Narnia: The Prince and the Stranger

1

Max POV

Maxine Marina Farsend. Max to my friends. I am seventeen years old, with boy short brown hair, blue eyes, I'm 5'6", and I have plenty of bruises and scrapes on my body. Most people think I'm a boy if they look at me. Up front, I got practically nothing, just a tiny little B cup pair of boobs. I like wearing jeans, they're practically the only pants I wear, and my converse sneakers, I never leave the house without my zip up hoodie, and I like dark T-shirts that are too big for me.

What am I doing right now, you ask? Why, I'm attempting to walk home. I say 'attempt' because walking is painful right now. That's because I had been stupid enough to get into a fight at school today. I called one of the football players, specifically one of the linemen, a peanut-brained, butt-kissing jarhead. He didn't take that too well, especially since I said it to his face. He, as well as two of his football buddies, decided I needed to be roughed up a little. Hey, one jarhead I can handle, but three? It didn't go so well on my end, to say the least. I got a black eye, some scrapes on my chin, bruises on my chest, stomach, arms, and legs, and I'm pretty sure that somewhere along the way, I broke a finger, because my pinky hurts like hell right now. I'm limping home with an empty backpack (Because I was smart enough to finish my homework at school, ha, ha!) to my foster parents Lisa and Marcus.

I have been in and out of foster homes for as long as I can remember. Apparently, Daddy raped Mommy, and she didn't believe in abortion, so she had me. I barely remember her, she nursed me when I was a baby, and fed me and changed me and stuff like that, but keeping the child of her rapist was just too much for her to handle. She left me with a note wrapped in a blanket in a cardboard box outside an orphanage that said 'Her name is Maxine Marina. She is the child of my rapist. Please take care of her'. I took the name Farsend because that's the name of the orphanage I lived in. The house that Lisa and Marcus have is a simple, one-story, three bedroom house. It's not all that bad, I mean, there's a huge backyard for the other little foster kids to run around in with a big tree that has a tire swing. The food's great, Lisa's a good cook. And the living conditions are top notch foster home-wise, I get a warm bed that I share with two seven year olds, my own private space in our room (By 'our' I mean mine and the other kids), and Lisa and Marcus are good parents.

Apparently, Lisa's infertile, so they can't have any children of their own. Since they figured there were already hundreds of kids in need of a loving home, they became foster parents. In their time as fosters, they've only adopted one kid, a black boy named Jeremy. He shares his room with the other boys they took in, but it's still his room.

I walked through the front door of the house, kicking off my shoes as I called, "I'm back." I heard a few footsteps and squeals as two kids came running down the stairs. New kids, too, a girl and a boy.

"Max, is that you?" Lisa's voice called from the kitchen.

"Yeah." I called back.

"Could you go and get Dad for me?" She asked, "I'm a little busy with dinner."

"Sure." I called back. Lisa and Marcus always insisted that the kids they took in call them Mom and Dad, to make them feel like actual parents and these are actually their kids. I put my backpack down on the floor next to the couch where Jeremy and Maria, a thirteen year old who thinks she's nineteen, sat next to him watching TV. She always wore way too much make-up for a girl her age, and I keep warning her it'll get her into trouble, but she's too stubborn to believe me. I paused as I went by them, remembering my black eye.

"Hey, Maria." I said, she looked over at me and cringed.

"Jesus Christ, Max, what happened to you?" She asked as she stared at my face disgustedly.

"Give me something to cover up my eye." I told her, she crossed her arms over her chest and her lips pursed a little bit.

"Why should I?" She asked, sounding snooty, "What's in it for me?"

"Damn it, Maria, I need something to cover this up!" I growled, "Give me something to use!"

"No." She said, sounding like a child. I groaned, I hate when she got like this. Been here two months and thinks she owns everything.

"I'll give you five bucks for it." I offered, she smiled at me and jumped up.

"Deal!" She said before running off to our room and coming back with a compact. "Get down." I knelt down and let her cover it up, our skins were pretty similar in tone, so I wasn't surprised to see my normal self in the mirror when I stood up. I handed her a crinkled up five dollar bill from my pocket and kept going to find Marcus.

