by Xavier Neal
My face tries to smile as I saunter from my room to the couch, where I collapse beside him. Aiden hands me the bag of popcorn, and I bury my emotions by the fistful. He wraps an arm around my shoulder as I rest my head on his chest.
“Oh, Peyton, it’s not that bad,” he turns the volume down on the TV.
“How can you say that?” I mumble through a mouthful of popcorn. “Did you see the look on his face?”
“I did, but…”
“His tone? Did you hear his tone?” I whine.
“I’ve seen him legit angry, and that show he put on…Nothing more than just his pride was a little hurt. He’s used to Peter doing that, but I think it just took him a little off guard when it happened with you. That’s all.”
“Maybe,” the popcorn falls onto my gray T-shirt-covered chest.
After resting in his arms for a few minutes, I notice him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and say, “I’m going to head off to bed. Night, Aiden.”
He gives me a wave, and I return to my room, where I unpack some of my things from my suitcase since I didn’t have the chance to before. Pulling out my scrapbook that’s chock full of birthday cards, greeting cards, and postcards, I smile at the photos of my parents. I hope I didn’t make a mistake. I mean, every teen is entitled to make mistakes. It’s what we do, but was this the worst mistake I could’ve made? Any time people run away from home, don’t they usually just run back? I don’t get to run back.
Running my hands through my hair, I melt against the edge of the bed and stare longingly at one of the last photos my family took together. I tuck the photo back in its place and pick up the birthday card with Sous Clef on the cover. Opening it up, I admire my grandparents’ message.
May you always follow your Heart.
I touch the necklace around my neck. It’s amazing how many things I figure out when I really start to think about them—like how we moved only to the same cities Sous Clef was relocated to and never lived more than a few miles away from it. I close the card and check out the back of it, where I notice a small infinity symbol in the corner. Curious, I begin pulling out other cards, flipping them over, looking for a symbol to match it. To my surprise, there is one greeting card with it and one postcard.
“Well I’ll be damned.”
I open the greeting card that has a bottle of perfume on the front in a heart shape. It was sent to me before the postcard. I stare at the message inside.
May the invisible landl in the visible.
I read the words several times. Why would Grandmother misspell that? How hard is it to spell the word land? A five-year-old could spell it without effort, yet here my very educated grandparents can’t? Snubbing the idea, I’m just about to put it down when it dawns on me—my entire life is like a misspelling. I thought we were just moving for my father’s on-paper job, not a behind-the-scenes one, so I stare at it once more before I realize that the misspelling is more than just that.
Thrilled because I think I know what we need next to go with the map, I gleefully put the scrapbook away, holding onto the piece I need to show them in the morning. Carefully, I place it on top of the dark-colored dresser and head back to the bed, where I snuggle underneath the extremely high-count white sheets and comforter. My head floats back onto the pillow, and I stare at the empty space beside me, knowing who should be there.
Suddenly, there’s a light knock on the door. I quickly shut my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I hear a sigh and the sound of shoes and pants being dropped before I feel the mattress lower.
His hand strokes the side of my face as he whispers, “When someone once said ‘Love means never having to say you’re sorry,’ he was right. Love means having to show you’re sorry. Words are sweet, but actions are concrete. And if I have to spend the rest of my life showing you just how sorry I am for the mistakes in my speech, my tone, or my motions, then I will because that’s how much I love you.”
After the words, a soft kiss is planted in the middle of my forehead. As if still asleep, I inch my body into his, curl up close, and rest my head on his chest, inhaling some strange odor but just thankful he came home. In the quietest whisper, I can conjure up, a whisper so low I’m certain only angels can hear it, I say, “I love you, too.”
Chapter 4
Rolling over, I extend my arm sideways, running into a pillow instead of Justin, who was sleeping beside me during the night. Confused, I brush the hair out of my face and drag my body up as the bathroom door swings open, revealing Justin fresh out of a shower in loose-fitting jeans with his baby-blue boxers barely peeking out. My eyes linger on his sculpted muscles, which never fail to paralyze me.
Justin uses a cream-colored towel to dry his hair as he leans against the doorframe, “Good morning.”
“Indeed,” I mumble under my breath, feeling blessed to the see the sight. “Good morning.”
His blue eyes light up as if he sees what I see but in me version. His tongue grazes his lips before he opens his mouth to say, “I—”
Our bedroom door swings open, and Belle’s perfectly made-up face appears, “You two ready?”
“For?” I quickly ask, apparently inviting her in by doing so.
“Morning meeting,” she takes a half step in, and I glance over her short, black, leather skirt and pink top with the words “Got Fairy?” written on it. Remembering that most of her clothes say things like that, I hide a smile in love with the fact that her self-esteem soars as high as she can with her wings.
“A morning meeting?” The confusion in my voice makes her chuckle.
“Yeah, kind of like a family meeting. Make sure we’re all on the same page when we set up somewhere new. You’ll learn this.” Her attention turns to Justin, and she rolls her eyes, “And, for heaven’s sake, Justin, put a shirt on.”
He winks playfully at her, and she sighs disgustedly before exiting. Proud to annoy Belle, he says to me, “About last night…”
“Now,” Belle’s voice cuts him off.
