Peter & Emily, The Girl From New York

by Thomas Hayes

Chapter Three

  I looked at the boy standing in my bedroom. It dawned on me that I had just possibly let a crazy person into my house—a crazy person who had been standing on my balcony in the middle of the night. But still, he flew. I saw it with my own eyes, and so did my brother.

  “How—how do you know my name?” I asked.

  The boy walked around my room, inspecting everything. He picked up a jewelry box that my grandmother had given me and turned it over, a smirk across his face.

  “I know your name because I’ve been watching you, Emily. I know a lot about you.” He picked up my iPad and shook it, then pressed it against his ear. “This plays stories, doesn’t it? How does it work?”

  “Emily, who is this guy?” Tim asked.

  “I told you, my name’s Peter. And I know you, too, Tim. How were those fantastic stories earlier on the television?”

  “Um…good.”

  “Great. I’d love to watch some of those. I haven’t seen those moving picture stories before.”

  I shook my head. “Look, whoever you are, you gotta get out of here. Or explain yourself, or something. How’d you get out there? How’d you get on the balcony?”

  “I flew, remember? Showed you a little while ago? I went all shiny and popped up into the air? Or maybe you weren’t paying attention?”

  “Oh, I was paying attention, all right. I just don’t believe it. How’d you do that?”

  “With fairy dust. That’s the only way you can do it, really. Everybody knows that.” He looked to me. “Well, almost everybody, I guess.”

  “Fairy dust?”

  “Yes. Do I need to spell it out for you? F-A-Y…no, wait. F-A…umm…R? E? Look, I’m not the best at spelling. Just believe me, okay? It was fairy dust.”

  “Fairy dust.”

  “Yes, from a fairy. Or, as some of them prefer, a pixie. They are getting more and more sensitive lately. Believe me, you don’t want to mess with a testy fairy.”

  I laughed. This was getting insane.

  “Okay. I don’t know how you did that. I have no idea. But, now that you’re in here, why don’t you do it again?”

  “Okay.”

  Flipping through a book from my shelf, he floated into the air, very nonchalantly.

  “See?” he said, without looking at me. “I did it again. Now, can you show me how that moving picture machine works? Does this book have pictures that move? Or is it just a normal book?”

  It was official. There was a floating boy in my room.

  “Come down,” I said. “I’m starting to freak out.”

  “You asked me to do it.”

  “I know, but…just stop.”

  He landed on his feet. “You really do have so much fascinating stuff in here. And so much of it. Your whole room is filled with wonderful junk.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I needed to figure out what was happening. I knew there had to be a rational explanation.

  “Okay, tell me who you are. Or else I’ll call the cops, whether you can fly or not.”

  “My name’s Peter Pan.” He walked around my room. “I came here from a place called Never Land. It’s a different world than yours that you don’t know about.”

  “A different world?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you flew here?” Tim asked. He had been quiet, but now he seemed more comfortable, like he had decided this kid wasn’t here to hurt us. I hoped he was right.

  “Yes. It’s really not all that far, actually, if you know the way. It’s not the first time, either—I’ve been coming here for a few weeks now. That’s how I know your sister.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  The boy laughed. “I know all about you. For some time now, I’ve been looking for someone just like you, and now I found you. I need someone like you.”

  “You need someone like me?”

  “Yes, definitely.”

  “For what?”

  He turned to me and grinned. “For an adventure.”

  I shook my head and laughed.

  “Okay, thanks. Look, time to go. You’re freaking us out.”

  “I’m not freaked out,” Tim said. “I think it’s cool. Is that a real sword?”

  The boy in green pulled the sword from his belt. “It sure is. I stole it from a pirate. Wanna cut something with it?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Here, try those curtains.”

  The boy handed Tim the sword, but I jumped in between them.

  “No! There will be no cutting of anything. You—Peter, whoever you are—need to go. I’m still trying to figure out what to do about all this, but in the meantime, I just want you to get out of here. If you’re lucky, I’ll forget all this happened.” I shooed him with my hands like he was a stray cat. “Go on. And, if you ever come back, my dad will be waiting.”

  I walked to the balcony and opened it.

  “Look,” he laughed. “I know this is nuts. I know you’ve never seen anything like it. But isn’t that fun? Isn’t that what makes it exciting? Don’t you want to know more?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Peter walked to me.

