by Anna Katmore
“You can’t know if she did.” Stan rises from his seat. It seems to take an endless time. Then he scowls at me with fox eyes. “Tami and the boys left. They want nothing to do with you until you get back to your senses.”
I lower my gaze to the fruit in my hand, but hunger has taken a leave. “And you?” I ask in a low voice.
“I told them I wouldn’t leave you without trying to change your mind. You’re my friend, Peter. Let’s put our heads together and find a different way to steal the treasure back.”
“You don’t understand. This isn’t a game anymore!” I grit my teeth. “Hook forced this doom on me. He has to pay for it. And I’ll get him where it hurts. Angel is his weakness. His only weak spot. I’ll destroy him, not matter what it takes.”
Stan gazes at me for an extended moment. Eventually, he sighs. “Then you’ll have to do it alone.” Grabbing his bear vest from the hook on the wall, he pushes his arms through then walks to the secret tunnel that leads outside. Before he ducks inside, he looks back at me. “Take care, Peter Pan.”
My lips stay sealed.
Traitors! All of them! So many years we’ve been family. I thought I could count on them. But at the first sign of trouble, they leave me like rats leave a sinking ship. To hell with them all!
I toss the apple against the wall, where it burst in a juicy mash, then I grab my dagger from the table, and zoom out of the tree. My way leads me East and up with one destination in my mind. London. Since my friends all took leave of me, there’s no reason to stay in Neverland any longer.
Angel is still asleep when I get back to her room. Seeing her lying peacefully in her bed brings an unexpected calmness over me. She rolled close to the wall. The empty spot beside her temps me to sit down and just look at her. But that’s not a good idea. Instead, I return the ruby heart to the drawer and sneak back out through the window.
It’s windy on the roof. Perched against the chimney, I pull my legs to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Resting my forehead on my knees, I close my eyes. Not the most comfortable of positions for falling asleep, but it’ll do until the morning.
Or…maybe not. My butt starts to hurt on the hard clapboards after a while, and a tremendous iron bird flies over the place every once in a while, high up in the sky. The noise raps me out of my nap each time.
Tired and annoyed, I fly from the roof and glide in a slow circle over the neighborhood. Two gardens down, there’s a huge house with boards nailed over some of the windows on the second floor. Maybe it’s vacated. Sinking, I inspect the perimeter. Everything seems old. The swing in the garden is rusty and squeaks when I push it. There are holes in the floor of the porch, and cobwebs decorate the corners of the windows. A grin stretches my lips. I might just have found a new home.
Ripping away the boards from one of the windows, I break the glass with my elbow and slip inside. The house is empty and dark, but the former owners left some furniture behind. Not many pieces, just a couple of shelves and an empty wardrobe in the great room downstairs. A dusty wing chair stands in front of an open fireplace. It’s the perfect bed for the night. I curl up in it and drift off to a dreamless sleep.
*
Something tickles me in my face. I squint and rub my nose. The tickling continues until I sneeze and open my eyes. Dust mites dance in the slim jets of light shooting through the gaps in the boards that cover the windows. With a good stretch, I get up and walk to the backdoor. It’s locked. Two hard kicks against the doorknob crack it open. Daylight blinds me. Boy, it must already be afternoon.
Standing on the porch, I enjoy the view of the wild garden and wonder what it would be like to live here. The house is vacated. No one would bother if I moved in for a little while. On another inspection through the inside, it turns out that all the faucets function. Even though it says hot on one side and cold on the other, there’s only ice-cold water, but that’s fine with me.
I wash my face and drink from my cupped hands until there’s a gurgling sound in my stomach when I walk. Then it’s time to get some work done on my new home.
Outside, I start to tear the brittle boards from the windows, one by one, break them over my knee and toss them aside.
“Hi there!”
