The Neverland Wars

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The Neverland Wars Page 22

by Audrey Greathouse


  Gwen’s hostility slunk away. It was replaced by sheer curiosity. Here was someone who confirmed her greatest fear—that growing up really wasn’t worth it after all. Antoine was mature and adult in all his mannerisms, and yet he was helping Peter’s cause, aiding and abetting him. For whatever reason, the aviator valued this resistance over his own standing in the world of adulthood. Gwen had to know what that reason was. “Why did you fly away?”

  “I am a pilot. That’s what pilots do.” He had a wistful look in his eyes for a second, but more seriously, he explained, “I got tired of fighting grown-up wars. I wanted to lend my skill to forces that would put it to better purpose. I’ll fly anywhere for Peter, keep my eyes peeled for Piper. They are fighting for a sort of freedom that reality is afraid to even speak of.” He was staring at Peter and Rosemary, but they were unaware that his eyes were on them with admiration, envy, and hope. When he fixed his sights on Gwen again, he asked, “And you? Why are you flying home?”

  The reality of home was sinking in, now that Gwen was in the chilly, October dark wearing just a sundress and a sweater. Peter and the fairies seemed to radiate a glow that kept her from freezing, but Gwen was pining for the weight of her purple bedspread, the familiar smell of her room, her father’s magic tricks, her mother’s cooking, Claire’s company, and Jay’s smile. There were a million reasons to want to be home, but to articulate simply, Gwen said, “It’s where I belong.” That seemed to sum up the issue in its entirety.

  “Then I hope,” he told her, “that you are right.”

  Gwen didn’t want to admit that she hoped so too.

  “Hey,” she said, interrupting the conversation Peter and Rosemary were having, “I’m getting ready to take off. Nice to actually meet you, Antoine, but I, uh, I should really be going.”

  “Gwen!” Rosemary whined, drawing the name out with a painful sense of affection. She ran up to her sister and threw her tiny arms around Gwen’s waist. Burying her face against her big sister’s stomach, she mumbled muffled memories and declarations of love into Gwen. She pulled her face up and looked her squarely in the eye. For a moment, Gwen thought her little sister was about to cry. “This is what Old Willow meant, isn’t it? That I was going to see all sorts of people leave my life. That I’m always going to be losing people like you and… and like Bramble.”

  “Hush,” Gwen replied, patting down Rosemary’s voluminous hair. “You’re not losing me, Rose. I’ll be here waiting for you, whenever you decide to come home.”

  “But you won’t wait,” Rosemary objected. “You’ll get old.”

  “I’ll get old, but I’ll still wait. I might be a ninety-year-old lady, but I’ll still tell my little sister stories when she comes home.” Gwen leaned down to kiss her head. She hugged her close one last time. “Goodbye, Rosemary.” she whispered, but as she spoke, she realized she was holding Peter’s eyes.

  “Fly safe,” Antoine cautioned as Gwen let go of her sad little sister and prepared to take off. It was so grown-up of him to tell her to stay safe, so childish of him to believe that she could fly! Gwen only hoped that if she returned home, it would speed up Rosemary’s decision to return. After all, Rosemary’s first act of business upon arriving in Neverland was to return for her. Maybe luring Rosemary home would be as simple as staying there herself.

  Everyone accepted that Gwen was on her own course, and Peter took little interest in someone who did not share his passionate sense of whimsy. He didn’t even bother with goodbye. Antoine, pitying Rosemary, knelt down and showed her his flight goggles. He let her put them on even though they didn’t fit, and they had a very nice conversation that took her mind off the beloved sister who was drifting away with the wind as they spoke.

  While everyone was thus distracted, Hollyhock had grown bored of the propeller, wheels, and other aspects of the strange old plane. Her curiosity in regard to the airplane had been sated, but she was far from satisfied. As she watched Gwen fly away, a desire bubbled up inside of her to chase after her, to find out where she was going, and what made home such a promising prospect for Gwen. Hollyhock could not understand why Gwen was abandoning them. The decision was not hard for her—she knew that she wanted to follow her.

