by K. Ancrum
Wendy noticed that while his right arm swung beside him carelessly, his left hand was dipped into his messenger bag, where she knew he kept his bombs. He seemed nonchalant, but Peter was always ready.
The mood got even more anxious the longer the group walked in silence. It was beginning to feel dangerous, so Wendy decided to throw herself into the fray to ease the tension.
“So, what kind of party is this?” she asked.
To her surprise, Minsu was the one who answered. “It’s a warehouse party out in Skokie. Ominotago, Curly, and Waatese throw it once a year. It’s like a big … uh … like a show? There’s local DJs and stuff.” Minsu turned around and began walking backward. “Also, what’s your name again?”
“Wendy Darling.” Wendy stuck out her hand, remembering that Minsu had been extremely busy comforting Charles during the “get to know you” part of the bus ride.
Minsu fist-bumped Wendy’s outstretched hand chaotically instead of shaking it. “Wendy like Wendy’s™? Yikes. I’m sorry.”
Charles did a double take, but then shook his head like he was already tired of dealing with Minsu’s antics.
Minsu himself was unrepentant. He stopped walking backward but slowed down a bit so he and Wendy were walking next to each other. “I’m not sure if house music is your thing, because it’s barely mine, but pretty much everyone in CPS who is cool enough to get an invite goes to this. It’s, like, the biggest party of the year.”
“CPS?” Wendy asked. “Is that the school you go to?”
“Chicago Public School,” Ominotago, Charles, and Minsu answered in unison.
“We go to Luther South,” Minsu elaborated. “You from out of town?”
Wendy nodded. “Hinsdale.”
“Oh, so this is a party party for you,” Minsu said knowingly. “You responsible for this, Peter?” he called to the front of the group.
“Always,” Peter tossed over his shoulder. “You treat her nice, now.”
Out of Peter’s view, Minsu made an incredulous face. “He doesn’t know how to treat anybody,” Minsu muttered under his breath.
“I’m beginning to notice,” Wendy replied, just as quiet.
Minsu smiled at that, and it felt like the sun was burning off Wendy’s whole face to look at him directly. Did Peter have a sexy-only policy? Who was responsible for gathering this many attractive people in such a small space? Did Minsu brush his teeth with literal bleach? Were you not allowed to go to public school unless you were a model? Not that Minsu looked like a model; he was entirely too beefy for that. Which, Wendy thought, isn’t actually a drawback.
“Anyway, here’s the rules,” Minsu said. “One: Don’t take any drugs, if anyone gives them to you. You don’t seem like the drug-taking type, but I mean not even a mint or a hit of someone’s vape, because one of my friends did once and it, uh … was not vape juice. Liquid. Crystals. Whatever, just don’t do it.” Minsu was counting on his fingers. “Two: Find a buddy and keep your eyes on them. Charlie is my buddy, right babe?” he asked sweetly.
“Everyday, everyday,” Charles agreed, giving Minsu a solid low five.
“So you gotta find someone else,” Minsu continued. “I recommend Fyodor, but he dances like a scarecrow in a wind tunnel, so you might wanna stay outside his arm-span.”
Fyodor gave Minsu the finger without turning around.
“Rule three? Know all your exits. Basic theater policy. Last year there was a tornado warning, and a bunch of people rushed the same exit and got trampled. It’s clear skies tonight, but anything could happen. Know how to get the fuck out.
“Rule four: Drink water. Always stay hydrated. It’s also a basic life tip, but when you’re dancing and drinking, it’s doubly important.
“Rule five?” Minsu locked his fingers behind his head casually as they strolled into the train station. “Have fun and be yourself. Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want to wake up regretting in the morning.”
“That’s hypocritical, Minsu,” Ominotago teased from behind Wendy.
“These rules are for her, not for me,” Minsu said, smirking as he swiped his card at the turnstile. “I wore handcuffs today. Let me live a little, dang.”
