EUSTACE SCRUBB

                                    

                                          
EUSTACE SCRUBB WAS NOT A cheerful, hopeful or overall excitable young boy. 
                          
He had mastered the art at being rude, egotistical, and couldn't seem to keep the scoffs and words laced with jealousy from his mouth – everything either a complain, argument or defensive strategy that would in no doubt offend someone else to take the attention from him. 
                          
For Eustace, he did not believe that this was a problem.
                          
He believed that he had a heart of gold, but it was merely hidden by his irritation for all the other people in the world and the enormous amount of chest hair that he claimed he had, but was always to busy to show off. 
                          
He was anxious, too, always scuttling around like a rat that had been loose from his cage, his eyes always darting to the corner of each room in a frantic attempt to calm himself and hope to attack potential threats. Eustace saw almost everything as a potential threat. 
                          
The front door slammed and he almost felt his body leap from his skin.
                          
'I'm home. Hello!'
                          
With his face harder than cement, Eustace fought the urge to scream, knowing that it would only draw attention to himself and that was the last thing he wanted when it came to his wretched cousins, Lucy and Edmund. Upon hearing the young girl's voice, he scoffed and hurriedly hid his diary in his sock, the only place he knew nobody else would be able to snatch it and steal all of his great, award-winning ideas. 
                          
He made his way down the stairs, running flusteredly in clustered movements in hope to reach his father before they did, only to find that he was almost too late. Although he despised his cousins, he stuck around to hear the rest of the boring conversation, never wanting to be left out or not included in something that might be worth his time.
                          
Eustace had a lot of time.
                          
'Shall I start making soup?' Lucy said, innocently as she hung up her coat. 'Aunt Alberta's on her way home.'
                          
Their Uncle ignore them, causing Lucy to frown and Edmund to silently scoff, pulling his face into ridiculous expressions in order to humour Lucy, and insult his Uncle, who was hidden behind a large sheet of newspaper. 
                          
'Father!' Eustace called out, instantly as he scowled, hearing Lucy giggle. What an awful sound, he thought. She should do that much less often. 'Edmund's making faces at you!'
                          
In order to irritate his cousin more, Eustace drew out his straw and spat towards him, allowing a large ball to appear on Edmund's bare neck. The older boy spun around, his face seething and his teeth gritting together in anger. 
                          
'Why you little-'
                          
As soon as he had achieved his action, Eustace's face grew into one of horror and he quickly tried to scramble back up the steps and away from Edmund's expected, violent response. He fell down with a thud and was forced to look up towards his attacker.
                          
'Father, he's going to hit me!'
                          
'Edmund, look!' Lucy called out, not seeming bothered by the argument. 
                          
Edmund stopped, turning around to see a bright grin spread across her lips, a soft, white letter in her hand, dancing with a familiar penmanship that was looped with hearts and elegant kisses.
                          
'It's from Susan!'
                          
...
                          
'I DO WISH YOU were here with us, it's been such an adventure, but nothing like our times in Narnia. America is very exciting, except we never see Father. He works so very hard.
                          
I was invited to the British Consul's tea party this week by a naval officer, who happens to be very handsome. I think he fancies me. 
                          
It seems the Germans have made the crossing difficult right now, times are hard. Mother hopes you both won't mind another few months in Cambridge-'