Lies, Mistrust and Fairy Dust

by Xavier Neal

  “Tell me. Now.”

  I swallow my fear. “No.”

  In a swifter motion than I'm prepared for, Peter goes to reach for me in a forceful movement when Justin blocks him. With a raised finger to his face he shakes his head. “Do. Not. Even. Think. About. It.”

  Peter nods his head and cocks a smile backing up slowly. “I see that Loyalty Oath means nothing.”

  “Peter, enough.” Belle snaps loudly.

  Justin and Peter's eyes stay locked coldly, too long for my liking. The way Justin's body is shielding me from him really leads me to believe that he would have attacked me if given the chance. One day he saves me and the next he tries to hurt me. Ladies and Gentleman, the real Peter Pan.

  With a clearing of his throat he snatches the bottle. “Fine. Please tell me how to use it.”

  Nervous now that all the attention is on me, I merely melt closer to Justin as I speak, “You pull the coin apart and there's a piece of paper in between. Hold it....and say the word on the paper, and then tell it what you want.”

  Annoyed Peter pushes the coin in two with the tip of his fingernail, the bottom half of it falling to the ground. He takes another drink and slams the bottle back down. Staring at the blank strip he says, “Vizzas. The Crystal Entity.”

  We stare on waiting for something magical to happen. Sparks. Fireworks. A ghost to appear. Anything. When it appears nothing is still happening, everyone turns to me.

  I shrug. “That's what he said to do...”

  Peter looks up from the paper and demands. “Where's the map?”

  Aiden pulls it out and lays it across the desk-like space in front of where Eiden is steering the ship. We gather around and watch as the final piece of the map is revealed. One particular spot darker than any other. A mountain range.

  With a devious, cryptic, almost terrifying grin on his face, Peter picks up the wine bottle that's been nursing his attitude and sighs, “I know where we're headed next....”

  At those words Eiden turns the wheel around taking us the opposite direction. My eyes lift up and fall into Justin's. The look in his eyes tells me this is almost over. That we are almost to the point where we can relax, but for some reason, something deep inside me is telling me the exact opposite. Something inside of me is screaming this is a new level of trouble we're diving into. A type of trouble I don't think Peter intends for me to make it out of.

  Thank Yous

  Crazy Lady- Yes. You can punch Peter in the face now. Lol.

  Her Husband- Love you.

  The Law Student- Here it is! Hope you fell in love in Neverland!

  The Lumberjack- Thanks for always getting me water, lol.

  Sissy B- Justin is a different kind of trouble, enjoy him!

  The Real Life Erin- To Vegas...AND BEYOND!

  Katniss- I hope fairy dust always finds us in life.

  Throwback- Keep on, Keepin on gorgeous!

  The Nanny Job- Your big one will be able to read this one before any of the others, lol

  The PAs- Love you to babes!

  The EP Army- We are kicking ass and having fun!

  My Editor- You...You are awesome. Never forget that.

  When I Grow Up Authors- Tess Oliver, Selena Laurence, Jaime Reese, Kristine Cayne, and Harper Sloan. I learn so much from watching each of you every day. Thank you.

  Dream Team/Pimpettes- You ladies help me set my dreams on fire in all the best ways. I can never thank you enough.

  Shout out to a very special girl I call Soph Soph- Remember the good times in life and that you are beautiful, inside and out.

  Bloggers- You rock. Never forget that you're the reason Indies stand a chance!

  Readers- Rock on! Lol. Thank you for your endless support! You make miracles happen in my life.

  Much love always!

  See you next time....

  Like classics with a twist, try Cinderfella by Xavier Nea

  Chapter 1

  Apparently I managed to piss off the winds of change while I was sleeping last night because instead of the opportunity of a lifetime to really win this scholarship, I want, no, fuck that, I need, I'm now more likely to win a certificate for best dressed senior in my holey jeans and stained white t-shirts.

  “To hell I will!” Gianna, aka the reason my shot at something more than community college is now in shambles, like One Direction fans after that one dude left, throws her French manicured hands up in protest. She's sitting in the back row. Corner. The one seat in the entire theater classroom we've deemed the throne of the pointless. It's where seniors sit who just need a credit to pass. The rest of us are devoted to this. Determined that we were meant to take this path. Truth? Acting may be my biggest dream and what I figured I would get a scholarship for, but I plan to minor in something that's more stable. I need something more stable. Doesn't mean I can't keep hope to have my career take off.

  “Do not talk like that in my classroom,” Ms. Flores, the lead theater director snaps back, putting a hand on her hip. “You’ll be partners with Connor.”

  Can someone else be Connor?

  “What did I just say?” Gianna snidely responds.

  Ms. Flores points sternly. “My office. Now.”

  “I hate this school,” she growls, tosses her hot pink purse, and stands. Our eyes having no choice but to watch her tantrum like it's a car wreck on the major highway and we have nowhere else to look. The sound of her heels clicking across the tile are equivalent to nails on a chalkboard at this point.

