A/N: Hello! So, I just published Chapter 4 a couple minutes ago. I can't guarantee that I'll be able to get out chapter 5 as I'm not certain how things will go in the story atm (I have some of the later events planned out, but bridging to those events will be a slight struggle).
Anyway, for the few people that have taken the time to read my fanfiction, I just want to thank you profusely for reading and for your patience. I don't normally do this, but if you are enjoying the story or if you have some constructive criticisms, I would love it if you would write a review. The former shows me that I'm not the only one enjoying this passion project and the latter helps me greatly in becoming a better, more engaging writer as I still have a lot to learn.
Anyway, thanks for reading this extended author's note, and please enjoy chapter 5.
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"Now, who could tell me what 'hurlyburly' means in Macbeth?" Mr. Hook asked the class in a low growl. No one raised their hand, as at this point it was common knowledge that he already had an individual in mind to answer the question. His eyes locked on Margaret's, causing her to inwardly sigh before she stood up to answer the question. She waited patiently for Mr. Hook to allow himself enough of an absence of his ego to give her permission to speak instead of lavishing in the sound of his own voice. "…You have permission to speak," he said, after staring her down for a moment.
"The word 'hurlyburly', as used in Macbeth was a term meant to refer to a promotion of sorts," Margaret replied simply. She would have liked to delve further into the meaning of the word, its origins, along with controversies surrounding its nature. However, Mr. Hook only liked a brief and simplistic answer to the questions he asked, and as such Margaret had to inwardly flinch at all of the imperative missed information on the subject. She remained standing for a few more seconds, waiting for Mr. Hook to give her permission to sit down. Mr. Hook to writing down the definition on the board before giving her said permission.
"That was quite wordy, Ms. Darling, as everything that comes out of your mouth is. But it is correct, as always," he commented in a smug voice. Margaret stiffened her jaw in annoyance but made certain to not let it translate into her facial expression. Mr. Hook was always very touchy about any grumpy expressions or any other faces that even bordered one of anger or annoyance.
Most of the class at this point took to glancing at the clock that hung over the chalk board in the room. The hand couldn't have appeared to be moving any slower, as only 5 minutes were left in class. The energy became anxious as everyone hoped and prayed for class to end.
"While I wish we could have covered more of Macbeth, we will have to stop for the time being, as I have quizzes to hand back," he said in a threatening voice. Everyone stiffened up at the mention of their recent quiz over Hamlet. It was a particularly difficult quiz, and almost everyone was convinced that they had failed it. However, as quizzes were passed out, the faces of Margaret's classmates lit up in joy as nearly everyone appeared to have received a perfect score. Relief washed over Margaret for a brief while before Mr. Hook stopped by her desk, making a point of handing over her quiz. Upon seeing her score, Margaret's mouth fell open in shock.
0%
Margaret read and reread the score over and over again, unable to believe how badly she'd done. She quickly turned around and made a motion to the classmate behind for permission to compare their quizzes. Margaret compared the answers they had put, realizing that they had put the exact same answers down. But…how then could she have gotten nothing right?
Similar questions swam around in her head as she began to feel a slight edge of dizziness poke at her. Everyone else had received a 100 in the class. Why did she not get a 100?
Out of the blue, the bell tolled, marking the end of class. Margaret remained frozen in her seat as the rest of the class spilled out of the room as fast as they could, eager to leave Mr. Hook's domain. After another minute of remaining unmoving, Margaret shook her head before scrambling up from her seat and rushing out of class as Mr. Hook stared at her with a heated glare.
Margaret took about 10 steps down the hall, staring at the quiz paper intensely before stopping. She glanced back at the door to Mr. Hook's room in consideration. Could she even dare to do it?
She bit her lip nervously, glancing down at the quiz score. It taunted her with such a fire that Margaret struck a spark of determination within her. She confidently strode back to Mr. Hook's class, lightly knocking on the doorway. Mr. Hook was seated at his desk, with his feat up on it in a relaxed position. Upon her entrance, he glared at Margaret before removing his feet and staring at her.