I walked down the halls, looking at the random pictures of Van Gogh paintings and da Vinci artwork. These two didn't keep any family pictures on the walls so it wouldn't make the kids upset that they weren't included in the pictures. They have a whole hall dedicated to their foster kids, one picture of each kid they ever had hanging on the walls, myself included. I ended passing by that hall to find Marcus in his bedroom, sitting at his desk as he scribbled something down on paper before tapping a few numbers in a calculator. Marcus was a CPA, a Certified Public Accountant, and he was proud of his job. He had a right to; he made a boatload of cash during tax season.

"Marcus, Lisa wants you." I said as I poked my head in through the door.

"Max, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Dad?" Marcus asked as he turned in his seat to look at me. Marcus was a middle-aged man, with thinning blonde hair on the top of his egg-shaped head, brown eyes that were almost an amber color, and a couple wrinkles here and there. Most of them were covered by his giant glasses with lenses that had been bent slightly when kids would steal them from him. I let out a groan.

"Fine." I said, "Mom wants to talk to you, Dad." He smiled and stood from his seat, patting my head as he went out the door.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" He asked with a friendly smile. I rolled my eyes. This wasn't the first time this had happened, me being with foster parents who got way too into their work. I honestly didn't see the difference in calling them by their names or by Mom or Dad. It wouldn't make any difference once I turned eighteen. When I turn eighteen, I would be kicked out of the program, responsible for only myself for the rest of my life until I find some bum to marry, then I'm his problem. I don't believe in love. Every time I get into a relationship, it always ends badly. My first crush, a thirteen year old named Sam, said he hated me. My first boyfriend, an underage drinker named Ricky, he enjoyed beating my ass. After that, my boyfriends were either ignorant of my existence as a woman and saw me as more of a thing they could get off on, or they were abusive in some way or form. The abusive ones were the ones that always got their asses kicked, courtesy of my feet.

I followed Marcus as he went to the kitchen to find his wife and I went to the living room. I plopped down on the couch next to Jeremy as he watched Jerry Springer. For some reason, a lot of foster kids got a kick out of seeing other people try to kick other people's butts. Jeremy was one of them, I just didn't care about the fighting. I liked the stories and stuff they told on the show, even if they were paid actors.

"Uh, Max?" Lisa called, I looked over to see her red head stick out of the kitchen. She was about the same age as Marcus, with make-up covering up some wrinkles around her lips and her green eyes. "Could you come in here for a moment?"

"Yeah." I said as I got up. I quirked an eyebrow at Jeremy's sad face as I walked past him, what was he so upset about? I walked into the kitchen and saw we were the only people in there. Lisa was anxiously gripping a wooden spoon covered in some kind of sauce and Marcus was giving me a solemn look as he sat at the table, "What's up?" Lisa and Marcus exchanged glances before one of them spoke.

"Max," Marcus began, "As I'm sure you've noticed, we took in a couple more kids. Their names are Joanna and Dylan." I nodded.

"Yeah, I saw them earlier." I said, "What about them?"

"Well, with them, the family's gotten bigger…" Marcus said, "And that means more mouths to feed at the dinner table…" I had a feeling I knew where this was getting at.

"Yeah…?" I said.

"And well, on my budget, I can't afford to take in so many…" Marcus said, he tried to keep speaking, but looked up helplessly at Lisa, who sighed sadly.

"Max, we're going to have to send you back to Farsend." She said. I knew it. I saw it coming, I should've seen it as soon as I saw the new kids, "I'm sorry, but we just can't afford enough food for everyone, so…"

"Hey, don't worry about it." I said, "I get it. It's not like this hasn't happened before."

"So, you understand then?" Marcus asked, "You're okay with it?"

"Yeah," I said with a shrug, "Totally fine." I was fine. My number one rule with foster homes: Never get attached. The day you get sent back is that much more painful when you love the family you were with. Although, Jeremy had been a pretty good friend these past several months. Maybe I'd keep in touch with him when I got back to Farsend. "So when do I leave?"

