The Piper's Price

by Audrey Greathouse

  Cindy nodded. Gwen felt uncomfortable in the company of someone who seemed so much older, yet so much frailer. Dawn was the first to formulate a question. “Is this one of Peter’s girls? Is he here too?”

  The question was demeaning, but Gwen did not sling back any hostility of her own. These women were reactionary and excitable, so Tiger Lily answered, “Gwen is Peter’s emissary. I wouldn’t jeopardize you by bringing him here.”

  “Public enemy number one, I hear,” Irene casually remarked.

  Cindy had an adverse reaction to this news. “Emissary? For what? What does he want from us?”

  Tiger Lily paused, seeming to struggle with how to word her answer. In her hesitation, Gwen spoke up. “He’s trying to unriddle the Piper’s whereabouts.”

  A painful dread passed over her audience’s faces. “Oh no. No, honey,” Dawn told her. “I don’t know who you are or how he roped you into this, but you need to get out. You don’t want to find the Piper.”

  “Nobody wants to find the Piper,” Cindy muttered.

  “Peter does,” Gwen assured her. “He’s the only chance we have of rallying a resistance large enough to defend Neverland.”

  “Defend Neverland?” Dawn scoffed. “The war’s been lost, young lady. Neverland is just a post-bellum battle.”

  “Neverland is still vibrant and strong,” Gwen argued. “It has a rich fairy population and the prophecies of the mermaids guiding its strategy. It just lacks the manpower—or child power, I suppose—to hide it from the grown-ups’ radar.”

  “Did she just say grown-ups?” Cindy asked.

  “What about the redskins?” Dawn demanded, her voice cutting over Cindy’s.

  Tiger Lily kept a stoic face. “Still stronger than you ever gave them credit for.”

  “You’re pretty grown up yourself,” Irene remarked. “What interest do you have in the fate of Neverland?”

  As usual, Gwen’s mind buzzed with an assortment of answers, many of them contradictory. “My little sister is there, and I want to know she’ll be safe as long as she is.”

  “If Peter Pan comes anywhere near Priscilla or Angelica—” Cindy erupted.

  “He won’t,” Tiger Lily assured her. “This isn’t about you or your children. It’s about the greater issue of children’s autonomy and Neverland’s right to exist.”

  “Well, good,” Cindy grumbled.

  “We’re not going to hunt down the Piper for you.” Dawn spoke with authority; she spoke for everyone. “We don’t know where he is, and I, for one, would rather spend the holidays with my ogre of a mother-in-law than come within spitting distance of that awful man.”

  “I don’t need your help finding him. We know how to find him. We’re just missing a piece of the puzzle.”

  Tiger Lily crossed her arms and explained further, “Piper left riddles for how to find him.”

  “It’s always riddles,” Cindy muttered under her breath.

  “One of the things Gwen needs in order to find him is—in his own words—a patch fit for a prince. Peter doesn’t know I have you all here, but if anyone can figure out what Piper means by that, it’d be one of you.”

  The women got quiet. Gwen had a much better view of them now that she was not spying on them through the slats of the closet door. Irene had a nose that sloped the way magazines said noses were supposed to slope. It was one of the few things about her appearance that still looked at its peak. Little lines crept up around her eyes, as well as bags underneath them she barely managed to obscure with a liberal use of makeup. From a distance, she still could have passed for a twenty-something.

  She could not say the same for Dawn, whose bronze glow was an artificial thing that existed only on her face. The rest of her skin was pale, and starting to sag with the combination of extra weight and age. Her bold bangs were clinging to the nineties’ vision of youthfulness.

  All she noticed about Cindy was how prominent her clavicle bone was at the collar of her V-neck sweater. She wore a long glass pendant around her neck, but it just drew the eye to her flat chest. She had a ridiculously small slice of Irene’s pie on a plate in front of her, but she had not taken a single bite out of it.

  “I don’t want any part of this,” Irene announced. “I understand you’re doing what you think you have to, and I’m not going to stop you, but I’m not going to help you.”

