Darling

by K. Ancrum

  CHAPTER 6

  The first thing Wendy noticed was the incredible mess. Or maybe clutter was the right word … Either way, she was in a kitchen. There was art tacked up all over the walls to the point where none of the original surface was in sight. The art was a mix of finger paintings, crayon drawings, and surprisingly high-quality pencil sketches, all together like a giant mural. A massive sculptural arrangement of glass bottles of many colors hung from the ceiling, twisting from the entryway into the kitchen and back out of the room. The bottles were tinkling lightly, and the street light coming in from the window was throwing specks of brightness off their glass. It was stunning, and Wendy wished she could look more closely, but only the bottoms of the bottles were visible from where she was sitting. There was a stack of dishes by the sink and crates of plants stacked in the corners. On one side of the room was a massive pile of cans sorted by type into jagged towers, like stalagmites. On the other side was a large table that looked handmade out of two doors stuck together, with at least ten chairs around it. There was so much stuff crowding the space, but all of it was neatly arranged. Not exactly organized, but delicately placed, almost like an art project, for the pleasure of the viewer.

  The second thing Wendy noticed was the children. Or teenagers, to be specific.

  There were seven of them, ranging in age from ten to about seventeen, if she guessed correctly. The younger four children sat by her arms and legs, looking ready to grab her if she began to struggle. The three oldest were standing in front of her, having the strangest screaming match that Wendy had ever had the displeasure to witness.

  “The boys were in the streets?” the first boy said angrily. “At this time of night and with the pirates swarming?” He looked like he might be the youngest of the three, but clearly too old for “grab her” duty. He was African American, with smooth dark skin and slender eyes. Unlike the others in the room, who were in varying levels of disarray, he was dressed in an expensive-looking black turtleneck and black jeans. He also had an apron on and a plastic soup ladle in his hand. His voice was soft and rich, but he was clearly just as angry as the other two.

  The boy directly next to him reared back, scandalized. “Fuck you, Slightly, you didn’t have to make that decision. What Peter says—” This boy, the loudest of the three, was much taller than both Slightly and the redheaded boy on the other side of him, and skinny. His pants were too small for him, and he’d tried to obscure that fact by rolling the legs up into partial capris. His skin was very pale, and he had curly dark hair that he’d braided into two long pigtails. In spite of the warm weather, he was wearing a sweater that had clearly been darned by a novice.

  “Curly—” Slightly began plaintively, but the silent redheaded boy next to him shook his head sharply. This one was definitely the oldest. He stood placidly with his arms crossed. He had bright red hair, was wearing a hearing aid, and was a little short for his age. His arms were incredibly muscular and bulged intimidatingly. He’d clearly torn the sleeves off his shirt to show them off. He hadn’t yet spoken, but every so often he would gesture crisply or shake his head in a particular way, which set the boy in front of him into hysterics. The darker the look on the redhead’s face got, the louder Curly screamed.

  “I can’t just not listen when I’m given a direct order, Nibs!” Curly yelled, throwing his arms out dramatically. “I’m a fucking lieutenant! Not a captain, like you! I can’t just waltz up to him all, ‘Hey, Peter, I decided not to get the girl you wanted because it felt weird.’ He would bash my head against the sidewalk!”

  Slightly scoffed. “You could have gotten her on your own. You don’t know what’s out there tonight! We could have lost someone!”

  “She’s not a fucking baby, and I’m not a brute like Nibs,” Curly remarked. “I’m not strong enough to drag someone around over hill and dale, like we’re supposed to when we bring people here, all by myself.”

  Nibs grinned. “You could be,” he said. His voice was startlingly deep, and hoarse to the point of softness. “If you cared to try.”

  “STOP CRITICIZING MY WORKOUT ROUTINE!” Curly howled.

  Nibs ignored Curly’s outburst very intentionally and instead nodded over at Wendy. The smallest boy near Wendy’s left ankle tightened his grip and growled at her. “Either way, we took some liberties.”

  “Peter didn’t say that he wanted her tied?” Slightly gasped. “Curly, then why did you—”

  “IT WAS NIBS’S IDEA! GOD! Every deviation from Peter’s rules isn’t always me, Slightly.” Curly spat Slightly’s name, like saying it tasted horrible in his mouth.

