First Days of School
"Today you start your first day of school," Mrs. Pevensie said, straightening her oldest son's tie. The six year old looked a little scared, he had never been away from Mummy, Susan or Edmund before, and he'd much rather stay home .
"Mummy, what if I get lotht," he asked in a tiny, lisping voice. "Or ifthe other children are mean to me…" Mrs. Pevensie kissed him, and smiled reassuringly.
"You won't get lost," she said, "we walk by the school every day on our way to the park."
"Mummy?" four year old Susan piped up from her chair. "Can I go to school too?" she asked eagerly, sliding off her chair and joining her brother at the door. She was about to follow him down the path, when Mrs. Pevensie caught her and carried her back inside.
"First, Miss Susan, you're too little, second, you're still in your nightgown, and third I need you to help Mummy keep an eye on Eddie while I clean the house," she told the little girl. Susan clapped her hands and skipped over to the playpen that was set up in the parlor.
The Waldens had a big dog that scared Peter whenever he walked past. He hated going by the house, and shut his eyes whenever he went past it. He was a big boy, he shouldn't be scared of a dog; that's what Daddy would say if he was here. Shutting his eyes he ran past.
"Look at the baby," a jeering voice taunted. "He's scared of a little dog!"
Peter's eyes flew open in indignation. "I'm not a baby!" he insisted. The boy doing the teasing jumped off the gate he had been sitting on, and faced Peter.
"You are too a baby! Only a baby would be scared of a dog. Where you going, baby?" he asked as his friends surrounded him.
"Thcool," Peter lisped. He had recently lost his two front teeth .The boy mimicked him, repeating "Thcool" loudly, and making his friends laugh.
"Great one, Sharpe!" Sharpe, whose full name was Carrington Dowling Sharpe, held out his hand, blocking Peter's path. "Give me a penny, baby."
"I don't got a penny," Peter gasped. Sharpe looked at his friends. "Hear that, then, chaps. The baby doesn't have a penny!" His friends guffawed, as Sharpe bent down to Peter's eyelevel.
"You better bring a penny tomorrow, baby, or I'll beat you up." Peter nodded and ran off down the street, not looking back.
Peter was lost. He knew he was lost because nothing looked familiar; not the houses, or the buildings, nothing. He had no idea where he was, and he was scared and hungry. He felt like he had been walking a million miles. He sat down on the curb and had a proper cry, because you couldn't expect a six year old to be brave all the time. When he was done he wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve, and resumed walking.
Mummy and Daddy had told him and Susan if they ever got lost, they were to find a bobby, and they'd take them back home; only he wasn't supposed to go back home, he was supposed to go to school. And now he'd never learn to read or write, and he'd never be able to read the storybook to Susan or Edmund. Peter wondered what would happen if he never found his way back home.
"Per'aps a band of gypsies will kidnap me," he thought aloud as he walked. "I wonder if gypsy children have to eat yucky veg'bles, or take baths, or go to bed when they don't want to. If I wath a gypsy I should have to peform, Mummy sayths that's what gypsies do. I don't think I'd like to be a gypsy child. Their Mummies slap them and yell a lot, if Mummy was a gypsy, I hope she won't slap us.
"Or maybe a robber will kidnap me and take me to his secret hideout. I should like to be a robber's helper, they have such jolly good fun. And I wouldn't have to go to bed till dark; but I don't want to be a gypsy child or a robber's helper, I want my Mummy!" At this, he started to cry again.
"Why hello, Peter you're a bit far from home then." Peter turned around to see Mrs. O 'Keefe from across the street from his house. She was holding a basket full of groceries.
"I'm lotht! I was s'posed to go to thcool, but I got lotht, and now I don't know where I am and I'm gonna have to be raised by gypsies or be a robber's helper and they don't tuck you in or read you stories like Mummy does!" Peter wailed all in one breath, running to Mrs. O'Keefe and burying his face in her skirt. Mrs. O'Keefe, for her credit, did not laugh. She knelt down to Peter's eyelevel and took out a handkerchief, wiping his nose and eyes.
"There now, let's have none of that, then. I'll take you to school myself, I daresay I can use the company," she said as she straightened up and held out her hand.
Mrs.Pevensie was waiting for Peter at the gate. "How was school?" she asked, giving him a kiss and a hug. Susan and Edmund waved from the parlour window.
"I got lotht, Mummy," he said quietly, following her into the house.
"Did you, oh my!" Mrs. Pevensie gasped. Peter nodded emphatically.
"Uh -huh, and there was a doggy and he was big," he rattled on, following her around the house.
"Peter," Mrs. Pevensie said, turning around, feeling one of her headaches coming on. "Why don't you and Susan play in the garden and wait for Daddy to come home?" she suggested.
Peter peered at her, a thoughtful look on his little face. "Do you gots a headache, Mummy, cauthe I could make you feel better," he said. He beckoned her to come down. When she did, he wrapped his little arms around her neck and kissed her cheek. "Feel better now Mummy?" he asked .She smiled and nodded.
"Yes, I do, very much so. Thank you love, now go run along and play with your sister. I have to get dinner done before Daddy gets home." She watched him scamper off, wondering what he would be like when he was older, never dreaming that he'd one day rule a magical country at the young age of fourteen.
