Finding Neverland

Chapter 1

Happily ever afters, a truly magnificent dream, a dream almost every girl has as they grow up. A prince and a princess, fated to be together. But in the end, dreams are just dreams, and everyone has to grow up. Everyone of course, except for one Peter Pan.
Maybe that's why he had always been my favorite cartoon, the boy who could never grow old. The one who could escape reality and always have fun. Him, tinkerbell, and the lost boys, forever young.
Every since I was young he had been my idol, my dream, my crush. He was a dream, just a dream that was never meant to be. And yet, a realization came to me as I stood in an Italian flea market, staring at an old, slightly torn, Peter Pan book. The pages were yellow, slightly frayed, and, with one whiff, I discovered that it had the oh so wonderful old book smell.
I was like Wendy, taking some time away from my reality to go to someplace new, someplace beautiful, someplace filled with adventure. My Neverland was Europe, and my adventure was backing across the continent.
An old, yet beautiful lady approached me, talking in Italian. She pointed to the book, and her tone sounded like she was asking a question.
"I'm sorry, I don't speak Italian." I panicked for a second, knowing I had a phrase to say this. I had looked it up online a few days before I got to Italy. Finally it came to me, and quickly I said, "Lo non parlo italiano."
"Ah, American yes? You want to buy?" I glance down at the book and pondered for a moment. No doubt this book would be overpriced and I was on a tight budget to begin with, but I couldn't help it. I happily bought the book, and I was right to think that it would be overpriced, luckily for me, it wasn't as terrible as I thought it would be. I would still have to skip a few meals to gain back what money I lost.
I continued to walk through the market, book in hand as I admired beautiful antique trinkets, one of which was a magnificent vintage record player with a phonograph horn. I could only imagine how beautiful the sound of jazz or classical music would be when played on that device.
I passed by small, wooden jewelry boxes, shiny silverware, wonderful paintings and photographs, and so many different people. It would definitely be a sight I won't forget.
I stopped at the end of the street where the market was held, taking a few moments to gaze at the bustling crowd and commit the sight to memory.
I turned, continuing my way down the stone path, glancing at the buildings on either side of me. People watching as I walked was so interesting, especially when I couldn't understand what they were saying. It only allowed me to observe further, and to use my imagination.
I dodged a bike quickly as it whizzed by me, starting me to a stop for a few moments. Immediately someone near me got my interest. A young teenage boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old, which wasn't far off from my age, but far enough. He was calling out to women passing, pleading with them, asking something I could not understand. As I approached, his eyes lit up at the sight of me, calling out to me this time. "Signora! Signora! Un ritratto?"
"I'm sorry?" I ask, halting to look at the boy. He seemed excited to see me stop, shuffling to place his fold up stool and sketchbook under his arm. He stuck his hand out to me, smiling the biggest smile he could.
"Hello, i'm Antonio. May I draw a portrait?" His accent was strong, and he seemed hesitant in his ability to speak English, but he was able and spoke fluently. I shook his hand but gave him a sad smile in return. "I'm sorry, I would but I don't have the money to pay you."
"It is free! Please, no money. I do not want money." He pleads, hope appearing in his eyes. I nod my head and smile again as he laughs in joy. He ushers me to take a seat on the stool he had, and bringing out another one for himself to sit on.
He positions me so I face the crowd, and himself, with my back to a building. He opens his sketchbook, starting immediately with his charcoal pencil. I surprisingly felt pretty calm and comfortable considering the odd situation I was in. I tried to watch the crowd for a while but curiosity got the better of me.
"If you don't mind me asking, why are you doing this?" He smiles, glancing up at me from his sketching to answer. "I want to go to an art university, but I need practice. I do not know if I am good and I want practice with real life people." He explains, going back to his sketches.
I nod my head in understanding. "That's very admirable for you to take charge and get real experience. I hope you the best." "Grazie signora." He replies, gratitude and surprise evident in his voice.
"Would you mind doing two portraits? One for me and the other for you portfolio?" I ask, earning a startled look from him. "You don't mind?"
"Not at all." I reply, grinning when I see his tan face stretch to hold a large smile. We continued to talk and get to know each other as he drew. He was quite funny, readily providing me with a whole compilation of jokes, leaving me in fits of laughter. He also teased me on my prominent foreignness.