"What do you want?" He asked in a low growl. Margaret pursed her lips before motioning for permission to speak. "Oh, stop it with the hieroglyphic hand motions, yes you can speak!" He spat.
"Mr. Hook…I came to ask you about my quiz grade," Margaret said in the most calming voice she could muster. She did her best to not hint at the fact that any error was made on his part, as she knew his ego wouldn't be able to handle it.
Suddenly, Mr. Hook's face broke into a…sinister grin. "Ah, yes, of course. I was expecting you."
Margaret felt her face turn pale at the sudden shift in Mr. Hook's demeanor. Despite him motioning for her to step into the room, Margaret felt highly reluctant to do so. Her brief hesitation seemed to infuriate Mr. Hook, who made a particularly wild and demanding gesture for her to step in. Against her best judgement, Margaret stepped into the room, being certain to remain as close to the doorway as possible without appearing rude.
"If you really are anxious about your grade, don't fret," Mr. Hook said from the back of the classroom as he poured what looked like rum into a shot glass. "You got a perfect score like everyone else. I just put that grade down as an excuse to speak with you."
The red flags that Margaret was gathering from her brief interaction with Mr. Hook nearly caused her to bolt out of the room immediately. However, she cleared her throat before daring to speak. "You could have just as easily wrote a note asking me to speak with you after class," Margaret said, daring to question his actions. He only smiled at her with that terrifying smile.
"Maybe, I could have, Ms. Darling. But I find that my methods are far more…effective, than others." Margaret stood still for a moment as she watched Mr. Hook drink a couple of shots of the rum quickly. She turned her head away in discomfort at the sight. "You see, Ms. Darling, I wonder if you truly recognize me at times. That flicker of recognition appears more often than you let on."
Margaret contorted her face into a look of confusion, completely vexed as to what he was saying. "Pardon, sir?"
Mr. Hook only looked over at her in annoyance. "Oh, don't toy with me. I know who you are, and you know who I am. You just don't want to believe it," he said, pounding down another shot.
Margaret felt herself subtly inch toward the door. "I beg your pardon, believe what?" She asked, attempting to draw attention away from the fact that she was about to bolt out of the room.
"I can't believe you have convinced yourself not to believe. But I guess that could be an advantage. After all Jane nearly helped me in my attempts at victory over Pan," he mused to himself, only confusing frightening Margaret more. Did he mean…Peter Pan? And her mother? No, it couldn't be. He was just saying random gibberish. Suddenly, Mr. Hook's head snapped over to look at Margaret. "What are you doing?" He asked, upon noticing Margaret's place near the door. Finding herself unable to speak, Margaret bolted out of the door with the pounding footsteps of Mr. Hook behind her. "COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE BITCH!" He yelled down the hallway. Margaret turned her head back to look at Mr. Hook, horrified.
"Oh my god somebody HELP ME!" She screamed down the hallway. "HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" Margaret screamed breathlessly as she continued to run for her life. Margaret weaved through the labyrinth of hallways, trying to throw Mr. Hook off. But, much to her terror, he managed to continue following Margaret. Margaret made a sharp left turn toward the main hallway, only to run into a person at full force.
"I'm so sorry! Oh god, please help me! He's chasing after me!" Margaret cried in a horrified shriek. She had yet to glance at the figure she had run into in the momentary shock she felt. However, when she looked up, she scrambled away in fear as she saw Mr. Hook arrive next to the person she collided into: a short, plump man with a white beard and glasses.
"GET HER MR. SMEE!" Mr. Hook barked. The man, who Margaret now knew to be Mr. Smee, immediately grabbed hold of her arms in conjunction with Mr. Hook. The two of them together hoisted Margaret off of the ground, who at this point was kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs. Mr. Smee managed to grab a bag out of his pocket, which he quickly shoved over Margaret's head, muffling her screams slightly.
