Chapter 5: You Better Watch Out

"Happy Christmas Rapunzel! Happy Christmas Ms. Gothel! Oh Happy Christmas little Tritons! Happy Christmas Admiral! Happy Christmas Naveen! Happy Christmas Mr. and Mrs. Maldonia! All righty children – play nicely on the playground until your parents arrive! Almost time for Christmas vacation!"

Cobra Bubbles touched his earpiece. He murmured into his wrist microphone. "Stiletto. Come in Stiletto. Over."

"Hello!" Mistress Minnie's sang over the connection. Mr. Bubbles flinched. Someday - her falsetto was going to blow the system. "This is Stiletto to Juicy Fruit. Over."

A vein twitched in Mr. Bubble's temple.

Juicy Fruit. Bubble gum. Cobra Bubbles. Hilarious.

"Your microphone's picking up everything, Stiletto." Mr. Bubbles leaned back. He scanned the playground. "Could you bring down the volume? Hard enough to hear you without the background noise."

The earpiece crackled. Mistress Minnie was laughing. "Mr. Bubbles – "

"—it's Juicy Fruit. Stick with the espionage speech."

Mistress Minnie laughed again. "All righty, Juicy Fruit." she replied, clearly occupied with students. "I'm sorry for the background noise. But they can't help it – they're children! And it's almost Christmas! Children have to laugh, and run, and play – "

"—I didn't."

"- I can imagine."

"Just lower the volume, Stiletto." Mr. Bubbles said. His lip curled, distastefully. "Please. Working two jobs here. Need both ears."

The earpiece buzzed. The effervescence in Mistress Minnie's voice flattened. "How is she?"

Mr. Bubbles glanced. His head didn't move, but the mirrors behind his sunglasses revolved, focusing on the little girl sitting beside him.

"Bluebird's still not singing." he curtly replied. "Commencing operation Nice Guy."

Minnie tsked. "Mr. Bubbles! You are a guidance counselor!" she scolded. "A social worker! A school psychologist! So try to remember that she is not a target suspect! She is a little girl in need of a friend!"

Mr. Bubbles raised an eyebrow. "Over and out." he said, killing the channel.

Mice he thought. Overemotional.

Discretely twisting the earbud, Mr. Bubbles turned to the little girl.

And he commenced operation Nice Guy.

Mr. Bubbles tilted his head, scanning the girl. Encrypted script scrolled across the inner lens of his sunglasses. He read silently.

Subject: Wendy M. A. Darling.

Species: Homo sapien

Gender: Female

Age: 10 years, 3 months. Minor.

Residency: Towne (Division), Center-Point (Sector), Fantasia (Country), Gaia (Planet).

Occupation: Elementary Student, Fantasia School for the Magical Skewed.

Weapon Status: Unarmed.

Objective: Apprehend suspect and interrogate for psychological distress and emotional suppression 9 days post death mother, Mary G. Darling. Activate grieving process.

"Subject apprehended. Identification verified." Mr. Bubbles muttered, tapping the frames. A recorder blinked as Wendy turned. "Commence interrogation."

Mr. Bubbles turned. Crossing his legs and folding his hands, he regarded Wendy in the kindest, fluffiest way he knew how.

"Talk. Today's the day. Let's go."

Wendy stared. Feet dangling, she traced indiscriminate lines in the snow. "Talk about what?"

Mr. Bubbles squeezed his hands. His knuckles cracked. Children: so frustrating.

"Your feelings." Mr. Bubbles said. He studied Wendy through the black lenses. "Been a couple sessions with you, and me, and the silence. So let's invite Mrs. Talk and Mr. Emotion to the party."

Wendy's paused. A dab of snow spotted her slipper. "You don't sound like a guidance counselor."