  “I know you, Emily Beckett. I know you’re bored with your little high school life, all the parties and the dances and the ridiculous fighting and arguments between friends. Don’t you want more?”

  I didn’t answer. For the first time since he arrived, he was talking seriously.

  “I just flew into your window.” He motioned to the balcony. “A boy was just flying over the buildings of New York City. Don’t you want to see more? Don’t you want to see where I came from?”

  A silence.

  “I do!” Tim shouted.

  “Yes, that’s the spirit!” Peter walked to Tim and put a hand on his shoulder. “And how about you, Emily? Do you want to know more? See more? Or have you already grown up too much?”

  I thought it over.

  “You’re exactly right,” I said. “I have grown up too much. I’m so grown up, in fact, that I realize it’s incredibly stupid to let strangers into your house. So get out of here.”

  Peter laughed through his nose. “I should have known.” He placed his arm on Tim’s head, pretending to lean on him. I noticed he was at least six feet tall. “I should have known I could count on this guy.” He pointed to Tim. “He’s still got life in him. But you? I don’t know what’s happened to you.”

  “Nothing’s happened to me. He’s impressed with your BS and your tricks. I’m not. He’s a child, I’m an adult.”

  The boy pretended like he was stabbed in the heart. “No, don’t say it. Don’t say the ‘A’ word. That’s the worst word in all of the English language.”

  He stumbled around my room, holding an invisible knife in his chest. I watched him. I was officially over this.

  “Was I wrong?” he said. “I can’t be, can I? All this time, I thought you were the right one. You had to be. But, the way you’re talking, maybe I was wrong. I don’t want an adult. I want someone who is alive.”

  “I’m seventeen years old. I’m perfectly fine the way I am. And I’m old enough to see something bizarre is going on here.”

  “Take it from me, Emily. There is absolutely nothing fine about being an adult. I’ve been around a long time, and I know that for sure. All this stuff, all this stuff you love about your life? Your friends, and fun memories? Gone, taken away from you, once you grow up. All growing up means is that all the fun is gone from your life, and you have to live every moment doing what other people want. Does that sound like something you want to do?”

  He stared me in the eyes. Soon, he was only inches away.

  “What if I told you about a place,” he said. “A place where you don’t have to worry about any of that. A place where you can do whatever you want, all the time. A place filled with wonder, and creatures, and sailing ships, and mermaids, and adventure. A place where you don’t have to grow up. A place where you can truly enjoy being alive. Wouldn’t you want that? Don’t you
want adventure?”

  “Yes!” Tim said. “I like this guy.”

  Peter pointed at him. “Yes, thank you! I like you, too!” He turned back to me. “What do you say, Em? Come on. Prove to me that I was right about you. Prove to me that I made the right choice. Prove to me you’re still alive somewhere in there. All you have to do is say ‘yes.’”

  I thought it over. I looked at him, studied his face. He was smiling, and the stars from the windows behind me were reflected in his eyes.

  “One simple word. And then, you’ll be off to a place where—”

  There was a horrible SCREECH!, like the sound of an attacking, wild animal, and Peter was tackled to the ground, knocking over a lamp. As its bulb burst, I ducked, covering my ears, and looked to Peter. He was now wrestling on the floor with someone dressed all in black. Peter was trying to reach for his sword, but whoever he was fighting had taken him by surprise. I couldn’t see well because of the darkness, but the person in black had long, sharp fingers, and they were slicing at Peter. As he desperately tried to push the person off of him, his face was bleeding from the vicious attacks.

  Terrified, I grabbed Tim and pulled him close. He was also covering his ears, and crying. Realizing the attacker had jumped in through the balcony, I turned around to close the door.

  But that’s when I realized the person in black wasn’t a someone. It was a something.

  Out on the balcony, there were five more black creatures, perched on the railing. In the moonlight, I could see them more clearly; with their arms resting on their crouched knees, they looked like living shadows—but these shadows had blue eyes, slim noses, and emotionless mouths. Their hands ended in fingers that were long, sharp, and pointed.

  One by one, the shadow creatures hopped off the railing and walked toward the open door.

  They were coming into my room, and heading straight for me.