by Shari Arnold
“She’s coming with me,” James says, stepping in front of him.
“You heard her. She doesn’t want to go.” Meyer takes an aggressive stance, bringing them face-to-face. They are nearly the same height, I notice. Although, Meyer does appear taller, glowering in the face of James.
Everything falls silent in Neverland, even the grass stops swaying. Meyer turns and smiles back at me, his eyes almost pleading. “Do you, Livy?”
“I… I.” I don’t know what I want. I know I don’t want to leave Jenna. I can’t even bare the thought. But in all the time I’ve been here, I haven’t worried or even thought about Jilly or my family, not until now.
“Who are you?” I say, staring up at James. “Why did you come to my house and pretend to be my tutor? What was that all about?”
“He’s death,” Meyer says, just like that.
“Death?” That tightness moves back into my chest. I feel like I’m suffocating.
“Stop calling me Death,” James growls, pushing away from him. “It’s not true, first of all. And it frightens the children.”
I look around and find he’s right. They do look frightened. Like they’ve finally figured it out. James is the one who brought them here. I let out a gasp that startles Jenna. Her fingers dig into my skin when her grip on my waist tightens.
“So that night in Sammy’s room…?” I turn, searching the crowd of faces. Is Sammy here? Did James take him away from his family?
“He’s alright,” James says, reading my thoughts. “For now.”
“For now? For now?” My voice is high-pitched and slightly crazed, but I can’t help it. “So that’s what you do? You go around collecting kids? You’re the thing they fear at night?”
“It’s not like I’m some kind of grim reaper.” James brushes his hands down the length of his coat. “You two are making me out to be the bad guy. And I’m not the bad guy. Like Meyer, I’m simply the messenger.”
“The messenger of death.” Meyer shoves his hands in his front pockets as if he’s bored with this conversation, but I doubt that’s the case. If anything he’s nervous. We’re getting closer to the truth now. And for some reason Meyer hates the truth as much as he hates James. Which is a lot, apparently.
“So then…” I turn to Meyer and that snide smirk he’s wearing falls off. “What does that make you?”
“He’s the guardian of Neverland,” Echo tells me. “The guardian of lost souls.”
“Lost souls,” I repeat. “So… You’re not there when… You don’t come for them when…” Jeez, Livy! Just say the words, already! I take a deep breath and try again. “When they die?”
“No.” Meyer points his finger at James. “That’s his job. I’m not even supposed to leave this place.”
“Funny thing,” James drawls. “That’s never stopped you before. Listen, Livy.” He moves toward me and I stand my ground. “You should know your friend Sheila has been by. She visits you every day. And so do the children in the hospital.”
Every day? How long have I been gone?
“Only a few are allowed to come,” he continues. “Not Jilly, of course. She’s still too weak. We won’t know for a few days how she’s recuperating, that is if her surgery works out.” James has moved to stand at my side now. With Meyer on the other and Jenna in between, that suffocating feeling reaches up and takes hold of my throat.
“So they did the surgery,” I manage to get out. “Did they get my bone marrow?”
“They got enough.”
“And Jilly gets her surgery?” A wave of guilt rushes over me. I should be there for her. She’s probably so scared.
“It’s going on now.” James drops his head low, staring at his hands. He is a picture of concern. “She isn’t having an easy go of it, but she’s hanging in there.”
I snap my mouth shut, wanting to ask more questions, but holding back. I know what he’s doing. He wants me to feel them at home. He wants me to feel something other than what I feel here.
“Livy?” Jenna’s eyes are searching mine and I wonder what she sees. Does she read my hesitance? My fear? Does she know how much I want to stay with her even though the thought of everyone mourning me back home nearly destroys me?
“You have until dawn to make your decision,” James tells me. He rests his hand against my face. His touch is warm, far warmer than I expected. “Dawn and no longer, Livy. Don’t doubt me on that.”
“Dramatic much?” I squeak out. My chest is so tight, I can’t breathe.
