Ahh! I'm so so so sorry for the really long update! I have to confess that I was in a little trouble for this story…for a couple weeks I didn't know where it was going and what to write next so things started falling apart…
Luckily it all came through and I figured out this story's future! I doubt it will be over twenty chapters, so hopefully it will be finished in the next couple of months, preferably before summer. But…yeah. Here it is!
Okay, enough of my ramblings. Enjoy and please review! Thank you so so much to all of you who give me undying support!
With every passing day at her new boarding school Lucy's heart ached for home even more.
The school wasn't bad, exactly. Girls taunted her, teachers were strict, and nearly every day someone was able to either shove her to the ground or trip her, but she didn't care. Lucy found that she didn't care much about a lot of things anymore.
What really got to her was that home was so far away from her now, and she knew she wasn't going back too soon.
Edmund was her only comfort. Together they found refuge in the library and he let her pour her heart out to him for hours, until the dinner bell rang and they had to leave.
"I miss Dad…I miss Narnia," Lucy would wail. "I want to go home, Ed…I miss Mum and Peter and Su…"
Edmund stroked her hair and wiped away her tears when she cried, encouraging her to keep up faith.
"Aslan said we'd go back," he told her, because he didn't know what else to say. "We just have to wait. We'll go back when we least expect it, Lu…you know we will…"
Together they talked about their Golden Reign in Narnia, about the fifteen years they spent there; they remembered the times where they were happy and the memories they had never let escape their minds.
"And remember you and Peter used to keep a tally on how many suitors Su got each month?"
"And how you girls sang with the fauns on my 17th birthday?"
"And when we beat the giants on the northern border? And Peter came back to all of us and everyone threw flowers at him; they were so happy…"
"Remember all the hunting?"
"And the dancing, and Mr. Tumnus, and the lovely beavers…."
It was their only comfort. They were able to escape from their school for a few hours into their land of Narnia; it gave them strength that lasted through the next day.
For one of Lucy's essays for English she had to pick someone she admired in her life and write two pages on them. She chose her father. When she read it aloud to the class the day it was due, the teacher stood at the back of the class with a frown on his face.
"Miss Pevensie," he said abruptly when Lucy had finished. "You say your father was killed during battle?"
"Yes, sir," Lucy said quietly, unhappiness in her heart.
"If he is not alive and not an inspiration to you nowadays, then I'm afraid this essay is not relevant. I specifically asked for you to write an essay about someone you admire and who continues to give you encouragement today."
"But…but my father still gives me encouragement, sir, even if he's dead," choked out Lucy. A few members of her class giggled.
"How, may I ask, is that possible, Miss Pevensie?" her teacher asked sternly. The class giggled again.
"I…I…" Lucy didn't know how to put it into words. "I just…remember what he said to me…and use it when…when I need help…."
"That will do, Miss Pevensie," the teacher said. "You will write an assignment for me in replacement of this one, for no credit, about how important it is to follow directions. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," said Lucy miserably, blinking back tears.
"It shall be due Thursday." The teacher scribbled something on his clipboard, then said, "Mr. Rockley. Please stand up and share your essay to the class." As Lucy shuffled to her seat he added, "And I do hope that this one will be written properly."
Lucy wiped the tears running down her face on the back of her hand, trying not to sniff too loud and attract even more attention. Wendy—one of the cruelest girls in her class—whispered something to her friend and they both giggled uncontrollably, looking at Lucy with glee in their eyes. Lucy looked away from them and tried to focus on what Benjamin Rockley was saying.
"Sometimes when I'm back home, my brother takes me for a game of football in the park or we go catch birds. We bring them home to Mother, who cooks them for us for dinner. Dad always likes it when we bring home birds. One day, when my brother—"
Lucy thought of her brothers. In Narnia, they would never have dared to consider the idea of shooting birds—especially Talking birds. And her sister…well, her title said it all. The Gentle…
Lucy sang the song she and Susan sung all the time in her head. Within the contents of your soul there lies a secret song…a song that falls and grows at times as your life lives on…
"Thank you, Mr. Rockley. Miss Russel?" her teacher said in a bored voice.
Whether it is high or low, loud or soft or sweet…the accuracy of your sweet melody means the most to me…Sing to all with honesty, sing for those who don't know truth…sing with faith and don't lose heart; sing the song that lives in you.
