Could Have, Should Have, Didn't - A Narnia Fanfiction

Chapter Eleven: Cold Truth

"I think he's stupid," Edith told him, flipping to a chunk of the book that settled right at one-third, finger sitting there to keep her place, laying on her stomach, her feet dangling off of her hammock.

"Why?" Edmund asked, not really caring, but having nothing else to do, his boredom causing him to pick at the threads on his sleeves, which he shouldn't be doing. They'd fray sooner. And he couldn't afford to buy a new shirt.

"He's arrogant and rude, and then he wonders why she doesn't love him in return!"

Timothy and Rita were going for another round of jacks, their movements slow from boredom.

"Well, is he trying to change?" Running a hand through his hair, he mindlessly sketched in his pad, the book open to about halfway, not where he had last left off.

She huffed. "I guess, but, still, why does she love him? There are so many other men she could go for. Richer ones, kinder ones..."

"Because that's what love is about," interjected Lucy, who had suddenly shown up by their side, hands tucked away into those of the two children pulling at her skirt, " it's about forgiving and trying to change. Among many other things, like being brave and sweet, and..."

He drowned her out, looking down at the small forms by her legs.

One of the children he recognized from Mrs. Anderson's children. The other child he did not recognize. She was always gathering random people to become friends with.

Why couldn't she read like the others? Why did she have to stress him out by wandering off, easily snatched away?

He shook his head at himself. Why was he even questioning that?

She was Lucy, exploring and being friendly and befriending strangers was just what she did. If she didn't do it, she wouldn't be who she was.

Still, it worried him. He needed to talk to her, to tell her it wasn't wise to wander off and talk to strangers without someone with her— and even with.

Ivy was that way too, always running off, always saying it had something to do with dropping Cynthia off or taking a walk on this level.

Still, it bothered him.

Edith sighed and closed the book. "I'm done reading, it's frustrating me."

How was that that frustrating? It was only a couple of words about made-up characters.

"Then let's play a game then with these children, I could tell their mothers were getting tired, and I volunteered to watch them for a few hours, and I can't play something with them all by myself." Lucy gestured to the small humans, and he frowned.

He hated children. How could he play anything with them?

"I think that's a wonderful idea." Taking the hand of one of the children, Rita knelt to the little girl's level and smiled. "What do you wanna play?"

"You be my momma?"

Giggling, Rita pursed her lips. "Tell you what, why don't we play we're cowboys and ladies from the old west? And I can be your momma in that story? Does that sound good?"

Shyly twirling her flower-patterned skirt, the little girl nodded and squeezed Rita's hand until her knuckles turned white.

Ed could only watch, seeing how she worked with kids, she most likely wanted a few, and well, that was another thing that would set them apart. And Peter had always loved kids— and he was good with them.

If Edmund looked at a child, they began to cry, he hadn't chosen it, but it was just facts. Maybe they could sense his dislike for them. It wasn't important, he just had to ignore kids.