Word count: 2712
Prompt: Windy
°
"Are you listening to what I am saying, young man?"
Edmund flipped his pencil in between his fingers, licking his lips and not looking up.
"Is there a problem here?" Mr. Winkler asked, leaning close, so close that when Ed gazed up he noticed his glasses were slipping slowly off.
"Um, no, not with me," He held in a giggle and kept his face in an innocent expression, "But it seems your glasses are slipping off your nose."
The teacher straightened.
"I didn't mean to offend you, sir, I-"
"Get up and head down to the principal's office."
"But I didn't-"
"Go," Holding up a hand and blinking his tired eyes, Mr. Winkler, Ed's boring math teacher, sighed.
A few seats back he heard Timothy snicker; of course.
He didn't budge from his chair.
"Edmund, am I going to have to help you find your way off of your chair, out of this classroom, and to the principal's office?" Mr. Winkler crossed his arms.
Closing his eyes so he could roll them without being yelled at, Edmund stood up, snatched his school books from off his desk loudly, and began moving for the door.
Halfway through the rows of seats, a foot appeared before he had to react and he tripped and landed on his bottom, his books scattering. It was Timothy stupid Jackle.
Timothy winked and then nudged Paul, who, laughed.
Ed openly rolled his eyes this time. Paul was supposed to be a friend. Ha!
Friends. You couldn't count on them. Unless they were King Caspian X. Then you could count on them. His stomach sank for a moment at the thought of Narnia.
And then his cheeks burned. Everyone looked his way, a couple of the schoolkids covered their mouths and giggled.
"Stop fooling around and get going," Mr. Winkler drew a triangle on the chalkboard and then snapped his fingers, "And the rest of you- put your eyes over here before I send you all to the principal's office!"
Timothy stuck his tongue out quickly and then turned to unamusedly watch their teacher draw out shapes, mouthing along.
Getting up off the hard floor, he sighed and collected his books, trying not to notice the occasional eyes scrutinizing his every move or the whispers about how strange he was.
Thankfully, he was out of the classroom in a matter of seconds and was skipping to the principal's office, knowing the way there too well.
For a moment, everything seemed peaceful, the school hallways were silent and the only noise was the sound of his shoes scuffing the floor.
And then, all too soon, he was at the door with the words "principal's office" written on a label on the wood.
Blowing out a breath for a steadying step, he creaked open the door and slunk inside guiltily.
From folding a stack of papers, Mr. Booker looked up through narrowed eyes, "I expected you."
"Alright."
"That's unfortunate. You know-"
"Can we get this over with? I'd like to get home before the storm hits. It's getting awfully windy out."
Standing up to his full six feet and two inches, Mr. Booker tapped a carefully laced shoe, "Sit down, boy. For that disrespect, you'll get double the punishment."
Ed gulped and sat down. There was no point in trying to bargain with his principal- it only ever got him in more trouble.
His principal frowned, "What happened?"
"I zoned out because I was bored of our stupid math and our stupid teacher, and apparently that was wrong and so, yeah."
"I'll get the full story from Mr. Winkler." Mr. Booker smoothed his skinny, twisting mustache and sat back down, the chair squeaking beneath him.
"The only other thing I did was tell him his glasses were falling off. I was trying to help him. Was that so wrong?" Ed pouted his lips and slouched further into his chair, wanting to be anywhere but here.
"Stop slouching, and, I know you. You never want to help."
Doing just as he was asked, so he wouldn't be punished, he straightened his back against the chair and stared at his principal. Right, he was never helpful.
Mr. Booker stared unblinkingly back, a fire seemingly always burning in his wide brown eyes, "Get up."
"You just told me to sit," Edmund said, blinking innocently.
"Do I have to come over there?" He clutched his wooden ruler in his left hand hard and Ed already knew what was coming, his wrist already throbbing.
Getting up, he noticed his heart was thumping, and he swore at himself for that; it wasn't that bad. It was only a ruler, it was only a couple of smacks, and he'd be fine. He deserved it.
°°°
Ed grimaced as he tried to balance all his school books in one hand, his right hand falling limp to his side.
He always forgot just how painful a couple of hard smacks from a ruler could be until it happened.
Really, he ought to stop talking back and making it worse for himself; although, with Mr. Booker, everything he did seemed to be wrong.
Nothing was good enough.
Across from him, the weary shops of London lined the roadside and people rushed about. Nothing new, always the same old same old.
"Wait!" A high, whiny voice yelled, steps sounding behind him on the street.
