The weeks passed by, and Peter and Jane slipped into a retinue that involved going to class, the cafe afterwards, and then walking through the park once all of their homework was done. They chatted about music, current events, their classes, Peter's family, and about any other subject that didn't involve Jane's past or family. In fact, any time that he tried to bring up the subject, Jane immediately started talking about a class called Boundary Value Problems, which was apparently a pretty nasty course in the mathematics curriculum that she was currently taking. Just looking at her homework from across the table gave Peter headaches.
The week of midterms, Jane barely said a word to him and halted their walks. She poured over her notes, and whenever he told her to take it easy, she would merely shoot him a very dirty look before going back to studying. Peter didn't know whether her academic focus was helpful or annoying. After all, he was currently making straight As, but he was really getting tired of sitting. They both had their last midterms at the same time; Shakespeare lit for him and boundary value problems for her. His exam was scheduled to be three hours long, and her four, so when he finished his exam, he walked across campus to the mathematics hall and sat on a bench outside of the class room where she was. Several young men came out of the classroom while he was waiting and each glanced at him, clearly wondering what a literature major was doing sitting inside of the math building. Finally, Jane came out looking exhausted and irritated. "It went that badly?"
She looked up, a surprised expression on her face. "What are you doing here?"
"I got done with my exam early, so I thought that I would meet you here. So, how did it go?" She sighed and sat down next to him. "I don't know. I never know with this class. Sometimes, I feel like I did great and I end up doing horrid, and sometimes I think I did horrid and I actually did well, so I've given up guessing." She leaned her head back again the wall and closed her eyes. "How much sleep have you gotten this week?" he asked. She shrugged. "Not much," she admitted without opening her eyes.
He smiled to himself. "Come on, I'll walk you home," he said. "I'm fine here, thank you," she replied.
He laughed. "You can't fall asleep in the academic buildings," he said as he stood up and tugged on her sleeve. "Come on."
She moaned. "Do I have to?" Once again, he just laughed. She pulled herself to her feet and put her bag over her shoulder. "I can walk myself home," she said as they started down the hall. "I'm afraid that you'll sit down on the nearest bench and fall asleep," he said. "And then you'll freeze to death."
"I won't freeze to death. I'm a lot more used to the cold than I am to the heat," she said. "I think that everyone can freeze to death," he said. Now it was her turn to laugh. "If you saw where I grew up, you'd understand."
"I want to see where you grew up," he insisted as they exited the building.
"You can't," she said shortly.
"Why not? Are they socialist or communist or something like that?" he asked. This was only the second time she had ever said anything about her birthplace, so he was eager to learn more. She sighed. "The place that I was born in doesn't exist anymore, not really. The land was liberated."
"Aren't you happy then?" he asked. She didn't answer him straight away, finally she said, "For a couple of moments, I was overjoyed, but then, I found out that with the liberation came my exile."
"Exile?" he asked. "Didn't you say that you were only thirteen?"
"My mother was high in the former government- the government that was defeated. When she died, it was feared that her supporters would try to rally around me, so I was sent here where I couldn't cause any trouble," she said with a sadness in her voice that was barely detectable. "So you can never go back?" he asked in shock. She nodded. "I can never go back.
"You were a child when you got here. Where did you live?" "An orphanage. There were a lot of orphans made during the war, so no one thought twice when I arrived. It wasn't that bad. I was fed and had a roof over my head. At school, I had a teacher that took pity on me and lent me books to read, so it wasn't the worse childhood a person could have."
Peter didn't know how to respond. He had always had his family and couldn't imagine what it would have been like to grow up completely alone. "What are you going to do for the break?" he asked. "I told the owner of the cafe that we go to that I would watch the shop while he visiting his sister in the country," she said. "It's nice to have a little extra money. My rent and food is paid through grants, but it's nice to be able to buy other things. What about you? What are you going to do?"
He had never considered how Jane had paid her bills since she didn't have parents to help her out. He had almost been hoping that she didn't have any plans, but now that idea was moot. "Oh, I think that I'm going to go visit Edmund."
"You two are really close, aren't you?" she asked. He nodded. "Yeah, when we were younger, before he had to move to the country, we were always arguing, but the war brought us together," he said- he just didn't saw which war. Once they got to her building, she took out a key and opened the front door. "You'll have to meet him sometime."
"I've seen him once," she said as they started up the stairs. "Remember, when I overheard your horrid roommate talking about me."
"And you punched me?" He noticed that a sly grin suddenly appeared on her face. "I didn't do any permanent damage," she said as they reached her door. "Do you want to come in?"
He hesitated. He could almost hear Edmund's scolding voice, but he just couldn't bring himself to leave. "Okay."
She opened the door and went in first. He followed, locking the door behind him-after all, Jane didn't live in the best of neighborhoods. Jane dropped her bag to the ground and went into the kitchen. She didn't seem to notice that several items had slid out of her bag. Peter did a double take on the bag when he noticed that a stone blade was pointing out of the bag. He knelt down next to the discarded bag and gingerly pulled out the blade which ended up being part of a foot long stone knife. "Want a biscuit? I made some last night?"
She turned to find him holding the knife. "You carry a stone knife on you?" he asked in disbelief.
Jane visibly paled. "How did you-"
"It fell out of your bag when you dropped it," he answered.
"I-I'm a young single woman who lives alone. I like having protection," she moved to him and took the knife from his hands and placed it into the drawer of an end table.
"A stone knife is an odd choice of weapons," he noted.
She swallowed. "One of the other girls in the orphanage gave it to me, and I kept it with me ever since. It's not like I've ever actually used it." She pushed a sugar cookie in his face. "Here, have one." He took the cookie, but didn't eat it. "Besides, you said that you don't like using a gun. Well, I don't either."
"Uh-huh," he said, staring at her. "Well, it's getting late. I better head out."
"Okay, I'll see you after break," she said. "Have a good time visiting your brother."
Peter left the building, his mind filled with questions. How many people in England carried around stone knives, and the knife looked strikingly similar to the white witch's knife? How did the girl from the orphanage get ahold of it? These thoughts kept trailing through his head until suddenly he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head, and his world went black.