by Xavier Neal
“Precisely.” After a beat he sighs, “Look, they're not like your typical police force officers. Think Secret Service meets Navy Seals.” I gasp and slowly turn my head to him. “Yeah.”
“So they're like always watching you?”
“Almost always. And we're not just watched. We're hunted.”
“Wow. But like the Navy Seals? They're really that good?”
“Yes. And we're really that much better.” He winks as he lowers his head pretending to continue to read.
Looking around on high alert to make sure I know what's going on, I notice all sorts of people who could possibly be buying, well whatever it is Peter's selling, until one guy, who looks like he's in his mid 20s, strolls closer to Justin. My eyes glance over his t-shirt covered body and baggy jeans where there's a key hanging out of his pocket. He slightly turns to the side glancing over his shoulder at the passing train, which is when Justin casually without looking up from the magazine slides the key away from him and down to his side. Afterward the guy merely strolls away as if nothing happened back towards a set of stairs.
At that moment Justin closes his magazine, key now out of sight, and stands up at the stand. My eyes stay with him, determined to learn more of his tricks. Justin grabs a newspaper and folds it in half on the counter with the magazine inside. Flirting with the girl behind the counter, he charmingly leans over and touches her name tag causing jealousy to boil. Suddenly Peter appears next to him, grabs a newspaper and continues to stare straight ahead like he's checking out the selection behind the woman. Justin leans over to adjust his pant leg above his shoe, which is when Peter swaps the newspaper, pays for it, and casually strolls away all before Justin stands back up. Finally Justin pays for his paper, politely thanks the woman, and sits back down beside me.
Word vomit comes out of my mouth, “If you insist on flirting with everything that has a tan and a set of legs, do you mind at least warning me first?”
Shocked by my outburst, Justin stumbles over on his own words, “I was...merely running a distraction.”
“Aren't you always?”
He licks his lips slowly. “It's kind of what I do.”
“Would it kill you to do something else?” I mumble under my breath as my eyes turn to look at Peter who is now leaned against the lockers like he was before with the newspaper wide open, yet the locker beside him looks open too. When the hell did he get the key? Oh! Oh! It was the key Justin swiped. They really are that good.
While Justin's attention stays on Peter, he mumbles at me, “Can we finish this conversation later please?”
“You mean like everything else? Sure.”
I hear him groan in irritation. He's not the only one unhappy. Tired of staring at Peter's location, I start to look around, the excitement of a new world kicking back in. However, during my aimless observing I notice someone doesn't seem to fit in. At least not to me. His posture is a little more tense. His steam pressed clothing looks like he's trying too hard even for this uptight looking crowd. Then there's the fact his attention is focused on Peter like that of an undercover agent rather than a fan. At least that's what it feels like from the cop shows I've seen. You know, if those shows are anything like the werewolves shows er...lycathrope shows, then they aren't very reliable. I give the man another look this time noticing his nervous fidget. Rather be safe than sorry in this case.
Gently I nudge Justin and nod the direction of the character I found. Spotting a set of handcuffs tattooed on the guy’s wrist, I cautiously question, “Hey, does that handcuff tat mean anything special?”
The minute Justin sees it, he removes his fedora, tosses it to the girl behind the counter who slips it on, and gives his hat hair a ruffle.
“Why does she get to keep your hat?”
“Not now, Peyton.”
“Do you know each other?” The words continue out of my mouth even though he didn't answer. “Did you two date? Were you like together together?”
With a sharp glance at me he repeats so firmly, it hurts. “Not. Now.” Glancing back at the suspicious person he mumbles to me. “Follow my lead...”
Justin stands up with me following slowly behind him. This argument is so not over. God, that seems like it's the only thing we've done since we got here. I hope this isn't a preview of what life here is going to be like. I hope I didn't give up my boring life to move to a place where we do nothing but fight.
Casually Justin sticks his foot out and kicks a trashcan over. The moment it hits the ground, the crowd turns to see what the commotion is while I turn around to see Peter has disappeared from where he was. Confused I glance around for Aiden, Eiden, and Belle who have also disappeared from their posts. Nervous I turn back around to where Justin should be to find myself all alone. Panic instantly sets in causing my heart rate to shoot up. Oh my god! Oh my god! Seriously? I spin back around and make the decision to head towards the stairs assuming it's the exit to the street. If they left, I have to leave! Even if I don't know where I'm going, I know I probably shouldn't be here!
Two steps upward I'm stopped by a toothpick sized man wearing a shiny handcuff badge, a uniform like Kendall and Kylar, and holding a gun out in front of him pointed directly. At. Me.
Without hesitation my arms shoot up in surrender, which is when I glance over my shoulder to see two more undercover agents heading at me, weapons pulled. Before I know it, I am surrounded by six police offers with no other Lost Boys in sight, meaning only one thing for sure. I'm going to jail. Again.