Turning, Ed made a face at the figure catching their breath, standing by a nearby lamppost.
Eustace?
Moving from the lamppost and falling into step beside him, his cousin sniffed and with a flared nose, looked him over, "What are you doing out so late anyway?"
"I had to stay after school and clean up after everything because I got in trouble... What are you doing?"
Honestly, he didn't ever know what his cousin was doing.
"The library down the street was having a book sale." He held up a book and Ed wrinkled his nose at the title "Insect Facts".
"I see you got a book..."
"Yes. It's very interesting actually." Eustace flipped through the pages and put a finger to a certain sentence, "See, right here it says-"
He wrinkled his nose, "I don't care."
°°°
Snorting, Eustace closed the book with a thud.
His cousin, Edmund, was still horrible to him at times. If he hadn't wanted to hear about the book, why had he mentioned it?
The wind howled around and pulled and pushed at him as he walked, making him feel a bit uneasy.
Something wet hit the top of his head. And then again. He glimpsed up, horrified.
Up in the sky, dark storm clouds gathered and rain began to drizzle down, the winds growing stronger. A storm!
"Looks like a storm is coming," Pointing to the dark sky, Ed hurried his pace, "We should get home before it starts..."
Three fat raindrops hit his nose in one second and then it began pouring heavily.
"...pouring..."
Rain slammed against Eustace's back and drenched his clothes in mere moments, ugh!- he hated the rain! Instantly, his teeth began chattering.
His new book was going to be ruined and they weren't even that close to his house! His shoulders drooped.
A few feet in front of him, Ed ran, shielding himself with his school books. What a way to ruin good books! Did he not care?
"We need to find shelter!" Eustace yelled, cupping a hand by his mouth to amplify his shout so it could be heard through the whipping wafts of air.
"What?" Edmund called back, turning around to see his cousin, but then slipping on a sleek cobblestone and falling flat on his bottom, slowly getting drenched by water. He cursed. Then he collected his school books, which were now even more damaged.
Eustace laughed, he looked hilarious sitting in the middle of the street, saturated and angry.
Hurrying his own pace, and holding his book near, he made it past his cousin, sticking his tongue out on the way, proud of himself. And then; his feet slipped from under him and he went sprawling out onto the street.
The wind knocked out of him the minute he slammed down and his book went flying, landing in a pool of awfully discolored water.
If he hadn't been at the age of twelve, he might've started crying, he was soaked, and cold and his brand new book might have been destroyed.
In a daze, he looked back at his cousin's pale determined, grumpy face.
Now he looked stupid too. Great.
Legs shivering and lips quivering, he took in a big breath and then shrieked! His new book! It lay in a puddle, pages ripped out and strewn across the wet London streets, soaking up the dirt. The filth! It was disgusting!
"What in the world?" Ed asked, getting up and attempting to wring out the water drenching his sweater and coat.
He couldn't even imagine all the germs that covered both of their clothing, and if he did, he felt sick.
Then Ed saw the book and with a roll of his eyes, he picked it up, gathered the pages, shoved them back in the wrong places, held a hand out for Eustace to grab onto, hauled him up, and shoved the book to his chest.
"Now, we really have to find some sort of shelter. I'm freezing," Shivering, Edmund looked around, and pointed to a store with a big roof conveniently covering a bench big enough for both of them to sit on, "Let's go."
Usually, Eustace would complain, and he really wanted to go home- but he needed somewhere to sit for a while to catch his breath, and the rain slowly trickling down the back of his neck and numbing him was outraging... and awful... and revolting.
Soon, after hobbling over, after Ed almost tripped on his too-big, soaked trousers, they made it to the shelter and plopped down on the bench, grateful to be out of the rain. Well, mostly, their feet still sat outside of the refuge, posing in filthy water.
Rainwater found potholes in the stone street of London and settled there, turning brown rather quickly.
"I hate rain." Eustace finally said after a long while of sitting in silence.
"Me too," Ed complained, still trying to wring out the dampness from his coat. It was never going to work.
A woman scurried by with bright red hair and a long coat, all safe and dry, Eustace envied that. And her books probably weren't ruined.
She probably had an umbrella she could pull out and open and then she was going to go home, sit in a comfy, soft armchair by the fire, and read her favorite books.
Turning to face Eustace after watching the woman indeed pull out an umbrella and step out into the wet street, Ed shivered a little more and pulled his coat tighter, "What was your favorite thing?"