  Cindy and Dawn exchanged looks, and Cindy asked, “Just a patch? If we gave you a patch, you’d leave us alone and go do… whatever it is you think will save Neverland?”

  “It’ll cost them more than that,” Irene huffed.

  Gwen ignored her. “The patch is all we need. Peter and the lost children will be able to manage the rest from there.”

  Tiger Lily, knowing Cindy better, thought to add, “We won’t even need to tell Peter that you helped. Nobody outside of this room will ever know.”

  Cindy glanced at Irene for direction. Her mousy eyes begged for approval. “I won’t stop you.” Irene reclined into her seat and finished her wine with one final sip.

  Dawn animated all at once and sprang into objection. “Cindy, no, Bella’s right. You’ve got kids. You shouldn’t be getting mixed up in this.”

  Cindy spoke quietly, as if afraid for what response her words would prompt. “It seems there ought to be at least one place left… if we let it all disappear, won’t the stories get old and die too?”

  “Stories don’t die the way places and people do,” Irene replied.

  “But they do die,” Cindy insisted, “and I don’t know what we’re going to do when all we have is the Frankensteins that Disney resurrected. Priscilla was amazed when she found out that Peter Pan was a book, a play, a movie… anything other than a cartoon. That’s all she has, for all that we lived and did. A bunch of cartoons.”

  “Some of us don’t even have that,” Irene admitted.

  “Don’t make this about the kids,” Dawn complained, once again burying her face in her hand.

  “I don’t know.” Cindy looked like she was on the verge of tears, but her expression hadn’t changed. She just perpetually looked like life was about to overwhelm her emotionally. “We chose to hand over our magic and assimilate. Nobody forced us to, not like this.”

  Irene pursed her lips, her eyebrows raised. The motion almost turned into a shrug. “That is a fair point.”

  “For God’s sake,” Dawn exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “Fine. If that’s the consensus, who am I to argue?” She sounded like she wanted to argue and hash it out considerably more. “You’re not doing this, Cindy. I’ll go get her the patch. You’ve got your kids to think about. You shouldn’t stretch your neck into this.”

  Cindy’s stiff shoulders hunched back down, relaxed and submissive. “Thank you.”

  “That’s real good of you, Dawn,” Irene told her. She then looked at Gwen with harsh eyes. “You’re very lucky.”

  “Thank you very much,” Gwen told Dawn. “I hope it won’t put you too far out of your way.”

  “It’ll take some rooting around in the closet and a trip to the mall. As long as the black coats don’t catch us at anything, it should be pretty painless.”

  “But that’s a disastrous if,” Irene insisted. “So mind your manners and reflect on how lucky you are, young lady.”

  Gwen was getting tired of being referred to as young lady. She sensed she would have to put up with a lot more patronizing before this affair was over.

  “I vote we reschedule the meeting for next week to talk about the literary significance of Percival and Sarah Lynne hooking up in a flat just west of London,” Dawn announced, standing up and then facing Gwen. “If you want the patch, let’s just get this done with now.”

  “Next week is good for me,” Irene agreed.

  “I’ll have to double check Priscilla’s dance schedule, but I’m sure we’ll find a time.” Cindy got up and tried to stuff her paperback book into her boxy purse. It wouldn’t fit.

  Tiger Lily looked delighted; her slender smile
spoke volumes. “Thank you, Dawn. I am in your debt.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Dawn waved a dismissive hand at her. “Come on, Gwen.”

  This command caught her by surprise. “I’m coming with you?”

  “I sure don’t want to get this mission of yours wrong, and if anyone catches me at it, I’m blaming you.”

  Gwen was reluctant to work with someone who exhibited such an unlikable mix of vapidness and conniving, but knew it was her best—if not only—option. “Should I bring Foxglove?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Dawn replied, “but certainly not.”

  Irene left to unblock Dawn’s car in the driveway, but not before she slipped Dawn something out of her own purse. Gwen pretended not to see what was obviously meant to be a clandestine hand-off. The redheaded woman then drove Cindy home, and Gwen admired how odd their sleek cars looked in the environment of the reservation where trucks with rusted fenders were the norm. Gwen plopped into the luxury sedan’s passenger seat and watched Tiger Lily wave goodbye. She felt like she’d just been taken as a prisoner of war.