Chapter 3
My head hits the back of the cement prison wall. Well at least it's not sand right? How is it I managed to land in jail twice in a day? Or what feels like a day. And of those times, how come it hasn't been for a crime that I've actually committed? Geez, I'm starting to hate being a Lost Boy.
I hear a voice down the hallway. “You really caught a Lost Boy?”
There's a response I can't make out.
“And you're sure? You're positive that it's not just one of their lackeys?”
Wait? They have lackeys? Nevermind. Of course they have lackeys, which means most likely they have groupies too.
“And it's alive?”
Did he just refer to me as an it? Like we're not human? Am I not human anymore? And he questioned me being alive. Who questions if the prisoner is alive? That implies they have found them dead before. Great. Note to self: Ask Peter about any deceased gang members. Did I really just say gang?
The first voice repeats louder, “Are you sure?”
Mystery voice finally says a clear answer, “I saw the tattoo.”
I glance down at the mark of death. That's right. As far as I'm concerned right now that's exactly what it is. This thing has been nothing but trouble since it landed on my wrist. Stupid tattoo! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
When my eyes stop giving the ink a pissed off glare, I look up to see Kendall leaned against the wall across from my cozy cell. To my surprise his lips curl to the side while my eyes droop sadly. This is worse than I could've imagined. At least if it was someone I hadn't met before, or better yet hadn't smarted off too, I would stand a chance. With my luck I'll be out just in time for Christmas. Do they even have Christmas here?
He shakes his head slowly stroking his stubble chin. “Peyton.”
“Yeah?”
“I had a feeling it was you.” Kendall folds his arms across his chest. “When they said they had caught an actual Lost Boy, I had the smallest feeling in the pit of my stomach it was you.”
“Why, because I'm the only girl?”
“No because you're Peter's decoy,” he sighs heavily. Believing him, I don't respond. “He really is the worst possible person to put in charge of other's lives.”
“I can agree with that,” I mumble under my breath.
“In fact, he's more likely to get you killed than try to save you,” Kendall continues before waving his hand, “obviously.”
Feeling even more defeated than I was before when I still had a smidgen o
f hope that they would come bail me out, I pull my legs up to my chest and bury my head in between my knees.
For a moment it's silent, which is when I'm expecting Kendall to take the exit. After all, I have nothing more to say, especially without a lawyer present. Wait. Does Neverland even have the same judicial system that we do? Do lawyers even exist? Do I even have rights here? I'm like tourists with those papers. Suddenly there's the sound of the door creaking open. My head shoots up to see what's about to join me in the cell.
Instead of something with two heads or six arms coming in, I see Kendall waiting for me to exit. Confused I stay where I am until he starts ushering me silently with his hand.
Without so much as a question I dart up and rush over to him where I stop and quietly say, “Thanks.”
“Don't mention it.” He shrugs trying to remain emotionless. Again. I recognize that face. I swear I've seen it somewhere else. I just know it. His bright green eyes flicker at me again insisting that I stop staring and get a move on it before he changes his mind.
I glide past him and follow the signs leading out of the very busy police station filled with all sorts of different creatures in the uniforms and being arrested. The range is so wide I notice a few different looks like those with wings and those with so many eyes I don't know how you know which ones to stare into. The exit leads me onto a busy downtown street where the sidewalk is the same shimmering neon yellow I recognize from when we first docked. Well at least it's something familiar. Kind of.
At that moment a gust of wind hits me sending chills down my arms. Holding myself I look around unsure of not only where I am exactly, how to get anywhere, but even worse, where to go. I don't know anything about the hideout. I'm not sure how to get back to the ship or if I can even go back without special instructions or keys. I don't know if this place has hotels. I don't even know if I try to ask anyone that they will speak the same language!
Feeling a familiar panic set in my chest, I start to rub it, in hopes it makes it easier to breath. Slowly I move backwards until my back hits the building. I melt against it realizing while I just left one jail cell, here I am in another, except this one has a much better chance of killing me. I never thought I'd actually be safer locked away. Tears start filling my eyes, as the pain in my chest squeezes tighter.
The door to the police station swings open and Kendall strolls out in a leather jacket, a pair of sunglasses, and jeans now instead of his uniform. I give him a long, hard stare surprised how in his new attire, he looks a little less terrifying. Almost like a normal guy headed out to a bar. Do they have bars here? As if he heard me, he glances over at me once and back towards the traffic before glancing back at me, this time his attention staying on me.
Reluctantly he groans, “Are you serious?”
Wiping away the little bit of snot from my nose and the tears from my eyes, I clear my throat. “What?”
“I let you go and you stand right outside the police station?” Pulling keys out of his pocket he points. “Go! Go home! Fly! Fly away Lost Boy! That's what you do right?”