"NO! LET ME GO YOU BASTARDS! I SAID LET ME GO, PLEASE!" Margaret screamed as they carried her away from the main entrance.
"She'll only be trouble, Smee. We need to dispose of her," Mr. Hook growled.
"B-but Cap'n, Pan knows about the g-girl," Smee stuttered.
"Does that make any difference?!" He snapped back.
"P-Pan might try to save the girl," Smee tried to explain.
"Well, then that'll allow us to finally capture him! Now stop stuttering you old fool and help me dispose of her!" Hook ordered in a demanding voice.
All the while, Margaret screamed and yelled as loud as she could, hoping desperately that she would catch the attention of one of the school staff. However, no such luck was on her side. As soon enough they were on the second floor of the school in one of the empty classrooms. They quickly bound Margaret to a chair, with the bag still over her head. Margaret tried her best not to tremble as to not show the overwhelming fear that she felt. She felt them carry her away from the place she was, and based on the dialogue between Hook and Smee she surmised they planned on throwing her out of a window. Margaret frantically struggled against the rope that kept her bound to the chair, even attempting to untie the ropes. However, she was too tightly bound to be able to escape.
"On three, we toss her out," Hook said. Smee nodded at the command, readying himself to do so.
"Three…Two…"
"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!" Margaret screamed.
"What is it you little brat?!" Hook demanded.
"If you're going to throw me off can you at least take the bag off?" Margaret asked desperately. "They might be able to trace the bag back to you if I'm dead," she reasoned to the best of her ability.
Hook and Smee paused for a moment, before Hook roughly yanked off the bag. Without warning, Hook began the countdown again.
"Three…Two…"
"WAIT!" Margaret shouted again. Hook looked angry enough to slit her throat at that moment. "Please, if you're going to kill me can you at least not keep me tied to the chair? It will be easier to hide my body if you do," Margaret explained. In all honesty it was just a nonsense point of reasoning, but she would do anything to delay her death and increase her chance of escape.
Hook looked completely unwilling to give in to the suggestion, however, Smee gingerly began to untie the knots. Hook glared at Smee for a moment before partaking in the same process, the both of them grabbing her firmly by the arms.
"On my command, for the FINAL TIME! THREE…TWO…ONE!" Margaret was thrown out of the window from the second floor of Grim Prep. She screamed bloody murder as she went through her descent, feeling her the air whip past her and her dress. Margaret watched in horror as the ground quickly became all too large. In what she knew would be her last moments, she closed her eyes in acceptance of her fate.
She felt herself crash against something hard. Margaret felt herself take a sharp inhale, but there wasn't any pain. Hesitantly, Margaret felt herself open her eyes, only to see that the ground appeared small. In disbelief she craned her head up to see that she was being carried in the arms of a…boy? Her arms were wrapped around his neck, with his own arms carrying the rest of her body.
"I've got you. You're safe," the boy said upon seeing the frantic expression on Margaret's face. In her shock, she found herself unable to speak completely. The boy had red hair and stunning eyes, all capped off with a…strangely familiar green hat. Margaret's trance was broken a loud boom sounded from behind them.
"Hold on!" The boy shouted. Margaret hung onto him tighter as the boy began to rocket forward. It wasn't until Margaret looked down that she realized they were…flying?!
A cannonball flew past the two of them as the boy continued to fly at an increasingly faster speed. Margaret began to take in heavy and shaky breaths as the overwhelming reality of what was going on slammed into her.
"What the hell is going on?!" Margaret demanded as another cannonball flew past them. "Who are you?"
The boy's head snapped down to her upon hearing those questions. "Wendy, don't you remember me?" He asked, stopping in the air.
Margaret shook her head with her mouth agape. "I'm not WenDY—WATCH OUT!" She screamed midsentence as a cannonball flew right at the pair. That was when she saw the pirate ship hovering over Grim Prep ominously, the source of all of the cannonballs. The boy resumed his lightspeed flight toward nowhere, as Margaret clung onto him for dear life, wondering what the hell was going.