Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia, and I don't own the magic rings.
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All that month, and all the next, Peter read two chapters of the Chronicles of Narnia every night. Martha listened with rapt attention, and ate, slept, and breathed Narnia for the entire eight weeks. She had all sorts of questions. Was Peter named after the Peter in the book? What was a satyr? Why was King Miraz so nasty? Was that Grandma Susan in the stories? Didn't she hate books like that? Some of them Peter could answer, but not all, and she seemed to grow more and more obsessed the further they read.
Peter finished the last chapter of the last book, and looked over to see Martha crying.
"It's okay, Martha, it's only a story," he said.
"No, it's not," she sobbed. "It's real, and it's such a nice ending, and poor Grandma Susan wasn't there."
"It's a good thing she wasn't," said Peter.
"That's mean!"
"Well, if Grandma Susan had died in that train wreck, Dad would never have been born. And if Dad had never been born, then he couldn't have married Mom, and we'd never have been born. So you'd better be glad Grandma wasn't there, or you wouldn't even exist."
"Oh," said Martha, and she stopped sobbing and started hiccupping. "But she's in Narnia now, isn't she?"
"How would I know? Anyway, it's time to go to bed. Get out of my room."
Martha left, and Peter got into bed and tried to sleep. He couldn't help wondering, though, if the stories were true. Was Grandma Susan in Narnia? Where did these strange books come from? Why did he want to know? It was two hours before he fell asleep.
Peter began to be tired of Martha's constant preoccupation with Narnia. She had reached a new level that Saturday, and was now parading around in a tinfoil crown, insisting that she be called "Princess Martha."
"Why?" he had asked her, that morning.
"If Grandma Susan was a queen of Narnia, then I'm a princess. And please address me with the proper respect."
"If you're a princess, I'm a prince, and I can just call you Martha. Anyway, it was only a story. There's no such place as Narnia."
"There used to be. Someday, I'm going to go someplace just as interesting and have all sorts of adventures. I'll even have stories written about them. And if you don't believe me, you can't come."
"I can't come, then. I'll just go skateboarding, and you can have all the adventures you want without me."
Peter's mother called up the stairway, "Peter, you need to clean your room today. Aunt Andrea is coming over this afternoon, and she's bringing your cousins. Why don't you start now?"
"I was going skateboarding."
"That can wait. Clean your room first. And if I catch you shoving everything under the bed again... I'll come up and inspect it in half an hour."
He grumbled a little, but cleaned his room. It wasn't really that messy. There were a few piles of clothes on the floor, a half-painted model airplane on his desk, and a couple of candy wrappers.
Peter stepped back and admired his work. The room was practically spotless now, if you didn't open any drawers. There was plenty of time left, too.
"Mom, can I go now?" he yelled.
"Yes, if you're finished cleaning," answered his mother, and then added a last word of motherly advice. "And wear a hat."
"All right," said Peter, as he glanced around for his favorite baseball cap. Unfortunately, there was no sign of it.
Peter searched every drawer of his rather congested dresser, but there was still no hat. Then he sighed, and crawled under the bed.
The space underneath Peter's bed contained more dirty laundry, broken toys, and dust than you would have believed possible. Peter shoved aside armfuls of junk, and finally found his hat. He emerged from the space to find that all the things he had pushed away were now in the middle of his floor.
"That's just wonderful," he mumbled, and started to clear the floor all over again. He had almost finished replacing all the familiar junk, when he found something he did not recognize.
It was a little box. It didn't look particularly interesting, but there was a faint humming noise coming from inside.
Peter opened the box to find four rings, two yellow and two green. He knew immediately what they were, and what to do with them. It was a bit of a shock, but also the chance of a lifetime.
"Martha!" he shouted, "Martha, come here quick!"
Martha rushed into his room and slammed the door.
"What is it, Peter?"
"Look!" Peter showed her the rings. "They're real! The stories must be true."
"I told you so."
Peter could not deny that she had told him so.
"Are we going to try them?" asked Martha.
"Yes. Here's a green ring. Put it in your right pocket."
Peter and Martha each put a green ring in their pocket, and were about to pick up a yellow one.
"Wait," said Martha, "You can't use them."
"Why not?"
"You said you'd rather go skateboarding."
"I didn't mean it," Peter protested.
"Then you shouldn't have said it," Martha scolded. "But if you say you're sorry, I'll let you come, anyway."
Peter was sorry, so he apologized, and pretended to ask Martha's permission to use the rings.
"Can I come now?"
"Yes," said Martha, "But you must stay very close to me and not get lost."
Peter kept a straight face and promised that he would. Then they each took a yellow ring from the box.
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They will get somewhere in the next chapter, but will probably meet some characters from "Loose Ends" before going anywhere new. I got kind of attached to the butterfly people.