I sat on the crumbling bench and stared down at the round face topped by red hair that sprang in every direction which stared back at me from the mud puddle
I sat on the crumbling bench and stared down at the round face topped by red hair that sprang in every direction which stared back at me from the mud puddle. It was too dark to see the freckles that covered my chubby cheeks and crossed my nose. As a stiff breeze filled with rain blew through my jacket, I wondered how I'd ended up here.
My mum went away before I was old enough to remember anything about her. Went away was said in such a way that it could have meant anything from running away with a baker from Devon to having died. I had once made the mistake of asking my Father about her and found out in a violent manner that it was not a subject to be brought up. As far as I knew, my Father was the only living relative I had. There was no one else ever spoken about and no one ever came by.
My Father was a PC or police constable. He had a violent temper, loved alcohol and was sure that the world in general was against him in every way possible except for his mates on the force. He was equally sure that I was the cause of most of the problems he had, up to and including the fact he was never able to get promoted. For awhile I tried to do stuff that would make him proud of me. I figured if I could do that, maybe he'd like me and we'd become a real family or something. I slowly figured out that it didn't matter what I did, he'd always find an excuse to take his belt to me. I learned to make myself scarce when he was around and normally only ran into him on weekday mornings when I was forced to go to school.
I didn't have a whole lot of friends in school. I was 'suspect' to begin with because my Father was a copper.. Because of the verbal and physical stuff that went on, I'd never invite anyone to my flat. Add those things to the fact that I was fat and dressed funny and it wasn't hard to figure out why I was such a loner. It didn't bother me that much. In fact, there were a lot of times I preferred it just because it saved a lot of explaining. Weirdly, I did end up as someone who would give a sympathetic listen to anyone without telling what I'd heard or trying to dump all my problems on them. I'd have classmates come and tell me what was bothering them until they figured out what was going on and then they'd drift away until the next time they needed an ear. While it didn't get me a bunch of friends it also made sure no one picked on me either.
My life wasn't entirely bollixed up, though. There were a couple of places I did enjoy. One was the library. It was a massive building filled to the brim with every type of book imaginable. The council had put it up when there had been lots of money around. It had lots of cubbies and small rooms and back stairways. The money had gone and it was slowly falling apart while everyone argued what to do with it, but to me it was like the grandest castle. I love to read and spent hours in the main hall being 'someplace else'. One of the librarians noticed my interest in fantasy and used to let me know when a new title would arrive. This was the same person who paid me a couple of quid a week to come in and shift boxes of books in the basement and clean stuff up.
If the library was a castle, the basement was its throne room. It didn't look like a place where an HRH would sit, but it was full of treasure. The same people who couldn't figure out what to do with the library also weren't sure what to do with old books so they were all sent to the cavernous basement when they weren't circulated anymore. I was given the run of the place and spent many a rainy afternoon in a cross between searching for treasure and Boxing Day. The basement was a funny place, too. Whenever I was down there, I always felt like there was someone else in there or someone was watching me. Sometimes I'd see a flash of colour in the corner of my eye, but of course when I turned towards it, there was nothing to see. I guess most people would have figured it was their imagination, but I was pretty sure there was something there. The feeling was just too strong for there not to have been. Strangely enough it didn't bother me. I was pretty much a coward and something like that should have caused me to go running away, screaming. More than anything, this was a sort of reassuring thing. I mentioned it to the librarian once after worrying for about a month that if I did she'd think I was crazy and ban me for life. Instead all she did was give me a considering look and finally told me that every fey folk needed a home. It sounded promising, ,but that's all shed ever say about it. She'd always listen intently to what I thought I might have seen and my ideas on the matter but never volunteer anything else.