  Dawn was quiet until they were shut in the car and out of earshot. “We meet for our club every month and take turns hosting at our houses,” she explained. “So every few months, we all drive out here when Lily hosts at her trailer. We wouldn’t want her to feel self-conscious.”

  Gwen marveled at the awful sentiment, and the ludicrous thought that Tiger Lily could be made to feel self-conscious. Choosing to ignore the remark, she asked, “Are we going to your house to pick up the patch?”

  “Yes, and we’ll stop at the mall afterward. The patch is currently attached to one of George’s jackets and will have to be removed.” Dawn watched her rear view camera on screen as she backed out.

  “At the mall? I don’t think I should go to the mall…” Gwen tried to imagine just how bad it would be if someone who knew her saw her there.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Dawn insisted. “You’re with me. You’ll be fine.”

  “Couldn’t we take it off ourselves?”

  “No can do. I gave up spinning, stitching, and fabric work as part of my deal with the Magic Relocation Program.”

  “Your deal with the—what?”

  Dawn drove slowly and huffed at the gravel road as she heard it crunch under her tires. It was a bumpy drive off the reservation, but the car dulled the sensation. Strapped into the large leather seat, it occurred to Gwen that she hadn’t been in a car since she drove home from school and found out Rosemary was missing.

  “The MRP. It’s what’s going to be responsible for finding your friend Peter a family and—God help us—a school to go to.”

  While Dawn drove toward the highway, Gwen picked up the copy of Tryst on the Thames jammed between the cup holders in the car. There was a picture of two people on the cover who looked constipated and scantily clad. “So what’s the book about?”

  Dawn reached over without looking at her and snatched the book out of her hands. She flung it into the backseat. “It’s a love story. It’s not appropriate for you.”

  “I’m sixteen.”

  “If you’re still playing house with Peter Pan, you’re not old enough for it.”

  She was snide, but she had a point. As soon as they got back onto a paved road, Dawn punched the gas pedal and sent them rocketing along the highway.

  “I appreciate your help,” Gwen said, wondering if friendly gratitude would put Dawn in a more amenable mood.

  “I can’t imagine why you want it,” she answered. “What on earth is a girl as old as you doing with Peter Pan?”

  “Keeping my options open,” Gwen answered.

  “Ha!” The single laugh sounded mean spirited. “You’re smarter than you look, but not nearly as bright as you think you are. You’re so young. You can’t see how many doors you’re already closing. Do the black coats know you’re in league with Peter?”

  “You mean the Department of Anomalous Activity?”

  “Yes, of course. Who else?”

  “I’m not sure.” Jay said the folks at the party hadn’t ratted her out, but what had her parents told officials when she went missing too? “My parents have been telling my friends that I’m just really sick.”

  “I’m sure they reported you a runaway, for legal reasons, but normal cops would have dealt with it since you’re not exactly in the target age range for the black coats to take note,” Dawn told her. “But the officers will certainly figure you out if you summon the Piper. Then you’re just like the rest of us—magic on your record.”

  “You make it sound like flying is a felony.” Gwen tried to move her seat back, but there were too many buttons to figure it out. She tilted it back, moved it up, and even shifted it a little to the side before she discovered how to give herself more foot room.

  “It doesn’t show up on normal legal documents, but believe me…” Dawn craned her neck, watching for the street they needed to turn onto. “It follows you your whole life.”

  Gwen wasn’t concerned with the future as Dawn saw it. Even in a worst-case scenario, she couldn’t imagine ending up like this woman. In the silence that followed, Gwen only wondered why her parents had told her friends she was sick if they’d been legally obligated to report her as a runaway.

  When they reached Dawn’s house, she sloppily pulled into the driveway and turned off the car. Unbuckling and jumping out of the car, she said, “Stay put. I’ll be back in a minute.” Gwen felt like an antsy child, left in the parking lot in front of a dry cleaner. While she waited for Dawn to return, Gwen entertained herself by trying to spot differences between all the cookie-cutter McMansions on the block.