  Yup. My teacher picks the bitchiest girl with the least amount of potential in the whole class to be my partner. She is constantly saying how much confidence and faith she has in me. Yet when the perfect opportunity comes along for her to prove that by pairing me with Stacey McDougal, who's predicted to be the next Natalie Portman, what does she do? She sticks me with a video ho’ whose extent of acting probably doesn’t stretch further than the bedroom. Yup. Fuck the winds of change. I should've never counted on them blowing a direction that would help someone like me.

  “Now that that’s settled,” she returns talking to us. “I’d like to just remind you all how important it is to try your very best. Every year schools from all around the state go to compete for the chance at this scholarship. Now everyone here in Stage Acting has the talent and skills to win and by traditional standards, I expect we’ll bring home a trophy of some sort, and one of you that scholarship.”

  I had the same belief until about three minutes ago.

  “I hate this school!” Gianna yells from the office.

  Until that loud mouthed purse accessory was picked to be my partner. Uncomfortable, I slide down further into my chair.

  “You have four months. The competition is the first weekend in May. You’ll be required to perform in the competition. This will stand in place of your final. If for some reason there is an emergency, and you cannot make it, you will be judged on your rehearsal performance that takes place in front of your peers the night before. So, with that announced, I encourage all of you to try your absolute hardest, pick the finest duet scenes you can, and pour all of your effort into them, because if you let it, this project can really change your lives.”

  For the worse. This project will change some of our lives for the worse is what she should've said. Particularly my life. Score.

  “On that note, I want you to break up into your teams and start searching for your pieces.”

  Everyone scatters allowing me to take my opportunity to have a word with my beautiful Hispanic teacher, who I still have a heavy crush on even after two years.

  “Ms. Flores,” my voice hums. “About this partner situation…”

  Twisting her dark brown, blonde highlighted hair, into a bun she sighs, “You’re wondering if there was a reason I paired you up the way I did, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. I mean usually you have a motive--”

  “I always have a motive.”

  “Right. But this—”

  “Trust me,” she cuts me off.
My eyes take the breathing moment to wander over her body that's in great shape despite her age. Her small yet perky boobs have my attention thanks to her scoop neck shirt I'm sure doesn't fit into the school dress code. Not that I'm complaining. Hell, I don't know anyone who would.

  “I do. Really. This just doesn’t feel right.”

  “Well maybe a little wrong is something it’s time for you to try,” she gives me a little wink. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go have a word with your just as excited partner.”

  Trust her? She says trust her? She put me with a girl whose only in this class because when they transferred her from the last place I'm sure the royal bitch deemed unworthy, it was the only elective open in her block of time. I don’t even know if she can act since the semester started with a research paper. And try a little wrong? Is she joking? There’s so much wrong in my life that anymore and Shakespeare would classify me as a tragedy.

  Folding my hands in a frustrated fashion on top of my head, I lean up against the side of the wall right outside of her office. I make sure to stay where I can’t be seen. It's a perfect eavesdropping location. Not sure I wanna hear what is about to be said though.

  “Do we have a problem?” Ms. Flores says, her tone firm and strict.

  “Obviously we do.”

  “Which is?”

  “You wanna pair me with the diamond in the rough instead of a prize winning piece.”

  “Sometimes the most beautiful diamonds are the ones that were roughest first.”

  “No.” Gianna snips. “Don't give me some after school special crap please. I'm being real with you, give me the same courtesy. You want me paired with 2 dollar wine when I deserve 200 dollar champagne. I'm steak. That's chicken fried steak.”

  Not sure which part of that pisses me off most, I drop my hands and turn to lean my shoulder against the wall. No, I don't get to dress like the Ken dolls she's probably used to being seen with, but that doesn't mean I'm not attractive. And if that's the case, then why do I always have a list of girlfriends anxious for me to ask them out come every Friday?

  Annoyed Ms. Flores sighs, “Connor, by traditional standards is amazing. He's talented, genuine, and charming. By this societies standards he’s exceptional—”

  “Exceptionally lame.”

  “Exceptionally bright and is predicted to be an Oscar winner very early in his career. He’s one of the best performers we have and you should feel humbled by being with such a presence.”

  “Oh please. Humbled?”

  “By what his clothing” There's a short pause. “And he’s not the only one with skills.”

  “You’re right Gianna. I've seen your written records and some of the recordings. You have some talent too. If you two pick the right scene the amount of griping and complaining you do might just come in handy.” Her sarcasm makes me smirk.

  “I don’t want to be partners with him.” God. You would think the way she’s talking about me, I have the plague or something.

  “Alright.”

  “Alright.”

  “I respect your choice.”

  “Good.”

  “You can go see Mr. Smith in his office once more and see if he’ll let you stay here in his school, which if I’m correct is the last chance before you’re shipped away to boarding school in Canada? Or was it Wales?”

  “Wait. Wait. Wait…” Gianna’s voice suddenly lacks in defense. “Let’s not get so hasty…”

  “Oh now that's hasty? I was under the impression the way you were speaking about Connor, a student you know nothing about, was hasty.” Before Gianna has a chance to fire back, she states, “Now, you’re going to go in there, force a fake smile on your face, and be his partner. You’re going to give this an actual shot or I will not hesitate to call Mr. Smith to start the paperwork to have you removed from not only my class, but the school. Are we clear?”

