by Shari Arnold
“Neverland looks good on you,” he tells me and I blush, realizing our thoughts are a mirror image. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Has my face gone all splotchy with embarrassment? Am I biting my lip too much? I know I’m short of breath, I can feel it, but that’s his fault, not mine.
He kneels down in front of me in the grass. “What color is this?” he asks, holding up a strand of my hair and studying it closely.
“My father calls it strawberry-blonde.” I say. “It’s kind of a family trait.”
“Not all of your family, though.”
“No.” I give him a funny look. He’s never asked about my family before. “Just me and my dad.”
“It looks more red than blonde here.”
“Maybe it’s the sky doing that,” I finally say. I sound so breathless I don’t recognize my voice. I keep looking at his lips, remembering what they taste like. It was a while ago, that kiss, but I remember the feel of it. Mostly it haunts me.
Meyer tucks the strand of hair behind my ear, and I feel his touch all the way down to my toes.
“He’s almost here,” he tells me, and I feel that flutter again, like something’s about to happen. Something important.
“Who?” I ask.
“Come with me,” Meyer says, pulling me to my feet.
Just past the three orange-yellow trees and out into the golden field of grass, we walk. Meyer is so sure in his footsteps while I am hesitant. Like every other dream I’ve had I’m unsure what to expect. Will this dream turn menacing and end with me waking up drenched in sweat, or will it fade into just another nonsense dream?
“Wait here,” he tells me, dropping my hand. “It will be easier if I find him alone.” And then he’s gone, swallowed up in the tall grass.
“Okay,” I say after his abrupt departure, looking around at a scene that continues to change right before my eyes. The sky is now cloudless and pale yellow. I can hear something moving about within the landscape, but I can’t see it.
Suddenly a child’s face pops out of the tall wheatgrass.
“Hello,” the face says.
“Uh, hi,” I answer, jumping back a few steps.
“Did I scare you?” the child asks with a smile full of tiny white teeth.
“You know you did,” I tell him, and even though my words come off as harsh I can’t help but return his smile.
The child bursts into giggles, his blue eyes so bright they stand out against the yellow sky. He takes a few steps toward me, emerging from the tall wheatgrass and I realize he is dressed just like Meyer, dark jeans and a hoodie. He’s much smaller and rounder though, and looks to be about ten years old.
“I’m here to watch over you,” he says pulling himself up to his full height, which is only slightly below my ribcage. “Meyer trusted me and no other.”
“Now that ain’t true,” another voice says and I jump again, watching as the wheatgrass shifts around. But this time a girl emerges.
“Hello,” she says to me, ignoring the glaring boy at my side. She is tall and willow-like, and a couple years older than the boy. Her long dark hair is pulled back off her face and loosely tied at her neck. “I’m Jane, Meyer’s first in command. And this,” she flickers her hand toward the boy, the move so graceful it’s as if she’s rehearsed it, “is Echo.”
“Echo, Echo, Echo,” the boy crows. And then his face is back to smiling.
“Yes,” Jane says with a roll of her eyes. “And don’t we know it.”
“Um. Hello,” I say, wondering if they actually need me here to continue this conversation. “Did you by chance see Meyer in that field?”
“He’s coming,” Jane says. “He’s picking up the newbie. He’ll be along soon.”
Her dark features pinch together as she slowly sizes me up. With a definitive nod she crosses her arms in front of her chest. I’m guessing I passed her inspection.
“Newbie?” I ask, looking back and forth between the young boy and the girl. They look nothing like anyone I know, which is odd for sure. Shouldn’t I recognize the people in my dreams?
“Newbies are visitors,” Jane explains. She turns her head back toward the field and her dark ponytail swishes across her back. “This newbie’s name is Jeremy.”
“Right. Jeremy,” I repeat.
“You look like her,” Echo says, studying me.
“Who?” I ask, but all I get is his toothy grin.
“Did your journey hurt?” Jane asks me. She reaches behind her, plucking at the tall wheatgrass. Once she has a long strand she begins to tear it to pieces with her fingertips.
“Hurt?” My journey? Is anything these kids say supposed to make sense? “I don’t understand. I’m just waiting for Meyer.”
“He likes you, you know,” Echo says.
“Well, we’re friends,” I say, holding back a blush, but I figure I’m not very successful when Jane gives me a rather disbelieving smirk.
“We didn’t know you were coming. Neither did Meyer, I suspect.”
“Yeah. Well, neither did I.”
Jane shrugs it off and her attention returns to the wheatgrass in her hand as she twists the last tiny piece like a pinwheel. “It’s alright. I knew you’d show up sooner or later. He couldn’t seem to stay away from you.”
I don’t have a moment to think about this new information. Echo slaps his hands to his sides as if he’s been drawn to attention and then the field begins to move again. High above the gold-colored grass Meyer’s dark hair can be seen as he makes his way toward us.
Echo and Jane greet him with a smile, but I’m the one he’s focused on. He pulls his hand forward and a child emerges from behind his back. “Livy,” he says, walking straight toward me. This is Jeremy.”
“Jeremy,” I say softly, smiling down at the child. “It’s nice to meet you.” His big dark eyes blink back.
