The Piper's Price

by Audrey Greathouse

  “Family is more important.” Jay was adamant. “It sounds like your sister’s got some serious issues with authority, and she’s dragging you along with her. Of all the reasons I’ve heard for dropping out, I think that’s the best.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll go back.” Wasn’t that a reality? Sooner or later, everyone wandered home from Neverland. She’d heard one of the officers say that himself. Had she really abandoned high school? Was she going to have to be one of those weird GED kids when she got back to reality?

  “Okay, taking a semester off then. That’s more reasonable.” He laughed. “I have to admit, when Gwen Hoffman drops out of school, that’s cause for alarm, right?”

  She thought he was trying to convey she’d had an admirable commitment to school, but her inner insecurities pushed the idea that he was somehow laughing at her.

  “So, tell me,” he continued, “what’s with the dress? You look like my grandma.”

  The insecurities of her nervous mind lurched forward like a transmission switching to a higher gear. She reminded him of his grandmother. She never should have shown up, not in clothes like these.

  “Take out your hair,” he requested. Gwen took it like an order. As she shook out her ponytail and let her long, ash-brown hair down, he laughed and ran his fingers through it. “Yeah, my grandma was a total hippie. She’s got this picture from high school that looks just like that.”

  “Thanks.” She didn’t know if she should be grateful for the remark. Thanking him just seemed like the least awkward response.

  “She was really pretty when she was young. When I knew her, she was this finicky old lady, super worried about how fast dust collected on her furniture… but when I saw that picture, I could see how my grandpa ended up falling in love with her.”

  He smiled, and Gwen knew that nothing was wrong with her in his eyes, and his eyes were the only ones that mattered. Uncertain how to respond, she handed his sweatshirt to him. “Here’s your hoodie back. Sorry I stole it.”

  “It’s all good. I hope it kept you warm.” He handed her the cardigan she’d left with him, and they traded garments without breaking eye contact.

  “So how was homecoming?” Gwen asked, pulling her sweater on.

  “Eh,” Jay shrugged, “it was alright. I ended up going with Ashley Richards. I don’t know if you know her. She lives like three houses down from me, so we’ve known each other since kindergarten. Anyway, neither of us had dates so we just decided to go together. The game was a lot more fun. We beat Clinton High 28-20.”

  She was happy and satisfied with this answer—primarily because it did not contain the name Jenny Malloy. Gwen didn’t know Ashley, but it was obvious she was some childhood friend unworthy of envy. “I wish I could have been there to see you play in the big game.”

  “I wish you could have been there for the dance,” Jay responded, lighting up all the right parts of her heart. “It would have been a lot more fun with you there. I kind of thought you might show up… I mean, you weren’t at school, but I figured it wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility you would just show up like you did at the party.”

  She imagined an alternate reality where she had come home in the knick of time and whirlwinded off to homecoming, still smelling of magic and glittering with pixie dust. The enchantment of it would have been lost on her peers, who were in no way trained to recognize real magic, but Jay would have seen her and laughed openly, full of kindness and joy.

  “So, are you going to tell me what happened after I left you upstairs at the party, or are you going to try to maintain this alluring air of mystery?” Jay asked. “I have to warn you, if you pick mystery, I’ll still try to figure you out, and I’m not too bad with this brain of mine.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to… but you have to promise not to get mad when you don’t believe me.”

  Jay looked both skeptical and amused. “I can promise I won’t get mad, but I can’t promise I won’t believe you. I’m sorry to inform you, but I’ve already started believing in some of your unbelievable things.”

  She giggled. He was using that word again—unbelievable. She was unbelievable. “Like what?”

  “Like how you got out of the house from upstairs when there’s no way in hell you could have gotten on the roof and down off the porch.” He gave her a severe look, conveying he was onto her impossibilities, even if he still had no idea what those impossibilities were.

  “You say that like you think I just flew away.”