“Well I could just force you to make your decision now.” He raises an eyebrow at me, those clear gray eyes of his breaking through my hesitation. “If ever there was a time to make a selfish decision, now’s the time, Livy. No one expects you to play the martyr here. Least of all me.”
“I’m not…” I shake off his intensity and glare back. “I’m no martyr.”
“Then choose to live,” he whispers, brushing his hand along the side of my face. “Choose to continue on.”
The clouds gather up around us and then break away, displaying the most amazing rainbow I’ve ever seen.
“I love the theatrics here,” he tells me, laying it on thick with his most charismatic grin. And then he’s gone. No warning. No wave goodbye. Just, poof! No more James.
“It’s about time,” Echo says. “That guy gives me the creeps.”
“That’s an understatement,” Meyer mutters.
“He only triggers a memory,” Jane says, still staring at the spot where James just was. “He makes me think of home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The sky is turning orange now, the color of afternoon. The trees and leaves take on a fall-like glow and I realize how each day on Neverland leads you through the change of seasons. Morning is spring; noon becomes summer; and afternoon is obviously fall. All that’s left to discover today is nighttime, which will surely look like winter.
Meyer stretches his arms up like he’s rising from a catnap, not an altercation with the angel of death. I wish I could do the same, but I’m too tense to stretch. Too confused to simply move on.
The children begin to take to the sky. Now that the drama has passed they’re anxious to get back to playing.
Jenna has hold of my hand still, but her grip is easing. When Jane catches her eye she moves away from me. With James gone she must feel the threat has passed. She doesn’t appear overly concerned about the decision I have to make. She must think I’ve already made it. Strange thing is, I think I have. I don’t want to leave her here, not when I’ve only just found her. And I don’t want to leave these children either. Or Neverland. Or Meyer.
I don’t want to go back.
I make my way over to Meyer and he holds his stance as though he knew this moment was coming.
“I deserve an explanation.”
“Yes,” he says. We stare at each other a moment longer and then he rubs the back of his neck. “I told you I would explain.”
“So…” I say, when he still doesn’t speak. “I’m not supposed to be here, huh?”
His lashes lower, hiding his every emotion from me. “It’s not like I had it planned. It was a surprise to me too, you know.”
“No. I don’t know.”
He glances up and then looks away. “I didn’t plan this, Livy. I couldn’t just leave you there. I couldn’t…” He stops. His lips flatten out into a hard line, a sign he has nothing more to say about that.
“And you and James? I take it you do know each other?”
Meyer’s lips twitch. “Yeah, about that.”
“I’m listening.”
“He and I don’t exactly see things the same way.”
“No?”
Meyer’s eyes narrow. “No.”
“Is he really a tutor? I mean, I know he’s isn’t just a tutor, but why did he pretend to be?”
“I guess he was keeping an eye on me.”
“On you,” I say. “Not me, but you.”
“Mostly me,” he answers, looking away.
He shifts a bit under my stare and then faces me directly. “I’ve never really taken such an interest in someone from your world before. I guess he wanted to keep tabs on the situation.”
“The situation?” I whisper.
“Yes,” he says softly.
“So… I’m the situation?”
“Yes,” he says with a smile.
And just like that I’m blushing.
“So then,” I begin, clearing my throat. “What makes you different from James?”
“I’m very different from him.” He folds his arms, one eyebrow raised.
I hesitate a moment. “I don’t understand any of this.” I gesture around me and then let my hand drop back to my side. “Are you … What are you?”
“I’m just like you, Livy.” Meyer throws his hands up in the air. “How can you ask that?”
But he most certainly is not. Isn’t that obvious by now? I can’t move between worlds. I can’t fly.
“No you’re not. How could you be?” I reach out, holding my hand just shy of his chest. “How is it I could feel you, you know… before. When you’re not…” I trail off while my hand continues to linger.
