to respond. They were all tucked away, taking breakfast together in Colin and Penelope’s garden (the scattering of paper flowers in front of their house that had long since overflowed their table cup), and as The Girl pulled the rest of her body inside and wiped the dust off her hands, the toys finally remembered to freeze.

If Penelope hadn’t seen Jules grown up with her own button eyes, she might have believed that this Girl was her. She had Jules’s soft, red-brown hair and Jules’s wide, laughing mouth. But she was different, too—eyes a lighter shade of brown and longer hair than Jules had ever had, braided in two plaits down her back. She walked through the attic slowly as if afraid to mess anything up, as if she knew she shouldn’t be there.

When she came across the animals all huddled together, her eyes grew round. “Oh, wow,” she said, gathering each animal one by one, wiping dust out of their eyes and brushing more dust off of fur and feathers, bending creaking limbs and stretching tails to their full lengths before setting each animal aside and reaching for the next.

She reached Colin and Penelope last, who were sitting as they always did when taking pretend breakfast: hands clasped, Colin pulling Penelope into his soft blue body, Penelope’s stumpy yellow tail entwined with Colin’s long blue one. The girl lifted both of them together, examining them from head to toe. Then, gently, she pulled back the green blanket and peered into Penelope and Colin’s house.

She looked surprised at first, then she leaned in a bit further—running her fingers over their decorations, admiring the paper flowers in the cup, smoothing the wrinkles out of their tablecloth. Looking back down at Colin and Penelope, she smiled before arranging their arms around each other once more. “What a nice little house,” she said. “You two must be happy here.”

“Liv?” A voice called from down below, causing The Girl to jump, dropping Colin and Penelope on the floor.

“Sorry, sorry,” The Girl whispered, untangling their limbs. Then she called toward the opening in the attic floor. “I’m up here, Mum!”

A second head of red-brown hair popped through the floor, this one threaded with silver. “There you are. You really shouldn’t come up here by yourself. Who knows what junk you might trip over up here.”

“I’m fine, Mum. It’s not that bad.” The Girl (Liv) said, scrambling to her feet, Colin and Penelope still clutched in her arms. “Come see what I found!”

As the woman approached, Penelope was surprised to discover that she was face to face with Jules for the first time in years. A low murmur of surprise arose among the other animals when they recognized her, too.

She’d grown since they’d seen her last. Not taller, but older, softer. She looked a lot like Mum. In fact, if Liv was to be believed, Jules was a mum now. All grown up, with a little girl of her own.

Jules looked surprised to see them all, too. Taking Colin in one hand, and Penelope  in the other, she looked down at them, a small smile growing on her face. “Hello there,” she said at last. “Long time, no see.”

“These were yours?” Liv asked, eyes wide. “When you were my age?”

“They were,” Jules said, touching each animal in turn. “There’s Anthony and Kate…and Hyacinth, And Daphne…” she went through all the names, holding each in her hands, introducing Liv to each of them one by one. “And this…” she held Colin and Penelope in her arms “…is Colin and Penelope. They were my favorites when I was little. If you’d like, we could bring some of these toys home with us. I’m sure Gramma and PopPop won’t mind.”

“No,” said Liv, determined. “The toys live here. They have a little house. See?” Pulling back the blanket, Liv showed Jules Colin and Penelope’s home.

“Oh, Liv. That’s just a pile of Gramma and PopPop’s old stuff.”

“It’s Colin and Penelope’s house,” insisted Liv. “They’ll stay here. I’ll come up and play with them when I come to visit.”

“Okay, if you’re sure…”

“I am,” said Liv, taking the two monkeys and holding them close to her chest. “Can we play with them now, Mum? Please?”

Next thing they knew, the animals were having a pretend tea party with Jules, just like they used to do. They passed the pretend dishes around from hand to hand, sipped politely from pretend teacups, and laughed at Colin gobbling all the pretend biscuits.

“I’m sorry I ate all your biscuits,” Jules said to Penelope in a silly voice, pretending to be Colin. “But thank you for inviting me over to tea. I’m glad we’re best friends.”

Liv made a face. “No, Mum. Colin and Penelope were holding hands. They’re in love.”

“Oh,” Jules looked down at Colin, then Penelope. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Liv. “Penelope is Colin’s One True Love.”

“Okay then, if you say so,” said Jules, tugging at the end of Liv’s braids. “Colin and Penelope, together forever.”

Penelope looked at Colin from her place in Liv’s hand and found him smiling his stitched-on smile at her. “Did you hear that?” She said. “Liv said we’re One True Loves. Jules said we’d be together forever.”

“I already know that, silly,” said Colin. “I’ve known that for a long time. I don’t need anyone to tell me so. It’s just the truth, don’t you think?”

“I do,” said Penelope, almost imagining that she could see her own reflection in Colin’s shiny blue eyes. “I really do.”

🧦🐒