  The only one who noticed Hollyhock flutter after the older girl was Dillweed. He objected quietly as Hollyhock took off, but she gave him no heed. Not wanting to involve Peter and get her in trouble, Dillweed chased after her himself, catching up and trying to talk Hollyhock out of stalking Gwen. The tinkling, chiming sound of their argument was too soft to be heard by Gwen though. She had no idea that anyone was trailing her as she glided home. She focused only on preventing the weight of her melancholy from dragging her down. There was just a little farther to go before she was back to her bedroom window, able to climb in and close it for good.

  Gwen’s flying slowed once she was out of sight of the airfield. She stayed only high enough to pass over the rooftops, keeping her eyes peeled for any people. She figured, if nothing else, it was bad etiquette in reality to let people catch you being magical.

  She was still unaware of the glittering fairies chasing after her, hanging back and following her home. They were less concerned with being spotted. They knew that adults and others grounded in reality often couldn’t help but turn a blind eye to the impossible, even when it manifested in front of them.

  However, all these assumptions were predicated on the idea that there were no adults watching for magic. Their usual invisibility did not protect them from the adults who were purposefully watching for magic low in the sky, for careless children who were not wise enough to fly above their radars.

  Gwen’s mind was occupied with other, less ominous thoughts. She had missed a solid week of school. Gwen figured her best course of action was to just tell people that she’d been sick. She caught an early flu, or acute bronchitis like her mom did last year. Katie and Claire would be going ballistic, probably wondering why Gwen hadn’t even been online to chat. It would be easy enough just to say that she’d taken a week to recover from Rosemary’s disappearance, which, in many respects, was true.

  Gwen looked out at the sprawling suburban neighborhood she flew over. Its square patterns and straight streets intersected and glowed with twinkling, electric light from the power grid. The way it sparkled, Gwen couldn’t help but wonder if adults were funneling magic into it too, helping systemically distribute enchanted light to households and passing it off as purely an industrial invention. Soon, she would be home with her family where it didn’t matter either way.

  God! Going home to her family sans Rosemary—the thought was utterly bizarre. Gwen veered her thoughts to happier subjects. Debate class and parents and friends...she’d missed these things, and at least they would be seamlessly integrated into her life again. She would go home, sneak in through her window, and acclimate herself to her room before going downstairs and finding her parents. They would be so happy to see her again, and surely their peace of mind counted for something, too. Although knowing her mother, Gwen would probably be in trouble for not managing to wrangle Rosemary home with her…

  Gwen sped up, committed to going home and ready for the journey to be over. She only wanted some stability now, some knowledge that where she fell asleep tonight would be her bed for the months and years to come. She thought of her poor Facebook account and email, no doubt overflowing with notifications from Claire and emails from prospective colleges.

  Her phone would probably be dead, but she would recharge it and call Claire as soon as she got in and let her parents know she was home. Gwen trusted that she would be able to reach Claire. It couldn’t have been later than ten o’clock, and what would her friend be up to besides homework and waiting for Michael Kooseman to start a chat conversation with her online? Gwen would check her texts, too, but she doubted there would be too many. The last text she’d gotten had only been Jay sending her his address for the party.

  The party.

  Gwen came to an abrupt stop in midair. What n
ight was it? What day was it? She had lost track of time in Neverland; the days in paradise all blurred together. She had left on Wednesday night though, and after a few days, Peter had promised to take her back in a week’s time… how many days though?

  Floating down to a rooftop, Gwen sat against the moderate slope of the black-tiled roof next to someone’s brick chimney. She counted the days on her fingers.

  The day she arrived and ate a star was memorable, as was the next morning when she met Lasiandra and her fellow mermaids, and Gwen recalled with perfect clarity the day they explored the pirate ship and found the crocodile. There were the easy days, when she had helped Bard with the laundry and chores, a perfect do-nothing day which they had lazed around the grove and climbed trees, and the sword fighting contest had been the next day. There had been the day they went to see Old Willow and the redskins, and then the day after where they had done nothing but played with the gifts. Then there was yesterday, the day of the bombing…

  Ten days in all. Ten days she had been gone, and now she returned on Saturday night. Her heart quickened as she considered the reality that at this very moment, Jay’s party was happening in a house somewhere below.

