I didn't get much sleep as a teenager. Correction: I don't get a lot of sleep, period. As tempting as it is to sink into numerous thick blankets and let unconsciousness consume me, I saw no appeal in sleeping. I didn't dream often, and when I did, they were vivid and less than pleasant. Thus, no matter how many, or how few, hours of rest I managed to get were insufficient and even more exhausting than not catching any shut-eye at all. It took all but 5 cups of caffeine-related beverages to keep me functioning throughout the long day.
Needless to say, I didn't exactly like doing anything that expended more energy than necessary. That included exercise. Unfortunately for me, though, if I wanted to have even a 2% chance at surviving a day – let alone any longer than that – in the theoretical Neverland I'd thought up, I needed to work out. To put my hypothesis into simple terms: I expected the absolute worst. I expected to run into lions, tigers, bears, demons, ghosts, the Loch Ness Monster, and my 6th grade choir teacher. To prove how low my expectations were, I didn't even 100% expect to find Cole or Georgie there.
So I was negative and tired. What did I have going for me? Very little, thank you very much. Let's tally up my advantages, shall we? #1: The element of surprise. While I took into great consideration that whomever, or whatever, I was going to face had seen right through me, I liked to think that they wouldn't know I was heading for them at least for a little while. If possible, I wanted to avoid violence all together and stealth my way out of that hellhole. Likely, though, I'd trip on a branch and knock over a tree before I could get more than a few feet from my initial landing point. Again, I was preparing for the worst.
#2: The fact that I looked way less impressive than I really was. Let's be honest, here. I'm 17 years old, 5"1, and still manage to look old enough to drink. I was too worn out and hopeless to be any younger than that. Any energy I managed to scrounge from within myself was condensed into a little puddle of aggression in the pit of my stomach. If I really needed to get somewhere fast, I would rely on the adrenaline and will to live to get me through. Out of anyone else I knew, I looked the least threatening. What a wonderful façade I'd managed to put on.
#3: My own cynicism. I didn't trust most people as far as I could throw them – which wasn't far at all. There's a 99.9% chance that I wouldn't fall prey to some shitty lie that some dick would come up with to lead me astray. Sadly, this point backfires on me greatly. I've been known to overthink things. A simple sentence could easily be transformed into a clusterfuck of hidden messages in a matter of sentences. Were people bluffing? Double bluffing? Triple bluffing? Quadruple bluffing? Was I crazy? Do we all see the same colors as each other? What is the origin of life? What does my existence mean?
#4: Finally, my insane improvisational skills. That's right, I make bullshit plans. My brain works much more efficiently when I have 2 pages of homework, 3 minutes to do it, and a broken mechanical pencil to do it with. It helps my problem solving abilities when I know that I'm screwed if I can't reach a certain objective. I'd like to see you get out of a two-day suspension when it was clearly your fault. I will say that I cried in the bathroom for a good ten minutes after I lied through the enamel of my teeth to the principal. All in all, I have absolutely fucking nothing going for me against the Neverland folk – I'm screwed.
That's where Jacky and Steven come in. They're good at everything I'm not good at and have more experience under their belts than I imagine I have. Jacky was 22, and very stereotypically tomboyish. She had a messy head of light brown, curly hair sitting atop her head, and very nearly every square inch of her arms was littered with tattoos. I thought she was cool, but she thought she was cooler. That is, cooler than everyone else she knew. With an ego the size of Texas, she reigned as the morale booster of our little band of Kamikaze rescuers.
Steven was just a tool-supplier, really. He was 63 and excelled at seemingly everything, magic or not. Half the time, my brain couldn't even minutely compute the things he could do. Where did he even get all this stuff? Only God can tell. From weapons, to potions, to tailoring, he was the jack of all trades. Jacky and I did all of our training at his run-down old cabin out in the mountains. Steven was that crazy uncle you couldn't help but think was awesome. If any of us were negative, though, it was definitely him. Paranoid, too – he was convinced that the Neverland mission was suicide. Which, to be fair, I had no doubt that it was a quick trip to kicking the bucket, but that didn't especially matter to me at this point.
I spent 5 years training with those two dorks to get to the point I am at now. What is that point, you might ask?
