Marjorie walked up the stairs very slowly, trying to balance the five books she was carrying. She wasn't a particularly graceful person and this was quite a challenge for her. Yet, she managed to reach Lucy's and Susan's room without dropping anything. Peering over the books, she was glad to find that the door was not entirely shut. She stuck her foot between the door and the wall and kicked it open entirely. She thought Susan would forgive her this once for such a rude entry. After all, she brought presents.
Marjorie had bought these books with her last bit of pocket money. She didn't buy them in a bookstore but right here at the school from a teacher named Mrs. Wilkins. Mrs. Wilkins was short and fat with glasses and short hair. She loved to assign long essays and hated it when notes were passed around in class, especially those with spelling and grammar mistakes. Yet, despite it all, Marjorie liked her.
Mrs. Wilkins was the only teacher who did not dismiss Marjorie as "stupid" even though Marjorie was awful at essay writing and quite terrible at reading aloud. Upon finding out that Marjorie was not an exceptional student, most teachers did one of two things: Either they made her miserable by constantly criticizing and shaming her in front of others or they labeled her as "slow" and promptly forgot about her, never calling on her or singling her out or expecting anything other than the minimum. Mrs. Wilkins did neither. She called Marjorie in privately and went over her mistakes. She forced Marjorie to revise. She expected her to improve. At first, Marjorie had wept and struggled, unused to this kind of pressure. Then, to her shock, she found that she liked having someone care.
On the last day of classes, Mrs. Wilkins brought in a huge bag of books to sell. She set up the books on the desks and warned the girls that they must not tell anyone about this. A teacher could get into trouble for selling things to students, even books. Mrs. Wilkins was not a popular teacher and books were not popular items, still, the novelty of buying something and the excitement of keeping it secret spread throughout the room and in the end, nearly everyone with money had bought a book. While everyone was flipping pages and counting money, Marjorie got a wonderful idea. She'd buy as many books as she could to make Mrs. Wilkins happy! After all, Mrs. Wilkins was always telling Marjorie to read more books! And then she could give the books away to her friends as farewell gifts. Perhaps, it wasn't an entirely honest way of pleasing her teacher but Marjorie could think of none other. So she selected the books, based on her opinion of what Lucy and her family might like, and laid down her money, down to her very last two-pence.
"Hello!" Susan said, standing up quickly and smiling widely. "Glad to see you, Marjorie!"
Marjorie blinked in greeting but could not speak because her chin was keeping the books in place. Hadn't she heard Lucy's voice before opening the door?
"Why don't you set down those books somewhere?" Susan said.
Marjorie inclined her head slightly and felt the book right under her chin begin to slide. Susan rushed to grab the top book right before it fell. "Lucy don't just sit there, come help!" she scolded.
"I'll put them on my desk," Lucy said softly, rising. Then she took the four remaining books with one hand (Marjorie looked on with envy knowing that she would never managed it) and handed the cat to Marjorie in a rather absentminded manner with the other.
Marjorie took the cat very, very carefully. She did not feel particularly comfortable around large cats. Oh, she loved kittens and she liked to pet cats when they were at arm's length but holding them was going a bit too far. Lucy should have known that! Marjorie studied Lucy a bit more carefully and thought that she could detect a tear in Lucy's left eye.
"Lu, are you all right?" Marjorie asked, concerned.
"She was just telling me how much she would miss Nalsa during the summer and we both got teary-eyed," Susan said quickly. "It is a rather dismal topic. Can you cheer us up?"
Marjorie grinned. "Easily," she said. She picked up a book and said, "Presents!"
Susan gasped. "Oh, you don't mean they're for us?"
Marjorie felt like dancing with delight. "Of course, they are!" She put down the book and picked up the book she had selected for Lucy. "The Wizard of Oz!" she announced.
"Oh!" Susan gasped again. "Have you seen the American film with Judy Garland in it? I thought it was absolutely gorgeous! Of course, I've never read the book. Have you, Lu?"
"I think I did, several years ago," Lucy said. "I never understood why Dorothy was in such a hurry to get home. If I were her, I'd stay in Oz for much, much longer!"
"I've wondered that myself," Marjorie said. She had never really wondered such a thing but now that she thought about it…
"Well… Auntie Em was worried about her," Susan said. "It would have been cruel for Dorothy to remain in Oz enjoying herself while her family worried about her back home. And her real life was in Kansas. Oz was only a dream that reflected her real life."
"In the book, it wasn't a dream," Lucy said, suddenly fierce. "It was real!"
"Really? But then how did she get back home?" Susan asked.
"Magic!" Lucy said. "Thank you, Marjorie, it's a very nice book," she added, almost as an afterthought.
Marjorie nodded. She had hoped for a more excited welcome and a more elaborate thank-you. Especially from Lucy who loved books and who was usually so cheerful."I'll pack the other four and you can look them over at home," she said, quickly. Suddenly, she didn't want Lucy to examine the books in front of her. She knew Lucy never hid her feelings and never pretended. If Lucy did not like them, Marjorie would be able to tell and she just couldn't bear it if Lucy did not like them! Better to pretend that Lucy would open them with squeals of rapture back at home.
Nalsa meowed and rubbed against Susan's feet. Susan checked her wristwatch and after thanking Marjorie for the books, left to get Nalsa's dinner from the school's kitchen. Susan and Lucy were left alone.
"Didn't you get any books for yourself?" Lucy asked.
"Oh, no," Marjorie said. "I'm going to have a terribly educational summer, as it is. Father's going to take me to museums and opera houses and other places where he can keep on looking at things and not at me."
"Well, make him look at you," Lucy said. "He probably doesn't know how to go about talking to you, so do things to make him talk to you. Tell a funny story or sing a song or ask him a riddle."
These words reminded Marjorie once again, how different she and Lucy really were. It was a painful reminder. "I'm not like you, Lucy," Marjorie said. "I can't tell stories and I'm not funny! I wish I could stay with you!"
"You'd rather stay with me than spend time with the only family you have?" Lucy asked, her blue eyes wide open. "At least you're staying with your father and going to all sorts of interesting places. I'm staying with Aunt Alberta and she believes operas are old-fashioned and cats are unsanitary! And worst of all, I won't see father or mother or Susan or Peter all summer!" And Lucy burst into tears.
Marjorie stared at her helplessly. She wanted to comfort Lucy somehow but she had never been particularly good at that sort of thing and finally she said the only comforting thing she could think of saying.
"At least you'll be with Edmund."
Lucy looked up, thoroughly angry now, although she wasn't sure at what. "Of course, you would love to spend the summer with Edmund!" she said.
Marjorie froze.
A girl's first crush is a sensitive thing. After a weekend visit to the Pevensies' house last summer, Marjorie had told Lucy that she liked Edmund. She had relayed it to her as a precious secret and Lucy had promised not to tell anyone, even under torture. And now to hear her precious secret being referred to in such a scornful tone, left Marjorie absolutely speechless. She could only stand there and look at Lucy and feel betrayed.
Lucy knew instantly that she had said the wrong thing. "Oh, Marjorie," she said. "I'm sorry."
Marjorie was silent.
"You're right. Of course, you're right. I shouldn't have said that. I was just so unhappy that I wanted to hurt someone. Not that that's any excuse. I was perfectly horrid!"
Marjorie did not speak.
"Marjorie, please. Can't you forgive me?"
Marjorie knew what was expected of her. "Of course, I forgive you," she said. She even smiled.