Chapter 4: Exposure

There was something about an English rain that soothed Sophie. To her, it was a reminder that angels did shed tears. Every time she was caught in a storm she pretended their tears were for her. A pious blessing would wash over her. The pitter-patter that prickled her skin kept Sophia one-step closer to the ones she lost. Rain was good. The cold, wet atmosphere allowed imperfections scattered in a seemingly "perfect realm".

When she woken to hear the rain, the feeling was mutual. She reveled in her morning stretch with the cacophony of rain pricking the roof above her head. Then the beat dropped. Like the bombs in Finchely. It was subtle and then rose to a crescendo. Her ears rang as her brow furrowed. Against her body's wishes she sat up. The frizz waved in her face before hugging the sides.

Her eyes trailed to the diamond-patterned window. The blurry lines of rain pounded meticulously against the panes. Sophia frowned. Her back hit the plush of the featherbed in grimace.

So much for a wonderful day. The strike of lightning lit up half of the room in natural light before the boom of the thunder vibrated.

What it all boiled down was a soggy oatmeal and milk breakfast followed with a groggy venture to the library. Susan reclined lazily in comfort with one of the Professor's thick and dusty tomes. Lucy and Edmund drearily laxed on the floor with occasional drawing glance at the continuous somber weather. Sophia kneeled down at the table, drawing ominous etchings in the polished mahogany or thumped a show tune that popped in her head.

Peter was in no better condition. His head hit the back of a chair in annoyance.

Susan enunciated, "Gas-tro-vas-cu-lar." No response. "Come on, Peter. Gas-tro-vas-cu-lar."

Sophia wanted nothing more than to chuck the dictionary out the window, as it held no significance to the group. She watched Peter inanimately interact with the game Susan enjoyed.

"Is it Latin?" he asked.

Her finger lined up with the word. "Yes…"

Edmund played with the useless wicket ball. He threw it up the air and tried to catch with a single hand. Targeting the ball's fall, he easily caught it.

"Is it Latin for worst game ever invented?"

Susan glared. She shut the book with a dusty close. Sophie fanned herself as the particles invaded her nose.

She wrinkled her nose. "It's too gloomy to be stuffed up inside the library," Besides her Lucy jumped to her feet in joy.

"We could play hide-and-seek," Lucy looked fondly to her brother for approval. His face said otherwise.

He drawled, "But we're already having so much fun," Edmund snickered at his little sister's stubbornness.

"Please," she begged pulling on his sleeve. "Please, please," Sophie found it completely adorable, pug-face worthy Lucy managed. Peter couldn't deny her anything. He laughed at her silly nature before pulling his arm free from her.

"One, two," She smiled. Edmund scowled as the game continued on Peter's count. Standing up, Sophie separated herself from the group. In order to succeed at the game, you need to be as far as possible so as not to taunt the seeker with searching in a nearby radius of his original spot. Fastening her pace was easy but quietly was trickier. Sophia stayed away from half-closed doors and objects like curtain tassels that can be touched or swayed by her speed.

She searched high and low while counting mentally.

Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty.

Slight panic overwhelmed her. She cut across the stairway and dead-ended to a single door to her left.

Fifty-nine, sixty, sixty-one.

She prayed it was a door to another hallway. It was. The long hallway that housed their dormitories. She could have slapped herself for not detailing how familiar the house's paths were.

Seventy-six, seventy-seven, seventy-eight.

No time to lose. She decided against the girls' rooms. That only left the boys'/ Or the door that was a hop, skip, and jump away from the library hall. The door opened and was left the way it was- barely closed. The curtains weren't long enough to cover her shoe-clad stockings and the washroom was a definite no. That left the narrow space underneath the beds. Not one to know how clean Edmund kept his side, she embarrassingly chose under Peter's bed.

Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.

She barely got her left leg underneath. She concentrated on the breathing and not the lone dust bunnies or how she could feel the floorboards move. Her forehead knelt into the boards and waited.

The click of a door opened. Sophia sucked in her breath. Her eyes strained to the feet in vain. Only the sound welcomed her ears. She guessed Peter was too near at the edge. She watched with bated breath. The creak of the box spring above made her close her eyes. The weight of the bed slunk down, but it was nothing to the loud, heavy heart rattling in her chest. Her ears keened to the side of the bed, just under the lace trimming.

