Flynn and I had just hopped a ferry out of Dublin and just in the nick of
time. The constable from Meath had just stepped onto the platform, just as
we dove out of sight. Sure we've got a reputation and are wanted by the
police, but hell I'm hardly fifteen and Flynn's twelve. I know you're
thinking, rough childhood, maybe drugs, but you'd be wrong. Flynn and I
haven't known a parent except for that nice girl up in Belfast, but she was
only a year older than me. We've probably been in every orphanage in
Ireland, including the north. My pickpocket habit started when I was
seven, I had nothing better to do, so I collected enough to get me out of
Cork so that I could hitchhike my way to Kilkenny. I got picked up again
when I was nine in Inishcrone, I spent a year there and made friends with
Flynn, who was already a fine pickpocket by then. We got a fiver apiece
and hit it out of there, making our way to Belfast.
Our latest venture had sent us to Meath, where the local constable had spotted us in town after looking over his handbills. In order to outdo him we booked it to Dublin and caught the first ferry to England, going to Liverpool. "Our life here will be different," I told Flynn playing with his mop of curly red hair.
He peered at me with those green as grass eyes and searched my face, "Really Dan?" He asked.
"Definitely, I'll find us a decent family to work for, but no stealing, and only when I tell you."
He nodded.
As much as I had hated Ireland, I couldn't help but look back at it. It had been the only home I had known, living in those green fields, and watching the stars as I lay peacefully in the grass.
Eventually Flynn pulled me to the front of the ferry so that we could watch as England approached. We unloaded and Flynn followed my lead as we set out for London. The trek took up a good part of the day and we reached London just as the sun was setting, and the daylight seemed to recede a lot faster. In a part of Old London we came across some old abandoned townhouses, regal in their day, but now, sad and desolate. The streets were deserted which was a good thing, I wasn't one to hold too much company. Weaving up and down the back alleys Flynn and I came across a beautiful house, made entirely of stone, and covered in ivy. It was in poor shape, but there was a balcony on the side we looked at and the crumbling brick provided us with multiple footholds. We scaled the wall and climbed onto the balcony and then I boosted Flynn onto the sloped roof chest-high, just above us. I pulled myself up and laid down an army blanket over Flynn. Then I laid beside him, looking at the stars and smoke, sleep had not yet caught up to me.
"Dan?" He asked.
"Yeah?" I replied.
"Tell me a story."
I grinned, sure I was a bad kid, but I had a great imagination, and told great stories, "Any one in particular?"
"One with adventure," Flynn replied stretching then placed his hands behind his head, looking up at the sky like I was doing.
"Alright," I agreed, "a story like that calls for Peter Pan."
Flynn closed his eyes to imagine the story and grinned, he loved Peter Pan, and though he was English, I loved to tell about him.
"Now do you know about Peter Pan?"
"Duh," Flynn told me opening one eye and peering at me as though I was daft. "Tell me anyway."
"Okay," I got comfortable and started, "Peter Pan is a bright English lad, that looks a lot like you-he lives in Never Land where he hardly ever ages and fights the likes of Captain Hook and plays with the Indians, and the Mermaids and Lost Boys--" I then went on to tell him how one day Hook captured Tinkerbell and Pan had to fight Hook to win her back, it was a long story and near the end I was struggling to stay awake.
I was nearly asleep when Flynn shook me gently and asked me in a timid voice, "Dan?"
"Aye?" I asked fatigued.
"What does Pan look like again?"
"He looks kind of like you-grassy green eyes, almost taller than me I suppose, probably looks about sixteen or so, with a mop of brown hair instead of that red stuff you got-why?"
"Um," Flynn sounded scared and I was startled but too tired to care.
"Come on Flynn, I'm tired," I complained.
"I liked your story," a foreign voice added coming from the other side of Flynn, and sounding English. I sat up instantly and brandished a knife. "Easy there," continued the voice, though I couldn't see who was speaking just yet.
"Flynn?" I asked getting to my feet.
"Yeah?" Flynn rolled over to look at me.