  Nibs raised an eyebrow and gestured quickly.

  “Fuck you both. It’s always ‘Curly this’ and ‘Curly that.’ For once this isn’t my fault. I’m fuckin’ done.” Curly stomped out of the kitchen and down the hall.

  Slightly and Nibs turned to look at Wendy, who wisely didn’t try to say a word, before continuing their argument.

  “I know she’s one of them, not one of us, but if Peter just said to bring her over, he didn’t really specify that she was our prisoner…,” Slightly said.

  Nibs shrugged one shoulder and snapped his left hand, saying something so low and quiet that Wendy couldn’t hear him.

  Slightly sighed loudly. “It doesn’t make sense, but you can’t make those kinds of decisions without Peter’s permission. Yes, we can’t trust her, and yes, it’s better to be safe than sorry, but none of us ever know what Peter wants unless he tells us. You’re still on thin ice from the incident with the peaches. I just … Nibs, you’ve got to be more careful with—”

  The front door of the apartment slammed open and Peter and Tinkerbelle walked in. Nibs and Slightly flinched. Slightly backed away toward the wall. But Nibs stood firm and held Peter’s gaze defiantly.

  Peter took in the scene with a tight look on his face. He surveyed the group of boys holding Wendy down, and Wendy herself with the T-shirt still stuck in her mouth, sitting very still in a veritable throne of limbs. He glanced at Slightly, who held up his hands defensively, as if to say, It wasn’t me. His eyes tracked from the ladle in Slightly’s right hand to the pot of still-steaming soup on the stovetop. Then his gaze landed firmly on Nibs.

  Tinkerbelle opened her mouth to say something, but Curly pushed in from behind her and blurted, “I didn’t do it.”

  “I know you didn’t, Curly,” Peter said, still staring at Nibs. “It’s not your style.”

  Nibs’s face was blazing red, but he stood stock-still, not bowing beneath the ferocity of Peter’s stare. Tinkerbelle reached out a hand and put it on Nibs’s arm.

  Nibs kept his eyes on Peter but nodded over at Tinkerbelle.

  “That wasn’t your call to make,” Peter said. “She is our guest. Untie her.”

  The younger boys jumped to follow Peter’s order. Peter turned to Wendy and knelt at her feet.

  “I am so, so sorry,” Peter said quietly. “This was never meant to happen. When I got off the train, I texted Curly to meet you and take you to our house, but I was hoping he’d bring you by and introduce you to everyone, not take you hostage and scare the shit out of you.”

  The boys removed the T-shirt in her mouth last.

  The instant Wendy’s mouth was free, she began shouting. “Get off me, GET OFF ME!” She wrenched her arms out of the boys’ grip and jumped up from the chair.

  “Hey, hey,” Peter said gently.

  Wendy lurched forward to leave, but Peter caught her in his arms and held her fast. She hadn’t been going for a hug at all, but she could see how he would have thought she was; in her panic, she hadn’t even gotten to fully turn toward the door. Now that Peter had her in his arms, he held her close and rocked her back and forth. He murmured into her hair, cupping the back of her head tenderly, saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” over and over again until Wendy’s panic subsided. She could feel tears spring to her eyes. The other boys watched in silence. Wendy gazed at everyone over Peter’s shoulder. Slightly dropped
his hands and moved swiftly over to the overboiling pot to stir it. Tinkerbelle watched Peter hold Wendy for a moment contemplatively—not at all like she had when they’d come down the side of Wendy’s house—then she turned and went deeper into the apartment. Curly looked incredibly sheepish and kept glancing over at Nibs. Nibs refused to look at Wendy, continuing to stare at the back of Peter’s head angrily.

  Peter didn’t focus on any of that, opting instead to take the time to console Wendy. He gently rubbed her back, rocking them both side to side until she stopped shaking, and relaxed enough to bury her face into the curve of his neck.

  “I’m sorry I failed you,” he continued. “I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry you were alone. I’m sorry you were lost. I’m sorry you were taken. I’m sorry they treated you roughly. I’m sorry, Darling, I’m so, so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry,” one of the littlest boys echoed. Wendy pulled her head off Peter’s shoulder to glance at who had spoken. He couldn’t have been older than seven, looking earnest and on the verge of frightened tears.

