Second to the Right (The Neverland Chronicles Book 1) Page 3

  Michaela offered just about anything she could think of to try and console me. She offered to make popcorn and watch movies, draw a bath for me to soak in, and even a full-on bitch session where we could plan out how we would cut off his dick. She even offered a simple shoulder for me to cry on too. All I wanted was to be alone so I could have a shameless pity party for myself.

  “Let me know if you need anything!” She emphasized, “I’m just in my room ok?” I barely heard her as I walked down the hall toward my room.

  “I love you!” Was the last thing I heard her say as my door clicked into place.

  I felt like I was on autopilot. I peeled off my clothes and got in the shower. The hot spray did nothing to relieve the tumultuous emotions I was feeling. I wavered between the pain of feeling as though I was not good enough, to fits of anger at being duped by a handsome face.

  The worst part of it all was that I had allowed myself to hope, to believe that my happily ever after was just around the corner. Now it was just gone and I was alone. The only person I had left in this world was Michaela. What on earth would I do if she left me too? But should I have expected anything different? My life had gone to shit over the last several years and nothing ever seemed to end well for me, like I had some fucked up curse following me around.

  I pulled on my favorite, worn sweatpants and a crop top, wincing as the fabric pressed against the tender flesh on my wrist where Jamie had grabbed me. I sat down at my vanity to remove the last remnants of my makeup. I could feel the emotions building up like a pressure cooker inside me until they exploded. I raked my arm across my vanity in one violent sweep, sending makeup and perfume bottles crashing to the floor. I buried my face into my arms as my emotions came pouring out of me in big, fat tears.

  “Girl… why are you crying?”

  I jumped at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, startled out of the darkness. I spun around to find a man standing in the shadows by the window behind me. I couldn’t quite make out his features since he was cloaked by the darkness, but the light filtering in from the full moon highlighted his high cheekbones and chiseled jawline. I jumped up from the vanity, knocking the seat over as I plastered myself to the wall and started to sidestep toward the door. Panic began to overwhelm me at the sight of a strange man in my bedroom.

  “I have some money in my purse, you…you can have it, just don’t hurt me.” I stammered my words as I continued to inch toward the door. He stared at me curiously, a slight smirk on his face.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said incredulously, his voice was soft and nonthreatening, “I’m just here to get my girl.” He stated this plainly as if I was somehow obtuse for not understanding that in the first place.

  “Your girl?” I asked, completely confused by the whole situation.

  Then it occurred to me that I must be either totally wasted, drugged, or I was having a complete mental breakdown. Had Jamie’s betrayal been the last straw that my psyche could handle? Here I was starting a dialogue with an intruder who was probably here to rape me. The whole situation felt surreal, as if I’d ultimately dreamt up the entire encounter. I thought of screaming then, but if this was real the last thing I wanted to do was bring Michaela into this. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to her.

  “You are a daughter of Wendy, are you not?” I was derailed by his strange question.

  “No, my mother’s name is Mary.” I replied, baffled and yet compelled to answer. I really should have been planning my next move but I felt an unnatural calmness wash over me, like the events unfolding seemed strangely familiar to me. He looked thoughtful in that moment, as if carefully considering what I’d just said, but then he was instantly animated again as if something had occurred to him.

  “See I knew you were the right girl.” He proclaimed. “I’m quite sure Wendy’s mother was Mary too! Must be a family name.” He mused to himself. He was excited by my answer and came toward me, stepping into the puddle of light that was streaming in from the open bathroom door.

  Once I could see him clearly, I was struck by the oddity of his clothes. He was wearing tight, black pants, with worn holes in both knees, a sleeveless, woven tunic top in olive green that was cinched around his waist by a thick leather belt adorned with pouches and what looked like a knife, holstered on his left side. His arms were covered in tribal tattoos, accentuating his muscular shape— defined but not bulky. His face was handsome, and I was taken aback at my instant attraction to him. Yet more evidence that something was seriously wrong with me. I had an immediate, visceral attraction to a stalker that had broken into my house.