A tall boy, barely older than I was rose to meet me. In the light of the moon above I could see he had a mop of brown curly hair, like Flynn's and grassy green eyes just like Peter Pan. He was even wearing what looked to be deerskin breeches and a green tunic, with a belt knife and scabbard.
I knew this kid was sizing me up as well. I had a bob of black hair, thick like a horse's tail, but always kept short for travel reasons. I was just as tan and muscular as the kid who stood before me, and tall too.
Our latest venture had sent us to Meath, where the local constable had spotted us in town after looking over his handbills. In order to outdo him we booked it to Dublin and caught the first ferry to England, going to Liverpool. "Our life here will be different," I told Flynn playing with his mop of curly red hair.
He peered at me with those green as grass eyes and searched my face, "Really Dan?" He asked.
"Definitely, I'll find us a decent family to work for, but no stealing, and only when I tell you."
He nodded.
As much as I had hated Ireland, I couldn't help but look back at it. It had been the only home I had known, living in those green fields, and watching the stars as I lay peacefully in the grass.
Eventually Flynn pulled me to the front of the ferry so that we could watch as England approached. We unloaded and Flynn followed my lead as we set out for London. The trek took up a good part of the day and we reached London just as the sun was setting, and the daylight seemed to recede a lot faster. In a part of Old London we came across some old abandoned townhouses, regal in their day, but now, sad and desolate. The streets were deserted which was a good thing, I wasn't one to hold too much company. Weaving up and down the back alleys Flynn and I came across a beautiful house, made entirely of stone, and covered in ivy. It was in poor shape, but there was a balcony on the side we looked at and the crumbling brick provided us with multiple footholds. We scaled the wall and climbed onto the balcony and then I boosted Flynn onto the sloped roof chest-high, just above us. I pulled myself up and laid down an army blanket over Flynn. Then I laid beside him, looking at the stars and smoke, sleep had not yet caught up to me.
"Dan?" He asked.
"Yeah?" I replied.
"Tell me a story."
I grinned, sure I was a bad kid, but I had a great imagination, and told great stories, "Any one in particular?"
"One with adventure," Flynn replied stretching then placed his hands behind his head, looking up at the sky like I was doing.
"Alright," I agreed, "a story like that calls for Peter Pan."
Flynn closed his eyes to imagine the story and grinned, he loved Peter Pan, and though he was English, I loved to tell about him.
"Now do you know about Peter Pan?"
"Duh," Flynn told me opening one eye and peering at me as though I was daft. "Tell me anyway."
"Okay," I got comfortable and started, "Peter Pan is a bright English lad, that looks a lot like you-he lives in Never Land where he hardly ever ages and fights the likes of Captain Hook and plays with the Indians, and the Mermaids and Lost Boys--" I then went on to tell him how one day Hook captured Tinkerbell and Pan had to fight Hook to win her back, it was a long story and near the end I was struggling to stay awake.
I was nearly asleep when Flynn shook me gently and asked me in a timid voice, "Dan?"
"Aye?" I asked fatigued.
"What does Pan look like again?"
"He looks kind of like you-grassy green eyes, almost taller than me I suppose, probably looks about sixteen or so, with a mop of brown hair instead of that red stuff you got-why?"
"Um," Flynn sounded scared and I was startled but too tired to care.
"Come on Flynn, I'm tired," I complained.
"I liked your story," a foreign voice added coming from the other side of Flynn, and sounding English. I sat up instantly and brandished a knife. "Easy there," continued the voice, though I couldn't see who was speaking just yet.
"Flynn?" I asked getting to my feet.
"Yeah?" Flynn rolled over to look at me.
A tall boy, barely older than I was rose to meet me. In the light of the moon above I could see he had a mop of brown curly hair, like Flynn's and grassy green eyes just like Peter Pan. He was even wearing what looked to be deerskin breeches and a green tunic, with a belt knife and scabbard.
I knew this kid was sizing me up as well. I had a bob of black hair, thick like a horse's tail, but always kept short for travel reasons. I was just as tan and muscular as the kid who stood before me, and tall too.