Somehow, Wendy felt a little better after listening to him. Minsu reminded her of Eleanor. In fact, Minsu, Charles, Fyodor, and Ominotago all reminded her much more of people she would have known at school than Tinkerbelle, Curly, or Nibs did. Weirdly enough, also knowing that they all had a specific time they were supposed to be home made her feel way more comfortable. It was strange how quickly being in situations out of your control made you crave parental restrictions. Wendy was fairly sure that if her parents decided to ground her for a whole month, she wouldn’t care at all because at this point it would feel like a vacation.
Tinkerbelle swiped her card twice so Wendy could get through the turnstile and pressed close behind her on the escalator up to the train platform. “You’re doing great,” she whispered. “Just stay nearby.”
Wendy reached down and took the hand that Ominotago wasn’t holding. Tinkerbelle looked surprised, her big blue eyes widening, but she squeezed Wendy’s hand reassuringly.
“Stop,” Ominotago murmured. Wendy dropped Tinkerbelle’s hand like it burned. Ominotago shook her head almost imperceptivity and spoke so quietly that Wendy had to strain to hear. “We’ll look like we’re in cahoots. He’s always watching.”
Before she could control herself, Wendy turned to look at Peter, who was indeed watching them from the top of the escalator, nearly fifteen feet away. He had the same expression on his face when Wendy had been reciting poetry at the dinner table.
“Hurry up, lovebirds,” he said with false cheer. “The train isn’t going to wait forever.”
Wendy, Ominotago, and Tinkerbelle scampered up the last few escalator steps and in through the train doors. Charles had been holding them open with his body. He stepped inside behind them, with Peter at his back.
The train car was way emptier at 11:45 p.m. than it was earlier. There were only three other people riding with them: an elderly woman with one of those foldable grocery carts, crammed tightly with bags; a sleeping homeless man at the far end of the car; and another younger man in a hoodie, who seemed close to college age and with headphones on, his eyes closed.
Charles and Minsu were seated next to each other by the door, Tinkerbelle and Ominotago across from them. Curly and Nibs each took a whole two seats to themselves, spreading their legs over the chairs rudely. Wendy joined Fyodor in holding on to the pole next to the door near Tinkerbelle. Peter stood in the middle of the aisle and held the metal bars on the back of Curly’s and Nibs’s seats, one in each hand. From where he was standing, he could see everyone in the train car, except for the homeless man sleeping behind him.
Nibs said something low to Curly, who flicked his eyes up at Peter without moving his head, and Curly said something back quietly.
The rest of the group watched their conversation in curious silence until Nibs got self-conscious. He snapped loudly and flicked his hand at all of them hard, as if to tell them to mind their business.
“So,” Wendy said pointedly, “what else do you guys do for fun?”
Nibs nodded a thank-you to her before turning back to continue talking privately with Curly.
“What kind of question is that?” Minsu asked, scrunching up his nose. “Just normal things. Going to the movies, football, house parties. I’m not sure what kind of answer you’re looking for here.”
Charles bumped Minsu with his shoulder. “Would you give her a break, man?”
“Absolutely not,” Minsu replied crisply with another blinding smile.
“I MEAN,” Wendy said loudly, “are there any cool places you guys hang out? I have a friend who I already know here, and I want to bring her somewhere cool. Kind of impress her or something.”
“Like an online friend?” Minsu asked.
“Yeah,” Wendy said, ready to be defensive about it.
Instead of taki
ng the easy bait, Charles and Minsu just looked contemplative.
“There aren’t a lot of cool places that someone who has lived here their entire life wouldn’t know about…,” Charles said. “What kind of stuff are they into?”
Wendy thought for a minute. “She likes … anime, nature hikes, and girls.”
“Is it a date?” Minsu asked seriously.
“Absolutely not,” Wendy echoed his words from earlier, winning herself yet another swoon-worthy smile.
“You could take her down to the Adler Planetarium,” Ominotago offered. “There’s this area right next to it that’s kind of like a huge nature preserve, but instead of trees it’s a field.”
“There’s a beach area next to it, too—” Tinkerbelle tacked on.
“Northerly Island!” Minsu exclaimed. “You should look it up when you get home. It’s a good date place, but it’s good for other stuff, too. I had to go there with my school for a biology field trip focused on, like … wild birds or something.” He said the words wild birds like the birds had personally offended him.
Wendy giggled.