  “At this point, that’s looking like one of the more reasonable explanations. For a long time, I thought you were still upstairs, hiding somewhere. Once everyone left, I called for you and expected you to come out… but you were just gone.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to explain,” she whispered.

  “It’s fine. I enjoyed the puzzle, wondering how this beautiful, mysterious girl had disappeared. So correct me if I’m wrong, but I think this has something to do with it…”

  From out of the letterman jacket he was wearing, Jay pulled a small sandwich bag that was empty but for a little bit of sparkling substance in its corner. A mix of green and gold, Gwen recognized Dillweed and Hollyhock’s pixie dust.

  She was impressed with him. There wasn’t a lot of pixie dust collected, and she knew the fairies would have left little more than what he had managed to scrape up. He’d caught her red-handed in something she wasn’t ashamed of—the sensation was unfamiliar. “You’re really bright, Jay. You sure you want to know all this?”

  “Whatever is going on with you, I want to know.” He reached out and took hold of her hand. “I told you, I can keep a secret.”

  She thought about all the ways she could begin this explanation, but they all seemed equally infeasible. In her silence, she heard the croaking of frogs amid the cattails, prompting an idea. As foolish as anything she could have said, Gwen sprung up and crept toward the lakeside, muttering, “Stay there a second,” to Jay. Her eyes were well adjusted to the darkness by now; it was easy to watch for motion on the swampy edge of the lake. When she saw something bound between the cattails, she pulled out her cell phone in order to blast the screen’s light at the poor bullfrog.

  Stunned and blinded by the light, it stopped croaking and froze, giving Gwen just the opportunity she needed to reach down and grab the slimy creature. At this point, the frog began croaking in distress. She held it by its back legs so that she wouldn’t risk squishing anything but its rubbery limbs. It was just like she used to do when she was little, and unlike so many of her friends, Gwen had never fallen out of practice with frog catching because as soon as she would have tired of the activity, Rosemary had been old enough learn.

  Jay could not quite see what was happening, but he was aware that the croaking was coming toward him as Gwen returned to the maple tree. “Do you have a frog?”

  “A big old bullfrog,” she informed him. Tucking her cell phone back into her satchel, she plopped down beside him again. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He laughed. “What are you planning on doing with that ugly thing?”

  “Don’t call him ugly!” Gwen feigned offense to keep him laughing. “You can’t even see him. I think he’s very handsome. Maybe even as handsome as you.”

  “I’m flattered,” he sarcastically replied.

  “Dump the bag,” she commanded.

  “The what?”

  “The bag full of magic. Dump it on him.”

  His curiosity allowing no other option, Jay complied. Gwen was impressed with her own confidence and how willing he was to follow her instructions. As he shook the sandwich bag, the green and gold dust danced out and came to life in the moonlight. “This isn’t going to hurt him, is it?” he asked.

  “I thought you didn’t like him.”

  “I didn’t say that. I just think he’s ugly. I wouldn’t want him to get poisoned or anything.”

  “He’ll be fine. I wouldn’t hurt him.”

  The bullfro
g was the only one who was seriously worried. He continued to croak, his low rumble like a broken brass horn. The fairy dust did not just catch the glow of moonlight, but began to actively glitter on his amphibious skin. Gwen eased her grip and felt him lift out of her hand a second before Jay could see that the frog was flying.

  “Whoa.” His wide eyes spoke volumes. He reached out and poked the bullfrog, pushing it through the air and waiting for it to fall back down. It kicked its webbed feet as if it thought it was swimming, but could not manage much motion until it attempted to jump. Leaping through the air, it landed even higher up, still perched on nothing. Uncomfortable with this height, it was more successful when it attempted to swim back down toward the ground. Intermittent leaps and strokes back down kept it busy while Jay and Gwen watched it.

  “Oh man,” Jay muttered. “I do not envy that thing.”

  Gwen looked at him; his eyes were transfixed on the now glowing frog. “Why not?”

