The next morning Peter woke up feeling sick to his stomach. He knew he was not in his room in the Pevensie house hold safe and sound about to walk downstairs for a nice breakfast. Rather he was in a slightly drafty room with an oaf of a bully the size of a house who was sure to be very unpleasant no matter which course of action he might chose. He hadn't wanted to get Terrence in trouble for the bear. But he'd been upset and he'd always been told that grown ups were there to help. Now Peter had come to a new conclusion. Grown ups weren't there to help. They were there to be false hopes. Like something you could never have constantly dangled in front of you.
Elise and Jacob had been the perfect parents as far as looks were concerned. Outward beauty was their strong point. But try to get them to notice, or love you and you'd get nothing whatsoever.
The grown-ups at the orphanage were reasonably kind but distant. You could never know if they cared about you personally or if they were just looking out for everyone as a group.
But the worst of them all was Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie. They'd set his hopes so high. He'd thought at last he had found grown-ups who could love him freely without holding back. With kindness given because they wanted to give it not because they had to. But what happened as soon as a new son came around? Sent away just like that. He didn't blame them though, he loved them too much for that.
"Get up you lazy lump of lumber!" Although he was awake, Peter was still in bed, his fingers tightly curled around the edge of his pillow. Terrence wasn't willing to wait for his new roommate to get up on his own.
Peter didn't answer or stand up. What was the point? He was doomed to spent the rest of his life in this horrible place. It didn't matter what anyone did or said to him now. He pulled the covers over his head, deciding to let 'Lord Terrence' yell and demand all he wanted.
"I said get up." Terrence hissed.
"Go away." Peter moaned, wishing he'd run away yesterday when he'd had the chance. If only he had thought of getting off the train at the wrong stop. Then he'd be free exploring the whole wide world not hiding under the covers while the-boy-who-thought-he-was-lord hollered at him.
"What did you say to me?" Terrence demanded.
"I said, go away." Peter cried from under the covers. What did it matter if Terrence sent him to heaven with his fist? Heaven had to be nicer than this place called 'school'.
"That's it!" Terrence grabbed the side of the mattress and flipped it over, causing Peter-still rolled up in the blankets-to fall onto the floor. "Now get up."
"Why do you care?" Peter demanded. Forgetting all of his fears a little too well.
"Because, you little twit, I have to lock the dorm room door and I don't want to be late because the wittle itty bitty baby boy was tired." Terrence said cruelly. "Now get dressed before I shove you in the closet."
Peter gulped, stood up, and crouched behind the flipped mattress because he didn't want to take off his clothes in front of Terrence. Then he left the room slowly hoping that Terrence wouldn't say another word to him. Now he'd changed his mind about being sent to heaven. It wasn't heaven he was scared of. It was the 'being sent' part that made him think he might pee his pants again if he didn't race out of the room.
"Good morning, Mr. Devensie." The headmaster was standing in the hallway.
"Pevensie." Peter corrected him. Though he wondered if he should have said 'Burke' because clearly he wasn't one of the Pevensies anymore.
"Find then." The headmaster said shortly. "Mr. Pevensie, this is your class schedule." He handed him a white slip of paper. "It will be your responsibility to remember it and attend to it all. On time and with no more of your trouble making. We don't want a repeat of the food fight you tried to start yesterday do we?"
"No sir." Peter said softly.
"That's more like it." The headmaster sighed. "We may make it through this year after all."
What does he mean, 'Through this year'? Peter wondered. Does he mean they are sending me somewhere else after the year was over? Maybe it would be somewhere nice, far, far, away from Terrence Ehatwich.
As the headmaster walked away looking at his pocket watch once again, Peter glanced down at the paper he'd just been given.
8:00 AM- Breakfast in the dinning hall.
8:22 AM- Outdoor group walk (weather permitting)
9:15 AM- Math studies room 222
10:25 AM- Maps and History room 18
11:15 AM- English studies room 23
11:55 AM- Reading room 11
12:20 PM: Music room 55
12:50 PM- Lunch in the dinning hall
1:15 PM- afternoon break to be spent out doors (weather permitting)
1:35 PM- Art room 7
2:00 PM- Physical education in the gym
Peter had never had to go to all of these 'Classes' at his old orphanage. Why did he have to go to them here. They didn't all sound very appealing either. His stomach growled and he looked back to the first thing on the paper. Breakfast sure sounded good though.