The second place I loved was a small wood about a mile from the flat. I had to cross a railway and make a terrifying journey through a cemetery to get to it, but it was worth it. The wood itself was impossible and shouldn't have existed. It was surrounded on all sides by industrial estates and the cemetery. I never saw anything there like litter or other such stuff to show that anyone else visited the place. Trying to zoom in on the location using Google on one of the library computers simply showed the industrial estates, even if I used the satellite image thing. I can't remember how I found the place and never told anyone about it because I was afraid that if I did, it would 'break' and I'd never find it again. The wood itself had to have been only a couple of acres, but I had spent whole days exploring it. There were trees perfect for climbing, a creek that ran through it which bubbled up from a spring and disappeared at the other end down a culvert, and a small pool that was always the perfect temperature and just big enough to float in and watch the clouds chase each other in the sky above. Every time I wandered there, there was always something new I discovered. Things as simple as a bird's nest to a cave that I swore hadn't been there the last time I visited. Sometimes I got the same feeling in the wood as I did in the library, but with a couple of differences. In the basement there was always the feeling of being watched, but in the wood there were times I knew I was all alone. Other times I felt the same reassuring type thing that I did in the library basement. A few times, though, there was something in the wood that terrified me to the point of panic. The first time I felt it, I vowed I would never go back. That resolution lasted less than two days and had me feeling miserable by the end of the first day. Since that time, whenever I felt it, I would just leave as quickly as I could while trying not to cry like a baby from being so scared.
The library and the wood helped me survive my life. They let me know that things might not have been as hopeless as they could have been and gave me something to look forward to both during the day when it seemed like the drone of the teacher was beyond bearing to the wee hours of the morning when I cowered on the floor huddled in a blanket wondering if I was going to get a thrashing for some imagined ill I had done. Then came the day I turned twelve.
Birthdays were definitely things I didn't celebrate for many reasons. I suffered through school on the day of my twelfth and then headed to the library. I spent most of the afternoon exploring the basement and reading a book on the pirates of the Spanish Main. The book tried to make it sound like the buccaneers led grand adventures and lived a life to be envious of. It seemed to gloss over the killings, looting and destruction they brought upon others. It was an interesting book in its way, but I had an irrational hatred of pirates. Not that one had to worry about any except those that copied movies and software in 21st century Britain.
Around 18.00 when it was almost time to leave, the librarian called me to her desk and presented me with a wrapped package. She wished me a 'happy birthday' which surprised me because I couldn't ever remember having mentioned that it was my birthday. She watched as I opened the parcel to reveal a copy of Peter Pan. The copy was in horrible condition with pages taped into it, a stained cover, and penciled notations throughout. I loved it because I could imagine the number of people who had read that copy.
"How'd you know I liked Peter Pan?" I asked her. "It's like my favourite book. This is so awesome. Thank you."
She gave me one of her intense looks, her blue eyes freezing me to the spot as she stared at me. "I've known a few boys who liked the story. And a story is just what it is, isn't it?" She continued to stare at me as if my answer were the most important thing she'd hear that day.
I thought about the question before answering. To me the answer was obvious, but it was a certainty that didn't seem to extend to very many other people. "It's a wonderful story about the most magical place ever," I finally ventured.
"So you believe in Neverland, do you?"
"Yes," I answered slowly. She continued staring at me, but it didn't have any mocking in it like I'd expect from most grown-ups. Feeling uncommonly brave I continued in a rush. "Every night when it's not cloudy, I look out my window to see if I can see the second star to the right and wish on it that I could somehow end up there. I even leave the window open half the time just… you know, in case Peter Pan might for some reason kind of decide that maybe he might kind of end up in Bradfordshire one night." I felt my face go hot as I confessed something I'd never ever told anyone before. I waited for the laughter I dared hope wouldn't come and was grateful when it didn't.
"Neverland might not be the way it is in the movies, you know. I would doubt that good always triumphs over pirates and there might be a few things of the fey variety that Sir Barrie didn't feel the need to put in his memoir even if he did know of them. You might find life in Britain a lot more comfortable than life in Neverland if that wish ever came true."
"Yeah, right," I said with a rueful laugh. "There's no way anyplace could be worse than some of the stuff I go through here. Well, not all of it. I love this place and you're really cool, but you know what I mean."
She nodded agreement in a solemn manner. There was still no hint of amusement on her face about this conversation and I was sure beyond a doubt that this was a completely serious conversation on both our parts. She opened her mouth as if to say something and then closed it and nodded once again and turned to her desk to lock some stuff up. I finished tidying up and in a few minutes we were both standing by the main door. She reached into the pocket of her coat and took out a couple of pound coins and dropped them in my hand. "Thanks. I've almost got enough now." I dropped the coins in my pocket. "For?" she asked. "I'm saving to get enough together so I can take the train to London and go to Kensington Gardens to see the Peter Pan statue. Maybe…"
"A fine undertaking," she said as we walked through the door and she locked it. "I wish you luck on your quest." I was a little disappointed because I was hoping she'd say more about Neverland. Instead she gave me a curt nod, bid me good evening and started walking down the high street. I turned to head for home when she called my name. "I think it would be for the best if you kept that book within grasp for the day," she nodded towards the copy of Peter Pan that I had clutched in my arm. "You never know when such a tome will become something you need." Before I asked what she meant, she disappeared in a crowd of walkers on the sidewalk.