My head leans to the side as I mumble, “You know―I―but-” I trip over the words consistently. “I would go home, but I don't know where home is! I don't even know where I am right now! I'm supposed to be able to fly because that's the one gift every human wants that's universal right? The ability to fly. And technically I have that capability and yet I still don't grasp the concept! I guess Peter's right! I am stupid! And worthless! And I'm cold. And I'm tired. And I'm starving-” the words stop as I run my fingers through my hair as the tears return to overflowing. “And...and...and...”
I bawl incoherently for a couple minutes more, sounding like a babbling brook I'm sure, before I lift my head back up to see Kendall squatted down in front of me, his leather jacket held out just as huge rain drops start falling from the sky.
My jaw hits the ground while I stare dumbfounded for a moment.
With a slight growl he asks, “So are you going to take the jacket or are we going to have to get caught in the down pour first?” Sniffling I stand up and slip the jacket on. As he pulls it closed he points a finger in my face. “Never call yourself stupid or worthless again, got it?” I nod. “More importantly never ever say that Peter's right. I'll haul your ass back to jail for that.”
I offer up a small smile and he gives me back a faint one.
With an arm now around me and his head tilted down away from the raindrops he says, “This way.”
Kendall leads us quickly down the sidewalk, takes a sharp right, and down a flight of stairs. Arriving in a parking garage, he leads me over to a black shiny motorcycle parked in a corner space. It reminds me of the Harleys you see big biker guys ride. The ones with the handle bars that are stretched far away from them. I stare, a bit terrified to get on it. You know, he doesn't strike me as the biker kind. Sure, the leather jacket and sunglasses might imply, but where are the leather pants? The boots? Or how about the beard? Or the bald head? The tattoos? My eyes spot the KH on his neck again. Okay. So he has that one.
Kendall notices that I'm staring. “What?”
“Nothing.”
His arms fold across his chest. Clearly he doesn't like to be denied. “Say it.”
“Wouldn't have pegged you for a motorcycle guy that's all.”
Confused his face turns to an instant frown, not that it was smiling before. “What kind of guy did you peg me for?”
“I don't know.”
“You're a terrible liar.”
Well hearing that's not a first. Immediately I ramble, “I guessed I would've pegged you for an oversized truck kind of guy.”
With a slow nod, he grabs the helmet off the side and slips it on, “And I wouldn't have pegged you for a Lost Boy.” Knowing I deserved that I hang my head only to hear him finish with, “I would've pegged you for so much more.”
I slowly lift my head back up, adjust his jacket that's covering my body, and take the hand that's being offered to help me climb onto the back. If you would've told me a couple hours ago that not only would Kendall let me go, compliment me, but offer to give me a ride, I would've told you, that like Peter, you should probably put down the alcohol.
Both of my arms tightly wind around his waist as a seat belt buckles me in at the same time it does him. “Might wanna hold onto your hat.”
Quickly I remove it and wedge it between us afraid it'll blow away. Part of me wants to let it blow away. To let it go as easily as he let me go and get caught by the police. Kendall backs out of the parking space and heads towards the exit. Once we're on the main road in front of the police station, I brace myself for the ride by squeezing onto him tighter. Paying attention to every detail I can of my surroundings, I see a building I imagine is a hospital. The vehicles leaving are yellow with bright red lights on the side. Their sirens are as high pitched as the ones back home. At the quick glance I get of the building, I see people in scrubs shuffling by the windows.
Kendall presses a button on one of the bars causing an oversized umbrella to stretch out over the two of us, an invention that would be worth billions back at home, I'm sure. As we fly down the wet highway, I get lost in the luminous lights radiating against the pitch black night back drop. If the colors aren't captivating enough the unusual shapes of the building are. Between the two, I almost feel like I'm in a Dr. Seuss meets an 80s themed party. Everything is so animated. So exciting. So beautiful and filled with life. It's actually starting to remind me of what I left behind...and at this point for what? A pretty face and sweet meaningless words?
After a short drive, we pull through security guarded gates into the parking complex of a set of bleak looking apartments. From the outside, the building is a steel gray reminding me of the suit color Justin prefers when he's not in his black ones. There appears to be no windows. No balconies. In fact aside from the entrance on the side protected by the security guard, the only other way in seems to be through a glass revolving door at the front of the building. Why
does this feel like an over-sized prison?
Once the engine is off the seat belts automatically undo themselves. Kendall places his helmet on one of the handlebars and I slide my fedora back on. Immediately he climbs off before extending a hand for me to take. Casually he leads us towards an elevator that I thought at first glance was just a pillar. Hitting the alarm to his motorcycle without looking back, he lets go of my hand in the process.
With a ding the empty elevator welcomes us. Kendall slips inside and shuffles something out of his back pocket, into his hand while I merely watch. Out of his uniform he's definitely less threatening looks wise, but still gives off a total cop feel that makes my stomach queasy.
Unsure of how long I've been staring at him or how long he's been staring in return, I jump when he huffs, “Are you going to make me wait forever?”