At the sound of Angel’s shy call behind me, a smile curves my lips before I turn around. She’s standing on the sidewalk near the fence, wearing a short plaid skirt and a dark blue pullover. The collar and hem of a white blouse flash from beneath. She brushes her hair behind her ear, then her hand finds back to the strap of the bag she’s wearing over her shoulders.
“Hey,” I reply loud enough for her to hear.
“Um, Peter, right?”
“Yep.” I drop the last board I ripped from the window and casually walk down the pathway to meet her at the gate.
“I didn’t know someone was moving in. Did you buy the house?”
I begin to shake my head but quickly realize my mistake and answer, “Yes.”
“That’s…cool. I actually live just two houses up.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
Damn. What got into me? “Um…yes.” Then I remember what she said yesterday in the park. “The party? At your house? I’ve been there, remember?”
She smiles a little. “Right.”
It’s better to have her believe we know each other from this party than telling her stories about Neverland again. This will have to wait for a while. Until she knows me better. “You look like you’re going somewhere.” I nod at her bag. “With all that package. Vacation?”
Now she laughs. “No. School. And I’m not going, I’m coming home.”
“Of course.” I roll my eyes like it was a stupid thing of me to say. But in fact, I’m dying to know what school is. When she starts bouncing on the balls of her feet, obviously ready to walk on, I quickly think of a way to meet her again. “Will you go to the park with your sisters later?”
Angel tilts her head, shielding her eyes with her hand from the sun. I follow her gaze southward. A sinister front of dark clouds is gathering at the horizon. “Not today,” she says then. “Looks like it’s going to rain in a bit.” Her eyes find mine again, her mouth curls up in a friendly smile. “Maybe tomorrow?”
Irritated by the lack of chance to talk to her again today, I force a smile in return and nod. “See you then.”
Lifting her hand, she wiggles her fingers in a feeble goodbye and walks up the street. With my hands braced on the gate, I lean out and stare after her until she turns into their front garden and disappears out of my view.
Great. Now I have to slay time until I can see her again. And flying into her room at night when she’s asleep just seems like a rotten thing to do. This really shouldn’t become a habit.
I rip the boards from the last window and carry them inside just in time before the rain starts to fall. There’s already a pile of wood in the open fireplace. Rubbing a twig on one of the boards until smoke rises, I blow gently then put some dry weeds on the blaze and wait until the flame is big enough to light the rest of the wood. Soon a cozy warmth spreads in the room. For a long time, I stand in front of the window and look out at the darkened sky. Flashes zoom down to earth while hard rain washes several years of dirt from the windows of my new home.
I haven’t seen rain in over a hundred years. It never rains in Neverland. My throat constricts and I sigh. I miss home. Or maybe, I just miss Tami, Stan, Toby, and all the others. Being alone, especially when there’s a gloomy storm outside, isn’t fun.
Hands tucked in my pockets, I hang my head as I turn and walk to the fireplace. At least the flames give me some comfort. They remind me of the bonfires we used to gather around most evenings. Unfortunately, they also remind me of my quenching hunger. I decide to wait until after dark and then fly to the little wood not too far from here. Maybe I can catch me some pheasant or a rabbit. Boy, even a squirrel sounds good at this point.
*
I wake up in front of the mantelpiece. No fire burn
s in it anymore. There isn’t even smoke rising from the embers. Heck, how long did I sleep?
I roll on my back and stretch on the floor, yawning loudly. The quilt I found in one of the upper rooms after dinner last night made for a nice camp. It’s far better than sleeping curled up in a wing chair where most of my limbs go stiff during the night.
A glance out the window proves the rain has stopped and the dark clouds made room for a bright blue sky once again. Warm sunrays flood the house. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sit up. Damn, head rush. My brain seems to twist in my skull like a carousel. It’s nauseating. Moaning, I rise from the floor and, with squinted eyes, feel my way to the bathroom using the wall. Drinking some water from cupped hands helps a little. The sick feeling disappears.