  Two minutes into her wait, Gwen heard an electronic, crystalline chime—her phone notifying her of a new text.

  Please be Jay. Please be Jay…

  The desperate and excited prayer circled in her head as she scrambled to get her phone out of her purse as if it were a bomb she needed to defuse within seconds.

  She sat in the car, smiling at Jay’s simple text:

  Hey :)

  As the initial delight wore off, she began to overthink what the correct response would be. Before she could get too caught up in her misplaced analysis, Gwen shot back the exact same six characters to him.

  It worked; he responded with something of more substance:

  Just thinking of you. It was good to see you last night.

  Gwen giggled out loud.

  Ditto :) What are you up to?

  Her cracked phone screen didn’t even have time to go dark before he answered. She had his full attention.

  Homework. I go to school :P

  Another text arrived immediately after:

  What are YOU up to, Miss Unbelievable?

  Gwen felt her confidence spike. Sorry, she answered, that’s classified right now.

  The car beeped, startling Gwen out of her infatuated daze. She jumped in her seat, but the seatbelt restrained her.

  Maybe you can tell me about it tonight? :)

  “Who are you texting?” Dawn asked, an innocent and genuine interest in her voice.

  Gwen hurried through her response, relying on shorthand to make her meaning clear: maybe. g2g but ttyl

  “Don’t tell me Peter has a cell phone,” Dawn asked, peering over to satisfy her nosy curiosity.

  “No.” She shoved her phone back into her purse. “It was just a boy.”

  Dawn chucked a black-and-orange letterman jacket into the backseat and strapped herself in. Starting the car, she turned on the radio where top-forty pop hits began playing at an elevator music volume. Gwen recognized Katy Perry’s voice, but the song was one she’d never heard. An electrifying sense of disconnection grabbed her. She didn’t listen to pop music often, but her teenage insecurity had demanded she at least be familiar with the hits that rose to the top of the charts.

  “A boy?” Dawn asked, vicariously excited. “You looked awful happy staring at your phone there. Who is he?”

  “He and I
were in math class together at the start of the semester before I, you know, ran off with Peter.”

  “Oh,” she replied. It made Gwen uneasy how much attention Dawn gave the conversation when she should have been checking mirrors as she backed out of the driveway. “I bet he didn’t take kindly to that.”

  “He missed me,” Gwen admitted, smiling. “He’s glad I’m back in town.”

  “Does this young gentleman have a name?” Dawn’s voice had some pep in it now, as if this was a topic she’d just been dying to fall upon.

  “Yes,” she answered, not wanting to go into the details. If magic was as damning as Dawn seemed to think it was, she probably shouldn’t be actively adding people to her own list of associates.

  “Oh, come on, Gwen,” she chided. “I’m sticking my neck out for you and this silly patch of yours and you can’t even tell me his name?

  “James,” Gwen answered. It was a common name, and not what he went by.

  “Is he cute?”

  “I think so.” Her voice was noncommittal, but there was no way to say that without conveying the strong bias she had in his favor.

  “Let me see a picture of him.” Dawn’s smile perked up like a puppy’s ears. Her excitement was genuine, but Gwen couldn’t help but notice how even when her mouth was full of straight, smiling teeth, her eyes stayed low in a sunken, sad expression.

  Gwen fished her phone back out of her purse and was surprised by how much she was enjoying this conversation and the chance to show off her crush. She’d had no such opportunity in Neverland, and adults in reality had never taken an interest in her romantic life. Dawn may have dismissed the importance of Neverland, the Piper, and magic, but at least she understood how captivating a handsome boy could be.

  At a stoplight, Gwen showed her Jay’s best profile picture—one taken by his previous girlfriend on a camping trip last spring, short weeks before she left for college and they broke up. Gwen liked the picture because it captured his best expression—the way his eyes could be more happiness than blue, how his smile was always so earnest but mellow.

  “Oh!” Dawn exclaimed making a dramatic, desirous face. “He is cute.”

  “The light’s green.” Gwen pointed to the traffic signal. The car behind them honked. She tried not to let on how validated she felt by Dawn’s reaction.