Fyodor snorted and rolled his eyes. “Always easy for this one,” he said to Wendy, gesturing at Minsu. “So charming and ‘funny.’”
Minsu looked mock-offended. “Yeah, whatever, Fyodor. You say that like you don’t have a whole fan club of freshmen wandering around in love with you. All Oh. His accent is so sexy,” Minsu said, ratcheting his voice up into falsetto. “Let me make girls laugh in peace.”
Fyodor cocked his hip and leaned against the door divider, lowering his eyelids suggestively. “Is sexy,” he said, smirking. “I cannot help this.”
Minsu threw his arms out dramatically. “No, it’s not! It’s just Russian!”
“You are both sexy,” Charles said loudly, putting his hands on either side of his face to block out both of his teammates. “Do not make us listen to this argument again.”
Ominotago leaned forward to capture Wendy’s full attention as Minsu and Fyodor began to bicker in earnest. “The Abercrombie store on Michigan Avenue has been hiring them both but alternating who they pick each summer,” she explained. “This year was Minsu, and Fyodor won’t let it go.”
“Hired … to stand shirtless in front of the store?” Wendy asked, beginning to blush.
Fyodor took a moment away from Minsu to turn to Wendy. “Is windy, but good for portfolio if football does not work out. Plus, the visa is … different. I can stay if—”
“NEXT STOP IS GRANVILLE,” the train speakers blared, interrupting Fyodor as the doors swung open. “DOORS CLOSING.” The young man at the end of the train car yanked the headphones out of his ears and stood up fast. He seemed panicked as he squinted out the windows to see what stop they were at while the train pulled away from the platform.
As they passed a sign, he looked relieved and was about to sit back down when Curly shouted, “James?!”
The young man pulled the headphones back out of his ears and looked up. When he made eye contact with Curly, he went pale so fast he looked like he was about to faint.
“James…” Curly sounded incredibly hurt underneath his shock. “I thought you left town…”
James fumbled with his bag like a character in a horror film, trying to shove his phone and headphones inside too quickly as he staggered to his feet. Eyes wild, he attempted to make his escape.
He did not succeed.
Peter shoved past Curly and strode forward with that alarming speed he had coiled inside him, silent and radiating anger.
He grabbed James’s upper arm in a punishing grip and wrenched him forward toward the dividers between the train cars.
“No! No, please,” James gasped, clawing back toward the center of the car, but Peter was relentless.
“We need to talk,” Peter said in a voice Wendy had never heard come out of him before. Peter forced James out of the train car and into the divider and closed the door firmly behind them.
The silence in his wake was deafening.
Nibs was the first to move. He lunged forward, eyes locked on the space where James had been standing, but Curly snatched him back. Nibs tried to shrug Curly off, but to Wendy’s surprise, Curly slammed Nibs back to the seat and hissed, “Stop. He can see us through that window. James is gone, Nibs. He was gone to us before, when we thought Peter had gotten to him, and he’s gone now.” Wendy looked out the window on the dividing doors, but it was barely half the width of a man, and Peter’s back currently covered the entirety of it. She couldn’t even hear them outside with the noise from the tracks. She turned back to the group.
Curly shook Nibs hard by the shoulder just once before letting go. “We can’t think about him. Not right now. We can’t go after him, and you know why we can’t. He is gone.”
Nibs leaned his head against the window and squeezed his eyes tight in pain. “We lost him and now we have him and we’re losing him again,” he choked out, like the words were costing him.
“I know,” Curly said, much gentler. “But we can’t. I’m not losing you to him, too.”
Nibs scrubbed his hands over his face and let out what Wendy could only describe as a whimper. She tore her eyes away from him.
Ominotago let go of Tinkerbelle’s hand so she could curl her own into angry fists on her thighs.
“What—” Wendy started, but Minsu waved a hand in a quick “don’t even bother” gesture. He was weak and pale now, like a puppet with his strings cut, all the class-clown energy stripped from him completely. The entire group was having some sort of extreme reaction that Wendy didn’t have the context for, and it was scaring her badly.
