The nurse had left with the body, leaving Sophie in the house that she probably inherited. Sitting at a dusty vanity, Sophie stared at the sparkly substance that only filled half of a little glass bottle topped with a cork that was about the size of her palm. Pixie dust. It wouldn't hurt to try. But if she were going to Neverland, she'd have to gather some stuff. She got up off the stool by the vanity and picked up her messenger bag. In it was her ancient copy of Peter Pan, a pen and notebook, fifty dollars, a compact mirror, her cell phone and, hidden in a pocket, a switchblade knife she carried around just to scare muggers. There were many in NYC, but they were all cowards and didn't even carry real guns. A dull but shiny weapon would make them flee. She didn't know or care if she needed it, so she kept it in there, just for a rainy day. She left her suitcase and pea coat downstairs by the door and went down to retrieve it. From her suitcase she picked out a change of clothes—a plain dark blue T-shirt, a black sweater and a pair of jeans. She would be warm enough in the long dark blue skirt over leggings and combat boots and the black sweater she already wore, plus her coat. It was cold outside, and if it was so warm in Neverland that she had to shed a few layers, she would. But as someone who lived in the cold for most of her life, she was always cold. Back upstairs, she put her bag on her shoulder and then put on the pea coat. Then, she opened the window and felt a gentle breeze come in. Sophie took off the cork of the bottle and shrugged before spilling the glitter on her head. Now…what do I think about? she wondered. Anyone who had heard the story even once would know what to do, but perhaps not on the spot because she really didn't know. Sophie looked in the mirror and saw that the glitter had dissolved into her hair. She gasped a little and closed her eyes. She thought of Captain Hook and how gorgeous she imagined him to be. She imagined sailing away and doing whatever she damn well pleased whenever, considering she hadn't since she got into the Ph.D. program.
All that thinking made her bump her head. She opened her eyes and found herself off the floor, her head rubbing against the ceiling. Her mouth dropped and she leaned forward towards the window. "No freaking way," she muttered as she floated towards the open window. She went out the window and was able to close it from the outside. When it was closed, she turned away and saw the sunset behind Big Ben in the distance. Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning. Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning. She went as high as she possibly could to prevent being seen as a person flying and then followed the sun.
At first, she felt crazy—flying over London just under the clouds and way higher than the birds and going nowhere, until somehow the world got darker and she was breathing in outer space. Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning. Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning. Sophie shrugged and kept going, faster and faster by the second until the white spots against the black surface surrounding her disappeared and there was light reflecting from what she realized when she touched it, water. She lifted her head and found herself flying to a colorful, majestic island that could only be Neverland.
Sophie looked down as she flew closer to the land. The harbor at the edge of the island was bustling like the subways that would take her to the park on the rare weekday morning she didn't have any work to do in her later college days. Everyone in New York had places to go, stuff to do and it seemed there was nothing that could get them to delay whatever it is they were doing. She wondered if they were anything like the colorful characters that were seen back there, which perhaps wasn't enough of a happy thought because she began to fall from the sky. In an attempt to land safely, she tried to keep her legs apart and stand up straight, but she wound up falling on her back, the rough wood floor just missing her head. Luckily, she wasn't hurt and her glasses were intact, even though she couldn't make out the figure that stood above her. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them to see a man, bending down a little to offer his left hand. "Thanks," she muttered when she was back on her feet. She got a better look at the man and recognized him immediately. It was the eyes. A shade of blue that she had never seen anywhere before. The rest of him screamed pirate—the outfit, the handsomely rugged features—but the eyes she had seen in movies and imagined in stories, but now they were real. This was confirmed by the metal hanging out from his right sleeve. This was Captain James Hook, standing right in front of her, and she didn't know what was stopping her from releasing her inner fangirl that rarely came out even in private. She gave him a friendly smile like a mask hiding her excruciating nervousness and said, "Ah, uh, thanks. Uh, still getting this flying thing down."
"I see," he said. "You're not from around here, are you, Miss…"
"It's doctor," she said for the first time. She imagined her first time introducing herself as Dr. Sophie Taylor to someone she hadn't met would make her feel high and mighty. But she still felt like an ant compared to him, even though she wasn't any more than three inches shorter than he was. She held out her right hand, then realized he didn't have one to shake, so she switched it with her left. "Uh, Sophie Taylor, Ph.D…in literature, not medicine."
"Well, Dr. Taylor," he said, taking her hand in his heavily callused left hand. He flipped it so her palm was facing the floor and gently pressed his smooth lips against her knuckle. "It's a pleasure."
Her cheeks felt hot, which could only mean she was blushing as he released her hand from his gentle grip. "Uh, same to you, Captain Hook."
He raised an eyebrow a little. "You know my name?"
She pointed to his right hand, or hook, and nodded. "Yeah. Never met anyone who doesn't. Except…you're a character in a children's book."
"I knew that," he muttered. "But am I truly that famous?"
She nodded. "And…apparently, so is my father."
"Your father?" he repeated.
"Yeah," Sophie said. However, she didn't want to go into detail, fearing she'd run out of time. Or perhaps she was just too nervous to function. "I mean, my grandma thinks he's my father but I really don't know…I mean, I didn't think any of this existed."
Now he was absolutely befuddled. "You're Daphne Taylor's granddaughter, aren't you?"
Sophie nodded. "Yeah. Know anything?"
"Only that you have every reason to hate him," he said.
He knew, but she didn't care at the moment. "Yeah, that's why I'm here," she said. And then she realized how brash her decision to just go was. "I didn't really think this through. I guess…I just need to find him and…" she shrugged. "Kick his ass." She gave him a little smile. "Thanks for your help, Captain." She awkwardly saluted him and all she needed to do was think of the way he kissed her hand to send her shooting in the air like a rocket, and flying like a hawk when she was high enough.