  “He looks so out of his element. All of his life, he’s been learning to swim and jump, and now he’s in the air where neither of those skills are useful. What do you think he’s even trying to do right now?”

  She stared at the frog, his buggy eyes scanning the darkness for something familiar a solid yard above ground. “Probably trying to make his way to Neverland.”

  When she looked back at Jay, he was staring at her with far more interest than he had even given the flying frog. “Is that where you’ve been?”

  “What do you want to know?” she asked, smiling.

  He looked happy to hear the question. “Everything.”

  Gwen didn’t tell him everything. She was acutely aware that she was in the middle of a war and she had clandestine information she shouldn’t be revealing to anyone who couldn’t fly. Even still, there was more to say than she could have fit into a single night. As she spoke, she melted into Jay’s arms. The bullfrog leapt away toward the lake, and at some point, they heard a distant splash when the fairy dust finally gave out and he returned to the water. Sitting against Jay with his arms wrapped around her, Gwen’s hands were free to gesticulate with the wild intensity that her stories deserved.

  She told him about Rosemary and the tales she would tell her little sister, and how those bedtime stories motivated Rose to return for her the night after she vanished. She told him, in length, about the officers who had shown up to her house and how they belonged to the same mysterious Department of Anomalous Activity as the cops who busted the party.

  There was definitely a point at which Jay started believing her. His face contorted in confusion as he listened to everything she was telling him, but as he pieced together all the strange details, he started to fathom the reality of her story. Prior to that moment, Gwen suspected he had only been playing along with some imagined game, trying to playfully goad a real answer out of her to explain everything about these events that was causing him such violent cognitive dissonance.

  He nodded along, amazed and disturbed whenever he could confirm some aspect of what she told him. He found himself agreeing that the police car had lacked any insignia, and that the glitter he’d found did cause a light numbing feeling in his hand when he’d touched it.

  She avoided discussing her father’s work with the economy and skipped the subject of the Piper altogether. She was careful not to speak of Tiger Lily, or bring up Peter’s plans for a new invasion. She did mention the Invasion of ‘08, but Jay had no memory of it.

  Her throat became dry as she chattered away, telling him all sorts of inconsequential details about Neverland. She came to an abrupt stop and tried to turn around to face Jay. She was still leaning against him, and he didn’t let her move. “What time is it?”

  “Does it matter?” he asked. “I want to hear more about this Neverbird… why doesn’t it like you?”

  “I have to get back before… well, before morning.” She checked her phone. It was minutes to five. She’d been out here for four hours, and it was only another five until Tiger Lily’s friends arrived. “I need to go. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  “Doing what?” Jay pried. “Catching leprechauns?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I want to have some sleep for it.”

  “Let me give you a ride,” he offered, letting go of her and getting to his feet as well. “Where are you staying?”

  “That’s classified information.” She kissed his cheek. “Besides, it’ll be faster to fly.”

  He kissed her back, on the lips.

  “Are you going to be around the next few days?”

  “Yeah, a few days. I’m not sure how long.”

  “So I’ll get to see you again?”

  “I think so.” The words slipped out from behind her smile. “I hope I didn’t take you away from a fun Friday night.”

  “Nah, the guys and I were just hanging out and playing Call of Duty at Michael’s when I got your text. Don’t worry—I didn’t tell them I was going to meet you.”

  Gwen didn’t respond. She knew she trusted him, and her attention was so much better focused on the grey color of his blue eyes in the dim of moonlight.

  “I guess I’ll see you later.” Jay pulled her into one last hug.

  “Yeah. See you later.” Gwen took a deep breath, savoring the smell that had clung to his sweatshirt for so long, and longer still in her imagination. Jay was so much more potent than his sweatshirt. In person, he smelled like his usual, charcoal-covered self.

  He kissed her, and Gwen felt his tongue in her mouth, all alien and wonderful.

  They parted like static, like a video that couldn’t load fast enough and was rendered in jerky, pixelated frames. She was too excited to move seamlessly. Her emotions were going so much faster than her body and mind could load them.

