Here's the third chapter! Please review. I'd really like to know how I'm doing and what areas I should try to improve in.

The days passed dangerously slowly. Polly remained in bed for the whole of five days, complaining of chills and a sore throat. Mrs. Kirke hoped desperately that she would get better before they had to write to her parents of her illness. Digory spent most of his time in the library, engrossed in his studies. He had always been a very serious, thoughtful sort of boy who not only contemplated the ways of life but reveled in life itself. Now, he seemed quiet and drawn into himself. Whenever Mrs. Kirke looked at him, his brow was furrowed and his lips in a tight line, as if he had a constant headache.

It was odd. There were times when she thought the two dear children that she'd known for so long were maturing and learning wisdom, and then they would step right back and fuss like toddlers.

Mrs. Kirke especially noticed the constant switching back and forth during those few days. Polly would act all grown-up and calm, like she could deal with what was happening around her, and then she would start whining and refusing to act sensible. Digory would study diligently, and then he would fuss about wanting to be left alone and not wanting to spend time with his family.

Polly, however, was unaware that Mrs. Kirke was worrying so much about her. She would burrow herself under her blankets and pillows and try to think of other things to keep her mind off her sore throat. She told herself over and over that Digory didn't matter anymore, that as soon as she was well she would be heading home. She told herself that their friendship was over, that as soon as she was gone they would forget all about each other and that stupid kiss. Digory could devote his life to studies, and she could go––well, go to parties and shop and wear makeup and find some other boy, or whatever it was that girls were supposed to do.

She made herself miserable thinking these thoughts, though she hardly realized it through the dim fog that clogged her mind. She became so worked up that she vowed that once she got out of bed, she would never speak to Digory again.

Someone knocked on her door rather loudly and entered. Polly hid her head under her pillow, neither caring nor wanting to know. When a familiar voice cackled, she lifted her head and moaned. "Uncle Andrew, could you leave? I don't feel good."

Uncle Andrew had been staying with the Kirkes for a few years now. Mr. Kirke had done so to try to lift the burden off Leticia Ketterley's shoulders––not that she was that grateful. Uncle Andrew had never fully recovered from his brief stay in Narnia and was now what Mrs. Kirke called confused. Polly preferred to simply think of him as crazy. He never seemed to make sense.

"Heard that you and Digory boy had a lovers' quarrel." Uncle Andrew giggled as if it were the funniest thing, rubbing his hands together.

"Why, you!" Polly said, horrified. "Well, you heard wrong. Go away. I'm sick and it hurts my throat to talk."

"Why is the little girl sick?"

"From being outside! I caught a cold! Now leave."

Uncle Andrew continued to rub his hands together distractedly. "Now, that Digory boy. He's a fool. Head stuffed with nonsense, thinks he can become a professor. Thinks he can immerse himself in his studies when he's troubled. He don't know anything."

"Now there's something we can finally agree on."

"He don't like you at all, no, not at all. Heard him say so myself." He muttered a repeated version of what he'd just said before continuing. "Thinks you were just a friend. Doesn't have time for girls. Cares about college."

"So he is going to college."

"Yesss, that's right. College…hm…"

"If that's all, perhaps you could go away?" Polly was teetering on the brink of rudeness. Uncle Andrew, as everyone called him whether they were family or friend, was getting on her nerves. Did he make it a habit to listen in on all the conversations taking place?

Mrs. Kirke burst into the room, relief showing in her face. "Oh, there you are, Uncle Andrew. It's time to go now. Polly needs to be left alone."

Polly mouthed, "Thanks" before slipping back under the covers. But it was not long before Mrs. Kirke returned, this time without Uncle Andrew.

"What are you going to do with yourself, Polly?"

"Once I'm well enough to get out of bed, I suppose I'll do puzzles and sketch and write poems to entertain myself. When I'm completely well, I'll be going straight home."

"That's not exactly what I meant, but I guess it'll work." She paused for emphasis. "But what will you do at home?"

"Well…" Polly floundered. She waved a hand airily, but it did not hide the anxiety etched across her brow. "Sew hats and knit dresses and cook apples and all that fancy sort of stuff that ladies do. You should know, you're a lady yourself!"