  When I didn’t respond, he looked at the ground as if he was thinking hard about something and ran his hand through his hair. The faint light caught on the auburn strands, leaving it looking tousled as if he’d just gotten out of bed. He looked up at me again, a cocky smile lit his face as he stepped so close to me that I could feel the heat from his body. He reached out toward me, and I froze. I couldn’t seem to make myself move, it was as if I was completely entranced by him. He grasped the acorn locket and rolled it between his fingers, staring at it thoughtfully.

  “If you are not a daughter of Wendy, then why do you have my kiss around your neck?” He asked, sounding rather smug in his deductions.

  “Do I know you?” I whispered. The situation continued to nag at me, as if I had heard this before, but my mind was still foggy with alcohol that I couldn’t seem to put two and two together.

  “Of course you know who I am. It’s me, Peter!”

  My brain made a leap of logic then that confirmed that I was completely mad.

  “Peter, as in Peter Pan?” I laughed a little at the ridiculous sound of my own words.

  “See, I knew the daughters of Wendy would never forget about me! Girls are too smart for forgetting.” He was still standing extraordinarily close to me, and I could feel myself blush at his playfulness. I couldn’t stop staring into his eyes. They were a dark umber, rich and earthy. They were deep and inquisitive, with a flicker of mischief.

  “You can’t be Peter Pan. You’re not a boy, and Peter Pan never grows up.” This bit of lore I knew for a fact, the stories always portrayed him as the cocky boy who refused to grow up. He scowled at this comment, apparently I had touched a nerve or poked a hole in his facade.

  “Don’t you know that nothing lasts forever, no matter how hard you wish it to be so?” He said this rather dejectedly as if he was still mourning his lost youth, but it only lasted for a moment before his cheeky little smile returned.

  “But you could be my ‘nothing’ if you wanted?”

  Oh my god. I couldn’t believe even Peter Pan wasn’t above a cheesy pick up line. Although it wasn’t the worst one I’d heard, it was actually kind of endearing.

  “So, are you ready, Daughter of Wendy?”

  “My name is Gwen and ready for what exactly?”

  “Well… to return to Neverland of course. It’s time for spring cleaning.”

  It was the words ‘spring cleaning’ that brought a particular section of the faerie tales from my youth rushing back to me. We had grown up with the recounting of Peter Pan’s epic adventures. But at the end of the story, Gram had said that Peter was supposed to come and take Wendy to Neverland for spring cleaning every year. But in typical Neverland fashion, Peter had soon forgotten and the visits had stopped altogether. She had always made mention that Wendy was a distant relative of ours, but I thought all grandmothers told their granddaughters that to make them feel special. I never thought that the stories were real. Who in their right mind would?

  Since I had no logical explanation as to what was happening, I settled on the notion that this was a dream. I decided that if my subconscious thought I needed an escape to Neverland with a grown and gorgeous Peter Pan, then I would indulge myself to the fullest.

  “I don’t know how to fly, Peter. Will you teach me?” I asked coquettishly, fully embracing the lucid dream. I felt his fingers brush mine and my skin f
elt hot where we touched.

  “It takes faith and trust. Do you believe in me, Gwen?” He asked softly. I found myself nodding even though the question seemed strange. He reached out and took my hand in his warm grasp. His touch shocked me, even my most vivid dreams had never felt this real. His hand was rough and calloused, but the gentle squeeze he gave me was reassuring.

  In a flash of movement he pulled me towards him. The unexpected momentum sent me stumbling forward and I fell into him. My palms planted firmly on his chest to steady myself. His strong arms caught me effortlessly. His frame was solid beneath my hands, the warmth of him radiating into me. I looked up into his face, a little sheepishly, to find him smiling down at me. He cupped my face in his hand and rubbed a fine dust on my cheekbone, all the while holding my stare. He moved forward as if he planned to kiss me but then whispered in my ear.

  “Think a happy thought, Gwen.” But all I could think about in that moment was him. With his arms still securely around me, we miraculously lifted into the air as though we were weightless. It was then that my overly stressed and still intoxicated mind threw in the towel and everything faded into darkness.

  I awoke to the sound of tinkling bells.

  “Lill! Don’t be rude.”