In turn I teased him on his choppy english and his age, which was sixteen, and how he was still so young and going through puberty. He took about two hours to finish both portraits, but the time flew so quickly that by the time it came to the end, I found myself reluctant to leave. He was the first person I had befriended in backpacking trip, and although it had only been a week, he was still the first friend I had made on my adventure.
He seemed reluctant also, as he set down his sketchbook to give me a hug in thanks. Despite his age, he was taller than me, but his scrawny body showed how his body hadn't caught up to his growth spurt just yet.
"Signora, what is your name? I want the title to be your name." He states, picking up his sketchbook to write it down. "Evangeline Knight." He nods his head, writing it down and then turning the page to the second sketch. He slowly and careful rips the page and then hand it to me.
I'm shell shocked when I see it. It was a picture of me laughing, him probably getting the image from the countless times I had laughed. He captured me in a type of beauty I never would have seen in myself, using the charcoal to shade in my subtle cheekbones and small nose. My lips were spread into a wide smile, nose slightly crinkled along with the corners of my eyes.
My hair fell in waves over my shoulder, and my hand was raised to tuck a strand behind my ear. The image looked exactly like me, and yet he was able to make me look even better. The ability he had to create such a realistic image with only a charcoal pencil was astounding.
"Antonio this is absolutely amazing! I can't even put into words how beautiful this looks, how are you not famous already? I don't even think you need classes at the university, I think you need to be the one teaching at the university!" I exclaim, causing a deep blush to arise on his cheeks.
"Thank you signora, but I do need some work." He states humbly, glancing down at his hands. I ask to see the other one, and yet again it is me laughing, a lot similar to the one I have, but this time my head was thrown slightly back, and the wind had blown my hair back. This one, once again, made me look more beautiful than I actually am, and yet it still seemed to be completely and utterly me.
I continued to compliment him and encourage him to continue to work and go for his dream. When it was finally time to depart, I stopped one last time to ask him something. "Antonio, you didn't sign your work." He shrugged in response, not seeing the need to.
"You should always sign your work and take credit of your art. You deserve the recognition for such beautiful pieces." He blushes again, as he takes back the drawing I hold out to him to sign.
"Plus, I need your signature for when you become famous. I need proof that I knew you." I state, nudging his elbow as he hand back the portrait. He laughs shyly, looking down at his shoes but thanking me nonetheless.
I laugh audibly at his reaction before ruffling his hair in a teasing manner and saying goodbye. I grabbed my things and waved one last goodbye before heading off into the street, happy and excited. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so lonely after all, just as long as I keep meeting people like Antonio I'm bound to have countless memories of both the sights and the people.
I admire the drawing as I continue to walk, stopping by a shop to grab a cheap but durable plastic cover to protect the drawing. The memory is worth the money, and I wouldn't want to get the portrait ruined. I would definitely cherish it.
It was about one o'clock, and I had just reached the hostel I was staying at. The group of young spaniards I was placed in a room with were seated on the ground, laughing and joking around. I hadn't talked much with them, just mainly keeping to my own business, and they didn't seem to mind. They were too preoccupied with their own business when I entered, so I just made my way past them and to my bed. My backpack was underneath, and I quickly grabbed my bathing suit and went to one of the bathrooms to change. I had two more days in Italy, and today I figured I would hit the beach, afterall I'd be in Rome all day tomorrow.
I put a skirt and flowy top over my bikini and took off, grabbing my book on my way out. I waved goodbye to my hostel mates and got a few loud goodbyes in reply before they returned to the card game they had started. I couldn't understand how they could stay in the hostel when they have all of Rome to explore. Maybe they were just here waiting for the nightlife? Even then it was pretty disappointing.
I reached the train station not long after, preparing the money I knew I would have to spend for the trip and the beach. The train took about an hour, in which I divulged myself into my book. I almost didn't realize I was at my stop until someone had bumped against me on their way out.
I was startled, but gathered my stuff quickly and walked out. I found my bus not long after and hopped on, continuing my journey to the beach, and once again getting lost in my book. Half an hour later, I was finally there.
I set my book down, already almost finished with it. Rereading the book let me notice so much that I hadn't before, and the story itself brought up so many wonderful memories.
