Author's Note: I had started to write this story back in November of 2006, but I had deleted because I had thought of a completely new plot. For those who might remember it, it was called Jo. I decided to re-post it now with a different title. If you haven't figured it out yet, this story is Edmund/OC, because I don't think our Just King gets enough romance in his young life. The inspiration for the new plot came from after I watched the extended edition. (I don't own that DVD, but I saw it on television.) There was this part where they show a girl with a green hat and curly hair who looked around eleven or twelve. So, why couldn't she find her way into Narnia?
Inspiration: The All-American Rejects's "Girl of My Dreams"
Quote from Chapter: "Who are you?"
Chapter One: The Closet in the Attic
She sighed.
Jo Greene, a twelve-year-old evacuee from Finchley, looked up from her book, her hand under her chin. Her semi-curly hair under a green hat framed her freckled face as she looked out the window. The train rolled passed stations as children sent to the country because of the bombing got off.
"Coombe Halt!" She watched as four children, two boys and two girls - siblings, by the look of them - got off. She had no time to wonder about it as the train sped off. The last thing she saw was the younger of the boys look at his label. Another sigh escaped her lips as she got up. She would be at her Great-Aunt Polly Plummer's in two stops. Might as well get ready, she thought.
Jo closed her book and placed it her bag. She brushed her hair out of her face and lowered her suitcase down, dropping it down onto her seat. She sat back down, wrapping her hand around the handle. She stood back up as the conductor yelled, "Chauncey Lane, Chauncey Lane!"
She got off the train, fingering the lable that was on her coat. She stood on the nearly empty platform. Jo looked from left to right, finally spotting an elderly woman with a motherly expression. The young girl waved and ran to her.
"Oh, Jo, you've grown!" Aunt Polly exclaimed. She grinned at her aunt. She liked this particular relative, for she wasn't stuffy like most of the elderly members of her family. She was like a child stuck in an adult's body. Aunt Polly gripped her hand as she led towards the car.
"Aunt, you have no idea how glad I was when I found out that I was coming here," Jo told her, as she buckled her seat belt. The woman grinned at her through the rearview mirror.
"You have no idea how glad I am to have you," she replied. There was a silence as Aunt Polly drove, going up a dirt driveway that led to a small house of three floors. Her heart warmed up at the sight. (Her heart warmed up at the sight of anything.) Her aunt turned off the ignition and opened the car door. Jo did likewise, wrapping her hand around the handle of her suitcase. She followed her up the stone steps and inside.
"Your room is upstairs, second on the left," she told Jo. The young girl nodded, observing her surroundings with interest. She had only been to her Aunt Polly's once when she had been only six, seeing as she had been born in America and had only moved to England a month before the air raids had began.
"I think I'll go upack," she said presently. Her aunt nodded and she watched her leave, thinking on how similar they looked. They had same blue-grayish eyes, same freckled face, same short stature, same dirty blonde hair. Well, Jo's was blonde; Aunt Polly's had grayed with time. She trooped up the stairs.
Unpacking took almost no time at all. She stomped down the stairs (a strange habit for a small girl like her) and entered the kitchen, unsurprised to smell fried eggs and toasted bread.
"I hope you don't mind a late breakfast," Aunt Polly said.
"Not at all," she answered. "I didn't have too much breakfast this morning." She reached up and took off her hat, placing it on one side of the table. A plate of sausages, eggs and toast were placed in front of her. Jo's mouth watered at the sight of it; Aunt Polly always did make the best food.
"Thanks," she said, digging in eagerly. The elderly woman merely chuckled. She reached over for the glass of orange juice (that, incidentally, had been placed on her hat), but instead grabbed her hat absent-mindedly. The glass went crashing down to the floor. The young blonde gaped at the mess she had made.
"I'll clean it up," she said, standing up.
"There's a broom upstairs. Up in the attic closet," Aunt Polly said. Jo nodded, dashing up the stairs two at a time. She opened the attic door, walking up the narrow stairs. The attic was a small space. There was a trunk, a broken cricket set and a few other things. At the far right, she could see a door directly in front of a window. The girl began to feel claustrophobic, so she opened the window as high as it could. Then she turned, pleased as a strong breeze blew in. Her handle enclosed around the closet handle, and she pulled the door, surprised to see that the closet was a bit large. She stepped inside, searching for a broom. Unexpectedly, the door slammed shut because of a stronge wind. She dropped the broom she held and went to re-open the door.
Thank God it didn't lock itself, she thought, stepping outside. Her blue eyes grew wide.
Jo no longer stood in an attic. She wasn't even standing in something that resembled an attic. She was in an impossibly wide corridor. The notes of a song - one that was haunting and joyous at the same time - drifted from outside, through an open window. She could see a blue ocean stretching on the other side of the wall. She stepped closer, curious. She peered out an arched, open window, listening and watching the waves crash into the shore.
"Who are you?" a voice asked. The blonde nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned and saw a young girl, perhaps two years younger than her. She had golden blonde hair and bright, wide blue eyes. The girl's clothes confused Jo to no end. She wore a medieval-styled dress of deep red silk. On her head was a crown of silver juniper flowers. She was a big contrast next to Jo, who was clad in a plaid skirt, a blouse, a sweater, knee-high stockings and school shoes.
"I'm Jo. Jo Greene," she answered.
"I'm Lucy," Lucy said, curtseying. A bewildered expression crossed the older girl's face. Clumsily, she did the same.
"Where did you come from?" Lucy asked.
"I-I don't really know. I was looking for a broom in my Aunt Polly's closet. A wind blew the door close and I went to open it. Next thing I know, I'm here." They stood in a silence until Jo finally asked: "Where am I?"
Lucy gave her a surprised look, as if her question was out of the ordinary. She finally composed herself by saying: "Why, you're in Narnia, of course!"
So what do you think? Should I continue? Oh, and to anyone who is a reader of my other story, More Than It Seems, I should have the next chapter posted by Tuesday or Wednesday. Anyway, if you guys do want me to continue, the next chapters will be longer than this since I'm going to be switching from Edmund to Jo.