I slowly wended my way home, leafing through my treasure and trying to avoid running into other pedestrians. When I finally got to the council estate, I took a careful look around. The immunity from bullying I'd somehow managed to get at school didn't extend here and I knew if I were caught by any of the older kids who hung out, the book would be the first thing destroyed. Surprisingly there wasn't a single soul on the playground or the sidewalks and I was able to walk to the flat without using one of the seemingly millions of detours I'd developed to get around trouble.
I guess it was the excitement of having the book to read, the fact that the day had gone pretty decently, the lack of having to be careful on my way home, and the rain that started falling heavily that got me in trouble. Normally I would have waited outside the door and listen to try and figure out if Father was home and if so, what sort of mood he was in. Aside from making sure that Peter Pan wasn't locked out in case he ever wandered by for a visit, I also left my window unlocked because there was more than one occasion I had climbed through it when using the front door wasn't recommended. 'Out of sight, out of mind' was much more than a cliché when it came to my Father. Tonight, I was beginning to get soaked and was worried about the book so I simply walked in without thinking about what might happen.
"And were might you have been?" a voice thundered as I closed the door. I thought about turning around and walking out, but he must have seen it because he crossed the room in a couple of strides, grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me farther inside. When he didn't say anything, but simply stood there looking at me and breathing heavily, I knew it was going to be bad. Very bad. "I asked you a question and I be damned expect an answer. Where have ye been?" This time he didn't yell or rage, but asked it in a very quiet voice that scared me almost as much as the thing in the wood.
"I was just out trying to do some odd jobs to make some to help out." He knew that I earned some money doing chores and things. He'd actually found the money I'd saved up and threatened to beat me if he ever found out that I had money I wasn't giving him. I held out the two quid. "H-Here," I quavered.
He struck my hand holding the coins with his other hand, causing them to fall to the floor. "Ya fat pig. I know ya been holding out on me. Probably got all sorts of coin grubbed away, don't ya? Well, there'll be a reckoning of that this evening along with everything else. Ya been getting away with too much of late and I intend to break you of it. And the very first thing you're going to tell me is where it is?"
"Where what is?" It seemed like the whole flat reeked of alcohol and I thought I was going to be sick from both that and fear. I'd only seen him like this once before and had the scar to remind myself of it.
"Don't hand me that. You know what 'it' is." He let go of the grip on my arm that would probably show purple tomorrow where he'd grabbed me. He started to undo his belt. It had a very large, very heavy buckle. "You tell me right now what you did with it or you'll be sorry you were ever born."
I perversely came close to saying that he was too late to cause that, but some wise thing inside forced me to hold my tongue. Instead I backed away a little. "I don't know what you mean. If you tell me, maybe I can look for it." The instant I said it, I knew I'd screwed up big time. Offering to look for it meant that I was implying he'd lost it. I backed away a little more, but he caught the movement this time.
"Don't you back away from me you big bloody coward." He pulled his belt off and lunged for me. I was lucky that he wasn't real steady on his feet. I'm pretty clumsy and normally he'd have been able to grab me. This time I managed to stay on my feet and he missed, falling against a couch. I ran to the door and fumbled with the knob trying to get it open as he regained his feet and came after me. I could hear him get closer, but in my panic I had managed to lock the door which hadn't been locked to begin with. I threw the bolt again, tore the door open and ran out. I wasn't quite fast enough. As my feet cleared the stoop, he must have swung the belt at me. There was an intense pain in the back of my head and stars exploded across my eyes. I fell over the bin skinning both my palms and my knees, but somehow managing to keep hold of my book. I crawled as fast as I could before regaining my feet and breaking into a stumbling run, almost overcorrecting and ending up on my face. Behind me I heard my Father screaming to the night that he'd kill me when I came back.