Rolling his eyes, he sighs, “I’ll meet you in there.”
Hopping out of bed, I head to the main room only to realize I’m the only one in my pajamas. I’m starting to think I’m going to have to develop a new concept of time.
My body flops down beside Aiden on the couch as Peter sits in the cream-colored chair, a plastic cup in his hand though it’s not even 9 a.m. Belle floats in the air at his side. Eiden lounges in a similar chair opposite of Peter, a tennis ball bouncing from the wood floor into his hand.
Impatiently, I tap my foot and admire the crowd, which seems very at ease in their world. Aiden is content clicking away, while Eiden’s at peace bouncing the ball. I start to smile as I see Belle’s wings flutter the same way they did the night on the rooftop the first time I was ever introduced to them all.
Feeling the need to acknowledge Peter’s cup, I ask, “Should you be drinking?”
“What are you, my mother?” He takes a swig before propping his feet up on the coffee table. Justin bumps him in the shoulder, spilling a bit of beer on Peter’s shirt before he sits down beside me.
“Hey!” Peter snaps, pulling on his green tank top.
“Oops,” Justin drapes his arm across the back of the couch.
Feeling compelled to start, I lean forward, “OK, now that we are all together, I wanna know what it is we’re after. What does that map lead to?”
“It’s called the Crystal Entity,” Justin adjusts the white tie against his black polo. “Basically, it’s an immortality serum.”
“But aren’t we already immortal? Hence the never grow old thing,” I toss the idea out there, and once again, it appears as if I’ve put my foot in it.
“Just because you never grow old doesn’t mean you’re immortal,” Peter snips before taking another drink. “Imagine being hit by one of those bullets again and not having to worry about dying.”
“You have fairy dust…”
“A limited amount,” he responds before taking yet another gulp, “and fairy d
ust doesn’t do everything, Peyton. With the Crystal Entity, you could get stabbed through the chest with a knife, directly in the heart, and survive, and you wouldn’t need anything to save you. You could be diagnosed with a disease with no cure, but take the Crystal Entity, and it would wipe it clean from your body—no trace of it left.” Peter glances at the beer before taking another chug.
“You’d be a god,” my voice whispers.
“Exactly,” Peter smiles proudly.
“And is there any way to reverse it?” I glance at Justin.
His mouth opens to respond, “Well—”
“Does it matter?” Peter snaps, finishing the beer. “Why would anyone want to reverse it?”
I’m ready to argue back when Justin gently touches my arm, telling me to let it go. Nodding in an annoyed fashion, I ask, “And there’s enough for all of us to drink?”
“That’s what we believe,” Aiden adds to the conversation.
“But you don't know?”
“I’m so glad we brought you on board to question everything I say and do,” Peter sarcastically snaps as he pulls another bottle from beside his chair and refills the cup.
“She’s just curious,” Justin jumps to my defense.
“Loyalty to me bypasses all curiosity.” His rant makes me more than a tad suspicious.
“That sounds ...” my brain racks for the right word, “stupid.”
“And yet, you were dumb enough to sign up without reading the fine print. Now who’s stupid?” He growls before beginning to drink once more.
“Still you,” my word vomit jumps at him. Before Peter can respond, I turn to Justin to continue, “'Sous Clef was a map. Where’s it leading us?”
“Good question.” Aiden answers, “There are no roads and streets on it.”
“So I think we’re looking for something else to lay on top of the map that will create the lines,” Eiden tosses his idea out.
Finally, I feel what I found last night has a place, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“Please fill us in on your priceless thoughts, Nancy Drew.” The attitude from Peter makes me less certain, and I pull my hair to the side of my face.
“I think the map was drawn with a fingerprint,” I begin slowly. “There was a Duchess who possessed a special perfume that could be sprayed on paper and reveal messages written with a finger. I think the map was done this way. We’re not looking for roads. We’re looking for that perfume.”
“And what gives you that impression?” Peter folds one arm over his stomach.
“Well, my grandparents sent me cards and items that I brought with me. While looking over the one with Sous Clef on it, I realized she gave me a clue how to open the painting itself. I turned the card over, and on the back was an infinity symbol, infinity, I’m now assuming, as in live forever, so I started searching through the cards and found two more with the same symbols on the back. Assuming my grandparents sent them in some kind of order, I started thinking about what was on the cover, which was a bottle of perfume. That led me to a story about some magical perfume that my father told me. Then, of course, the words inside are the final clue: “May the invisible landl in the visible,” except they misspelled land. When the words are pushed together, it creates Landlin. After all that thinking, I have a serious question... . How is it we just so happened to land here?”
The question has everyone turn their attention to Justin, who clears his throat and adjusts his tie. “Well, I, um ...”
“How’d you know exactly where we needed to fly?” I snap my body to face his direction.
“Lucky guess?” Justin’s voice tries to sound innocent.
“Justin.”
“Look, Peyton, I…”
“You have been conning me since the minute we left that ship,” I sigh, annoyed. “Is there ever a time when you’re not two steps ahead of me?”
“Well, well,” Peter chuckles, raising his glass. “Cheers to the curious girlfriend for finally realizing her boyfriend still can’t be trusted.”
