Growing Pains

by aishuu

A dorm was not a pleasant place to be if you wanted privacy. It meant sharing a room of young teenage boys who acted like there was no disconnect between brain and hormones.

For Edmund Pevensie, the problem was compounded by the fact he knew what was going on. In their innocence, the others were excited about what was happening to their bodies, and talking about how tall they were growing, or about their developing beards. At fourteen, most of them were beginning to show some signs of puberty, with the exception of poor Martin, who looked like a ten-year-old.

Of course, those were the good things about growing up. Cracking voices, the pain of growth spurts and the sudden fascination with girls (of which none attended the school) were annoying, but the worst was waking up in sticking sheets or with a full-grown erection. Especially if you weren't quick enough to hide the evidence.

Anyone who woke up like that was in for a lot of joshing, which was humiliating. Taking the walk of shame to the laundry or bathroom as the others catcalled was so petrifying that some boys elected to keep dirty sheets in a rather futile attempt to hide the evidence. When Edmund had his turn, he merely gathered up the soil bed clothes and marched them away in a matter-of-fact manner. The others didn't find it fun to taunt him, because he would just look them square in the face, raising an eyebrow.

For him, there was no embarrassment, because he did not fear the changes that he was going through. He'd already survived adolescence once, and it held no mystery for him now.

But it was different for his friends, who were discovering the edge of manhood offered thrills of imagination. As the year marched on, their obsession with girls only deepened. Pictures of Ingrid Bergman and and Betty Grable were circulated covertly, and the boys began to talk about what their older brothers and friends had told them about sex. It was a hush-hush thing, with boys gathering at one end of the dorm after curfew and exchanging tales.

Edmund never participated, and the others thought him shy. There were several boys like that in his form, who either had no interest or were scared of the idea. Edmund was neither of these; he feared that if he did get involved, he would end up laughing. Some of the stories were absolutely ridiculous, and several would be very painful if they were true.

He couldn't tell them what he knew. In Narnia, there had been several Nymphs who had been more than happy to give him hands-on lessons about the other gender. Since Narnia, an earthy and natural country where people were allowed to pursue happiness as long as it hurt no one, had no taboos about sex, it had been a very thorough education.

A part of him wondered if it might have been easier not to know about it, now. His dreams, unlike many of his dorm mates, were based more firmly on memories. He remembered how pleasant it had been to sink himself into a woman, and how their soft breasts had felt between his fingers. He remembered the nights when one of his lovers had used her mouth on his most private parts, and he had returned the favor. Some of the things he had done were positively scandalous by England's standards, and he knew he would be unlikely to experience them again.

After one long holiday, two of his roommates returned with tales of sharing kisses with some girls they had known. Thomas had even been allowed to put his hand up his girl's shirt, and was nearly rapturous as he laid out his plans for the summer holiday. The others looked at him like he was a great sage, suddenly the expert on all things female.

Edmund had merely shaken his head, finding it fairly benign. The boys' view on relationships was a simple one, about what the girls would let them do in pursuit of the elusive "it." None of them were worried about relationships or falling in love, or the problems that "it" could produce. It wasn't unheard of for a careless mistake to result in a hasty marriage.

But he held his peace, knowing that they wouldn't listen to him if he added complexity to the argument.

Sometimes he wondered if this second childhood was another test, one of patience. He had learned how to act like a child before adults, remembering that he had to ask, and not command. He had learned how to be subject to the will of others, and not take responsibility for everything that happened. And while doing that, he had to remember who he was, and what he had been. It would be disrespectful to forget Aslan and Narnia and all the people he had loved.

The inability to forget was a burden, because he knew more about the joys and suffering the world could offer. He longed to be a man again, and have the ability to look into the eyes of others and see respect there. Someday, he would likely marry, and then he could experience the joy of sharing himself with a woman.

For him, the trial of growing up (again) was in keeping his silence, understanding that all things must come at the right time. For now he was stuck in with a bunch of teenage boys, knowing the answers to their questions, but unable to provide them.