Aslan, help me; don't leave me, Lucy thought, praying with all her heart Wendy and her friend had stopped talking about her. Help me sing.
OOO
Peter knew.
The instant he walked in the door and saw her, Susan got the horrible, awful feeling that he knew. Or maybe he just saw the mark on her face.
"What," he said in horror, "the hell happened to you?"
Susan had been working on her speech the whole day. "Nothing, I just hit my face on the table today—"
"Your cheek is so red," Peter said, sounding aghast, gazing at the side of her face. "You couldn't have hit your face on the table. What happened?"
"I just slipped, Peter, on some water, you know. My face just hit the side of the table—"
"Why are you slouching?" Peter demanded. "Did you hit your back, too?"
"What? Oh, no. Well, I sort of hit it. On the ground, I mean."
"On the ground."
"When I fell."
"Um-hmm," Peter said, eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you."
"What else could have happened?" Susan shot at him.
"Did you go outside today?"
"No!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," Susan snapped.
"So you weren't doing anything outside."
"No! I slipped and smacked my cheek on the table. That's all."
"Susan, you never were good at lying," Peter said, fed up, as he moved toward her to get a closer look at her face. Susan backed into the counter and in a flash she remembered Byron, forcing her against the wall with his hands reaching for her and she had been trapped…. something in her mind reacted; her heart seized up and all of the sudden she was screaming in terror.
Peter stopped dead. He took one or two steps back with his eyes shocked and utterly petrified; Susan stopped screaming and her breath came in short little gasps.
Peter looked at her, frozen.
"S-Su?" he asked, voice trembling and very quiet.
"I'm fine!" Susan shrieked at him. Her voice had gone up several octaves. "Why don't you bloody believe me?! Can't you leave me alone for once?"
Peter was silent as the grave and he stood back, a good distance away from her, as she caught her breath and was able to start bustling around the kitchen again to make dinner. After about five minutes he sat down at the table, pulling out the chair slowly as though trying not to make a sound, and started reading from a textbook, occasionally looking up at her as though inquiring for an explanation. Susan ignored him, chopping onions and chicken carefully, heart thumping in her sore chest. Peter knew. He knew she was lying. She wouldn't be able to convince him to believe anything but the truth…and if he knew the truth….
They hadn't spoken a word to each other by the time their mother arrived back home. She was holding several shirts that needed to be sewed and she looked exhausted.
"Hello, Peter, Su," she said, looking around for a moment then sighing. "Goodness…I keep forgetting Edmund and Lucy aren't here…."
"How was your day, Mum?" Susan asked pleasantly.
"It went well." They were following the same old script. "Yours was okay?"
"Of course." Susan didn't look directly at her mother as she said it, but she noticed that her brother was still eying her.
"Peter, you didn't work too hard today?"
"No, Mum. Just exercised the horses a little bit."
"Well, that's good. And I suppose you'll be getting—" Their mother stopped dead as she caught sight of Susan's face. She gasped. "My goodness!"
"Mum, I'm fine!" Susan said, already prepared to defend her pride. "I just hit my face—"
"What happened?" her mother cried as she rushed toward her, throwing the shirts to the ground. Again Susan felt the terror in her heart from being closed in, but she managed not to scream. "Susan, what on earth could you have done—?"
"I just slipped and smacked it on the table, Mum," Susan said desperately, her mother gently reaching for her face. She backed away from her with a beating heart.
"Don't go anywhere. Let me see you! This doesn't look like you fell and hit something, Susan!"
"Yeah, isn't that the dumbest story ever?" Peter asked, walking toward them though keeping a good distance away from Susan. "She wouldn't tell me what really happened."
"What are these bruises from?" Mrs. Pevensie said in shock, hands rushing to Susan's forearms. "Susan, what on earth happened?"
"I fell, okay?" Susan snapped. Her throat choked up. "Why can't you believe me?"
"Were you outside today?" Helen asked, echoing Peter.
"No!"
"Are you sure you just fell? Honey, it looks like you hit something really hard—"
"I'm fine!" shouted Susan in her mother's face. Mrs. Pevensie let go of her arms, started. "Mum, I promise you I fell. I wasn't outside, I wasn't doing anything except being careless when I slipped!"
"Are you sure, Su?" Helen asked tentatively, looking worried. "I mean—"
"Yes!" Susan cried. She was breathing fast and shakily; she tried to steady herself. "Yes, Mum. I guess I need to be more careful."