  “Bye, Gwen,” Jay said, backing away and starting toward the trail to the parking lot.

  “Bye, Jay,” she called back, trying to fidget less with her body than she did inside herself. She turned around, trying to maintain her cool, but then dashed off and took to the air, wondering if Jay saw. She couldn’t bring herself to look back. She feared it would break the spell that was now filling her with the bubbly happiness she needed to fly.

  She hurried back through the forest without the aid of her GPS. Arriving at the edge of the woods, it became apparent that her calculations were off. Breaking past the wall of the forest, she dropped down to the ground almost half a mile away from the gravel road that led to Tiger Lily’s house. Now comparatively conspicuous in the moonlight, she resigned herself to walking the extra distance without the cheating use of magic.

  Away from Jay, her fatigue washed over her like a series of waves, at last dragging her down with a powerful undertow of exhaustion. The cold December air was biting at her, and her feet couldn’t keep pace with how tired she’d become. She remembered to hover along the gravel for fear of waking the dogs, but aside from that singular burst of awareness, she felt non-functional. Slinking back into the pale blue trailer house, Gwen closed the door behind her. She didn’t breathe easy until she was back in her pajamas and cozy in bed. It took her a moment to warm under the covers, but as soon as she did, her mind allowed her to thud into sleep as hard as her head had thudded to the pillow.

  Her rustling did not disturb Tiger Lily, however, fairies kept very different sleeping rhythms than people. Tossing and turning in the midst of vengeful dreams, the slight stimulus of Gwen returning woke the fairy. In a groggy haze, it occurred to Foxglove that the girl was returning from somewhere, but this knowledge seemed inconsequential. Unlike her friend Hollyhock, curiosity was not woven into Foxglove’s being. She turned over, frustrated only that she had been woken. Too tired to act on her contempt, she nuzzled against the pincushion and went back to her furious and powerful dreams with her clenched, sleeping body and her gnarled, dreaming face.

  But Gwen was already sound asleep, dreaming in bright colors and forceful glee where she could have everything, and all without consequence.

  Gw
en woke the following morning with Tiger Lily’s hand shaking her shoulder. In her exhaustion last night, she’d forgotten to set an alarm on her phone. Tiger Lily had already opened the blinds, and she seemed to be only an extension of the unwanted daylight to tired Gwen.

  “I’m sorry to wake you,” Tiger Lily apologized, “but the girls will be here in half an hour. I made eggs and toast. You should eat breakfast before they get here.”

  Foxglove was already awake and raring to go. She flitted into Gwen’s face with far more assertive energy. Pixie dust fell into her eyes, creating an alarming feeling of numbness that she tried to blink away as she got up.

  She shuffled through the clothes in her backpack—all frilly and feminine dresses from the chest in the underground home. Tiger Lily saw, and, before she left, offered, “Would you like to borrow some clothes? I just worry you’ll stand out in those.”

  The idea of wearing actual, modern clothes appealed to Gwen. After so long in play dresses in Neverland, jeans and a T-shirt sounded like a luxury.

  Tiger Lily brought her just that, as well as a belt to make sure the jeans stayed up. Gwen liked the red stallion on the metal belt buckle. She hoped it distracted from how many times she’d had to fold the tan jeans’ cuffs in on themselves to roll them up. Tiger Lily was much taller than she was. The dark T-shirt had a bear printed on it in red, white, and black. The Native American design was so much nicer than all the tacky objects Tiger Lily had collected in her room to remind her of the redskins.

  In the kitchen, Tiger Lily served the eggs. She was dressed much nicer today. She was in a short, cream-colored dress and tan leggings. From what Gwen could tell, Tiger Lily clung to earthy tones and leathery colors even now that she was forced to dress like a modern adult. Gwen thought it was sweet how she had done her hair in two tight pigtail braids. She could imagine her, years ago, the young and proud daughter of a redskin chief.