"It's a day job." Mr. Bubbles replied without skipping a beat. "Cover. Headmaster's orders. Over your head. But don't change the subject – let's talk about you. Ten years old – three months. Lots of children running around. Almost Christmas. Big playground." Fluidly, Mr. Bubbles pointed. He nodded at Wendy's classmates. They were running around in crazy reindeer games, waiting for their parents. "Why not join? Looks like fun."

Wendy bit her lip. Suddenly, her eyes snapped, following a boy pumping on the swings. The boy grinned. She looked away. Silently, she stared into the snow.

Mr. Bubbles considered. Then, straightening his leather gloves, he sighed.

"Wendy…it's unhealthy to keep it all in. It's okay to cry."

Wendy did not answer.

Mr. Bubbles gazed. Then, realizing it was time to bite the bullet, he rose.

"I'll wait until your father comes." he said, walking away. "Happy Christmas Wendy."

Wendy stared at her snow tracings. Messy. Random. Chaotic. "Happy Christmas." she whispered, looking into the sky.

"Hey! Girl!"

Two green sneakers and a fiery red head flashed across her vision. Wendy blinked, watching the boy on the swing. The boy smiled a half crooked smile. Transfixed, Wendy watched the boy climb. Pumping his legs and throwing back his head, he swung higher…and higher…and higher…and higher…

…and then, crowing like a rooster, he jumped!

Wendy gasped. For a second, one split second, as she watched the boy fly through the winter air, she forgot.

"GOTCHA!"

Wendy turned. BAM! Without warning, someone tackled her full throttle. Wendy slammed onto her back, snow splattering into her eyes. She tried to roll. But the attacker seized both wrists and sat on her chest.

"Oh!" Wendy gasped, breath punched from her lungs. Shaking away snow, she looked desperately at the person on top of her.

"You?!"

It was the boy. The boy from the cliff. The boy she'd caught crying. They boy that she'd…

"Hey!" Someone was yelling. "Hey! Let her go you codfish!"

The boy turned. The snow reflected against a black eye and purple cheek. Growling in frustration, he returned to Wendy. Suddenly, he released one wrist

Wendy twisted to the side and grabbed with her free hand. The boy reacted quickly, squeezing his knees against her ribcage and preventing escape. Certain his motives were vengeful and terrified of what the boy would do to her, Wendy kicked and pulled until the boy clamped his elbow over her collar bone. Then, from his pocket, he whipped out a wrench.

Wendy's eyes widened. She struggled, but the boy was stronger. Without pausing, he spit on the wrench head, rubbed with his thumb, and smeared machine grease across Wendy's face.

"Eeeeeee-uuuuewww!"

Wendy squirmed. It was disgusting. Oh it was like black worm guts! Wendy closed her eyes. She held her breath and tried not to smell. She understood the irony – he was returning the black eye – but Wendy felt that she'd rather have the bruises.

"Hey! Hey! Let her go!"

The boy took Wendy's head. He gave a hard shake.

Wendy's eyes popped open. Although one was sticky with grease, she stared at the boy.

"Meet me at Pirate's Point." he said, dropping the wrench, and sprinting out of site.

Wendy lay, stunned. Then, someone slid on the snow behind her, panting. "Hey! Hey!" Two hands pulled her up. Wendy saw a flame of messy red hair and pointed ears before her savior attempted to wipe the grease with his sleeve. "You okay?"

The red-haired boy from the swing. Grinning at Wendy, he cleaned his sleeve on his jeans. "He got you pretty good. Lucky I was here, huh?"

Wendy blushed. The boy's eyes were mesmerizingly black. Suddenly, she was very, very shy.

Mr. Bubbles was bulldozing towards them. The red-haired boy was still grinning at her. His fingers were warm even through Wendy's mittens. "Hey. Girl. Are you okay?"

Wendy stared. Then, she looked over her shoulder.

The boy's footprints left a trail in the snow.

She looked at the red-haired boy. "…no." Then, pulling away, she ran after the footprints.

Because she was not okay. And no one understood.

No one…except…perhaps…

…the boy waiting for her at Pirate's Point.