VICIOUS (II) : peter pan ouat

How to Choose

    "I want a girl." I tell him.

    It took me a while to admit it. I don't want just any girl, but one specific. Alison. Two birds one stone; ruin Johnny's life and have a friend. It's a win. My mom wants me to bring a girl here, so I might as well listen.

    I don't know what's happened since I've been gone, but things are very different it seems. It could only have been a few weeks I was out, which would mean I've been here a couple of months now. It's been months since I've had a conversation with a girl that wasn't because of an imminent threat.

    Don't get me wrong, Walela is great conversationalist. I just have never had a conversation with her without something terrible about to go down.

    "Fine." Pan looks at me funny. "But only four."

    Four?

    Out of nowhere, I feel the weight of a book in my hands. It's bound in dark brown leather, and looks old and worn.

    "What is this?" I ask.

    He shrugs. "A book."

    I roll my eyes, pressing it between us. "And what might be in it."

    "A list of profiles." He tells me. "Every lost girl in the world. Granted, I've already taken the liberty of filtering out the ones who don't speak English."

    "What countries do you have in here?" I ask, peering around it.

    He chuckles. "Do you actually think I know how your world works?"

    I guess that's fair. If he is from before the First World War he would have no idea what's going on with the world. Especially not Europe.

    "So, it's mine to filter through?" I ask.

    He nods. "Go ahead."

    He looks at me, opening his mouth to say something, but instead disappears. He's probably got a lot to take care of, especially considering he was about to go to war.

    I'm glad I got back when I did. Otherwise, who knows how many people would've died?

    Would it have been my fault?

     I didn't see Max or Johnny in the crowd. Are they alive? I don't know. I don't know exactly what happened during the Fear Run, but Walela is seriously hurt. Probably not dead, but there is always a possibility.

    Crossing my legs, I crack the book open. It has to have hundreds of pages. The first page is blank. The second page is a table of contents.

    It has three words on it.

    Name. Age. Country. Skill.

    No page numbers after it. When I flip to the first page, I spot the first name.

    Aaliyah.

    It's written in cursive at the top. All the writing is in cursive. Beside her name is a drawing of a girl with frizzy hair and a sad grimace on her face.

    Aaliyah.

    17. New Zealand. No special skill.

    Bounced around foster homes. Ran away.

    I quickly shut the book. This is a list of every English speaking girl who feels lost. In front of me I have a biography of every girl's life. The details they'd rather no one hear. Every awful bit of information.

    When I open it again, I quickly flip the pages. Skimming, I arrive in the Charlotte's.

    There are three girls. Three. The first is 14, from Scotland. No special skill.