I ran through the estate trying to put as much distance between me and my Father as I could. I was pretty sure he wouldn't follow me, but I wasn't willing to bet on it. There was a group of older kids on the sidewalk in front of me, but I must have looked awful because they backed off giving me plenty of room to pass. I didn't pay any attention to where I was headed, but when I tripped over a metal rail, I figured my feet had decided to take me to the wood. I'd never been there at night and added the fear that the terror thing would be there to the other things I was currently worrying about. I slowly got up and started walking towards the cemetery. The rain was still pouring down and I was panting from the unaccustomed exercise and didn't hear the train until it thundered down the track behind me causing me to start running in fear again until I came to the low wall of the graveyard.
I almost lost my nerve there. The graveyard was a scary place during the full light of day. Most of the markers and gravestones were crumbling and stood at weird angles. The whole place was overgrown with grass and weeds. The place was broken up with trees whose limbs looked like the arms of monsters and never sprouted leaves, even in the middle of summer. They were not friendly trees and I always had the feeling if I ever tried to climb one the branches would slowly tear me apart. I stood there trying to peer through the darkness, but couldn't see anything except the wall in front of me. I think it was finally the train that forced me to go on. It continued thundering behind me and I had the sudden thought that it would never end and I'd always be stuck on this patch of land between the train and the graveyard wall if I didn't move.
I climbed to the top of the wall. It was made of rough stone and was only about thigh high on me. I stood on the top of it and looked down to the other side, but still couldn't see a thing. Finally I jumped knowing that there wouldn't be any ground on the other side and I'd fall forever. It didn't work out that way and I bit my tongue as my feet jarred on the ground. The rain didn't seem as loud on this side of the wall, which made no sense. My eyes must have gotten used to the darkness because I could see a little bit, but by no means clearly. Behind me the train finally ended and the night grew silent except for the rain and wind. Every fantasy tale I'd ever read where the hero entered crypt or graveyard and the horrible things that normally occurred came back to me in full detail. I stood there trying to decide if it would be better to run across as fast as I could to cross as quickly as possible and possibly break my neck by tripping over a marker or falling into a grave that the departed had left open when they had escaped as a zombie, or if it would be better to move slowly so I wouldn't be noticed even though it would take longer and give the trees a chance to sneak up behind me and play catch with my head after they tore it off my body. I decided on the latter and slowly made my way across the graveyard.
After forever, I finally reached the wall on the other side. I'd walked so slowly that both my legs had gotten cramps and somewhere in the town center I'd heard the clock toll the hour a few times. I climbed over the wall and looked at the wood and came close to breaking into tears. Instead of the wood, there was a street backed by warehouses and factories. Across from where I stood was a dilapidated bench with a bus stop sign. The wood was gone. I finally crossed the street and sat on the bench and cried.
I looked up from the puddle and felt the back of my head again. It was still throbbing and whenever I felt back there, my fingers came back all reddish. The book I still held must be ruined by now. There were red fingerprints on the cover and I was sure that it must be soaked inside. The wood was gone and I couldn't ever go back to the library because they would be looking for me. I wasn't quite sure who they were except for the fact I was sure they were all mates of my Father from the police force who would have been told to find me and do something with me. The more I thought about that, the more I became convinced that the best revenge would be for me to do something first. I'd kill myself and cheat 'they' out of the satisfaction of doing it. I slowly got up from the bench, staggering as my legs protested and a wave of dizziness washed over me. I crossed the street again and managed to climb over the stone wall. I took one last look behind me to make sure the wood hadn't appeared, but the street and warehouses stubbornly remained.
I don't remember a lot about crossing the graveyard the second time. I wasn't as concerned about man-eating trees or zombies or even vampires or mummies this time. I came to the other wall, climbed over it and started walking towards the tracks. I didn't know when the next train would be by, but figured it probably wouldn't be too long. I sat down next to the track instead of on it because for some reason it was real important that I not get run down by a train if I fell asleep. I'd wait here until I heard one and then move to the track.
At first I thought the green was from a tree, even though it was midwinter and none of the trees had any leaves on them. It took me a moment to figure out that what I was seeing was a figure dressed in green tunic, pants and some sort of shoes wearing a green hat with a bright red feather in it. That in itself would have been a bit unusual, but this person was sitting about two feet above me in midair and playing some sort of pipes. Even odder was that although it was the dead of night, I could see him clearly enough to see that he had pointed ears and was completely dry even though it was still pouring. For a second I wondered if I had accidentally fallen on the track in front of a train.