  Her gum pops before she sighs, “Crystal.”

  “Good,” Ms. Flores’ voice perks up, which is when I move away quickly to my seat where I pretend to be zipping up my navy blue backpack.

  Without so much as a glance, Gianna strolls back up to her chair where she plops down, grabs her purse, and begins rummaging around in it.

  Nodding to myself that this is going to be successful, I grab my backpack, walk up the side stairs to the top of the seating area, and sit beside her. At first she stares at me blankly like I’m joking around by being in her presence, which is quickly replaced by disgust.

  “Can I help you?” she sneers, smacking her gum at me before crossing her bare coffee colored legs that are barely being covered by a pink and black pleated school girl skirt, which I admit has my attention.

  “My name’s Connor,” I extend my hand for her to shake exposing my own tan skin that's golden from hours of outside labor.

  Her dark brown eyes glare at my hand before looking back up at me. “Connor? Isn’t that something you name your kid when you and your lover can’t come to an agreement?”

  My lips press together before I smile sarcastically. “Gianna right?” She gives me a slight nod and I sigh, “Isn’t that what you name your child when you want her to grow up to be a stripper?”

  “Is there a reason you’re bothering me?”

  “We’re supposed to be partners,” my annoyance for her grows faster and faster with every bat of her long brown eyelashes. “Remember what Ms. Flores said in her office?”

  Clearly irritated she adjusts the top half of her wardrobe now, “You were eavesdropping.”

  “I prefer to call it overhearing.”

  “Call it what you like, but you were sticking your nose where it didn’t belong. Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?”

  “She left her door open. I count that as public.”

  “Well then you heard me tell her I won’t work with someone like you.”

  “And what makes me so unacceptable to you?”

  “The fact you mix your Wal-Mart and K-mart brand clothes is a start.”

  Biting my tongue I reply, “Well not all of us can only worry about which designer impostor perfume is going to match the day’s slutty outfit. Some of us have real world shit to deal with.”

  “Contemplating if it’s really beef or just a substitute hardly qualifies as real world shit to deal with.” She pops a bubble in my face right as the bell rings.

  “Well this has been as much fun as being kicked in the nuts, so if you’ll excuse me.” I slip my backpack over one shoulder. “I have somewhere to be.”

  “Is the thrift store having a buy one get one sale?” she giggles at her comment. Rolling my eyes, I slide down the railing. On my way out of the room, I swallow the lump of hatred that's managed to form in such a small amount of time. No reason to be surprised by her behavior. Most girls who look that hot act that bitchy. They can afford to. On all levels. I do my best to push any more thoughts of her out of my mind as I hustle to the student parking lot, praying I can show up to work early for once.

  Hopping into my hunter green 2007 Volkswagen Jetta, I start the car and take off out of the parking lot waving goodbye to Mr. Johnson, the parking lot attendant. At the first stop light I rip off my plain white colored t-shirt I wore to school and slide on my navy blue polo. When I reach the next light, I apply deodorant and refresh my breath with the last of the tic-tacs I ate for lunch today. Even though I did the best I could to change in the car instead of stopping to do it in the bathroom, I still arrive at work one minute late.

  After typing the code into the private preschool, I stroll right up to the time clock machine. “Good afternoon Nelly.”

  Nelly is often the saving grace of this place. She keeps the parents happy and the teachers happier. The friendly face where all problems seem to go to die. The blonde hair, the pale skin, and her constant preference to wear white uniform shirts gives off the allure of an angel.

  “Good afternoon.” She smiles, leaning over the office desk, her pregnant belly basically sitting on top of it. “How are you?”<
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  “Good. And you?”

  “Better now that you’re here.” Her simple wink lets me know I’ve got my work cut out for me today. Because of the math test I'm pretty sure I failed and the devil who has the most gorgeous pair of legs I've ever seen weren't enough trouble for one day. Damn. I thought that girl was out of my mind. Shaking away the thought of her, I watch Nelly slide a piece of paper over to me. “By the way your collar is tucked in your shirt.”

  “Damn,” I mumble and quickly fix my collar.

  “Get dressed in a hurry?”

  “Always.” I softly smirk. Reviewing the list of repairs I grumble, “God, what’s the deal? Did everything in the school break this morning?”

  “Looks that way doesn’t it?” Nelly leans back in her chair to answer the phone. “Sunshine and Rainbows, this is Nelly speaking, how may I help you?” After a beat she says, “Yes, I sure can. Just give me one moment please.” Hitting the hold button, she says to me, “Mr. Harrison would like to talk to you in his office.”

  “Great…” my mumble is chuckled at. Any time Mr. Harrison, the owner, wants to talk it usually ends with ‘Do I need to hire someone else?’ It’s like he thinks the only way he can talk to me is by threatening my job at the end. Luckily for me, Mrs. Evans, the school director, loves me and does her best to always save me. One of the few people in my life, next to Nelly, who always tries to help.

  Slowly, I walk into the office, which is the size of a shoe box if you ask me, directly behind Nelly and close the clear door. Nelly smiles and gives me a slight wave as I divert my attention to the owner and director who I feel are scolding me every other week for something.