"I'm ready as I'll ever be," I spat out quickly, feeling the carbs in my stomach churning uncomfortably. Crossing my arms tightly, I tried to close off the topic of how 'ready' I was. It had been nearly 6 years since two of the most important people in my life had been dragged away from me, and they shouldn't have to wait any longer. That is, given that they aren't dead already.
Steven glared in my direction, running a hand through his gray hair. "You goddamn kids… Fine, whatever, you don't need to tell this old man what's wrong. We all know you two are scared shitless."
Jacky's foolish confidence rarely went unnoticed, but this was one of those seldom-seen times of somewhat-genuine fear. "So what? It's too late by now, dude. We've come too far to give up now!" A poorly-manicured finger poked at the bedraggled old man's chest, her dark skin greatly contrasting with his white shirt.
He threw up his hands in surrender, "Again, whatever. We're gonna start packing now, so pay close attention, dammit." Arguing with Steven wasn't a good plan if you didn't choose your words carefully, so my Latino friend and I grabbed our bags quietly.
After nearly 20 minutes of rummaging through Steven's stash of stuff, we managed to find the things he was looking for. He tossed a fist-sized paper box around in his hands, and Jacky eyed it questioningly. "This is a storage cube. You can fit a maximum of 10 items in it, and it will never get any heavier than the paper it's made of," Steven droned, his voice clear and his words enunciated.
I stared at the paper box, mystified. "Won't it get crushed, though? It's just paper…" It didn't seem like a stupid question at the time, honestly.
"Don't ask such idiotic questions, Mel! It's not gonna get crushed, just trust him," Jacky cackled in my ear. I grimaced to myself, taking two cubes for myself.
"You've got all your weapons, your extra clothes, your miscellaneous items?" The old man questioned exasperatedly, going down various checklists while we confirmed or denied having them in our packs, "Good, got the alcohol?" I nodded affirmatively, though still confused as to its usefulness. Steven must have seen my mystified expression, because he rolled his eyes at me before continuing, "Trust me, you'll need it."
It had been painfully obvious that he didn't even want to train us at all, but Jacky and I were adamant about going to Neverland. The first time we'd heard of a man who knew of magic, we hunted him down ruthlessly, trying anything and everything we could to get the proper guidance we so seriously needed. He eventually conceded, deciding he'd rather know we left fully prepared for anything than as the foolish dumbasses we were 5 years ago – not that we weren't still fools.
"I suppose this is goodbye, then… It seems like we're not prepared at all." I breathed, partially in relief that the long wait was over, and partially because I was having last-minute thoughts.
Jacky didn't have these qualms. "I don't know, dude, I've been so ready for years. My nephew is out in that hellhole!" I suppose we all had reasons for even wanting to touch Neverland, but she voiced hers more openly than I or Steven did. Yeah, even poor old Steve lost people to the Shadow. He hadn't seen his grandson for over 8 years.
In all honesty, I think if the geezer was younger, he'd be rearing to go. That's the tragedy of age, I guess. Everyone will ultimately lose the ability to do the things they love to do, and he was getting closer and closer every day.
"You guys be careful out there… I don't want your blood on my hands," Steven grumbled, closer to sincere than I think he'd ever been before. The bags under his eyes seemed to darken and his age suddenly became much more evident. He was afraid for us – even Jacky wasn't too ignorant not to see this.
The rambunctious girl wrapped her arms tightly around the old man, and she cooed jokingly, "Aw, he really does care about us!"
Steven patted her head patronizingly and cast me a long glance, "You take care of Jacky now, Melinda. She needs your guidance – I don't care if she's older than you." He ignored her gasps of mock offense from the older girl, and I exchanged my goodbyes with our favorite geezer.
I didn't sleep well that night, not that that's anything new.
"How can I sleep if I don't have dreams? I just have nightmares." – The Neighborhood: Staying Up
AN: Hahaha. Probably the quickest update I've ever managed to put out. Hell, I may have another one later this evening, actually. I'm on fire! Anyways, thanks to CharChlo, SweetMoonPrincess, Msballetdiva, and Lady Cocoa for reviewing! TTFN, ta ta for now.