“I am real.” Meyer takes my hand and presses it against his chest to show me the truth behind his words, but I’m pretty sure neither of us anticipates the heat that immediately rips through us. Meyer’s grip on my hand tightens and I feel that familiar stirring in my chest.
“And James?” I whisper, forcing my breathing to slow down. “How can the two of you move back and forth between this place and mine?”
Meyer flinches at the word mine, but it’s the truth. It’s the only place I can call home.
“We are different from the rest of them. They had their chance at life.”
“And you didn’t?”
Meyer simply shakes his head.
“Does that mean you aren’t dead like the rest of them? Like…” Jenna.
“It’s always been this way,” Meyer explains. “I never chose this life. It just is. Just like you never chose to be you and Jane never chose to be Jane.” He shrugs as though there’s my answer. But it’s not enough. I’m slowly working out this new information in my head. I like that he’s not dead. A lot. But it still doesn’t make sense.
“I’m the guardian of Neverland,” he continues. “I’m here to keep them safe. To make them happy once they’ve lost everything.” His eyes flitter over the sky and then fall upon me.
“James is right,” he says begrudgingly. “I’m not supposed to leave here. I’m not supposed to move between the worlds the way I do.”
“You weren’t supposed to meet me,” I whisper.
Meyer doesn’t answer my question. For once he doesn’t have to. It’s clear what he’s done.
Leaving Neverland was an adventure, while bringing me here was a risk.
The afternoon sun is warm and heavy on my back. And Meyer’s green eyes fill me with a whole different kind of warmth. The intensity behind his gaze holds me in place even though we’re no longer touching.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you for bringing me to Jenna.”
Meyer nods his head but stays silent.
“You broke the rules.” I force out a laugh. “I mean, obviously.”
He doesn’t even crack a smile.
“Why did you do it?”
The silence stretches on a bit long — to the point that I feel awkward — and then just when I think he isn’t going to answer, he whispers, “Are you going to stay?” I can see how much this question cost him. His gaze is hooded in vulnerability.
I close my eyes, desperate to give in to this heaviness between us. It would be so easy just to give in. That string between us is back, pulling at me, pulling at him, threading us together.
“Meyer,” I sigh, with my eyes still closed. I don’t need to see him to know that he’s here. He surrounds me.
“Stay,” he whispers, and I feel that word like a shudder.
“So, um. Sorry to interrupt,” says a voice.
Meyer and I immediately break apart and my eyes snap open.
“I’m sorry,” Jane says, but she’s smiling. She doesn’t look sorry. She looks a bit embarrassed, but not sorry.
“You’re needed in the field,” she tells Meyer.
“Right,” he says, still looking at me.
“So, like, probably, right now,” she continues.
Meyer doesn’t react for a moment, just continues to study me, and then he gives me one of his heartbreaking smiles before jogging off.
“Jeremy was asking for him,” Jane explains once he’s gone.
“Of course.”
“He’s having a bit of trouble adjusting.”
“Right.” Aren’t we all?
“Jenna’s with him,” Jane explains and I’m immediately horrified. For a second there I’d completely forgotten about Jenna. “Don’t worry,” she says, picking up on my panic. “She’s okay. She helps out a lot. Especially with the newbies.”
“That’s great.” I nod my head as though it doesn’t hurt me to hear this. I should be happy for her. I should be grateful. I shouldn’t have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Jenna has moved on.
Something heavy tugs at my chest. Something deep and empty. I feel a pull, almost like I’m being led backwards, and I stumble a few steps before I catch my footing.
“You alright?” Jane asks, her eyes narrowing upon my face.
“I’m fine,” I tell her, but she doesn’t look away.
