Chapter 10

Susan walked through the doors at school the next day to find Hattie Pergil waiting for her.
"Say, Susan!" the girl said amiably, "why didn't you come last night? It was a fine party, but it would have been fantastic if you had been there! Where were you?"
Susan tried to be congenial to Hattie as she had before, but as soon as blue eyes met hazel ones behind glass lenses, all Susan could think of was Benton's knowledgeable comment on Hattie's simplicity. "I was . . . busy," Susan finished lamely, and tried to walk away.
Hattie followed her. "Say, Su, is something wrong? I thought we were friends. Susan?"
Susan only walked faster, and Hattie couldn't keep up without "wobbling."
"Susan, slow down!"
But Susan felt an incredible urge to get away from Hattie and her simple-mindedness, away from anything that would cause her to remember—no! Susan must not even think the name of . . . that place. She desperately dove into her studies, intent on shutting her worries out with anatomical terms and chemical equations.

Lunchtime was no easier. All the students ate in a common area, sort of a park in the quadrangle tacitly designated for this purpose. When Susan entered the quadrangle, the first person she saw was Ettie Genoud. The French girl chatted happily with a group of the students Susan had gotten to know over the last term. Susan craved to know what the topic of their discussion was, but once again, all she could think of was Benton's heartfelt insinuation about Ettie's connections.
Oh dear! Ettie had seen her and was waving now. The whole group had turned to look at Susan. What on earth would she do now? Dare she associate with them? Oh, if only Benton was there! Wait, he was! But he appeared deep in his own conversation with some of his own chums.
Caught in the middle, Susan fretted over whether to sit alone or not, but just then, Benton caught her eye and waved. Intense relief settled over Susan, and she threaded her way over to his table and accepted the open seat.
"Susan, I want you to meet some friends of mine. This is Jeremiah Garret, Minerva Pennyfather, and Veronica Winterblott. Everyone, this is Susan Pevensie."
Susan exchanged "hello's" as Benton continued, "You know, Susan, Veronica and Minerva have had similar 'other-world' experiences. You might be interested in their stories."
"Oh, yes," Minerva inserted arrogantly, "I used to have episodes of fantastical adventures in which I was the queen of the world. I would travel to all kinds of places, fight dragons, meet my handsome prince, and such." She sighed in a very patronizingly mature manner. "How trivial and silly such things seem now!"
Susan shook her head. Minerva's conquests were certainly fantasies, but Susan could know for sure whether or not she had done those things, or merely imagined them. Minerva Pennyfather couldn't even begin to know Susan's struggle. "But you see," Susan explained, "My situation is different! Some part of me truly believes in the talking animals, and the worlds inside wardrobes!"
Veronica spoke up, "I used to have those." Her thin, wispy voice matched her willowy, frail stature, and her wide eyes positively stared out of her head. Veronica brushed a lock of hair from her face as she spoke. "I still remember as a young girl, crawling into the large cupboard we used for linens, and thinking I could see a forest inside. I never left the cupboard, only looked around for a long time before crawling back out. Frankly, it was so real it scared me. The next day, I crawled into the cupboard again and shut the door, and there was the forest! I still did not leave, but a small fawn" (Susan started and her heart fluttered until she convinced herself Veronica had said fawn not Faun) "crept up to me and seemed to speak words like a human! I was so wholly terrified I crawled back out."
Susan stared at the girl, hardly knowing what to say or think. The question escaped unplanned from her lips, "Why did you stop believing?"
Benton heard it, and cried, "Susan!"
Susan realized what she had said.
"No, no," she retreated hastily, "I meant how did you stop believing?"
Veronica shrugged her lean shoulders. "I knew eventually I'd want to believe in the other world, and I couldn't have the portal in the cupboard distracting me from real life. One day, I just decided that whenever I saw the portal in the cupboard, I would tell myself out loud, 'There is no such thing as another world.' After a while of doing this, the forest in the cupboard disappeared, and I didn't have to worry about it anymore."
How Susan longed to be free of her cares and worries over . . . other places! Benton caught up with her after classes.
"See?" He pointed triumphantly, "My method works! Keep going, Susan, keep telling yourself there's no such thing as Narnia, and soon you won't have to remind yourself anymore."
Susan grasped at this hope for all it was worth to her. She would forget N—That Place.
Eventually.