Then just as she was expecting Peter's head to pop up, two hands grabbed roughly on her ankles. She lurched back the scream in hr throat. She was pulled out from under, feeling the sting of the wood rubbing against her forearms.

Sophia turned to defend herself when Peter guffawed. He sat besides her tense figure and poked her once on the shoulder. The heart beating rapidly inside worked overtime.

"Gotcha," he said grinning from ear to ear. Sophie maneuvered to sit up with her legs tucked to the side as she wore a pleated skirt. She rammed her delicate fist pathetically to Peter's brawny shoulder.

Mad, she lectured, "Why must you scare me like that?" She was drowned by his feeble attempts to pull a straight face. "I swear, sometimes you're worse than Edmund." She charged to the door but was beaten by Peter's hand steadily gripping the knob.

His face screwed into sincerity. "I'm sorry, Soph. But you were playing hide-and-seek. It's bound to happen," he emphasized. She continued to struggle for a grip on the door handle.

The crinkle of a smile came and went. "That doesn't mean you can scare me half to death, you know,"

He held his hands up, gesturing her apparent freedom. "By all means, you have permission to scare Ed or Susan,"

Sophie stared at him momentarily, debating whether to give out a come back. Regaining from the awkward feeling, she returned a smirk and tilted her head innocently.

"Since when do I need permission?" she said before disappearing behind the door.

Peter huffed, rolled his fingers through his hair and followed after her with a necessary will.

Finding Susan was like finding a needle in a haystack- next to near impossible. Unless she stuck out like a sore thumb. Sophie would have to discuss future hiding spots later with her, if she could be found. As she and Peter walked through the halls relatively short after discovering Sophie.

It would have been a harder game if it weren't for Lucy's voice.

"I'm back, I'm back, and it's alright!" she harked.

Peter shared a glance with Sophie before stalking after the small crevice Lucy and Edmund hid. Edmund's annoyance grew as he came out from behind the tapestries. Lucy's sweet head bobbed with sheer delight and relief. Sophie rubbed her arm as it was so odd to see Lucy neglect a game. Especially one she wanted to play in the first place.

Peter shook his head. "You know, I'm not sure if you two have quite gotten the idea of this game,"

Lucy's face twisted in confusion. She gaped her mouth open before glancing up at her siblings. "But weren't you wondering where I was?"

"That's the point! That's why he was seeking you!" Edmund's voice rose.

Sophia shushed the younger brother sharply. "Edmund," She bent down to be leveled with the troubled girl. "Lucy, did you know find a good hiding spot?" she inquired.

From around the corner Susan strolled in, with a rare smile.

"Does this mean I win?" Her smile turned upside down at her distraught sister.

Peter observed, "I don't think Lucy wants to play anymore,"

Lucy's breathing became shallow. "But you have to believe me! There's a whole wood in the wardrobe! Come see!" She pulled tightly around her brother and sister's hands. She led them to the cozy niche of a spare room. A musty sheet lie on the floor next to a great wardrobe. It stood from top to bottom about six feet with old-fashioned carving. One can presume the sheet protected the sleek finishing as it shone in the few rays that shone.

Susan gazed at the furniture before turning to Sophia. "A forest? Do you mean of clothes?" Her logical side kicked in. It was impossible to predict her sister's mind wanderings. Besides her Sophia stepped to Lucy's vacant side, never leaving the sight of the wardrobe.

"No!" Lucy digressed.

One by one they inspected the interior of the wardrobe. Susan pushed back the hangers of fur coats and forgotten mothballs clung to dusty clothes. She coughed wildly inhaling the old smells from yester years. The professor surely did not care about these coats.

Sophia and Edmund took turns knocking on the wood for hollow entrances. Sophie couldn't imagine anything of Lucy's tale other than she was a smaller child compared to an overwhelming sized wardrobe. That alone plus the extremely plush coats could be branches similar to a forest. All in all, Sophie pondered why Lucy would want to play hide-and-seek only to play another? It was uncharacteristic of Lucy to interrupt without following through the first objective.

Susan sighed. She didn't want to be the one to explain to her sister in the older kids' world, it was simply not proper to pretend firmly other worlds existed. It just wasn't simply done. "The only wood in here is the back of the wardrobe," Her voice sugarcoated the practicality in her voice.

