~By the Lion's Mane: See You Again~

Part II

PART TWO

Chapter Eighteen

~Eustace~

I turned around the corner of the gym, following the path that ran between the wall and the hedge, whistling an old tune that came from a Narnian ballad I’d picked up from my time on the boat, or ship, rather. I was caught up in trying to remember the words that went with the next part, and so nearly tripped over the girl who sat in my path.

“Can’t you look where you’re going?” she snapped at me as she jumped to her feet. Her eyes were rimmed in red, but I ignored that as I grew irritated at how she’d spoken me.

“All right, you needn’t start—“ I stopped though, because I saw that she was blinking very hard and fast and her mouth was turned down with lips pressed together tightly. Frowning again, I asked, “I say, Pole, what’s up?”

She was Jill Pole, who I didn’t know too well, but that was in the same form as me. She had dark hair, almost black, with light gray eyes, which looked as if they were threatening to spill over again.

“It’s Them, I suppose—as usual,” I stated darkly, pushing my hands into my trouser pockets.

Jill nodded, looking down at her dew-dampened shoes, swallowing hard.

I sighed. “Now look here, there’s no good for us all—“ I began to lecture, but she interrupted me.

Her face turned red. “Oh, go away and mind your own business,” she spat at me. “Nobody asked you to come barging in, did they? And you’re a nice person to start telling us what we all ought to do, aren’t you? I suppose you mean we ought to spend all our time sucking up to Them, and currying favor, and dancing attendance on Them like you do!”

Surprised and a little angry, I sat down on the grass, only to jump back up again when I realized it was wet. Brushing off my backside, I said, “Pole! Is that fair? Have I been doing anything of the sort this term? Didn’t I stand up to Carter about the rabbit? And didn’t I keep the secret about Spivvins—under torture too? And didn’t I—“

Now she was crying in earnest. She turned away from me, arms crossed and said, her voice wavering, “I d-don’t know and I don’t care.”

Looking at her for a moment, I sighed. Reaching into my pocket, I withdrew two peppermints and offered her one. After a few moments of sucking on the sweet, she seemed to calm down.

“I’m sorry, Scrubb. I wasn’t fair. You have done all that—this term,” she said, wiping her eyes.

Pleased I had gotten somewhere, I said, “Then wash out last term if you can. I was a different chap then. I was—gosh, what a little git I was!”

Jill gave a small smile. “Well, honestly you were.”

“You think there’s been a change, then?” I asked hopefully.

“It’s not only me,” said Jill, digging her toe into the grass. “Everyone’s been saying so. They’ve noticed it. Eleanor Blakiston heard Adela Pennyfather talking about it in our changing room yesterday. She said, ‘Someone’s got hold of that Scrubb bloke. He’s quite unmanageable this term. We shall have to attend to him next.’”

I gave a little shudder. Though I had faced far more terrifying things than Adela Pennyfather and Them, I would like to avoid being ‘attended to’ all the same.

We were both quiet for a moment, just looking around the gloomy grounds and listening to water drip off the leaves.

Then Jill asked, “Why were you so different last term?”