Chapter 11

As the semester progressed, Susan spent more time with Veronica, Minerva, and others of Benton's "set." He encouraged her, and even began inviting her to his house, hosting at first small parties, and gradually increasing their size to effectively accomplish what he termed, "easing Susan into philosophically diverse society." Through logical processes, he persuaded her to think "analytically", and to treat Narnia as what it was—a childish game.
By the end of the term, with Christmas holidays tantalizing the soul of every student, Susan felt very comfortable about denouncing Narnia when among Benton and his friends, though she never could quite manage it in front of her siblings.
Finally, the long-awaited holiday arrived, and Peter began to discuss with Susan the idea of hosting a holiday party.
"Oh, and have everybody here?" Susan queried.
"Well, yes," Peter replied, "that's the general idea of having a party."
Susan had grown so accustomed to going to Benton's type of intellectual "parties"—more like discussion sessions—that she found herself uncomfortable at home, and thus was hoping the only Christmas party she would attend wouldn't be there at Ketterley House. She tried to find excuses.
"Oh, but . . . this is such a small house . . . "
"That's all right; we would only invite a small number of people."
"Would Mrs. Mandrow approve?"
"She trusts us, Susan; of course she approves."
"I don't know . . ."
Peter looked at his sister strangely. "Susan, what is the matter? You never had these hesitations with all the parties you've been zipping off to all the last year."
Susan cocked her head petulantly. "Oh, I know; but someone else's parties are always so much more fun, because I don't have to act as hostess, and clean up after everyone. It's . . . different . . . you wouldn't understand."
Peter couldn't help giving Susan a half-grin. "No, I don't understand; that's why I'm asking you. If it really worries you that much, here's what we'll do. We don't have to invite any friends, we'll just have family: Ed, Lucy, and cousin Eustace Scrubb. In fact, come to think of it, Melanie loves cleaning so, I won't require you to do any. Does this satisfy you?"
Susan coyly returned his grin. "Well, if we must have a party, I suppose we must have a party."
Peter clapped Susan's knee in a congratulatory manner. "That's the spirit!" he cried.

Invitations were sent accordingly, and the responses came in short order. Eustace even asked to bring a school-chum of his, a certain Jill Pole. "We have a lot to tell you," he hinted in his letter.
Susan wondered what their cousin meant, but Peter suggested replying in the affirmative. As she was writing the reply, Susan saw an opportunity. "Since we're letting Eustace bring a friend," she asked Peter, "might I invite one as well?"
Peter's eyes twinkled mischievously. "What happened to your small party, Su?"
Susan rolled her eyes, and Peter laughed, "You may invite whomever you want, it's all right with me."
Happily, Susan addressed a final invitation to a certain dark-haired someone. Perhaps if he was there, she wouldn't feel so vulnerable.

The day of the party came, but it did not turn out as "safe" as Susan hoped it would be. Benton was late in coming, and the bulk of what Eustace and Jill "had to tell" turned out to be their most recent adventure in—where else?—Narnia.
"It couldn't possibly have been anywhere else!" Susan groaned to herself. She tried to change the subject. "That's a very beautiful dress you're wearing, Jill."

The girl shrugged. "It's Narnian, what can I say? I wonder that you and Lucy don't have dresses of your own."

Susan stiffened; would Benton ever show up? Finally, she heard a knock at the door. "Benton!" she cried happily when she answered it. There he stood, with snow in his dark hair, a twinkle in his eye, and a cake in his hands. "Come in!" she welcomed him, accepting the cake and setting it on the table with the rest of the Christmas goodies prepared by the women of the house.

Susan introduced Benton to everyone else, but just at that moment, the festive Christmas spirit had set her brothers and sister reminiscing about "that first Narnian Christmas." Susan worried that Benton would feel left out, so she directed him to the sofa on the far side of the room, away from everybody else. Benton tried to wave off her concern for him, but it was obvious that he did feel somewhat like an intruder. Susan was intent on showing him that all his teachings had not been in vain, and soon she and Benton were comfortably chatting away, uneasiness completely forgotten.

Presently, Lucy ran up and seized Susan's hand. "Oh Susan! We need another couple for the Snow Dance Eustace learned in Narnia! It's great fun! Won't you join us?"