Fyodor was visibly furious. “We couldn’t even have five whole minutes of happiness,” he spat. “He ruins everything. We almost made it relaxed for her and—”
He folded his arms around himself, too angry to continue talking, and glared out the train window. Wendy hadn’t realized that Fyodor and Minsu’s friendly bickering and the dramatic shift of mood that followed had been for her benefit alone. She felt a surge of tenderness.
Now that she was looking for it, Wendy could see the half-moons on the inside of Fyodor’s palms from him clenching his hands into fists.
Charles had his arm around Minsu again, a gesture Wendy realized was actually for Charles’s own reassurance.
Minsu had the sort of bags under his eyes that people only get from prolonged dread. They were harder to see when he was smiling. Perhaps that’s why he’d been doing it so often.
Tinkerbelle, who Wendy already knew wasn’t a quiet person, had been quieter than ever since seeing Ominotago in the police car, so it was clear that she was shaken.
Poor Nibs was in the middle of some sort of breakdown. Curly, jaw clenched, held Nibs close and rocked him in a way that made it clear that they had done this together many times before.
Ominotago was letting off a steady sort of anger, like she expected these circumstances but could not do anything to avoid them. Everyone was looking away from the doorway where Peter and James had gone.
“Nibs,” Ominotago said suddenly. “He cannot see you like this. Not tonight.”
Nibs let out a soft whimper of a sigh, and Curly shook him one last time before letting go. Eyes closed, Nibs pulled himself upright and breathed hard, forcing himself to relax. He clenched his hands into fists, then he rolled his shoulders. Nibs’s face, which had been red enough to nearly match his hair, was beginning to fade back to normal. When his eyes fluttered back open, they were still a bit wet, but his face was bone-dry, and somehow that was worse to witness.
Tinkerbelle reached over and put a small hand on Curly’s knee. Curly threaded his fingers between hers.
“Okay. You all need to tell me what is going on right now,” Wendy demanded quietly.
Ominotago turned to Tinkerbelle. Tinkerbelle glanced up at Wendy and nodded. Then Ominotago looked at everyone in the group individually, from Curly and Nibs to Charles and Minsu, and up to Fyodor, and waited for them all to give th
eir silent agreement. Then Ominotago closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She looked up at Wendy and opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Fyodor interrupted.
“And maybe you should consider that next time, da?” Fyodor said.
“Yeah, whatever,” Minsu replied sassily. “You don’t control me.”
Charles, Tinkerbelle, Ominotago, and Curly laughed loudly just as Peter pushed the train divider door open. Wendy realized instantly that Fyodor had seen Peter coming and faked being in the middle of a conversation. Hearing the other kids laughing, fake and loud, made Wendy feel like she was about to pass out. People don’t get good at doing things like that unless they needed to. Unless they’ve done it often and for their own protection.
“Anyway,” Curly added to the phony conversation, looking alarmingly fresh-eyed, “when we get there, both of you are buying me drinks.”
“Fine,” Fyodor said, rolling his eyes. “So spoiled.”
Wendy could feel Peter watching them, even though she wasn’t looking at him. She knew that if she looked up, his eyes would be shiny and piercing again.
Fyodor was the first to face him. He had another unlit cigarette in his hand. “Peter. You have light?” he asked.
To Wendy’s surprise, Peter’s eyes actually looked a little glazed, like he’d just woken up or something. The boy shook his head for a second as if to snap it out of something. “No…,” he said finally. “And you should stop smoking. You too, Tinkerbelle, and yes, a pipe counts.”
Tinkerbelle stuck her tongue out at him cheekily, but Wendy could see her hand shaking in Curly’s grip.
“Hey, Darling,” Peter said, body still half outside the train car. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
The tension in the train car spiked. Wendy saw Tinkerbelle’s head twitch in her direction, but Tinkerbelle successfully kept herself from turning all the way. Instead she laughed and slapped Curly’s knee, and Curly mocked being hurt by the gesture. Charles, the farthest from Peter, was openly staring at Wendy, so horrified that Wendy could see the whites around his brown doe-eyes. Minsu said something about drinks being expensive, but dug his fingers into the side of Charles’s leg in panic. Charles snapped out of it and jumped back into the fake conversation, promising to buy Curly’s drink on Minsu’s behalf.