  “No! we are not going to sacrifice her!”

  “Stop! Lill, don’t touch her! She’s just here for spring cleaning.”

  I opened my eyes to find a tiny, glowing, buxom… faerie? My mind told me it wasn’t possible and yet she was hovering inches from my face. She wore what looked like a white lily blossom fashioned upside down and belted. The petals barely covered her ample thighs. Her platinum blonde hair styled in a high ponytail, like a luminescent pin-up with wings. Had I really just seen a faerie? Where was I? Was I lying in the grass? Did I really just fly to Neverland, with Peter fucking Pan? I was in a complete state of disbelief. Could this be, the infamous... Tinkerbell? The naughty little sprite I remembered from Gram’s stories.

  I slowly sat up, rubbed my hands down my face and tried to clear the confusion setting in. “Tinkerbell?” I asked.

  The tiny faerie huffed and put her hands on her hips. The sound of bells became louder, more rapid, as if filled with irritation.

  Peter laughed, catching my attention.

  “Where am I? Is this—”

  “This is Lilleybell, She’s our faerie. And this,” he smiled “this is Neverland. Lill calm down, this is my girl, Gwen, Daughter of Wendy.”

  Her expression immediately soured at the mention of ‘my girl’ and I was quickly met with a death glare, when he mentioned Wendy. It would appear as though Lilleybell was as jealous and sassy as her predecessor. Clearly she wasn’t thrilled to see me.

  “Lovely to meet you, Lill.” A touch of sarcasm in my voice.

  She quickly flew to Peter’s shoulder and tried to hide behind his ear. Peeking out, pretending to be coy, as she sized me up.

  “She doesn’t like that you called her Tinkerbell.”— He paused in thought— “Who is this Tinkerbell anyway?” He asked, turning his expression to Lill, who was now going off in a mad symphony of bells. “No Lill, I don’t have another faerie on the side. I swear.”

  Lilleybell flitted out from behind Peter's ear, mocking him as he spoke. She scrunched up her face in anger, and flew off leaving a puff of sparkling dust. I tried hard not to laugh at the little outburst. A smirk forming at the corner of my mouth.

  “Don’t worry about her, she’s just jealous. Lill likes to think she’s the only faerie I’ve ever had. Honestly… there have been quite a lot of them, it’s hard to remember them all. But she’ll be fine.” He shifted his focus back to me.

  I got the feeling he wanted to change the subject. Either he didn’t want to speak of Tink or he really did forget about her, just like the stories had suggested. I wondered what else he had forgotten over the years. Would I begin to forget, as time went on here?

  “Are you okay?” He asked as he looked me over, inspecting me for injuries. His hands and eyes washed up and down my body. Nervous energy made me very aware of our unspoken chemistry.

  “I’m fine. A little overwhelmed, to be honest. I did just wake up in another realm, world, dimension or whatever this place is, with a faerie hovering inches from my face. How? When?”

  Breathe, Gwen.

  The landscape around me started spinning. I pulled in a deep breath to center myself before continuing.

  “How long have I been out?”

  “You look like you’re going to pass out again. Take a breath.” He paused, giving me a moment. “We flew, don’t you remember?” He looked at me with concern. “I was showing you how to fly and you just went limp in my arms. Are you sure you’re alright? You passed out, more than once.”

  I smiled and nodded. My face blushed with embarrassment, but his concern was quite charming. “I’m perfectly fine Peter. I just need a minute.”

  He smiled, a weight lifting from his brow. “Well then, let me help you up.”

  It was then that I noticed I was still in my dumpy grey sweatpants. Thank god I’d chosen the crop top. I could only imagine what my hair and face looked like after the night I’d had. I must have been an utter mess. I quickly raked my fingers through my hair, pushing it back away from my face. I was still in my PJs. Clearly, that was proof that I was still dreaming. This had to be a dream. A very clear, vivid dream. I thought that maybe I should pinch myself, but I was worried that I might wake up before I had a chance to explore.

