Neverland Academy

by Daelynn Quinn

  “Go Daphne. Get out of here,” Finn commanded.

  Daphne wanted to flee and leave the danger behind, but she wasn’t a coward and, though his inflated ego denied it, Finn might still need help. Instead, she slunk into the shadows against the wall of the still dark room. She stroked her face lightly where Trappe had struck her and listened to the remnants of Finn’s voice in her mind. He called her by her real name, not Daffy. Something seemed so different from the Finn that she grew to know. He wasn’t just a thrill-seeking boy with little ambition for his life, other than playing pranks and partying. Daphne could hear it in his voice. He was growing up. And this time, despite the argument they had earlier, she would not leave him.

  “You,” Trappe snarled as he lifted himself up.

  “Yes, me. Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily, Pervpot? You’ve really underestimated my cunning.”

  “Never again!”

  Trappe lunged at Finn, swinging his cane like a baseball bat. Finn easily ducked out of the way and hopped across the bed. He flung the footstool at Trappe, only hitting him in the arm with the soft, upholstered side.

  “What’s the matter, Preston?” Trappe sneered. “Afraid to fight me face to face? Need to hide behind a bed and throw inanimate objects at me?”

  Finn strolled out from his cover, meeting Trappe in the space just beyond the foot of the bed. “No. I’ll face you right here. Give me your best shot.”

  Trappe charged and swung again. Finn deftly ducked to the side, pulled a double-edged dagger from his belt, and swung it across Trappe’s chest in a slicing motion. Trappe cowered for a moment while Finn watched with pride. “Come on, old Pervpot! Get up and fight. This is what you want, right?”

  Droplets of blood oozed out of the narrow slice, staining Trappe’s ripped white undershirt. Finn leaned over him, tossing his knife from hand to hand in a taunting gesture. Trappe swiftly swung his cane across the back Finn’s legs, striking just behind the knees. Finn cried out and fell to the floor, dropping his knife mid-toss. He cursed at himself as his shoulder slammed into the floor. How did Trappe get the higher ground on him? After kicking the knife under the bed, Trappe stood over Finn and brought down his cane over the boy’s chest. Finn lurched at the pain as the hard wood and ivory cracked across his ribcage. Trappe only got two swings in when something halted him. Finn, doubled over in pain, couldn’t see what had happened, but he heard a crash and felt moisture sink into his jeans. The overhead light shot on, and it was clear.

  Daphne stood by, still clutching the broken neck of a wine bottle. The floor was riddled with red puddles and Trappe’s shirt now had pink splatters to complement the bloodstains. Trappe rose to his feet and punched Daphne in the gut with the foot of his cane. Then he grabbed her by the throat and raised her entire body off the floor. She struggled and clawed at Trappe’s thick fingers, but they might as well have been bolted there. The color in her face brightened to a dusty magenta and her eyes bulged with each empty gasp for air. She kicked her legs wildly, trying to find the surface inches below.

  Finn sprung from the floor, the pain in his chest forgotten, and grabbed the closest object near him—a silver candlestick. He swung it at Trappe’s head and the headmaster fell, taking Daphne with him. She scrambled away, safe for the moment.

  Finn searched for a better weapon. His gaze landed on the wall, where two rapiers hung, decoratively crossed. They were simply a wall decoration, but he took a chance, hoping they were real swords. He fetched one and sent the other one flying, landing right next to Trappe’s face. Daphne had slid out from under him, the nightgown now stained with his blood.

  “I believe in a fair fight, Trappe. Even if you don’t.”

  Finn stood above him, waiting for him to get up and take the sword. Instead, he pulled at the hook on his cane and a long, sleek, steel blade slid out.

  “No need for that weak piece of tin,” Trappe sneered.

  Daphne stood by, dodging blows, as Finn and Trappe dueled in the bedroom. Between the shards of broken china and pebbles of wine-soaked glass, their bare feet danced in funny motions. Finn had been able to avoid cutting himself, whether it had been from fancy footwork or hard, weathered soles Daphne didn’t know. But Trappe had repeatedly stepped on the glass, leaving bloody paw prints on the hardwood planks. Soon they were out in the hall sparring toward the foyer. Before following them, Daphne grabbed the extra sword that Trappe had shunned earlier.