In the dinning hall, Peter slid his tray carefully along the counter and a grumpy lady slapped some sort of gray oatmeal on his plate. It certainly wasn't as good a breakfast as Helen Pevensie's pancakes that was for sure. The oatmeal smelled burnt and Peter wondered if hunger was really worse than eating burnt oatmeal first thing in the morning.
How what? Who was he going to sit with? No one called him over. no one said, "Hey aren't you the new boy? What to sit with us?" So he decided to sit at the empty table by the window. It was a reasonable distance from where Terrence, Tony, Timmy, and Tommy were sitting so it seemed like a good idea.
Peter was trying to get down at least one spoonful of the awful breakfast when he heard a shaky voice above him say, "C-c-c-c-a-a-n I s-i-i-t-t-t h-h-here?"
"Sure." Peter looked up at the boy in front of him. At only eight years old, he was the most unfortunate looking child that ever graced the planet. he had flat dark brown hair, his teeth had braces with god-knows-what stuck in them, he wore very hideously shaped glasses, his nose was red (He had allergies to nearly everything), and he had very plain looking features (One could tell even then that he was not going to get any better looking when he got older). He had an unbreakable habit of shutting his eyes and stuttering when he talked.
"R-r-r-r-e-elly?" The boy's face lit up.
"Why not?" Peter asked, smiling for the first time since he'd heard his parents talking about sending him away.
The boy sat down next to him. "M-m-m-o-o-st of the b-b-bo-o-oys don't l-l-like m-m-me m-m-much." He explained still shutting his eyes as he spoke. "T-t-t-h-hey s-s-say t-t-the way I t-t-alk anno-o-oys them."
"That's not very nice." Peter said.
"I w-w-anted to say s-s-o-orry." The boy said.
"For what?"
"W-w-well, y-y-yester-d-d-day, I s-s-aw w-w-hat T-t-terrence did to y-y-ou and didn't s-s-say anyth-h-hing to the h-h-headm-m-master." He explained.
Peter was already starting to like the boy quite a bit and thought he might actually like to be friends with him. "What's your name?"
"M-m-my n-n-n-ame is H-h-h-u-u-bert."
"I'm Peter." Peter told him.
"I k-n-n-ow." The boy managed a friendly smile. "I heard someone say it y-y-yester-d-day."
A little while later, Hubert started writing a letter to distract himself from the smell of the burnt breakfast that he had just force fed to himself.
"Who are you writing to?" Peter asked, leaning over curiously.
"M-m-my p-p-parents." Hubert confessed, blushing suddenly.
"You can do that?" Peter gasped. At the old orphanage, no one had written to their parents. Some of them didn't even have parents at all. Could he write to Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie?
"Of course you can!" Hubert cried out, so surprised at the question that he didn't stutter for the first time in his speaking life.
Peter spent the rest of the day in a happy daze. He had a friend and he could write to his parents. There was something he really wanted to tell them. He didn't snap out of his daze all day, not even when Terrence pushed him in the mud during the walk, or when Tommy threw a piece of fruit at him, or when the teachers snapped, "Pay attention."
He found the classes rather dull and could hardly wait until they were over. When they were, he ran into his room (which thankfully Terrence was not in at the time) and composed a letter for his parents.
Deer mum and dad (can I still call you mum and dad?)
I am not mad at you for sending me away. But I do miss you
terribly. You don't no how much.
I thoght it over and I tink it's a good thing that you let
me live with you till your got a real sun.
Please tell Susan hello from me and that I miss her
too. Also I am sorry that I can't be your sun anymore
that Edmund is a luckey feellow.
I don't like this new orpanige much.
my friend, Hubert is nice but I don't like the
other boys. They don't like me either.
One of them pushed me in the mud and I got
in trouble for it!!!!!!!!
I don't like him.
love,
Peter
"There!" Peter said as he licked an envelope closed with the letter inside of it.
Later that day, Peter dropped his letter in the mail and sighed. He felt a little better now.
One week later, Mr. Pevensie happily told his wife that a letter had come from their son in the mail.
Her face lit up. "Oh, let me see." She was fairly beaming now. She had missed Peter terribly and wondered how school was going for him. Opening the letter and seeing it's contents her face dropped.
"What's wrong?" Mr. Pevensie asked.
She didn't answer she just kept looking at the child-scrawled misspelled words on the page in her hand.
"Helen?" Mr. Pevensie tried.
"That poor boy." Helen said softly. How could he possibly think they didn't want him? "He thinks we..." she handed the note to Mr. Pevensie.
AN: Review!