“H-hello,” he says, his attention flickering back and forth between Meyer, the sky above us, and me. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
“This is who we were waiting for,” Meyer explains, but I’d already figured that part out. What I don’t understand is why.
“I see you’ve met Echo and Jane,” he says, and they immediately begin to glow under his inspection.
“Yes, they’ve been keeping me company.”
“I’m glad,” Meyer says, his eyes skimming over me. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“And I didn’t want her to be alone,” Echo says.
Jane just rolls her eyes.
“It’s just like he told me,” the boy whispers, once again capturing my attention. His head is thrown back as he takes it all in. The mountains. The sky. I realize he’s seeing something different from what I first saw. His first glimpse of this world is an orangey-warm summer day where mine felt more like early dawn.
“Who?” I ask, but if he hears me, he doesn’t answer.
His eyes widen and he begins to jump up and down. “I know exactly what my island will look like. I’ve been thinking about it, Meyer! I know just what I want!”
Meyer lets out a loud laugh, and it startles me, but no one else apparently. They all laugh right along with him.
“Are you thinking about it now?” he asks the boy. “Can you see it in your mind?”
“Yes!” the boy answers, nearly breathless in his excitement.
“Well, then.” Meyer stands back, his arms crossed against his chest.
“Well then,” Echo says, mirroring Meyer’s stance.
“We should probably make our way to the Treasure Islands,” Meyer finishes.
“To the Treasure Islands!” Echo repeats.
“To where?” I ask.
“Come along, Livy,” Meyer says, his eyes burning into mine. “It’s time for that tour I promised.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The five of us set out across the golden field. Meyer and Jeremy are in the front, their heads bent close as they talk in a low whisper. Echo is whistling a tune that reminds me of something Meyer would
whistle, while Jane walks beside me, feigning an interest in the ground each time I catch her studying me.
“So you don’t know then,” she finally says the next time our eyes meet.
“Know what?”
“She still thinks it’s all a dream,” Meyer pipes up, not bothering to look back at us and therefore missing my glare. Instead he just continues his conversation with Jeremy as if he didn’t say anything at all.
“Yeah,” Jane says to me, “that’s what I thought at first too. Except that my dreams were never so…” She looks around for a moment, struggling for just the right word.
“Beautiful?” I offer. “Vivid?” When she shakes her head I continue, “Creative?”
“Safe,” Jane says, catching my eye one last time before she turns her attention back to the path in front of her.
“Jane has been here even longer than I have,” Echo tells me. “And I’ve been here longer than most.”
“I like it here,” Jane says with a shrug. “I find it…”
“Safe?” I throw out with a lift of an eyebrow.
“Comforting,” she says with an edge.
“Yes.” I look out at the ever-changing landscape. “I can see that.”
“And there’s so much more to see!” Echo throws in. “I can’t wait until you—”
“Not yet, Echo!” Jane interrupts, and Echo’s mouth snaps shut.
“Right,” he says. “It’s a surprise.”
“What is?” I ask him, but he just smiles.
We’ve reached the top of the hill now, the place where I caught my first glimpse of Neverland, and even though it wasn’t very long ago, an hour tops, I still find it takes my breath away.
My father used to have this file in his office. He called it his wishing file. Inside was a large selection of photos of places he wanted to see before he died.
“It’s important to want for things,” he would tell my sister and me. “When you stop wanting, you stop living.” And he was right. The day my sister died he stopped living, partly because he didn’t get what he wanted, but mostly because once Jenna was gone he gave up wanting altogether.
But in that file there was this one photo of an island that I would take out and look at more than any of the other photos. The name of the island was something I could never pronounce, something with far too many vowels. To me it was so beautiful it didn’t need a name, let alone a name I would always stumble over.
“Will you come with me, Livy?” Meyer says, interrupting my thoughts. He’s standing in front of me now. I didn’t even hear him approach. “There’s something I want to show you.”
“Is it the Treasure Islands?” I ask, feeling that energy build into a wave of excitement.
“Yeah, there’s that too,” Echo says with a giggle. They’re all watching me, even little Jeremy.
“What?” I ask. “What is it?”
Meyer’s eyebrows are drawn together like he’s debating something.
“Tell me,” I whisper. Whatever it is I have to know.
“Remember I explained how this isn’t a dream? You must remember that, alright? Where I’m taking you, you must keep reminding yourself of that or…”
“Or what?” I ask quickly, sensing the importance behind his words.
“Or it won’t mean as much.” He squeezes my shoulders, almost shaking me, and says with conviction, “And I want it to mean something.” He’s looking at me so intensely I can’t look away.
“I want to believe,” I whisper, “but it’s not that simple.” It’s true. I do want to believe in this place. Just like I wanted to believe that Meyer could fly. And that, maybe, he had feelings for me.
I reach out my hand, turning it once more to study the glow radiating from my skin. My fingers are kissed with a tinge of pink that, when held up close to Meyer, resembles the color of his lips. My eyes drop to those lips and suddenly I can’t look away.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, and I feel my eyes widen with embarrassment. “You’re blushing.” His hand reaches up to touch my face and I close my eyes, feeling his touch with everything I have. “You believed in magic once, why not now?”