"Naw, you ain't dead," the figure said, taking the pipes from his mouth. "So you really want to kill yourself, huh?" I nodded wondering who this person was. He had a high pitched voice and looked as though he was slightly taller than me, although it was hard to tell with him 'sitting'. He was also a lot skinnier than I was and it hair was redder. He had a smile on his face that could have been mischievous, mean or friendly. His face was mostly in shadow, which made no sense at all, and a sort of very subtle, very dim reddish light seemed to glow behind his eyes. "Good thing you're here then. The express from Liverpool will be by at exactly midnight. You've only got twenty minutes to wait."
"Who are you?" I asked in a whisper. Something in my mind had suddenly clicked and part of my mind knew exactly who this elven figure was while another part of me went around clucking that I'd gone insane.
"Who am I?" he asked in surprise. "Why you know who I am. Every Lost Boy knows who I am. At least they'd better."
"But that's impossible," I whispered, more to myself than to the figure floating above me. "Isn't it?"
"Anything's possible with faith, trust and pixie dust. Of course you don't have to believe. You only have to wait eighteen minutes for the train and then you won't have to believe in anything." He started playing the pipes again, the song strange and mournful as it smothered the sound of the falling rain. "But you better decide soon."
"Decide what?" I was confused about everything and wondered how much of this was because my head was throbbing. There was a very large part of my muddled mind that was absolutely certain beyond doubt that the person floating in front of me was my hero. A tiny part of me was busy shouting as loud as it could that there was no way it was Peter Pan. Strangely enough it wasn't screaming it because it didn't believe, but because it simply wouldn't accept that Pan would be concerned about a fat kid in Bradfordshire no matter how much he wished upon stars.
"Why if you're going to be a Lost Boy of course." He gave me a suspicious look. "You do believe in Neverland, don't you?"
I got off the ground and walked over to where he was floating. "You mean me? You'd make me a Lost Boy? I can go to Neverland and meet the rest of the Lost Boys and go on adventures and see mermaids and Indians and, and…" I stopped, overwhelmed by the possibilities. I was so excited I started trembling."
"Oh sure," he said as if we were discussing a trip to Leeds. "You can be the lostest Lost Boy I bet. But ya gotta follow orders." The reddish light behind his eyes got just a tiny bit brighter and the smile on his face became sly. "Can you do that?"
I nodded my head up and down like an idiot. "Yeah. I can do that. I can do whatever you want. Promise. I can. I really will." I was beginning to babble.
"Are you sure?" he said, sounding unconvinced. "You'd have to fight pirates."
"I can do that."
"And wild animals."
"I can do that too."
"And maybe dragons."
"I can… Dragons? There aren't any dragons in Neverland. Uh, are there?"
"There are lots of things in Neverland. Dragons and elves and dwarves and mermaids. Good stuff and bad stuff. It's not all in the book, you know." He pointed to the book sitting on the ground where I left it. "And everyone there knows of Peter Pan." He rose into the air and crowed so loudly that I could hear the echo. That's what convinced the rest of me that it was truly Peter who was in front of me.
"I don't care," I said. "I'll fight anything if you take me to Neverland." I was beginning to plead and beg but didn't care. "Please take me with you. I'll do anything. I'll.. I'll even fight a dragon if you want."
The reddish light intensified a bit more as his expression became deadly serious. "If you make a promise like that you can never back out. You have to do it."
"I will, I promise."
The serious look turned mischievous for a moment. "Welllll… I dunno. You're pretty fat for a Lost Boy and you look really clumsy."
"But…" If there had been a train on the track at that moment, I'd have thrown myself in front of it.
"You don't look to brave either. Are you brave?"
I swallowed as disappointment started to flood me. There had never been any mention of qualifications to become a Lost Boy in any of the books or movies, just the possibility of having fallen out of a pram and not having anyone look for you. "No," I muttered quietly.
"Craven too." He shook his head as though that was the final straw. The mischievous look switched in an instant back to the deadly serious one. "Swear?" he asked.
Not knowing what else to do and having read it in what seemed like dozens of fantasy novels, I dropped down to one knew, bowed my head and said, "I swear." For an instant the rain stopped falling and the wind died. The world became deadly silent except for a small chiming sound after which the sounds of the night seemed to come crashing back to fill the void.
"Pretty posh, that. Now we have to get you to Neverland."
"Do I get to fly? With pixie dust and happy thoughts?"
"How else do you think you're going to get there?" He took a look around and pointed to a signal box that sat next to the railway line. "Climb up on top of that."