  I took a moment to look around. We appeared to be in a grassy meadow. There were wild flowers in the most alluring shades of violet. When the wind blew a wave of color would shift from indigo to fuchsia. There was a brilliance to the colors here, saturated and ethereal. This place was pure magic, pure beauty. The air smelled of fresh rain fall, clean and crisp. Off in the distance, trees were all around us, shrouding the rest of the landscape, successfully keeping all of Neverland’s secrets.

  “Come, let me show you where we live. There is a place I’d like to take you, where you can see all of Neverland.”

  “We?” I questioned, confused for a moment. But then I remembered the Lost Boys! How could I forget? “You mean the Lost Boys?” I asked, trying to hide my piqued interest. Had the Lost Boys grown up too? Were they as hot as Peter? Oh my god, was I stranded on an island full of hot Lost Boys? I had so many questions.

  “Well yes, I am Captain of the lost boys,” he said with cocky arrogance. “We live just through the trees there. Come on.” He waved his hand implying that I should walk with him. “You can meet the boys later. They’re likely out on an adventure, probably won’t be back until later,” —he smirked— “it’ll just be the two of us.” He bit his lip as he reached for my hand.

  His signals were not subtle. I had been getting little flirtations from him since the moment we met. Was I just picking up on cocky bad boy vibes, or did I leave him wanting? Maybe that’s just how he was? Direct, fearless. I could learn a thing from him. I think it was Aristotle who said ‘He who has overcome his fears will truly be free.’ Peter was the epitome of free. And now it was my turn to be fearless—free. What choice did I have but to follow him anyway? I was at his mercy. I took his hand and followed him blindly, into the forest. It was then that I knew I was in trouble, this boy mesmerized me.

  The camp was nestled amongst the treetop canopies. Sunshine poked through the leaves as they rustled in the breeze, in a dance of shadow and light. Swaying rope bridges and multi-level platforms connected the small wooden structures from tree to tree, allowing its inhabitants to remain high above the ground. I was awestruck. My mind was reeling, how was this possible? I was walking into a scene from a fairytale, holding Peter Pan’s hand. Faeries were flying all around us, leaving sparkling trails of glitter behind them. If you listened carefully, just beyond the bird song, you could hear the sound of ringing bells, faerie chatter. We were completely surrounded by nature.

  My mind clouded with thoughts of Mic. She would love this. I wished
she were here to share in the insanity that had clearly taken me over. Bearing the weight of this reality would have been much easier with my sister at my side. At least we would both be losing our minds together. I wondered how long I’d been away. But, if I was away, that would mean this was real. Was I ready to believe that? The truth was, I was getting closer. I wanted to believe.

  “Welcome to our home, Gwen.” His voice brought me back to the moment, as we approached a large oak in the center of the compound. Propped up against the massive trunk was a makeshift ladder leading up to a doorway carved into the side of the tree. Above the doorway was a weathered sign. Written in a youthful scratch were the words.

  Rulez

  1. Alwaze beleve in fariz

  2. Pirats R bad.

  3. Nevr evr grow up!!

  A reminder of years past. The days of Peter’s boyhood were gone. His physical form now that of a young man, and a gorgeous one at that.

  I followed his lead, up the ladder and through the doorway onto the labyrinth of suspension bridges. From up here, you could see hundreds of lanterns hanging from the branches above. Signs of Mother Nature trying to reclaim her land over the years, blended beautifully with the raw construction of the wooden houses. Vines wound around the rope railings of the bridges. Moss and evergreen covered the roof tops. There was a charm to the woodland camp, a welcoming warmth.

  “We have a crow’s nest, you know, a look out point. From up there you can see all of the island. Trust me, It’s definitely something you’ll want to see.”

  “How far up are we going? How big is Neverland anyway?”

  “Just big enough. Don’t worry, you’ll see. This way.” He nodded to the right.

  A left here, a right there, and we approached another makeshift ladder. This one climbed high into the treetops. The crow’s nest looked like it was plucked off a pirate ship and placed precariously onto the tree. I wondered, could this be from the infamous Hook’s Jolly Roger? Did Peter and the boys keep a souvenir after defeating the sinister pirate? The ornate railing was covered in moss suggesting it had been there for some time.