His words brush against my lips and my eyes snap open. I shake my head. “I’ve never believed in magic.”
“Oh yeah?” His smile shows his disbelief. “I don’t believe that.” His finger traces the side of my face. “And neither do you.”
“But I’m in the hospital,” I say out loud. “In surgery. That’s real. And this place isn’t real. It’s the dream that I’m having, nice as it is.”
“Why not, Livy? Why can’t it be?”
“Places like this don’t exist. Magic doesn’t exist.” Says the girl to the boy who can fly.
“So then it’s true, you’re dreaming.” Meyer looks so disappointed in me I can barely stand it.
“Okay, what if I’m not,” I say, backpedaling.
“Yes, Livy. What if you’re not?”
Well then, what? The possibilities swim around my head like sharks, none of them are good and all of them are threatening.
“Will you stay with me? If this is only a dream, will you stay?” I whisper, and Meyer’s eyes darken against the bright sky.
“The real question, Livy, is will you stay with me?”
“Hullo!” Jane calls from behind us. “Are you stuck? Did you forget where you were going?”
“Did you forget about us?” Echo cries.
I ignore them and so does Meyer.
I start to ask another question but Meyer stops me.
“Later,” he says. “I promise I’ll explain more later. But now…” His eyes take on that confident gleam of his. “It’s time for us to fly.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The sun is moving sideways, following us as we make our way to the other side of Neverland. I have hold of Meyer’s hand, or, rather, he has hold of mine. His grip is firm — refusing to let go — even though I feel like I’m doing this flying thing all on my own now. Occasionally when he looks over at me, his eyes are curious and a touch frustrated. I’ve never seen him look at me like this before. From the moment I met him he has always seemed to have everything worked out, but not now, apparently. And I’m not so sure he likes that.
I remember the first night I met him and how when he held my hand I would have followed him anywhere. Now that he’s holding it again—even if it is only in a dream—I can’t seem to remember why I ever wanted to let it go.
Down below us the landscape is changing. I let out a little gasp when I notice how the water is littered with mermaids. I see them all on my own now, without Meyer pointing them out to me. They look just how I would imagine they would: their hair is long, nearly as long as their tail, and of every possible shade of color. They flip around in the water, occasionally waving up at us as we pass. I wave back, wishing I could swim with them. But Meyer isn’t letting go of my hand anytime soon. There is a purpose to his grip.
“Sometimes I swim with them,” says Jane, who is now flying next to me. Her arms are stretched wide as she flies. She does it so effortlessly I’m jealous. She doesn’t kick out her legs the way I do, thinking I need to propel myself across the sky. She glides the way Meyer glides. There is grace in flying when you do it just right. It is as though she is calmly falling in a forward motion.
“The mermaids are friendly, you know,” she continues. “Not like in the stories.”
“They’re lovely,” I say, wishing we could stop and meet some, remembering how the mermaids were always my favorite part of every story.
To Jane’s right is Jeremy. He is holding her hand and grinning from ear to ear.
“I can’t believe it,” he says, not to me or to Jane. It is simply what he’s thinking. He glances my way and laughs, and there is nothing but wonder to be found in his eyes.
I’ve been told we are headed toward the Treasure Islands and for some reason this makes Jeremy shiver with excitement. He keeps clapping his hands and spinning through the air.
I’m not sure how he’s managed to figure out how to spin so quickly, when all I can do is fly straight. I watch in envy, wishing I wasn’t still so afraid I’d fall to my death.
“Which one is yours?” he asks, flying up next to me and pointing out toward the islands.
“She doesn’t have one.” Jane is studying me again with that all-knowing look of hers. “Not yet.”
There are so many things I don’t understand about this place, but the Treasure Islands are what call to me the most. From the moment I first saw them off in the distance I’ve been drawn to them. I don’t know if it’s the child in me wanting to explore them, or if it’s something more.
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” I tell Jeremy. “Did Meyer promise you your very own island?”
“Not Meyer,” Jeremy answers. His eyebrows are drawn together with concern. “And I do get one. He promised.”
“Who promised?” I ask, still confused.
“He said I get to make my very own island!” Jeremy is fluttering now, his arms and legs stomping about the sky. “He told me everything is better here! That I’m safe here! There’s nothing to fear!”
“And are you ready?” Meyer moves up close to him, hovering just over his shoulder. “Because you can’t make an island if you can’t see it in your mind.”
His presence is calming. To me and to Jeremy. This is a new Meyer I’m seeing. The Neverland version, I guess. Back at home he was all about adventure and taking risks, but here with Jeremy he’s different. More like an adult, and less like a child.
“I can see it,” Jeremy says, his eyes wide and innocent. He closes those eyes, picturing his island. He drops a few feet or so in the sky and Meyer laughs, swooping him back up again.
“Keep it close.” He taps his finger to the point where Jeremy’s eyebrows are drawn together. “Right here.” His finger moves down and touches where Jeremy’s heart is beating inside his chest. “And right here. It’s almost time, I promise.”