"Tomorrow." Lisa said, "I know it's sudden, but we just-"

"It's okay, really." I said, "I'll pack what I got and I'll be ready to go in the morning." They both nodded, then Lisa did something she's never done before. She hugged me.

"We're so sorry, Max." She said brokenly, "We want to give you a good home, we really do." I pushed her away. Hugs make me really uncomfortable.

"It's okay." I said, "Forget about it."

"Max, we could never forget about you." Marcus said in a comforting tone of voice. He moved to hug me too, but I stopped him.

"I said forget about it not me." I said, "I don't care if you remember me or not. I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow." I walked away, leaving two sad fosters in the kitchen. I really did care, though. Most foster parents forgot I lived there until I ate their food or asked for them directly. These guys paid decent attention to me, and I kind of liked that.

I walked past Jeremy and Maria, who was playing with Joanna, and went down the hall to my room. The room itself is pretty big, with a king-sized bed and a twin bed against a white wall with little pink flowers painted all over it. There was a white desk on the opposite side with one chair. Beside that was a purple dresser that held Joanna's, Maria's, Laura's, and my clothes. I pulled open the white closet door and pulled out my suitcase. I threw the soon to be full suitcase on the king bed and I opened the top drawer and began pulling out my underwear and tossing it haphazardly into the suitcase. I heard footsteps outside the door but I didn't turn to look.

"So they gave you the news, huh?" Ah, Jeremy. I turned around to see him leaning against the doorframe. I was the only one here that was closest to his age, although he was mature enough to pass for twenty one. I nodded at him, he sighed and ran his hand through his black curls, "I wish you didn't have to go. I really like you."

"I like you, too, Jare." I said as I went back to separating my bras from Maria's, she was only a size smaller than me, so why was it so hard to tell which bras were mine? "But I saw this coming. I never stay in one place for too long. A few months at the most." I laughed bitterly, "Ever since birth it's been like that. I guess it's just my fate or something." Jeremy looked at me sadly as I shut the top drawer and moved on to the one underneath it that held all my shirts.

"Yeah, I know." Jeremy said sadly, "It happens to all the foster kids. I just didn't think it'd happen to you so quickly. Most of them stay around at least six months if my folks really like them."

"They are your folks now aren't they?" I asked him, "Lucky you. They liked you enough to keep you." Jeremy walked away from the door frame, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"They liked you." He muttered, "I was starting to convince them to adopt you, too." He glared at the floor, "But then they decided to take in those two, and-"

"Jeremy, relax." I said, "They're younger than me, they need a good family more than I do." He looked back at me, that sad look back in his brown eyes. "How'd you find out about me leaving anyway? They never tell anyone until after the kid leaves."

"I overheard them talking to Mrs. F." He said, Mrs. F was Mrs. Farsend, the co-owner of the Farsend orphanage. The other owner was her husband, both of them were well-aged, somewhere in their late seventy's, yet they're both perfectly healthy. Mrs. F always treated me a bit more nicely than the other kids, I never figured out why, though. Every time I was sent back, she'd come pick me up in her car and as soon as I got in, she'd ask, "Do you remember me?" and I'd always say, "Yeah, I remember you, Mrs. F." She'd always look a little upset when I'd say that, but then she'd smile and keep on going. "They were talking about you. I knew it couldn't be good."

"Well, bad stuff happens sometimes." I said, "But they're little kids that need parents of some kind to take care of them. Lisa and Marcus couldn't be a better choice." Jeremy frowned.

"I know, but…"

"Don't worry about it." I said as I pulled out the last of my shirts, "Look, if it makes you feel any better, I'll try to keep in touch with you when I go back." He seemed to be a little happier about that.

"Yeah?"

"Sure, I mean, out of all the brothers and sisters I had," I said, "You gotta be my favorite." He smiled at me.

"I'm happy to hear that." He said, "And just how many siblings have you had over the years, just so I know?"