As I look up and glance at my reflection in the mirror, I suck in a horrified breath. The stubble in my face has grown over night, and not just a millimeter. What was only a dark shadow on my cheeks last night is now a layer of half an inch of fur on the lower third of my face. What the hell! My heart clips like a racehorse.
I need to get rid of this beard and fast. Angel can’t see me like that when we meet in the park later.
After cleaning my dagger which I used for killing the pheasant last night, I shave. It’s a good thing the slim blade is sharp enough to cut the beard, but it leaves my skin red and burning. Cold water splashed on it eases the pain.
In the front garden of my new home is an apple tree. I pluck a dainty red fruit on the way out and eat it while I head down to the park. Time to meet Angel again.
Angelina
PAULINA LIFTS THE Polaroid camera my parents gave me last month for my eighteenth birthday in front of her face and pushes the release button. A black square picture comes out, which I take and shake until the colors come to life on it. It’s me who smiles from that photo—again. Seems like she found her favorite object to shoot.
“Why don’t you take some pictures of the ducks in the pond?” I suggest.
Squealing, she runs off with Brittney Renae fast on her heels. I lean back on the bench and reach for my book, but a shadow falling over my face makes me look up instead of starting to read. Against the blinding sun stands the silhouette of a young man, hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket, head tilted. “Hi,” he says.
“Peter!” I’m surprised about the joy I feel at seeing him again. Scooting to one end of the bench, I invite him to sit down with me. “Where have you been the past couple of weeks?”
He eyes me sideways as he lowers. “Couple of weeks?”
“Yeah. I was afraid you’d changed your mind and didn’t move into the house after all.” Why in the world did I just use the term I was afraid? It’s not like it would make any difference to me if he lived in our street or not. Or so I’d want him to believe. He doesn’t need to know that I actually went down to his house one afternoon last week and rang the bell to see if he was home.
Placing one leg on the seating, I face him—and gasp. Gosh, hopefully, he didn’t notice that. But what’s with his face? He looks…older. Not much, but enough to notice a change. Or is it maybe just because he shaved when last time he sported an enticing dusting of stubble? Then again, shaving usually makes men look younger. Peter on the contrary looks like mid twenty all of a sudden.
My staring obviously makes him uncomfortable. He runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat. Ashamed, I quickly lower my gaze to the book I’m clasping. “So um, where have you been?”
Peter takes a surprisingly long time to answer. “Home. I was with friends. Sorry I missed you here last time.”
“Nah, it’s okay.” I wave a dismissive hand. I had only been waiting for two hours for him to show up, but I don’t say that out loud. It’s been a long time since I felt attracted to any guy, but Peter captured my interest from the first time we met. Even though he’s dressed like a normal young man, he somehow seems not from this world whenever I look into his sky blue eyes. And the way he often studies me before he answers one of my questions makes him even more mysterious. Let’s see if I can disclose some of his secrets.
“Do you have a job in London?” He suddenly seems too old to be a college student. “The house you moved in is pretty big and probably quite expensive too.”
Peter places his ankle on his other thigh and grabs his shin with both hands. “My father was rich. He sort of horded a treasure before he died.”
That reminds me in a terrible way of how I put my foot into my mouth last time we sat on the very same bench. To avoid going down that road again, I change topic. “How do you like your new home?”
“The house is big. Way too big for me alone.” He shrugs. “But I like the neighbors.”
“You already got too meet some of them?”
He gives me a lopsided smile. “One.”
I smile back. “Now, that’s not really a lot, is it?”
“Enough for me.” Peter winks, and there it is—the first moment where he looks like a totally ordinary young man. My cheeks grow a little warmer.
When he tilts his head a little more, a strand of his tousled brown hair falls forward into his eyes. I want to reach out and brush it away. My fingers actually itch to do it. Luckily, Brittney Renae’s call from down by the little round pond breaks this awkward moment between us.
“Angel! Paulina won't give me the camera. I want to take pictures now. Tell her she should give it to me.”