  Jay had texted her his address. Ten-something on Park Street. She couldn’t remember the house number, but it wouldn’t be hard to fly over there and find the one house filled with teenagers. She didn’t want to miss this party. Her homecoming could wait.

  Homecoming! The thought slammed against the walls of her mind. Had Jay asked someone else in her absence? The dance was just a week away now. What if he ended up taking Jenny Malloy? The thought made Gwen feel sick with unpleasant butterflies.

  Gwen leapt off the roof and started bolting west, toward Park Street. Hollyhock and Dillweed, looking down on her from the top of the chimney, didn’t know what to make of this sudden speed and new direction. They could keep pace with her though, so they did. The fairies did not have any idea where they were headed, although they now suspected Gwen was going somewhere other than home, and Hollyhock would not rest until she knew where.

  School could be put on hold, her parents could be kept in suspense, but the world of teenage sociality progressed with or without her. Gwen became very nervous and excited all at once. She had her purse, but her phone was dead and she was missing her wallet. Instead, she had her pajamas and a mermaid scale tucked away inside of a pocket. Her hair was probably a windblown mess. With a little confidence, Gwen knew she could pass it off as voluminous and messy-chic like the sexy models on the covers of magazines she had never picked up.

  Gwen pushed up the sleeve of her sweater and checked the newsprint burn. She would have to keep her sweater on so no one else saw it.

  As unprepared as she was to head to a Saturday night party, Gwen felt it would be a far worse mistake to not show up at all. Besides, then she would have a chance to see Jay in person and maybe briefly explain her absence. Flying even lower once she was on Park Street, Gwen remained in the air so that she could zip quickly down the street.

  As predicted, Jay’s house was easy to find. Cars filled every inch of the driveway and were parked along the street for almost a whole block. The lights were on and music was playing. Not so loud that it would provoke the neighbors to report a disturbance, but loud enough for Gwen to notice the way the heavy techno bass radiated from the house.

  She landed at the end of the driveway. With uneasy steps, she reminded her nervous, wiggly legs how to walk. Brushing back her hair with her hand and hoping she looked all right, Gwen left all indecision behind as she marched to the front door and pounded on it so that her knocking would be heard over the clamor and chaos within. She let go of her purse strap, which she realized she was nervously clutching.

  Crossing her arms, more awkward than aloof, she waited only for a second before an older boy, tall, dark-haired, and holding a red, plastic cup in his hand, opened the door. Gwen suddenly felt the full chill of the October air hit her.

  “Hey, come on in!”

  Gwen flicked her hair over her shoulder and stepped inside, immediately confronted with the warmth of dancing bodies. There was a glow of socialization radiating from everyone in the room, and the brightly lit house already smelled of spilled beer and pot.

  “Whoa, what’s with the dress?” The older boy laughed. Hollyhock zoomed in, Dillweed nervously behind, before the door shut.

  “I’m coming from a different party,” Gwen told him.

  He laughed again, a little tipsy and totally amused. “Well, hey, welcome to the party. I’m Roger Hoek.”

  He held out his non-beer holding hand, and Gwen shook it. “Oh, so you’re Jay’s older brother? I’m Gwen.”

  Roger seemed to be a happy drunk, just intoxicated enough that he felt obligated to laugh before saying anything. “Oh hey, Gwen, so you’re that friend of Jimmy’s—that girl from his algebra class or whatever.”

  Gwen didn’t even try to restrain her smile. Who was she to Jay that he was telling Roger about her? The possible answers delighted her. The only response she could muster was to chuckle and say, “Jimmy?”

  A shrill and elated voice yelled in her ear, “Gwen!” as she felt herself yanked around by the hand that had suddenly grabbed her arm. Just like that, Gwen found herself staring into Claire’s smoky eyes. “Oh my God, Gwen! You miss a week of school and then you show up here?”

  “Claire?” Gwen asked, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

  “Jay invited me!” she squealed. “He came and found me last week, and wanted to know if I knew where you'd been, or if you were still coming to the party. He invited me and told me he hoped we could make it. Katie's super pissed she didn't get invited and you've been ignoring her.”