  Trailing the duelers down the hall, she wondered why nobody had woken up and come out to investigate the noise. Then she wondered just how many of Trappe’s henchmen were roaming the grounds or guarding the boys at the church. She looked back toward the bedroom and found her answer. Or at least some of it. Two men lay across the hallway, leaking blood onto the antique runner. One had a slice across his neck. The other had a gaping chest wound. There’s no way they could have survived that. At first Daphne wondered how Finn, the boy she grew to love and trust, could take another’s life. Only hours earlier she’d discovered that Finn was not all he said he was. But was he really capable of killing? How could she fall for someone like that? But what had Trappe intended to do to him? And the boys? And what had he and the other professors here already done to other students she didn’t know? Daphne swore that if she ever had the itch to run away from home again, she’d just take a hot shower instead.

  Daphne shook her head, ridding the awful thoughts from her mind, and chased the action as Finn and Trappe entered the upper balcony of the foyer.

  Finn thrust his blade forward, stabbing the wall while Trappe dodged left. The sword stuck and he ducked quickly to avoid the swing of Trappe’s oncoming blade. The sword missed by a few hairs and Finn could feel the air shift above him as it flew past. Shoving forward, Finn knocked Trappe off his feet, giving him time to dislodge the rapier from the wall.

  Without hesitation he spun around and swung at his opponent, but Trappe was already on his feet and blocked the cut. They circled each other, each expertly dodging blows from the other. Finn went on the offensive, lunging forward with every cut and thrust until he had Trappe backed up to the edge of the balcony, toppling over a large vase of gladioli, which shattered on the main floor below. Finn swore to himself, for if that table and vase had not been there, he could easily have lifted Trappe over the railing.

  Trappe kicked Finn in the stomach, and Daphne watched as her friend tumbled back. She stood away from the action, watching, waiting, wanting to help, but at a loss. Even though she held the rapier tightly with both hands, she knew it would be useless. She couldn’t handle a sword with even half the skill Trappe did. If he still had that limp she might have a chance. But it was clear now his injured foot was all a ruse to make him appear weak and make Finn overconfident. Jumping into the fray would be suicide, no matter how she was armed. Helplessness overcame her and she didn’t know what to do. But she knew she had to do something.

  Turning back, Daphne dropped the sword and tried to open the nearest door, but it was locked. She moved on. Door after door, they were all locked. Finally, Daphne removed her hairpin and jimmied one open. It was another bedroom, sparsely decorated apart from the deer head hanging on the wall and a stuffed bobcat on a shelf, not nearly as elegant as the headmaster’s room. Whoever this professor was apparently hunted on his days off. She searched drawers and closet space until she found what she needed.

  Under the bed, Daphne found it. She dragged out a crossbow and three short arrows with neon green vanes. Perfect, she thought.

  She arrived back at the balcony just in time to see Finn balancing along the railing like he was performing a high wire act in a circus. She couldn’t tell if he was forced up there or just showing off, but he was thriving. Full of energy, he tackled each of Trappe’s blows with expertise and grace. It was as if he’d done this a million times.

  Daphne loaded the first arrow. Clumsily lifting the heavy crossbow to aim, she’d realized she’d never shot anything in her life, apart from the occasional c
arnival game. And even then, she was a horrible shot. She adjusted the bulky contraption under her arm and took aim at the center of Trappe’s back.

  The fired arrow eased right by him and disappeared into the crystal teardrops of the chandelier that hung over the foyer. She loaded her second arrow and aimed again, but hesitated, her finger trembling on the trigger. Finn was too close to Trappe. She didn’t trust herself not to hit him. Daphne waited, itching for action, until a moment when there was enough distance between Finn and Trappe. Unfortunately, that moment turned out to be disastrous.

  Trappe swung his blade toward Finn’s legs. Finn was quick enough to parry, but lost his balance in the process. Just as he fell down the long drop to the floor below, Daphne released the arrow and it planted firmly in Trappe’s right hip.