While my baby sister obviously has no trouble with screaming the birds away in the park, I refuse to do the same. Rising to my feet, I look back at Peter. I don’t want to leave him just yet, and from his boyish pout I suppose he doesn’t want me to go either. But words evade me. So I nod over my shoulder in the direction of the pond, sweep my arm in a come-along-gesture, and finally I shrug, not to forget my silly grimace.
Peter laughs, gets up and comes with me.
My hands tucked into the pockets of my coat that I wear over my long sleeved shirt and the light blue pair of jeans, I amble next to Peter and try to distinguish that funny scent on him. Considering it’s rude to tell him he smells like he slept in a coal cellar last night, I rather not to mention it.
Ducks chatter in the water and it doesn’t take long until we make out Paulina squatting in front of them, taking more pictures. Brittney Renae stands behind her, tapping her tiny foot on the pebbled ground. Her face takes on a hopeful shine when she sees me nearing.
“Come on, Paulina. Give your sister the camera.”
“But why?” the honey bunny protests, rising. “She’ll only take more pictures of grass.”
“That’s not true. I was going to take pictures of Angel.”
Again, I think. But I suppress a sigh and, at my stern look and holding out my hand, Paulina hands over the camera.
“What’s that?” Peter asks me then. Obviously, he never saw one like this before. My generation takes pictures with their phones or maybe even with a digital camera. I’m probably the only girl my age who wanted a relic like this for her birthday.
“It’s a Polaroid,” I tell him. “An old-fashioned camera.”
He just keeps staring at me as though I switched to a different language.
“To take pictures?” I continue. “Wait, I’ll show you.” Lifting the camera so that I can look through the lens, I take a photo of him which then comes out at the bottom of the camera. After shaking it, I show him his dazed portrait and laugh at his even funnier expression when he studies it.
“Wicked,” he breathes.
A smile pulls at the corners of my lips. Sometimes he’s just sweet.
“Now let me take one,” Brittney Renae urges and tugs on my coat. I hand her the Polaroid and she targets me.
I glance over my shoulder to Peter. “Want to be on the picture, too?”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
I feel how he stands behind me, the warmth of his body seeping though my clothes at my back. “Ready?”
“On three,” Brittney Renae exclaims. “One…”
On two, Peter startles me as he scoops me up in his arms and cuddles me against his chest. On three, I already have my arms wrapped around his neck and laugh out loud. There’s a click, then the Polaroid spits out the picture and Brittney holds it out to me before she scurries away with Paulina.
When Peter seems reluctant to let go of me, I say cheerfully, “Put me down?”
“If you insist,” he answers and smiles. Then he sets me to my feet. Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted after all.
I take a shy step away from him and reach for the photo. Together we wait until the black disappears. The image that shows after a few seconds is lovely. I show teeth as I laugh happily while an adoring half-smile plays around the corners of Peter’s mouth. His eyes are warm and on my face in that picture.
Peter smirks as he looks at it. “Can I keep this?”
“Um…sure.” Hopefully my disappointment doesn’t show through. On the other hand, I still have the picture I took of him before.
Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimes half past five. I wave the twins back to me than face Peter. “It’s time for us to walk home. Our housekeeper always prepares dinner at six.”
He nods but he doesn’t look too happy. I like that. “See you again tomorrow?” he asks.
“On Wednesdays and Thursdays I have school until five. But maybe we’ll be here Friday afternoon again.” I give him a hopeful smile, but even before he can agree or refuse, my smile slips. “No wait. There’s a school dance Friday night.” It’s the spring formal in the midst of May. “I won’t have time to take the girls to the park that day.”
“Pity,” is all he says. At least he looks like not meeting the next three days bothers him as much as it—strangely enough—bothers me.
Brittney Renae and Paulina come running and grab my hands. They twist around me in a cheerful dance that makes me twirl with them. Catching a glimpse over my shoulder, I see Peter lick his bottom lip and briefly suck it between his teeth.