Tilting my head at him, I sigh, “No, you can’t. When did you figure out Landlin was where we needed to be?”
“I looked through your bags while you were sleeping on the ship. Figured out what you just did about locations, just a little sooner,” Justin answers, tipping his fedora upward. “Not the fact we needed the perfume, though. You did that all by yourself. Pretty good. In fact…”
“If you want my help to find these magical treasures, then I suggest you start treating me like a dealer instead of a mark. Are we clear?”
Impressed, Peter sighs, “Wow. Looks like the little girl is ready to play in the big leagues.”
I turn my head to him and force a smile out, knowing what he meant was intended to be slightly sweeter than it came out. “Oh, I’m ready. I even know where I can find what it is we’re looking for.”
My eyes roll back over to Justin, and I paint a very innocent grin on my face. Quickly he groans, “No.”
“Yeah.”
“Nick has the damn perfume?” Justin’s whine causes Peter to snicker gleefully. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“Life just keeps getting better and better,” Peter takes another sip.
“Can you be sure of it?” Belle ponders, leaning back on her palms.
“We talked about it last night. It was weird. He ...” the words get caught in my throat. For a minute, I linger in Justin’s eyes, realizing that, every step of the way, I lay down everything for him, give away every piece of information I have about everything. But he only half deals himself in, never truly revealing his hand until he knows he’s won. Maybe now’s a good time to start behaving more like him until we have a new perimeter of trust. “Couldn’t wait to show me it.”
“I bet he couldn’t wait to show it to you,” Peter’s the only one to laugh at his insinuation.
“What are you, twelve today?” Justin snorts.
Finishing my sentence without regard to Peter, I sigh, “He offered to show me today.”
“Well, let’s see if he has it,” Eiden speaks up, the tennis ball now rolling around in his fingertips. “If he has it, then you’re our in.”
“There’s no if. I know he has it,” I correct Eiden, who stops moving the ball altogether. “Guys, I’m telling you he has what we need, so in order to get it, I need to stay as close to him as possible.”
“Makes sense. We’re going to need to run The Beauty and The Thief,” Belle nods slowly.
“What’s that?”
Aiden stops typing, “It’s where we send in a female decoy to distract the mark and, while she’s entertaining, steal what needs to be stolen—basic conning really, elementary school.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” Justin folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the couch.
Quickly turning my head his direction, I ask, “Why?”
“You’re not ready to pull off a con like this…”
“I’m pretty sure I already started pulling it off,” I correct him as Aiden nods in agreement beside me. “Look, I’m the in to this one…”
“Running a long con like that is different…”
“Meaning what?”
“Yeah,” Peter joins the conversation. Lowering his cup from his lips, he asks, “Meaning what? It’s not like she’s going to pretend to date him to help us get close to the art we need and then fall in love with him and change the plans, converting him into a Lost Boy.” After a beat, he sighs, “Oh no, wait, that was you.”
Glaring, Justin points a finger at him, “Don’t start.”
Peter tosses his hand in the air, “Just saying.”
“You don’t think I can do it?”
“It’s not that…”
“You don’t think he’s interested in me? You don’t think I could hold his attention?”
“It’s not that either. I…” Justin presses his lips and lowers his voice, “Can we talk about this in private, please?”
My eyes glance around the crowd watch
ing us, actually depending on it this time, and feel the same pressure he must’ve felt last night, leaving me in the same position he was, “No.”
Nodding, he lets the vinegar words leave his tongue, “I saw the two of you at dinner last night. I saw you dancing. I saw the way you looked at him.”
“Why were you spying on me?” The thought crawls back into my mind that he bumped into us, literally. “Because you don’t trust me, do you?”
“You told me you were going out for some air,” Belle raises her eyebrows.
“You told me you were grabbing some ice cream,” Aiden leans around me.
Eiden pipes in, “Yeah, you told me you were going for target practice.”
Peter smirks proudly to himself, “Lying to everyone to stalk your girlfriend? You’re not making a good case for her to ever really trust you.”
I glance at Peter, annoyed that he has a point on this one. The color flushes from Justin’s face as his hands slide his hat off his head. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the group disappears.
“I just,” his voice stutters. “I just ... it’s a lot and your first big con—”
“And you’re all here to make sure it runs smoothly. Belle briefed me last night before my date, and it was a success. Look, we need that perfume. I just know it. I’m the direct in to get close to it. We want this Crystal Entity thing. We need those lines on the map. Give me my chance to pull my own weight.”
Peter cocks a grin, takes a sip, and nods slowly, “Yeah, Justin. Listen to her. She needs to be able to pull her own weight. Let’s see what Peyton Darling is made of, you know, besides sugar and spice and everything nice.”
My head tilts to the side, knowing Peter isn’t being as genuine as I would like him to be, but I’ll take it, “I can do it.”
“Everyone else is OK with this?” A heavy sigh escapes Justin as he scratches the back of his neck. The group nods, and Justin shrugs, “Then what choice do I have?”
“You don’t,” the words leave my lips as Justin slides his hat back to his fingertips before twisting it back around onto his head.