I walked over to the box that stood about as tall as I did. After a lot of slipping and false starts I managed to clumsily climb to the top of it and stood up. The top was slick and sloped so I had a hard time keeping my balance. Pan flew up next to me and nodded his approval. "Now for pixie dust."
"You mean Tinkerbell is here?" I asked excitedly, trying to look in all directions at once and almost losing my balance and tumbling off the box.
"Course not. She hates the rain. You sure don't know much, do you?" I was too excited to be upset by the rebuke and watched while he reached into his tunic and brought out a small bag. He reached in, took a pinch of something out of it and dropped it over my hair. There was a faint tingling feeling and the throb in my head got worse. "Now think of a happy thought and jump."
"You mean jump off the box?" I knew it was a dumb question, but I was scared to death of doing something wrong and ruining everything. He simply shook his head at my question and gestured for me to hurry up.
"You don't have to flap your arms, you're not a bird," he said in mild exasperation as I began flapping. "Just jump."
I closed my eyes, held my nose and thought of being a Lost Boy as I jumped as high as I could off the box. I was airborne! I opened my eyes and started yelling in excitement before I bellyflopped onto the ground, knocking the wind out of me and sending up a cascade of muddy water which covered me as it fell back to the ground.
"That's not right," Pan commented in all seriousness after he finished laughing. "Did you think of a happy thought? Sometimes it's hard for Lost Boys to come up with happy thoughts when they first become Lost Boys." I was a little surprised at the sadness that echoed from his voice when he said that. I assured him that I had a happy thought in mind. "Well something's wrong." He sounded vexed, but not at me. "What can the problem be?" I slowly climbed to my feet, muddy water streaming from my hair down my face. I tried wiping the mud off my clothes, but only succeeded in smearing it more. He stood there floating above me, deep in thought as he looked at me. "Wait a second, I bet I know." He drifted over to where I was standing and with his foot poked me in my stomach before laughing. "That's it. Climb back onto the box."
It took me longer to get up this time because of my mud covered hands. He told me that I'd better hurry because it was almost midnight and there was no turning back if midnight came and went and I wasn't flying yet. Once again I managed to get to the top of the box, although this time I stood in a crouch because I was afraid if I stood up all the way, I'd topple off. "I bet you're as heavy as Cubby was. It always took a lot of pixie dust to get him off the ground."
"Cubby?"
"Yeah. You look just like him. Red hair, goofy expression, clumsy," he took the bag of pixie dust and upended it over my head and moved a few feet away, "and heavy." This time the tingling sensation went from my head to my toes and the back of my head stopped throbbing. "Okay, jump." I stood there frozen, afraid that if I jumped I'd end up face first in the mud again. Somewhere there was the shriek of a train whistle. "C'mon, jump. You have to. You promised you'd obey my orders, remember?" I tried to jump, but my feet remained stubbornly rooted to the box. "Think happy thoughts," Peter said as he flew to where I was standing and shoved me in the back. I went flying several feet and… was floating.
"I'm flying, I'm flying!" I shouted to the sky. "Look at me, I'm flying." Next to me the train thundered down the track and I wondered if anyone was glancing out a window and seeing the newest Lost Boy floating next to the train before it vanished into the night. I moved my arms and legs as though I was swimming and discovered it didn't take much to move pretty quickly. "Peter, look. I'm flying, I'm really flying." I turned back to look at him and saw he had an indulgent grin on his face. I turned my head back just in time to run face first into a bunch of tree branches.
Peter gave me a few minutes to get some practice in before deciding it was time to head for Neverland. I still had a few problems, but thought I was doing okay. He led me south towards where London lay. "Wait a second," I suddenly yelled. "I forgot something. I need the book."
"Don't worry about it," Peter said unconcernedly. "It's not there anymore. It's gone where it needs to be."
"What do you mean?" I asked as we floated above sleeping villages and meadows.
He shrugged. "Wherever it has to be, there's where it is."
"You mean it's what led you to me or something like that?" He refused to answer but simply said that it was where it needed to be. I asked a few more times, but he ignored my questions until finally saying, "You sure do ask a lot of questions, Cubby."
"Cubby? Is that my Lost Boy name? Cubby?"
"Sure. You look just like him. Or was that Curly? Either way. You're Cubby." He did a couple of barrel rolls and sped up with me tagging behind him. I thought about being named Cubby and couldn't stop grinning. I thought it was perfect.