"I don't know." I said, "I lost count after fifty." I pulled out my jeans and my only pair of cargo shorts. I only wore them during the summer, right now it was the middle of spring. I stuffed them into the suitcase and went over to the closet to pull out my shoes, one pair of heels, and a pair of boots. I still wore my converse sneakers. I stuffed them into the suitcase and I couldn't shut it all the way, "Hey, sit on my suitcase for me, would ya?" He nodded and sat on the bag so I could pull the zipper all the way around. "Thanks." He jumped off.

"I'm really going to miss you." He said sadly. He held out his hand for me to shake, he wanted a hug but he knew me better. I shook his hand and smiled sadly.

"Yeah, you too." I said. He nodded once and we stood there in an awkward silence. Then he brought his hand up to my face and wiped off some of the make up with his fingers.

"So, what happened to your eye?" He asked, looking at the bruise. I covered it up with my hand.

"I… got into a little scrap." I said, "And lost."

"Who with?" Jeremy asked, I looked into his eyes and saw the fury behind them. Jeremy and I had some kind of freaky bond, the last time I lost a fight and I lived in this house, Jeremy kicked his ass the next day. He almost had him sent to the hospital, but it did get him in trouble with the cops. He wasn't arrested, just given a warning because he was young and it was his first offense.

"Just some jarheads." I said, "Nothing special."

"Max…" He growled lowly.

"Look, they're just some losers!" I said, "It doesn't matter who they were. They got the bit of pride they wanted and now they'll leave me alone! I probably won't even go to that school anymore."

"Max!" Jeremy snapped, "Tell me who it was!"

"Why, so you can get sent to Juvie?" I snapped back, "Last time, it was a warning, next time, it could be jail!"

"I don't care!" Jeremy shouted.

"Well, I do!" I shouted back, then I stopped. What was I saying? Oh, Don't tell me I broke my own rule! "I need to take a walk." I pushed past him and fast-walked my way out the backdoor. Outside, Marcus and Lisa had a little forest behind their house. They always tell us that we shouldn't go any further than the lightening tree because that's where they would lose sight of any kids that went in there. The lightening tree was just some poor old pine that had, surprise, gotten struck by lightning, and had fallen to the ground a few years ago. I walked into the little forest and stuffed my hands in my pockets as I jumped on the dead tree wood, and jumped off the other side.

I kept walking through the woods, stepping over sticks and twigs and old leaves from fall that had yet to decompose and feed the mulchy ground beneath my feet. I knew that neither of my foster parents were watching me, and if they were trying, they couldn't see me. I wanted to be alone. I needed to think. My own words kept running through my head translating to one thing: I do care, I do care, I do care, I do care, I do care. I gripped at my short hair in frustration, I didn't want to care! I shouldn't care! I never care! I mean, if I had been in my right state of my uncaring mind, which I obviously wasn't, I wouldn't care if Jeremy got sent to Juvenile Hall. Why did I care? Well, he had a family waiting for him, that was one thing. Maybe I was caring about what Marcus and Lisa would say when they found out he went to prison for beating up the guys that beat me up. Wait, I was gonna be gone tomorrow! Why should I care?

My head hurts. I had to sit down. I looked up and saw a tree, that had been hollowed out in the middle with an opening right in front of me. I sat myself inside the hollow area and leaned back against the bark. I didn't know myself anymore, I shouldn't care. So why did I? I groaned and held my head as it felt like everything was spinning. Wait, everything was spinning! I was in a spinning tree! I saw the colors of the tree leaves, the tree bark, the grass, everything in that little forest whirl around me as the tree spun around and around. I cried out and held onto the bark for dear life as the tree kept spinning, the velocity of it shoving me back against the inside of the tree. I shut my eyes tight as the tree kept spinning and I tried to hang on to the outside of the hollowed place. What was going on?

"Help!" I cried in fear, I had no idea what was going on, and I was scared to death. "Help! Someone help me!" My eyes shot open when I heard a deep voice echo in my mind.

"Do not fear, my child." It said, "Help will come." I felt comforted by the voice, and I seemed to relax. My hands let go of the bark as I closed my eyes peacefully, and I felt myself fall, but for some reason, I wasn't scared.