"Hm?" Eustace absentmindedly traced his finger over the cover of the book, remembering just how nice it had been. Why hadn't he taken the bag the man had offered for him to carry it home in?
"What was your favorite thing about Narnia?"
Coughing and looking around, he lowered his voice, "Oh, I see," He thought for a minute, "Well, in terms of appearances, I liked Ramandu's island. Very scenic."
It was a beautiful island with stunning unique plants, and sand that was smooth when you touched it. And it was way better than London- particularly today.
Ed rolled his eyes, "I wasn't talking about scenery."
"Sorry," He shook the raindrops off his shoe, "Hm, what I really liked? I liked being a dragon."
Taking off a shoe and emptying of water, he bit his lip and groaned at the amount of liquid, "How so?"
"I was cooler," Eustace looked down, "and I was stronger."
Ed nodded.
"I was braver."
His cousin nodded again.
"And I was much more helpful than I usually am."
Edmund nodded once more.
Frowning, Eustace crossed his arms, "Would you stop agreeing to everything I say?"
"Why? It's true."
"Is not."
"Then why'd you say it?" Confidently, Ed finished tying his shoe and sat back.
"Whatever."
It went silent until Edmund cleared his throat, shifting his school books and muttering about the cold, "What did it feel like?"
"What?" Eustace snorted, pretending to flip through his jagged book, his cheeks pink from cold and his nose wide.
"To fly."
His fingers glided away from the book and he looked up at the dull sky, "It's hard to explain..."
Sniffing in the chill, Ed shrugged, "I'm bored, so, just try to explain."
"Fine."
A car rushed by, splashing water dangerously close to them and he nearly shrieked again; then it went quiet again.
"Eustace, are you going to explain?"
"Yes," He twiddled his thumbs and sighed, "Well, it felt... nice. I could see everything and it all looked so hilariously small." A grin caught on his face, "You looked like a mouse."
"Hey!"
"As a dragon, I could've eaten you, you know." In reality, Eustace could never have done such a thing, it made his stomach flip. But saying it gave him a way to tease his cousin.
"Just keep explaining," Glowering, Ed crossed his arms and situated his books on his left leg, pulling at his coat sleeve that barely covered his whole arm.
Remembering the sensations of air on his back and how cool and refreshing it felt in the heat, he sat against the bench, "The wind. It felt cool on my back, and it slipped under my wings."
The air helped him glide on the clouds, helped him steer himself to where he wanted to go next. Helped him to truly fly.
"What? Slipped under your wings? What does that even mean?"
Grumbling, he turned his book over, "I don't know! You told me to try and explain and I am! It's hard!"
"Sorry. Continue,"
"I had much more control than I think I've ever felt. I could fly! And it, it felt freeing. I felt so brave. Much braver than I do now."
It was true. Being a dragon made him feel like he could do anything, and sometimes, he wanted that back. Not necessarily the part where he was an actual dragon- but where he was cooler, where he was stronger, where he was helpful... where he was braver.
"You're still brave."
Eustace snapped his gaze up from his lap to stare hard at his cousin, "What did you say?"
Rolling his eyes, Ed pulled at his coat, "Don't ruin it."
"I wasn't trying to ruin it, I just didn't think you thought I was brave."
There was silence again and then the rain started to slow.
"Did you feel scared at all when you were learning to fly?"
Startled a little, Eustace thought hard and then gradually nodded, "Yes. I did. But don't laugh, you would've felt frightened too."
Ed raised a brow and shifted his sleeve further down his arm, covering a red mark on his wrist, "I don't know. I've always wanted to know how to fly, so, I think I would've been fine."
He would've been scared and Eustace knew it! Flying was harder than he thought. It was all learning how to aim and steer and... and he just knew his cousin wouldn't have known how as well as he had!
Peeking out from under their safety, Edmund grinned, "We can go home now, the storm has let up."
Eustace stood, "Finally!"
At the same time, they both ran out from under the roof and soaked in the sunlight that had started shining down already. The cold melted away and warmth invaded.
All the way home, the silence ached between them again.
Then suddenly, Edmund straightened and smiled, "You really are brave."
Maybe he was. Eustace smiled back at his cousin, "Thanks," He was glad they had a better relationship; now, with Lucy and Edmund here, he had the siblings he had always wanted. He had people who actually cared about him and not just about appearances and all that.
Then uncomfortably, Ed kicked at an upturned rock on the road, a smirk sneaking its way to his mouth, "But you're still a pig."
"I am not a pig!"