Peter said, "One game at a time Lu, we don't all have your imagination,"

Lucy's head went from one rejection to another. Her eyes widened and the familiar tight feeling in her throat made her lip quiver.

"But I wasn't imagining!"

Susan said sternly, "That's enough,"

A hand went to her head. Susan wasn't helping her sister at all. She was degrading her youth. Sophie tried to deflect Susan's coarse words into something sweeter. "Did you mean these carvings? There's one of the woods," Her hands skimmed the depictions along the chest of the wardrobe.

She shook her head persistently, like a stubborn child refusing to sleep. "No, it was an actual wintry woods with trees and snow and everything!"

Edmund uncrossed his arms and smacked his lips noisily. "Well I believe you,"

Lucy, grateful for believing, could not think of one reason why Edmund would believe her. He didn't then, why now? "You do?" she asked covering a hand over a tearing eye.

He snickered, "Yah, didn't I tell you about the football field I found in the bathroom closet?"

Peter's usual tolerance for Edmund's snide comments was depreciating. "Why don't you just stop it, you always have to make everything worse. Grow up!"

Sophie had to back up as Edmund stepped up to Peter challengingly. "Shut up! You think you're dad, but you're not!" All his frustration flooded out of his system as he stormed out of the room with Peter slightly taken back.

"Well, that was nicely handled," Susan sarcastically remarked. She walked off to retrieve her brewing brother.

"It was really there…" Lucy's small voice thinned the tension in the room. Sophie and Peter glanced back at Lucy. Her eyes were glistening and her small hands grabbed a bit of her cardigan in anxiety. Sophie could have cried at her young friend's innocuous nature.

Peter held his head high. "Susan's right. That's enough.." He looked to Sophie who looked anywhere but him. He assumed she would walk with him, maybe to diffuse the fight between Edmund and his self. She made no such gesture. Wordlessly he walked away.

Then there was Lucy looking hopelessly at Sophie.

But she tried nonetheless. "Sophie? You believe me, right?"

She bit her lip. She eyes wandered back to the mysterious wardrobe. "The only snow I see is these mothballs. And the coats are like branches..." she justified.

Lucy's eyes blinked profusely. "You don't," she confirmed.

She lowered herself down to her knees. Now she looked up to Lucy. Her eyes drooped. "Lucy, I want to believe you. But I don't see what you see," Sophie could only hope to understand. Her cold hands were wrapped around Sophie's warm ones. "Come on, let's go see if we can sneak into the cookie jars," She stood up and placed the warm hand around her clammy one. Together they made the silent trip to the kitchen where Mrs. MaCready hoarded her homemade sugar cookies.

Sophie made doubly sure to knock the next time she came across Peter's door. She counted away the agonizing seconds. Secretly she wanted that second peek but at the same time hoped he was properly dressed this time.

Peter smiled at the guest. For a moment he believed it was Edmund, ready to deck him in the nose. It was a refreshing change to see Sophie's face however with the one blemish of a frown gracing her lips. "You knocked?"

She circled her fingers nervously. "I was hoping we could talk,"

The way she was might have seemed silly but to him he found it amusing. He liked it when Sophie contemplated. As much pressure he was in, it was always welcoming to see another one struggling with the amount on their plates together.

"Come in," His arm spread open. She walked in and paced by the tea table. "What's on your mind?" he questioned at her frazzled state.

"I calmed Lucy down with a cookie. But she's so distraught from earlier," Sophie's eyes were full of apprehension.

Guilt washed over the oldest Pevensie's face. He sat down at the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees. "I feel horrible," he admitted. "It's bad enough I have to keep on Edmund's toes. Lucy's always had her fanatical ideas," He laughed a little. He loved his family. So much that it made Sophie appreciate what little she had left. She shook her head once. This wasn't about her or Peter's likable traits.

Sophie gestured, "She did what she had to do. She's the youngest in a growing family. I don't want her to grow up to be cynical like Edmund or practical like Susan," Her mind boggled at the idea of Lucy becoming anything other than herself. The thought gave her a shiver.

"I know, Soph," His voice softened. "We're in a difficult position miles away from home. Lucy seems the only one to sort of adjust," A hand came over his face.

Sophie, against her prefrontal lobe's wishes, carefully sat next to Peter. Her shaky hand moved to reach his shoulder. She was hesitant but decided to comfort him. The instant touch left her feeling tingly and unnatural. The tips of her nails smoothed down the wool jacket.