"Well…I don't want you sewing those orders with hurt hands, Su. Maybe—"
"It's alright, Mum. I could still sew."
Mrs. Pevensie sighed and put a hand to her forehead. "Okay, Su. Was it water you slipped on?"
"I think so."
"Please try to be more careful, okay?"
"Okay."
"I think that's rubbish," Peter said loudly.
"Hush," Helen said coldly, looking at Susan for a second more then turning back to the door to pick up her shirts. "Our Su doesn't lie."
Susan quickly looked away from her mother and Peter, focusing on the plate of turkey she was cutting up. It was just one time; it's not like it's going to happen again. I just had to lie once…I won't lie again because I won't have to….
"Susan? Did you get your essay done that I asked you to write?"
"Yes, Mum," she answered quietly, not looking at Helen. She deliberately tried to avoid eye contact with her brother, who was still looking at her with an unconvinced expression on his face.
OOO
When Lucy told Edmund she had to rewrite her essay he wasn't mad, or even surprised. He just took a new piece of paper from his bag and said, "Well, you should start now. I'll help you so we can get it done before dinner."
He gave her sympathy, however, when she told him that Wendy had openly made fun of her.
"It's not fair," Lucy said as she looked at the empty paper. "Why does she have to be mean to me? Isn't the teacher enough for me to handle?"
"She's jealous of you, Lu."
"Why?"
"Because you're smart and pretty and you don't care what others think about you…or do you?" When Lucy didn't answer, Edmund sighed and said, "You have what she wants and what she doesn't have—and she wants to feel big so she tries to bring you down. Don't let her bring you down, Lucy. Don't let anyone bring you down. Now let's finish this essay."
The two of them had stopped fighting their surroundings; they had stopped resisting what they could not control. Their school was just part of their lives now and they had to accept it, had to be at live with it. The strong survived. The weak were kicked around in the dirt on the weekends and thrown against walls between classes. Lucy knew that she had to be the strong. Otherwise she would die slowly from the inside; whether or not she had accepted what was now her life.
That night she gazed out her window, looking at the stars and thinking of the Narnian constellations, longing for her mother and Peter and Susan. More then anything she wanted her dad to come to her door and take her for a nighttime walk, and point out the tress and the flowers like he used to. If she tried really hard, she could hear his voice and feel his hand rumpling her hair, and her heart was at peace like it used to be. Lucy leaned her head against the woodwork, putting a hand to the glass and spreading her fingers so her palm seemed as though it was gripping the sky.
Lucy looked up at the quivering stars and sat there at the window for minutes, hours…she didn't know the time…until a rough hand on her shoulder jerked her back to reality.
"It's late," said a spiteful voice in the distance. "Why are you still up gawking out the window, Pevensie?"
Lucy blinked and looked up into Wendy's face. She must have gotten out of bed for a drink, for her hair was scraggly and she was rubbing her eyes.
"I'm not tired," Lucy answered politely.
"I bet you wish you had followed directions for that essay, eh?" Wendy asked, covering a yawn with her hand and glaring down at her. "Maybe if your daddy hadn't died it would have gotten a good grade."
Lucy felt heat rising in her face and one of her hands rose upwards silently without her knowing it; then suddenly she jerked it back down as she realized what she had been about to do.
"My dad died defending England," she said quietly, looking Wendy straight in the eye. "There's nothing that anyone else wrote about that seemed more inspiring then that."
Wendy blinked. "You're so stupid that you don't even know what an inspirational person is. You don't inspire anyone if you're dead."
Lucy couldn't help but smile. "To me, dead means forgotten and flung away. But if I can remember my dad then to me," she said proudly, "he's still alive."
She didn't hear what Wendy said after that before walking away to get her drink. As she turned her head back to the window all she heard was a quiet whisper in her head and she felt a gentle touch of something soft and tender on her nose. Lucy felt warmth and a tiny tingle of happiness spread through her body as she heard the words in her mind.
My queen.
I hope you are enjoying this story! If not, don't feel obliged to read any further! Just take me off the alert list and walk away as though nothing ever happened! lol
If you are still somewhat interested, however, or want to give me advice (which I feel I need) please please please leave a review and I will appreciate it greatly!!!
Bye! Oh, and to my anonymous reviewers whom I can't respond to, you still are amazing and I thank you wholeheartedly!!!