When it happens again, this time I lock my knees up, and hold my feet in place. A wave of longing rushes over me, filled with images of my parents. My mom is smiling at me, she seems so far away. I can just make out her voice; it sounds like she’s singing, but that can’t be right. She doesn’t sing. At least I don’t remember her ever singing before. Then she fades out and my father appears. He is holding onto my hands as we slide along the ice. He’s smiling, his nose red from the cold. I feel a tug on my hands and then he falls out of sight when he slips and goes down on the ice. He’s laughing so hard, he makes me laugh and soon we’re both on the ice. I remember this day. I remember it so vividly. It was my first time ice skating, and his as well, I believe.
Suddenly Jane is in front of me, her concerned expression snapping me out of my memory.
“You felt it, didn’t you?” she asks me. “You felt them calling you back.”
“What?” I place my hand over my heart, feeling it race inside my chest. “You scared me. I must have been stuck there for a moment.”
“You weren’t stuck. You were having a memory.”
“How—”
“That’s how it works whenever you’re called back. Was it someone you care about? Was it your parents or your friends?”
“My parents,” I say in a whisper, still not understanding how she could know any of this, and really not wanting to talk about it. At all. I glance over at Jenna and watch as she laughs with Jeremy. She doesn’t even notice us and I’m grateful for that. I don’t want her to know what I’m feeling.
“I used to get them,” Jane tells me. “It’s like something’s pulling at you, right? Like they have a rope tied around your waist and they’re tugging you backwards?”
When I don’t answer she moves closer and her voice drops a little.
“For me it was my nana. She was the only one who took care of me. My parents weren’t into the whole parenting thing. So I moved in with her. She was sick, but she still took care of me. She used to make this cinnamon bread on my birthday. When I first got here I could smell it everywhere I went. It was like she was trying to lure me back with the scent.”
I stare down at Jane in horror and she just shrugs her shoulders, perhaps shrugging off the memory, but the effect of it is still clear in her eyes.
“I used to think maybe she was making it and bringing it to the hospital with her, that’s why I could smell it. But then it stopped one day. Just went away. It was there one moment, like I was bre
athing it in everywhere I went, and the next it was gone.”
“What happened to you?” I ask, barely getting the words out. I keep forgetting how every last one of these children has a reason for being here. And while those reasons aren’t happy in the slightest, I get the feeling Jane’s is worse by far.
“I don’t know, exactly.” Jane stares off at something in the meadow, but her eyes are glazed over, unfocused. “I don’t remember all of it. I know that I was walking home from my friend’s house. I know that it was close to dinnertime and that my nana had called to tell me to come home. I remember I had run most of the way, but then I got tired and I slowed down.” Her breathing sounds heavy, like she’s living the memory. Or perhaps, reenacting it.
“Jane, don’t.” I feel as out of breath as she sounds. All at once I’m afraid to hear the end of this story. “You don’t have to tell me—”
“It’s okay,” she says, her voice shaky. “It helps to talk about it. At least, that’s what James says. Nothing can harm me now. Not here. Not in Neverland.” She wraps her arms around herself. For this part of the story she needs protection. I inch closer, afraid to startle her, but she doesn’t notice me. She’s lost in her memory.
“He looked familiar. That’s why I went to him.” Her eyes take on a distant look and I want to drag her back from where she is. I want to make it so that she never has to visit that place again.
“I don’t remember what happened after that. I know I was in the hospital for a while. I know I held on longer than they expected. And then James showed up and told me everything was better now and that I would be safe. Forever. I just had to let go.” She turns back to me, and her hands drop down to her sides. The worst of it is over.
I release a breath, wishing I could just scream. It’s not fair, this place. None of these children’s stories are fair. I turn back to the meadow, watching as Jeremy and Jenna sit close. Jenna’s hand is resting on Jeremy’s shoulder. She is comforting him.
Sure this place is beautiful and peaceful, chockfull of everything they could possibly imagine, but all that overcompensation is not quite enough to make up for the loss—at least not all of the time. It’s not home. How can they not feel lost without their parents and friends? Or their sisters and brothers and everything that made them feel safe and loved before this? Why do they have to be here? Why couldn’t they have more time?