A/N: Thank you so much for reviewing, Petraverd. That just made my day! And I know it was kind of short…it looked longer on the paper! Perhaps Susan's hand gets tired quickly.

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Fall, 1941

I am looking out the window onto what is supposed to be a wonderful, natural setting. It pales in comparison the the Narnian woods, where we went hunting and riding, and to the plains: great open fields like the Fords of Beruna where we won the battle.

This is my school. Mine and Lucy's. I don't see as much of her as I ought; this is her first year. I keep thinking of Lucy as a self-assured, well-liked, valiant young lady back at Cair Paravel. We spent time together then, of course, but she didn't need me. I'm not really sure if she does now, either.

My roommate Violet has gone down to breakfast already. I will be late—ugh! Upon looking in the mirror I see my hair is a mess. I tie it back quickly with a dark green ribbon and go downstairs, trying not to think of attendants who wove vines through my hair some days, and pure spun gold on others. Green always suited me best, though.

In the dining room all the curtains are drawn, and all heads are bowed. Mrs. Finchley is saying grace. Surely I can make it to my chair on time and escape penalty for being late.

"Now, Lord, we thank you for your blessings…"

I am halfway there.

"…which have been given to us on this day…" in a droning voice.

I slip in too fast. The chair falls over.

"Amen."

All eyes are turned on me.

Oh, Aslan, let me sink into the floor right now!

Then I remember: Aslan sent me away. Why would he want to help me here, now? He only had time for that sort of thing when I was Queen Susan, or becoming Queen Susan.

I get up haughtily and eat my porridge. Suddenly guilt pours over me and it seems I can see Aslan's very face before me, looking at me, with such love and patience in his eyes.

The thought makes me gasp, which in turn makes me choke, and hastily I grab for a glass of water.

Most girls are laughing quite openly at me now. Embarrassed, I look up and down the table, and catch Lucy's glance. She smiles as if she knows my thoughts and feelings to the very letter.

I should spend more time with Lucy, I think. All of a sudden I wonder if she has been feeling the very same way I have, about Narnia.

But Lucy can come back! She can go back to Narnia! Apparently Narnia still needs their Valiant Queen but has no more use for the Gentle one.

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September 24, 1942

Violet and I went for a walk after supper this evening, down the lane in back of the school that runs through their pathetic excuse for a forest. Normally I wouldn't be writing about such a mundane thing as a walk, but something happened on our walk that made me think long and hard.

We were about to turn and come back when we saw a boy approaching us. Ever the social one, Violet insisted we stop and say hello. His name was James, and he goes to the boys' school. He's in Peter's class.

James seemed very taken with Violet: her dark blue eyes, and long, straight and silky blonde hair, but he never even noticed during our whole conversation (we stood there for over half an hour) that she had the sharpest tongue and was almost never saying anything about anyone else. Violet, Violet, Violet, the topic was tonight. And he didn't seem to care!

Funny. Mummy always told me that it was your character and speech that would attract people to you:

"A gentle and quiet spirit."

I suppose that's not always true.