  Trappe cried out and turned angrily toward Daphne. She still held the crossbow and picked up the final arrow to load it once more. But her hand shook violently and before she could snap the arrow into place, Trappe was on her. She hurled the crossbow at him, but he deftly caught it and tossed it aside. Now, armed only with a single arrow, Daphne circled around and backed away toward the staircase, holding the arrow in front of her as if it were a knife. She glanced behind Trappe at the rapier she’d left in the hall, wishing now that she’d kept it. No matter how unskilled she was with a sword, it would have been more useful than the arrow she held.

  Trappe swung his blade and the arrow flew from her hands. He pointed the tip of his sword at the base of her neck and she could feel the razor sharp prick of it as she backed into the railing. A strange irony overcame Daphne. It was the exact spot the boys cut when she’d first arrived at Neverland Academy.

  “No,” Trappe said. “This is just too easy. Perhaps you’d like to see what happened to your boyfriend.” Trappe swung Daphne around, hoisted her up by the thighs and held her over the railing by her ankles. Her shrieks bounced off the walls several times and returned to her own ears, heightening the terror she felt. She latched onto the bottoms of the balusters feeling the blood rush to her head. Looking toward the floor, she didn’t find the body of Finn below, lying in a lifeless heap as she imagined. Instead, she found him hanging on to the upper floor, just below her, his fingers grasping the spaces beneath the balusters. Their faces were only about an inch apart. They were close enough to kiss. For a moment they shared a look. It was not only a look of trust, but also one of love and redemption. She could see clearly into his eyes now. She could see the love he felt for her and the fear he felt at losing her. She could see the pleading sorrow for what he had done, for the lies he told her. She could see how pained he was to put her in the predicament and let it get this far. She could she him.

  Finn silently moved from the balcony to the staircase with the graceful dexterity of Spiderman, placing his feet on the decorative wall moldings to aid him. It only took a few seconds, but when he reached the staircase, he flipped himself over, landing silently on his bare feet.

  Daphne’s vision was beginning to fade. The bloodrush to her head, combined with nausea and the overwhelming fear of plummeting to her death, nearly made her pass out. She could feel her world spinning and a dark fog was beginning to roll into the edges of her eyesight. A ringing filled her ears, muting the background noise. Slowly the pitch changed, going up and down, up and down, like sound waves travelling over rolling hills.

  “What . . .” Trappe gasped at the forbidding sound of police sirens. Through the front windows, shades of blue and red twinkled up the long driveway in the distance. Finn spotted the rapier in the hall. He had dropped his when he fell and thought to take the one Daphne had left, but he didn’t want to leave her hanging there. Trappe could release her at any time. He had to distract him.

  “That’s right, Professor Pervpot,” Finn crowed from behind. “They’re really coming for you this time. It’s all over.”

  “No. It’ll be just like before. You can’t prove anything.” Finn’s gaze moved to Trappe’s trembling hand. The tremors were shaking Daphne’s entire body. He wouldn’t hold her much longer.

  “We hacked into your private files.” Finn took a decisive step forward. “Found the evidence we needed. Lily sent it to the ACPD tonight. There’s no talking your way out of it this time. Like I said, this ends tonight.”

  “Like hell it does!” Trappe growled and released Daphne. Her fingers slipped from the narrow columns and her body slid down. Finn leaped forward and managed to catch one ankle. Her body dangled and as he pulled her up he swung her like a pendulum so she could grab hold of the rail. He dragged her back over to safety just in time to see Trappe thrust his sword toward him. Finn felt an explosion of pain in his upper right chest and fell to the ground.

  Daphne shook her head to clear her vision. Trappe’s blade emerged from Finn’s chest. In a panic, she groped the floor, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. Her fingers found the arrow that Trappe pulled from his hip. The blood that coated the tip was still wet. She picked it up and plunged it into Trappe’s stomach as he pulled the blade from Finn’s body. Trappe’s body tensed and he dropped the sword. Finn was weakened, but he wasn’t ready to give up. He quickly picked up the sword and poked another hole in Trappe’s gut. Then, using all of his strength, Finn lifted the weakened old man by the legs and hurled him over the balcony.