  Every word blew her smoky breath into Gwen’s face, and somewhere beyond the sweat-blurred makeup and dark eyeliner, Claire’s eyes were red and foggy. “Have you been smoking pot?” Gwen asked, all at once amazed and shocked.

  Claire laughed. “Yeah, I finally got a chance to try it. Wesley’s here and he brought a—God, I don’t even know… fucking metric system… a lot of goddamn pot. That’s what he brought.”

  “You’re stoned?” Gwen lowered her voice, as if anyone could hear her over the noise of the music, or as if anyone would possibly care.

  Claire didn’t hear the question, but she guessed its nature. She had been doing this for the better part of the night with everyone. “I’m not even high right now. But yeah, that’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past half hour. What the hell have you been doing for the past week, Gwen? You just disappeared off the face of the earth. I even called your home phone and your parents were all just like, ‘So sweet of you to call, but Gwen can’t talk right now.’”

  “I’ve been—sick,” Gwen told her. “Or just… not feeling normal. I don’t know. Everything’s been crazy.”

  “Shit, I guess!” Claire had become a considerably more fluent curser since arriving at the party and comfortably falling to a lower common denominator. It was liberating for her, and Gwen could see the joy that her friend was reaping from throwing the words around with such a strange mix of apathy and intensity. “A whole week of school! You could have at least answered my messages. Fuck it, you’re here now. I’ve got to tell you—Michael asked me to homecoming!”

  “Just now?”

  “No, hell, like, on Friday. We’re kind of a thing, actually. Where is he? I don’t know. It’s not on Facebook or anything, but I mean, we came here together. Would you believe my dad wouldn’t let me go out on a Saturday night? Fucking military dads, right? I had to sneak out. Michael picked me up.”

  Overhead, unnoticed by any of the partygoers, Hollyhock and Dillweed surveyed the scene from the comfort of the hanging light. They pointed in awe, but they could not hear each other’s high hum-and-whirl words over the heavy bass that was shaking their little wings.

  “Your parents don’t know you’re here?” Gwen asked.

  “Do yours?”

  Gwen was relieved tha
t she wasn’t given a chance to answer the question. Michael came up behind Claire and wrapped his hands around her waist. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he then noticed Gwen. “Hey, Gwen.”

  “Hey,” she responded, slightly stunned.

  Claire laughed and turned her head to kiss his cheek. “Hey there, Mikey.”

  Gwen was suddenly conscious of what Claire was wearing. The strapless black dress fit her snuggly and had a wide belt of glittering, black sequins. Looking around, Gwen noticed other girls in yoga pants and low-cut blouses, tiny tops and tight leggings. She could feel her face flushing. She was here in a sundress.

  Meanwhile, Hollyhock had flitted down off the living room light fixture. Tucked behind the drawn curtains, she overlooked a game of beer pong. When someone aimed wrong and sent the ball flying against the wall, it bounced back and disappeared under the table. Hollyhock fell through the curtains and raced under the table to capture the object.

  Clutching the lightweight plastic against her with both her arms, she flew up to the underside of the table so that she was not seen when the drunken contestants bent down to look for their game piece. While they grabbed another ball, Hollyhock ran her hands all over the smooth, boozy surface of the white plastic. In her curiosity regarding the majestic ping-pong ball, she had abandoned Dillweed. His apprehensions had melted into curiosity as well, and he left the safety of the hanging lamp in order to follow Roger into the kitchen, wondering what it was that everyone here was drinking.

  “There’s a bunch of beer in the kitchen,” Claire told Gwen. “Apparently, it’s cheap and awful, but it’s cold, and I’m pretty sure all beer tastes this bad the first time you drink it. Want me to grab you one?”

  “Uh, no thanks. I think I’m good.”

  “Okay, hey, I’ll be back in a second then.” Claire unwrapped Michael from around her, flinging his arm over her shoulder. “Have you seen Jay yet? I bet he’ll be happy to see you. Did you hear? He’s homecoming king! He beat out Troy! Can you believe it?”

 

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