Susan froze. She could feel Benton's eyes bearing on her. Unbidden, the memory leapt up in her mind of the marvelous Narnian dances, far more intricate and enjoyable than any in England. Would Benton really think ill of her if she appeared to humor her sister? But, truly, she thought, after all he's done for me, would it be discouraging to him?

Susan nursed in herself a desire to prove her merit to Benton. "Oh," she said pettishly, as she knew he would want her to, "there you go with Narnia again!" She sighed in that grown-up-memory way that is so aggravating to children, "What wonderful memories you kids still have! Fancy your still thinking about those funny games we used to play when we were children!" She glanced triumphantly at Benton, eager to bask in his burst of congratulation.

But the only "burst" that came was the tears from poor Lucy's eyes. She was too crushed to speak, but only rushed out of the room, crying. Susan's sensitive heart pricked her terribly, and she suddenly realized in humiliation that the whole room had heard her unfeeling comment, and not only Benton.

Benton himself, seeing the start of a potential family feud and having no desire to be caught in the middle, whispered to Susan, "I'll wait outside."

Susan grasped his hand as he left, "Benton, wait . . ." What had gone wrong? She saw Benton, waiting in the entryway. Good, he had not left; now Peter confronted her.

"Susan, what is the matter with you?"

Susan attempted an air of nonchalance, but in her bewilderment it came across more like insolence. "Don't know what you mean," she returned.

"You know very well what I mean, Susan Pevensie!"

Peter's tone was more stern than Susan had ever heard him use, except as K—no! She mustn't!

Peter continued, "Ever since you've taken up with that Benton fellow, you've put on airs and been altogether miserable! And now you've wounded your own sister with your pride, just as Edmund did under the influence of the White Witch!"

Susan's temper flared at the insinuation, and she set her jaw. "The White Witch doesn't exist, Peter! I wonder what's gotten into you, that you believe it's all still real! I can't believe you're encouraging it! You've got to face the facts Peter! The game is over! You may be older in years, but I don't believe you're really grown up until you realize that Narnia is dead."

She turned back to the entryway as she heard Benton close the front door behind him. She reached the front step just as he stepped off the bottom one.

"Benton!" she cried, "Benton, I'm sorry!"

Susan expected his disappointment, but when he turned around, his eyes were shining.

"Susan," he said quietly as she approached, "I stayed inside just long enough to hear everything. Have you ever . . . stood up to your brother like that?"

Susan shook her head. "I was always afraid to."

Benton laid gentle hands on her shoulders. "But now you believe in real life enough to stand up to even him? Susan, you've finally grown up into a woman."

She looked up, surprised and encouraged. "You really think so, Benton?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "I heard you say Narnia without even flinching. How different, how much improved from the girl I met only a year ago, who wasn't even sure what she believed! Trust me, Susan, I know psychological maturity when I see it. I'm proud of you."

Susan gazed into Benton's eyes. There wasn't a hint of insincerity about them.

He leaned closer.

So did she.

Finally, without a care but for each other, they kissed.

Susan pulled away, suddenly glad of the nighttime shadows that concealed the bright flush coloring her cheeks. "Merry Christmas, Benton Northwyn."

"Merry Christmas, Susan Pevensie."

Susan concentrated on keeping an even pace as she walked back into the house. She was so light-hearted she felt like running and skipping, but she knew such behavior was not decorous, especially since she had been pronounced "mature" by her mentor!

She paused just inside the door, feeling victorious over herself. Now she could experience the same freedom from imagination that Veronica and the others enjoyed!

The house was silent. The younger kids probably bedded down in the spare room. Susan peeked into the sitting room and saw Peter, who still sat looking pensive at the dying fire.

"Susan."

It took a moment for Susan to recognize the hollow voice as Peter's. "Yes?" she replied, entering the sitting room.

"Do you still mean what you said to Lucy and to me? Is Narnia really a game to you?"

Susan fought the urge to laugh. How differently she viewed her brother, now that she was mature. What was the silly boy so worried about? It wasn't as if she had denounced her parents!

"Yes, I did mean it! All of it, every syllable!" she cried brazenly. "Peter, I don't believe in Narnia." There! She'd said it! Out loud, to his face! Wouldn't Benton be proud! Feeling every inch a conqueror, Susan ascended the stairs to her bedroom.

For the first time, Susan Pevensie truly felt grown up.

THE END