II
Victoria ran her hands along the tombstones as she walked through the graveyard. She lowered herself on the stone bench, her book once again beside her. She picked it up, opening it to a random page.
"Wendy and John and Michael stood on tip-toe in the air to get their first sight of the island. Strange to say, they all recognized it at once, and until fear fell upon them they hailed it, not as something long dreamt of and seen at last, but as a familiar friend to whom they were returning home for the holidays-"
Footsteps interrupted Victoria as she slammed her book shut, hiding it behind her back.
"What're you reading?" a voice asked. Victoria looked up to find a pair of bright green colored eyes meeting her's levelly.
"Peter Pan," she said. Honestly, Peter Pan was about fifteen reading levels below hers, but to her it felt ageless.
The intruder nods, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned and walked away. His red hair shone in the sun, and Victoria could barely stifle a sharp gasp of surprise. This boy looked exactly like Peter.
"What's your name?" she voiced.
The boy turned, a mischievous smile playing at the corner of his lips. "You can call me Peter."
Victoria struggled to keep her expression impassive. "Last name?"
Peter turned, raising an eyebrow. "Do you want to know my address and phone number too?" Victoria flushed.
"Sorry."
Peter flashed a smile. "What do they call you?"
"Victoria," Victoria said. "Although sometimes my friends call me Tori, but I can't stand it."
"Okay then, Victoria," Peter said with another mischievous grin. "Here to visit someone, or here to enjoy the scenery?"
Victoria sighed. "Reading. It's quiet here."
"That is is," Peter noted.
"Are you new here?" Victoria asked.
"Yeah," Peter said. "I'll be going to seventh grade once the school opens back up."
Victoria frowned again. Peter seemed to be about her age, around twelve or thirteen. Around the age of Peter Pan.
"Why did the school close down anyway?" Peter asked. The question was harmless enough, but the mere scrutiny of his gaze unnerved her. For once he hadn't said anything about her face, which she appreciated, but this question could be only be tailed by one about the scar. Victoria's hand flew to said scar.
"There was a shooting," she said. Like a movie, the events of the previous month begin to flash before her eyes. But this movie had to be broken, because there wasn't any pause button, anyway to freeze the movie and escape it.
"I see," Peter said quietly. He sat next to Victoria on the bench, apparently quiet. Victoria exhaled a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding.
"I've got to go," she said apologetically. "I'll see you around."
"Bye," said Peter, still staring at the horizon.
...
The draft from the open window ruffled the curtains. The form drifted over the bed again, their gaze sharp and alert. It wasn't their time-not yet, but seeing as as the Other's passing effected them, it was past time for them to know. Victoria mutters something incoherent and turns in her sleep. The figure stares for a moment longer before turning and flying out the open window.
...