"I don't want her to grow up because of some war. She's not my sister but..." Peter glanced at her. Her speech stuttered. The words left her mouth and skyrocketed out of the room. Possibly out of the country. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his lips. They were slightly apart.

"Yeah," he said losing himself into her eyes. The crystal sparkled in particular just now. The air around them was silent but soothing. It took all of him to restrain himself from closing the distance between them to see just how spectacular those blue eyes were. His eyes darted between her lips and most importantly her eyes. She parted her head, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Did we just have a moment?" Peter cleared his throat. From the corner of his eye, he saw the bright smile hiding in between her curled strands.

She laughed. "Don't know what you're talking about," She delayed. "But I know that those cookie jars are mine!" She bolted off with a purpose. Feeling the need to prove to himself and pursue after Soph.

He chased after her. "Not if I get there first!" She giggled as she sped up her pace. Their feet collided against the wood flooring. She made a sharp turn and nearly squealed at the hand skimming over her backside. Her wavy hair fluttered as she maneuvered down the stairs.

Their loud racketing awakened the screams of one caretaker. Mrs. MaCready's shrill banshee voice cried, "No runnin' in the hallways!" The woman had ears like a bat sometimes.

Two corners and a close encounter with a door planting on her face and a sudden collision of bodies, they raced into the kitchen and to the location of a jar. A painted yellow clay container that sealed the sugary goodness that were cookies.

Peter nearly tripped over to the counter but he was the one that grabbed the lid of the jar. "Looks like I win," he huffed in between breaths. Sophia smoothed down her wild, frenzied hair with a quaint smile.

She nodded. "Fair and square,"

Peter stopped. He held the cookie to her hand. "Actually you have it. A gentleman always offers to the lady first," He didn't take no for an answer as she opened her mouth for protest.

Her eyes teased, "Since when were you so noble?"

He mockingly bowed to her. "I have some decorum unlike what Susan has said," They laughed together. He closed the cookie jar where their fingers brushed gently across the lid.

Sophie broke the cookie down the middle. "We can share. Half for me, half for you. Equal," She tipped her cookie to his like the clinking of champagne glasses.

Peter all but drooled at the taste of Mrs. MaCready's confectionary sweet. "This is good," If there was one thing they could say about the grouchy woman, it was her gift to make delicious delicacies.

Sophie winced. "Should be. It's the last in the jar," She covered a hand over her mouth from incessantly giggling at Peter's awestruck appearance.

Peter, on the spot, blurted, "Tomorrow, if it's not dreary, want to go outside?" She cocked her head. He clarified, "Play a little cricket? You and me versus Susan and Ed," He played it off simply.

"As a team,"

"Yeah," he said. "I can't stand Ed at the moment and Susan is a little stuffy," he confessed. On the outside, he was calm; on the outside he was a train-wreck. In his gut there was something tugging against him. Pulling him to say such things. For instance the moment they had not too long ago. Or when she stumbled upon him changing. And to bring it full circle, now.

There was no reason to be nervous. It was a game they had competed in since they were younger. Why should this one game matter above all the rest of them? The clenching inside clung on to her every reaction.

She paused, studying Peter. Next, she glanced at his facial expression. He hoped there wasn't anything suggesting to decline his invitation. "Oh, um. Sure. Though fair warning I haven't played since Susan accidentally hit that bat at my arm," She blushed, brushing a strand behind her ear.

His fingers shook his mane of hair. The moment of truth blew past him in astonishment. "You'll be fine. Rest up. We've got a game to win," He clapped her on the back. She wore a placate smile, unaware of the rush of emotions flowing through her.

As he rounded the corner, her expression neutralized and she slumped next to the counter. She blew out a sigh as she chewed through the last crumbs of her treat.

Author's Note:

To reply to some confusion about my character's name: Her name is Sophia. Her parents and the Pevensie's nickname her Sophie. Peter prefers to call her Soph. I like to alternate the three names because they symbolize something different. When she is called Sophia, it's elegant and formal. Sophie is the child nickname that represents youth, innocence, and an adventurous spirit. Whereas when Peter (and company) address her as Soph, it's more tender and personal.

So sorry to any confusion. Hope it clarifies to the sudden switch in naming.