Trials of Faith

Chapter V

Chapter V

Peter sees Edmund in the hallway walking to their first class, still in his pyjamas. 'I wish he'd have made it back to the dorm.' He worries Jacob may taunt him for this, and it would be all Peter's fault.

"Ed." Peter calls.

Edmund keeps walking despite having heard his brother's voice.

Peter sighs, knowing that he deserves a lot more than a cold shoulder, but he absolutely hates when Edmund gives him that. He'd rather settle it immediately, with maybe some physical violence. No wonder he had never been trusted with any sort of diplomacy in Narnia. He then notices that his brother is wearing a baseball cap. 'When did Ed start wearing baseball caps?' He wonders.  

He hates resorting to this, but he knows it will work, well, at least it always worked in Narnia. "I command you in the name of Aslan, by my authority as your high king, turnaround!" No longer is this the voice of Peter Pevensie, school boy, but of Peter Pevensie, High King of Narnia by the elect of Aslan Himself. 

Edmund keeps walking, but replies, "You have no such authority here." He pulls the baseball cap farther down to hide his face. 'But why?' Peter wonders.

He charges into a sprint to catch up to Edmund, who was now is power walking through the halls. He grabs the cap, forcing Edmund to turn around, revealing a swollen, black eye.

"Hey! Give that back!" Edmund says before snatching the hat out of his brother's tight grip.

Whilst Edmund is grabbing his hat back, Peter is examining the black eye. "What happened?" He asks softly, brotherly concern evident.

"I-I tripped and fell." Edmund says, his voice trembling slightly.

Peter raises his eyebrows. His brother usually tells him everything. "You tripped and fell? Ed, I know that's not true." He wants to say more, but is stopped by the five minute warning bell.

"We're going to be late for class." Edmund replies. "Just drop it." He says before entering his Pre-Calculus class. He knows Peter's next class was a course in advanced Calculus, and therefore Peter would not be able to press Edmund on the issue any further.

Peter enters absentmindedly into his own mathematics class, not eager to take the upcoming test. He hadn't been able to study for the test at all; he'd forgotten he even had one. But, for the first time ever, Peter finds he can't bring himself to care, too worried is he about his younger brother.

"All right, class. Take out your pencils, and put your books away. Your midterm is today." Peter pulls out two pencils and puts them on his desk, wondering how Edmund is doing on his own test. When the test is handed out, Peter realizes with slight dismay that he doesn't remember any of the formulas needed for the problems. Then, he realizes that Edmund can probably barely even read the test with his swollen eye, so he shouldn't be complaining.

Peter stumbles through the test, leaving over half the questions completely unanswered. He knows that he should care, his grades are what will get him into a good university, but all his mind focuses on is Edmund. He can't stop himself from staring at the clock. He needs to hear his brother confirm what he already knew: that Jacob had attacked Edmund when Peter wasn't around to stop it. They might be fighting internally, but externally, Peter knows he will defend his brother. This time he will simply have to find a more diplomatic solution. The clock finally denotes that class is five-minutes from being over, which means that it was time to turn his test in to the teacher. Reluctantly, he turns in the test.

"Mr. Pevensie." Peter barely keeps his eyes from rolling. He just wanted to get out and find his brother.

"Ma'am?" He forced himself to respond respectfully.

"Please stay a moment." The teacher says, not unkindly. Peter does as requested, albeit impatiently. "Peter, half of your test is incomplete. What happened? You usually breeze through your exams."

"I-um, Professor, can we talk about this later? Now's kind of a bad time."

"There's no time like the present, Mr. Pevensie."

'She's mocking my words.' The student thinks. "Yes, ma'am." He sighs. "Family complications. That's all. It won't happen again."

"This midterm is worth twenty percent of your semester grade, Peter. I'm afraid there's no make-up testing or extra credit assignments you can complete before Holiday. Once your grade is calculated, the average will have to remain."

Peter looks his teacher in the eye. "With all due respect, my family comes before my grades, Professor."

Professor Cuadra sighs. "There is a fine line between looking out for your brother and neglecting your school work. You have come too far to give up now, young man."

"Yes, ma'am." Peter says noncommittally. 

"Do try and pull your grade up in this class by next semester, all right?"

"Yes, Professor." He agrees dully, his thoughts on his brother. He couldn't care less what she was saying.

"Very well. You may be dismissed. Oh, and I do hope this family matter of yours resolves itself. You and your brother have my best wishes." Professor Cuadra says in a somewhat sincere manner.

He gives her a half-hearted smile, and exits the room, intent on finding his brother. He knew Edmund had the same class as him, and thus his younger brother couldn't avoid him again. Sighing, Peter makes his way to the Composition classroom.

Much to Peter's surprise, Edmund isn't in the classroom. Peter was late, due to his talk with his math teacher, so Edmund must have been cutting class. Angry at his brother for avoiding him a second time, Peter sits alone.

" Mr. Pevensie, why are you late and where is your brother?" Mr. Kerlot, the composition professor, asks.

"I was talking to Professor Cuadra, Mr. Kerlot. And as for Edmund, I believe he is in the nurse's office." Luckily, the composition teacher favoured Edmund and his brother, due to their unmatched writing skills (probably from all the treaties and reports they'd written in that place), and Peter has a clean record, so no more questions were asked.

***

Edmund lays in the bed of his dorm, where he has been for the past hour and a half. He doesn't feel like sitting in Compositions class, even though it is one of his favorites. He longs to return to Narnia where no one would dare treat him the way he was now being treated. Suddenly, his thoughts are interrupted by the turn of the doorknob. 'Surely Peter has come to scold me for cutting class. Hey, whatever keeps him from drudging up the black eye again.' He rolls his eyes, but Peter doesn't see, as his younger brother is facing the wall opposite him.

Peter walks in, throwing his books onto his normally immaculate desk.

"Let's see it." He demands, walking over to his brother's bed and rolling said brother over.

'Maybe if I pretend I'm sleeping he'll go away.' Edmund thinks.

"Edmund, don't even think about trying to fool me. Your breathing pattern slowed when I started to talking to you."

Edmund opens his one good eye and looks at Peter. "I can't get anything past the High King of Narnia, can I?"

"I'm asking as your brother, not your king. And besides, like you said, that title doesn't doesn't apply to me here." Peter says, but not spitefully.

"Then I'm asking you, as my brother, to please, leave it be." Edmund pleads.

"And I'm telling you, that as your brother, I cannot leave it be. My job is to protect you, Ed."

"The best way you can do that is to just leave me alone." Edmund says.

Peter makes a sound of disbelief. "You're being a hypocrite. You wanted me to tell you about my nightmare, but you don't tell me who did this to you?"

"You didn't tell me about your dream, so why should I tell you the truth about my eye?" Edmund asks.

"Beruna." Peter says. It's all he has to say.

Edmund is speechless.

"It was Jacob, wasn't it?" Peter asks.

Edmund nods, confirming everything Peter had already known.