  “It’s okay,” Wendy heard herself saying, even though it wasn’t. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

  Peter’s grip gentled, and he stepped back to hold her hands in his. “This is quite possibly the worst way that I wanted you to meet my family, but would you please give this another try? It wasn’t what I intended at all, and I still have friends who would love to meet you. I texted a bunch of people that you were coming to the party, and they’re waiting for us…”

  Wendy looked back and forth between Peter and the boys, then thought about her phone in her pocket. As long as she had it, she could find a charger. She still had control of the situation. She took a deep breath. Then she nodded and squeezed Peter’s hands. “I forgive you,” she said firmly.

  Peter’s shoulders immediately relaxed. He sighed in relief, then grinned wide and sweet. “Let’s start again!” he said brightly. “This is my home, and this is my family.”

  He brushed a hand through his rakish brown curls and sauntered over to Slightly, clapping a hand heavily on the boy’s shoulder. “This is Slightly. The one by the doorway is Curly, and the one responsible for the circumstances of your capture is Nibs.”

  “Hi,” Curly said in an anxious, high voice.

  Slightly nodded at her. “Nice to meet you.” He returned his attention to the boiling pot.

  Nibs waved sharply and went back to folding his arms.

  Peter crouched down by the boys still waiting by the chair. He brushed his hand over the hair of the one who had echoed his apology, then kissed him crisply on the cheek. “Line up and give the lady your names.”

  They scrambled to follow his instructions.

  “Tootles,” the boy who’d apologized said. He had messy dark hair and was wearing school uniform shorts.

  The next boy had his head shaved and looked like he could be in seventh grade. Unlike Tootles, he didn’t seem repentant at all and still eyed her with suspicion. “I’m First.”

  Another boy, who looked exactly the same as First but with hair, followed. His face was bright and curious, and unlike his twin, he seemed less suspicious and altogether friendlier. “I’m Second,” he declared. Now Wendy was willing to suspend disbelief for Slightly, Curly, and Nibs, but those couldn’t possibly be their real names. These all had to be nicknames.

  The last boy, who had been holding her left leg, stood up and stuck out a hand for her to shake. He was the oldest of the younger boys, maybe fifteen or sixteen at most. “Nice to meet you. I’m Prentis. I … just got here a few months ago,” he said, shaking her hand firmly before stepping into line with the others.

  Peter sauntered to Wendy’s side and put an arm over her shoulders. “And this, my friends … is Darling.”

  “Where did you find her, Peter?” Second asked excitedly.

  “Well,” Peter started, then paused for theatrical effect. “This evening I went out to mend a part of Shadow…”

  The younger boys clambered closer to hear the story, sitting at Peter’s feet. Slightly turned off the pot and leaned back against the counter to listen. Nibs glanced at Peter one last time, then wandered into the back of the apartment. Curly went to sit with the younger boys and looked up at Wendy. He smiled openly at her, and she couldn’t help but spare him a quirk of the side of her mouth.

  “I was sneaking into the abandoned cottage down by the grotto,” Peter began. “I’d heard that new owners may be coming soon, and I wanted to get some copper wiring to sell. Gotta get Slightly a new pair of glasses, and Nibs—trouble as he is—needs a new retainer. I’d barely gotten my leg over the fence when a monster of a dog came growling and barking.”

  Peter crouched down and curled his hands into claws and gnashed his teeth theatrically. Tootles giggled and curled his small hands into claws, too.

  “I was hurrying back over the fence,” Peter continued. “But she grabbed ahold of my pants and dragged me down into the yard. Then, when I was defenseless and beaten, she bared her mighty teeth and clenched the sleeve of Shadow in her fearsome jaws, and shook for all she was worth.”

  “How did you get free?” Tootles gasped, brown eyes wide and scared.

  “Oh, your Peter is too clever to be taken down by a beast of that size,” Peter said dramatically. “She pulled and I pulled, and the sleeve ripped free. I scrambled over the fence and waited on the other side, biding my time until the monster was fast asleep. Then, and only then, could I rescue Shadow’s sleeve and slip away into the night.”