  The resulting thump was anticlimactic.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A New Home

  A groan carried from the floor below like an injured dog, trapped at the bottom of a dry well. Daphne and Finn leaned over the railing to find Trappe lying face up, still alive, but with his left leg positioned at a grotesque angle. They didn’t know if he would survive, but at this point neither really cared anymore.

  The sirens grew louder and the lights grew brighter as they approached the front of the academy. Daphne knew her time with Finn was short.

  “Quick,” Finn said, “over here. There’s not much time.” Finn palpated the wall, finding a loose panel and sliding it open.

  “No,” Daphne said. “I’m going home Finn.”

  Finn frowned. “You won’t stay with me? You really are leaving?”

  “Come with me,” Daphne pleaded. She wouldn’t change her mind about returning home, but she didn’t want to leave him here all alone. Not when he could be with her.

  “I can’t,” Finn replied ruefully.

  “You can’t stay here, Finn. With Trappe and most of the professors gone, they’ll shut down the academy. Then what do you plan to do?”

  “I’ll figure something out, Daffy,” Finn said as he stroked her cheek softly. “I always do.”

  “I can talk to my parents. You can stay with us for a while. Until you get a job and can find your own place. It won’t be so bad, really.”

  Finn rolled his eyes as Daphne somehow expected him to.

  “I can’t do that,” he whispered. “You know that.” He started toward the open wall.

  “Finn, you have to grow up sometime,” Daphne insisted. She was shaking, trying to hold back tears of goodbye. “And after what I saw tonight, you’re ready.”

  Finn turned and went back to Daphne.

  “I’m going to miss you Daffy,” he said, cupping her face in his palm. He sighed. “I don’t want you to go, but I know you have to. I wanted to tell you something earlier. You were so angry with me and then I got angry and well . . . I never got the chance.”

  “What is it?”

  “I think I’m in love with you.”

  Finn pulled Daphne closer with his left arm and her body melted the moment his lips touched hers. There was something more to this kiss than any they shared. Something deeper, more meaningful. She didn’t want it to end. But it did. And too soon.

  A heavy pounding shook the front door, tearing the couple apart. The sirens had stopped, but the intensity of their presence still lingered. Finn slipped something into Daphne’s palm before pushing away.

  “Goodbye, Daffy.”

  Finn slid into the w
all and began closing the panel. Daphne opened her palm and found the cork from the bottle of Glenfiddich they shared.

  “Finn,” Daphne called out. He paused a moment. She swallowed. “I think I love you too.”

  Finn smiled sadly and nodded before shutting the panel and leaving Daphne alone. All she wanted to do now was cry. So she did.

  Once the police were inside the building, everything turned to chaos. Pictures were taken. Evidence was confiscated. Arrests were made. Daphne watched as Trappe was hauled away on a gurney. They had wanted to take Daphne to the hospital and do a rape kit, but she’d barely convinced them that she was fine and had not been raped. A police sergeant was about to take her home, but as she was leaving, she remembered the boys.

  “They’re in some room that the headmaster used for discipline,” she said. “But I’m not exactly sure where it is.”

  “I do.” Lily approached Sergeant Lynn. She was wrapped in an oversized blanket and Daphne wondered if she’d been questioned about her injuries. “I’ll take you there, but you might want to bring backup.”

  Daphne accompanied Lily, Sgt. Lynn and three other officers as they made their way through the garden and church to the discipline room. Underneath the church, two professors stood guard, unaware of the flurry of activity going on above ground. The officers arrested the professors, along with Father Warren, and released the outcasts.

  As Sgt. Lynn took in the discipline room with shock and ambivalence, Daphne said a quick goodbye to Lily and the boys. They would soon be going to their own homes spread across the country, and she knew she’d probably never see them again.

  “Don’t forget us,” Hangman said wistfully.

  “I don’t think that’s even possible.” Daphne smiled.

  “Give me your email, and we can still keep in touch.”

  With nothing to write with or on, Daphne repeated her email to the boys. She hoped they would remember.