"Polly. Don't brush me off in such a way; I know you better than that. And for one thing, you don't exactly knit dresses. Neither do you cook apples. They grow from trees, you know."

"I know they come from trees!" Polly's face was like thunder. "I only meant because there's so many ways to cook them. Like to make apple dumplings or applesauce or apple pie."

"My point still stands. You'll be bored to death if you try to enter such a life. What's reallyin your future? What would you really like to do? For a career, that is."

Polly's face transformed from sulky to faraway. "I would love to write, you know. But it's hard enough for female writers to get published. And Digory is NOTin my dream future, in case you were wondering." The wary frown returned.

"I wasn't, actually."

"Then why'd you ask as if you wanted to hear me say so?"

"I did no such thing, dear. I was asking about your career, if you'll remember. You were the one who volunteered your opinion of my son. Anyway, you were saying about writing. You write poems and short stories, don't you?"

"Yes. I've tried to write a novel, but I got bored with my characters and killed them off after a while. So I mainly stick with poems and short stories."

"Oh." Mrs. Kirke grimaced before returning to her subject. "But you haven't gone to college. You have no type of formal education relating to writing. You've never been published. How do you intend to pursue this career?"

Polly pounded her anguish out on her pillow. "Are you trying to break apart my dream? Are you pointing out all the flaws on purpose? Just to try to say that I should have stuck by Digory so I could have an easier life? He doesn't like me, okay! There's nothing I could do about it! Now stop trying to discourage me!"

"For someone with a sore throat, you're strangely talkative."

"I thought you were a compassionate person, Mrs. Kirke."

"I am, Polly. Or at least I try to be. And I'm not trying to talk down on your dream, I'm just trying to see what your plans are. I would like to be of help to you. I'd like you to still consider me your friend."

Polly was silent for a second. "You are my friend. You've done so much for me, how could you not be my friend? It's just that I need to be in the surroundings of my home."

"I think I understand."

"I think you do, too. And please don't think I'm a whiny little brat who always gets her way. I'm not trying to complain and act negatively towards everyone, and I really can be bright and sunny, when things are going right, that is."

"But that's the challenge of who we are. That's part of learning. We have to keep a good attitude even when circumstances aren't the best." Mrs. Kirke gave Polly a moment for that to sink in, but the girl didn't say anything. "Now back to your writing career, Polly. I was going to say, I have a friend who is both a professor and an editor for magazines. I could send him a sample of your work."

"Could you?" Polly cheered up.

"But," Mrs. Kirke continued warningly before the girl got too excited, "that means you would have to reside at our house temporarily, if he likes your work. I know you wouldn't be thrilled about seeing Digory, but…well, I'm sure your angry feelings will calm with time. But the professor lives near us, so you would have to stay with us."

Polly only hesitated for a few seconds. "Okay, I'll do it. After all, my career is jolly well more important than my non-existent love life."

"That's the spirit." Mrs. Kirke couldn't help chuckling. She reached over and smoothed Polly's hair from her face. "I'll check on you in a few hours, dear. Please try to get some rest."

But Polly didn't sleep for quite some time. She lay in bed thinking. Mrs. Kirke had just helped her along in her career and future. But nothing good came without a catch. Polly felt depression slide over her at the thought that, if she wanted to pursue a writing career, she would have to stay at the Kirke house and run the chance of seeing Digory quite often.

She tried to comfort herself. Digory would hopefully be away at college during that time, so she wouldn't be assaulted with bad memories. But fear gripped her. No matter how hard she tried to run away, it seemed she couldn't escape the mounting tension.

Meanwhile Mrs. Kirke paced the hallway, a pleased smile on her lips. She truly did want the best for Polly––but the best part was, she'd succeeded not only in perhaps securing Polly's future, but also keeping the girl in their house. Surely if Digory continued to see more of her, his icy attitude would melt away and he'd go back to being friends.

So far her plan was working.

Tell me if anyone is acting out of character…especially Uncle Andrew, I wasn't exactly sure how he would behave, but I do intend to put him in the story a little more. Hope you enjoyed it, I'll probably have the next chapter up in a week.