Okay, so here's the second chapter. I want to thank all of the people who reviewed the first...I totally did not expect to get so many reviews! It meant so much to me to find all of those encouraging comments in my inbox! I was nearly giddy with happiness...I couldn't keep the smile off my face. I hope you like this chapter as much as the first.
Peter sat in the window seat of the sunroom, his arms tightly crossed. His little eyebrows were scrunched together and his lower lip protruded from his frowning mouth. He gripped a worn, faded blanket in one fist, crinkling the fabric as he clenched and unclenched his hands. In stark contrast to the brightly shining sun that could be seen outside the window, his stormy visage dared anyone to come near.
Oblivious to her older brother's foul mood, Susan sat on the floor at the other side of the room, playing with a stuffed dog while prattling on and on in her sweet little voice about their new baby brother. Edmund, sleeping soundly, lay three feet away from her in a padded wicker basket. He made an adorable image, wrapped tightly in a soft blanket and sucking on his tiny fist as he slept. Unfortunately, the baby boy was the reason that Peter sat pouting all by himself on the window seat.
However, being an active four-and-a-half-year-old, Peter could only sit in one spot for so long, no matter how annoyed he was by his baby brother. So after he had been pouting for about half an hour, he slid off his perch and moved over to sit in between Edmund's basket and Susan. Not bothering to stop scowling, he watched Edmund sleep.
"He doesn't do anything but sleep and cry," Peter complained, finally speaking.
"Isn't he adowable?" asked Susan, putting her toy down and scooting over to the basket.
"You don't even know what that means," said Peter.
"You don't either," she shot back. "Anyway, that's what Mummy calls Baby Eddy. And if Mummy calls him that, there's nothing wrong with me saying it."
Susan proceeded to tell Peter all the things she loved about "Baby Eddy": his soft, dark hair, his tiny hands and feet, his big bluish-grey eyes, his baby smell, and countless other things. This only made Peter more upset.
Before and even right after Edmund had been born, Peter had been very excited about getting a new baby brother. He could not wait to see and play with Edmund. When George and Annaleigh had brought Edmund home, Peter at first would not leave his side. He had held Edmund at every opportunity and talked to him, telling him all about Susan, their parents, and anything else that popped into his mind. But things eventually changed. Peter started to notice that Edmund was usually the center of attention, even in the middle of the night. He did not mind sharing his parents, but Susan spent as much time with Edmund as Peter had in the beginning, and as a result, Peter did not get to play with her as much as he used to. Whenever he was able to convince her to play with him, she, more often than not, wanted to have Edmund in the same room. Peter might have been alright with that arrangement if Susan had stopped there, but she would interrupt their play time every once in a while to go over and gaze at Edmund while he slept, and when she was not doing that, she would talk about him almost constantly. Peter felt as though he was losing his best friend to the infant boy.
Susan, still talking to Peter about Edmund, moved away from her brothers for a moment to get her stuffed dog and a couple of other toys. And in the span of the moment that her back was turned, Peter felt a sudden urge come over him and acted on it without thinking.
A minute later, Annaleigh Pevensie rushed into the room to find her three-year-old daughter in tears, her infant son wailing, and her oldest child standing with a guilt-ridden expression on his face. She followed his gaze to where Edmund lay. Edmund's formerly snug blanket was now in disarray and his tiny limbs waved frantically in the air, punctuating his loud screams. One of his feet looked suspiciously red.
When she had taken in this pitiful scene, Annaleigh addressed Peter. "What happened?" she asked.
The little boy hung his head and muttered something like, "I bt tis dohsh,"
"I'm sorry, Peter, but you are going to need to speak more clearly. I can't understand you." His mother said somewhat sternly.
He lifted his head and his deep blue eyes met her chocolate brown ones. Still quietly, but much more clearly, he spoke again. "I bit his toes."
Annaleigh's mouth dropped open as a shocked expression crossed her face and she stared at her oldest son for a moment, at a loss for words. Then, she knelt down next to Edmund's basket and lifted him from it. When his wails quieted to whimpers, she took his reddened foot in her hand and inspected it. Sure enough, Peter had spoken the truth. Little tooth marks decorated Edmund's tiny toes. Thankfully, the bite had not been hard enough to draw blood, but Annaleigh could tell that it was already starting to bruise. She sighed and wrapped Edmund's blanket tightly about him and laid him back in his basket. He had already drifted back to sleep, comforted by his mother's warm touch and secure embrace.
With Edmund now asleep, Annaleigh hushed Susan, telling her that Edmund would be fine. When Susan's tears subsided, Annaleigh settled the little girl in a rocking chair and handed her the stuffed dog. Susan hugged the toy tightly and glared at Peter from behind her dark curls, which had fallen in her face. He looked away from her and stared intently at the floor.
"Come, Peter," Annaleigh said, and reached for his hand. She led him out of the sunroom and down the hall to his bedroom. Once there, she lifted him up and set him on his bed. "Why did you bite your brother's toes?" she asked, holding his little hands firmly in hers and intently studying his face.
Peter's eyes roamed the room, looking anywhere but at his mother. "I don't know," he answered.
Annaleigh could tell by his tone that he did indeed know. "I think you do. Look at me and tell me."
Peter finally met Annaleigh's stern gaze. After a moment of silence he spoke. "Susan likes him better than me." Tears gathered in his eyes.
"Oh, Peter." Annaleigh said with a sigh. She pulled her son into a tight embrace. "Susan doesn't like Edmund any better than you. You're her big brother."