  “But your sleeve is attached,” First remarked, furrowing his eyebrows.

  Second elbowed him in the side. “Shut up, he’s not done,” he hissed.

  “That’s right,” Peter said. “I’m not. This is the story of Darling, and she hasn’t appeared yet, has she?” He put an undercurrent of warning in his voice.

  First shook his head and looked sullenly at the linoleum. Curly reached over and squeezed First’s shoulder to console him.

  “So. With Tinkerbelle playing watchman and the sun three hours past bedtime, I snuck up the side of the building and slithered through the window.” Peter glanced over his shoulder at Wendy before continuing. “It was dark, and warmer there than I ever remembered it being, and I heard breathing, so I crept even quieter. All of a sudden, the lights turned on, and there sat the prettiest and angriest girl I’ve seen in weeks.” Peter put his hands on his hips and mock glared at Wendy.

  Tootles giggled loudly, then covered his mouth with both hands.

  “‘What are you doing in my house!’ she shouted—very bravely, I might add—as she was lying there quite weaponlessly, in her pajamas. So I told her, honest and true, that I was there for Shadow’s sleeve and anything else I could get my hands on. Instead of screaming or making a fuss, she jumped up and got Shadow’s sleeve quick as a flash. Then she stitched it right back on, good as new.” Peter bent down to show Wendy’s handiwork.

  The boys scrambled closer to see.

  “Slightly’s a better sewer,” First said mulishly, after a glance.

  “Slightly wasn’t even there,” Second snapped.

  Wendy glanced over at Slightly, who shrugged apologetically. “I took a fashion class at After School Matters,” he said. “First doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just shy.”

  First scowled harder.

  Peter wiggled his eyebrows at Wendy conspiratorially, his golden eyes twinkling.

  “Then, for her faithful service,” he continued, “I magicked her up a token. Do you mind showing them, Darling?”

  Wendy dug in her shirt and pulled out the acorn necklace.

  Curly gasped and Tootles jumped to his feet.

  “That’s a good one, miss!” Tootles shouted.

  Even Slightly looked surprised. First and Second, on the other hand, were having some kind of wordless argument and were entirely focused on each other.

  “Pardon me for asking, but why … are you here?” Prentis said, fiddling with his glasses.

 
“Um. Peter invited me to a warehouse party,” Wendy said.

  “Oh.” Prentis put his chin in his hands. “I’ve heard those are very nice to go to. I haven’t been able to attend as of yet, but I’m sure when I’m a bit older I’ll get to go.”

  “You definitely will,” Peter said, then turned to Wendy. “We don’t do super-underage drinking in this house. Gotta keep things on the level, you know?”

  Wendy blurted what she’d been wondering since the minute she’d been untied: “Are you their dad?”

  There was a long silence, and then everyone began to laugh. Curly doubled over and began wheezing alarmingly, and Second slapped him hard on the back.

  Slightly shook his head, chuckling as he ladled his soup into some bowls. “I really hope not.”

  “He’s more like our manager,” Prentis answered earnestly. He was the only one not actively guffawing. “Or perhaps our squad leader.”

  “We have ranks, actually,” Peter said, wiping his eyes. “When I find them on the streets, I bring them home, get them to fit in. I’m the commander, and everyone else is ranked in seniority by age, just so we have something concrete to go on when it comes to who makes the rules. But anyway, I take them in. Give them what they need and all that. The only one who has somewhere else to go is—”

  “Tink,” all the boys said in unison.

  “I hear she has real parents out there somewhere,” First said dreamily.

  “If they were really parents, she wouldn’t be here,” Second replied, crossing his arms.

  “Oh, speaking of which,” Peter said, “Tink has some things you can change into. Proper party clothes. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you borrowed something. Curly?”

  Curly scrambled to his feet and stood waiting for instruction.

  “Can you take Darling to Tink’s room? Make sure she gets there safely?”

  Wendy thought about Tinkerbelle’s size and considered her own. Tinkerbelle was at least five inches shorter than her and maybe a size double zero, whereas Wendy was probably a size ten. There was no way anything that tiny person had in her closet would fit her.