"If she doesn't like him better, why does she spend so much time with him?"
"Peter, Susan is excited that she has another brother and that she is a big sister. Of course she's going to spend time with Edmund. You were the same way at first with Edmund, and, if possible, even more fascinated with Susan when she was born."
"I don't remember that,"
"Of course you don't. You weren't even two yet. Now," she said, changing the subject. "I've come up with a suitable punishment for you. You are going to bed early tonight, and there will be no dessert after supper. I understand why you bit Edmund, but there is still no excuse for it."
Peter nodded, his eyes downcast. Neither of them spoke for a minute and Peter seemed to be in deep thought. Then his eyebrows knit together in a scowl and he said, "This is all Susan's fault. If she didn't pay attention to Edmund everything would be fine."
Annaleigh raised an eyebrow. "If Susan is the problem, why didn't you bite her toes?"
Peter stared at her, an appalled expression on his face. "I would never do that! It would hurt her! And besides, she doesn't do it on purpose."
"Edmund is not taking your sister's attention away from you on purpose, either." Annaleigh said, recognizing a chance to reconcile the infant in his older brother's eyes.
Peter had not thought of it that way. Edmund was a baby, and babies can't do much. (Peter had learned this the hard way when he had tried to play ball with the newborn during Edmund's first week home. The result had been a screaming baby with a nasty bump on his head.) Therefore, it would be impossible for Edmund to be plotting to take Susan away from Peter. A sorrowful expression crossed his face as he realized that he had hurt his innocent baby brother that had not meant him any harm.
"I'm sorry, Mummy," he said in a small voice, a couple of tears welling up in his eyes.
Annaleigh, sure that his apology was sincere, said, "I accept your apology for Edmund, but there's someone else you need to apologize to as well."
"Susan?"
"Yes." Annaleigh hesitated. "Do you know what you need to apologize for?"
"Yes," Peter answered.
"Alright. You may talk with her after dinner."
George Pevensie was a very confused man that night. Everything had seemed fine when he had walked in the door; Susan had come running as usual with her customary hug and cry of "Daddy's home!", and the smell of dinner cooking had been wafting through the house. But everything was different at the dinner table. Peter was strangely silent, and Susan, well, suffice it to say that she was not the normal cheerful, bubbly three-year-old that her father was used to. When he shot a questioning glance towards his wife, she shook her head, mouthing, "Don't ask. I'll tell you later." Satisfied, George shrugged and turned his attention away from his children's moody behavior and back to his half-eaten plate of food.
When they finished eating, Annaleigh stood and began clearing the table. George moved to help her, but she waved him off, telling him to relax. Susan, on completing her dessert, had immediately left the kitchen to play in the sunroom, where Edmund slept soundly. Peter had remained in his seat, but his eyes had followed her as she left the room. Annaleigh observed this, and she lightly touched his arm. He looked up at her, and she nodded in answer to the question in his eyes. He slid off his chair and with no delay made a beeline for the sunroom.
Susan glanced up when he entered, but pointedly looked away when she saw who he was. Peter felt slightly disappointed at this, but it did not deter him from his goal. He crossed the room, his feet softly padding on the carpet, and came to stand right in front of Susan. She still tried to ignore him, but found it exceedingly more difficult as he sat down and began to absentmindedly fiddle with one of her stuffed animals. Finally, Peter spoke in a small voice.
"I'm sorry, Susy."
She did not respond for a moment, and her hands paused from brushing the hair of the doll she held. Then, she mournfully asked, "Why, Petey? Why did you bite Baby Eddy?"
Peter saw tears glistening in her eyes, and his heart sank. He always hated it when his little sister cried. "I did it 'cause I was mad," he answered. "I thought he was taking you away from me. I thought you loved him more than me." He moved across the short space between them to sit next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Please don't cry, Susy, I hate it when you cry."
Susan threw her arms around her big brother. "You're silly. I don't love him more than you."
Peter returned the embrace gladly. "Do you forgive me?"
"Yes," came the answer, and then Susan pulled away. With a fierce expression on her face, she vehemently said, "But if you ever bite Baby Eddy again, I'll bite you!"
Peter gulped. He was not accustomed to Susan being so forceful with her words, but he did not doubt them. He merely nodded in answer to her statement.
Susan noticed his reaction and giggled. "Don't worry, all you have to do is not bite Baby Eddy." She hugged him tightly. "I love you, Petey."
"I love you too, Susy," Peter responded. He glanced over Susan's head toward where Edmund lay in his basket. "And I think I love Edmund now, too."
Annaleigh Pevensie smiled from her place in the doorway as she observed her two oldest children move over to their baby brother and watch him while he slept. Then, she covered her mouth with one hand to mask a gasp, while her eyes filled with joyful tears. For Peter had leaned over the baby basket…and planted a kiss on Edmund's little forehead.
"I'm sorry I bit you, Edmund." He whispered softly. "I love you."
Something about this chapter that worried me: I'm not sure that Peter and Susan should be talking so well at the ages at which I tried to portray them. What do you think? I think Peter is okay, but Susan...well, the problem is that the little girl after whom I tried to model her talks a lot, but you can only understand her like 25 to 40 percent of the time! Oh well, I did my best. It's very hard to write a person when you're not exactly sure how well they should talk. Anyway, once again, I'd like to know what you think, and constructive critisism is still welcome. Please review! -Lady Jill Pole