The bus rolled through the town perched on a cliff. The small roads were surrounded by cute shops and cafes, which I knew I would be visiting. Heading down to the beach, the sight was beautiful. The clear blue waters glistened at the bottom of the beach, small waves rolling onto the pearl sand.
I loaded off the bus as was immediately greeted with children's laughter as they ran about and played. Parents were watching from lounge chairs, taking pictures, and talking. I immediately knew that the money spent for Sperlonga, and the trip alone was worth it.
The sun warmed my body, and my feet sunk into the hot sand. I took no time walking to the water, getting close enough for the waves to tickle my feet. My bag hung to the side, my book in my hands. When I closed my eyes I could feel the breeze, smell the sea, and taste the salt. It was invigorating.
When I opened my eyes again, I made eye contact with a man in the water. He was lean and fit, having just enough muscle to prove he was involved in sports, but not overbearing. His blonde hair was obviously darker wet, looking more of a brown. We made eye contact, and he gave me a quick smile, but turned to his friend beside him to continue talking.
I turned and found an empty lounge chair, stripping from my clothes to reveal my bikini. I put a good amount of sunscreen on, not wanting to suffer from a sunburn later on. I placed all my things beside my chair, and laid back, trying to relax and enjoy the sights and the people, but my body itched to grab my book, my fingers curling and uncurling into fists. After a good ten minutes, I pulled Peter Pan out, opening it and continuing where I had left off.
It didn't take me long to finish it. Two hours later I had the book finished, and the content smile on my face was unfaltering.  It was such a beautiful story, yet the ending was tragically real.
It was around four now, and I had promised myself I would get in the water before I had to leave, so I did just that. I set my things on the chair, saving it from anyone who thought it was available. I walked straight up to the water, just as the man and his friend were walking out. They were tall, I noticed, but the man was taller than his friend. My nose would just meet the man's shoulders, whereas my my chin would meet his friends. They were laughing and talking as I passed, both having a strong accent, yet it was one I couldn't place.
They both walked with perfect posture, and they were well groomed. They also had this air of importance surrounding them, and it was both unsettling and intriguing. I passed by silently and dove into the warm water, which was quite different from the cold Atlantic back home. I wasn't sure if I liked the high sea temperature, but it was water nonetheless, and I've always felt at peace in the water.
I enjoyed swimming, diving underneath waves and dodging different kids and groups intent on playing games. I stayed in the water for quite a bit of time, until my fingers looked like prunes and I began to feel dehydrated. I walked back to my things, knowing I would have to start heading home soon. Sunset would be in an hour or so, and I should probably get back before then.
The sand clung to my feet and ankles, even the back of my calves as sand sprung up to stick against them. I didn't have a towel with me, so I decided to wait and air dry my best. The hot sun helped with that. Once I was dry again, I put my clothes back on, observing the crowd.
I saw the man's friend off in the sand. He had his hands in the pockets of his light pink swim trunks and he had a white shirt on now. Just like his friend, he had blonde hair, and his was light blonde. He looked relaxed, lazily juggling a soccer ball whereas the other man nowhere to be seen. I wonder where he went.
I was sitting, the book placed in my lap and my bag by my side as I searched to make sure I had everything before I left. "Hey Finn!" I distinctly heard a ball getting hit, and I only just managed to look up to see the ball come flying towards the man in front of me. 
The man was carrying two large glasses of beer and, in a matter of seconds, the ball had hit the man's arm and the beer came spilling down, straight onto me.
I heard a few gasps, a few laughs, and a large string of curse words from the man, but I couldn't react. I was in complete and utter shock. The book was soaked, its fragile pages curling and its ink smearing. I brought my hand slowly to it, opening it up to see the complete damage. I couldn't even turn any pages, I just ended up tearing a few in half.
I hadn't realized someone had been talking until I looked up. It was the man I had seen before, this time he wore a grey shirt with his blue swim trunks. He was crouched in front of me, waiting for an answer to a question I hadn't heard. I saw his friend in the pink trunks come running up behind him, apologizing profusely. The man turned to glare at his friend, who immediately became silent.
I could only stare. I should have known my luck with my trip wouldn't last. I had never been lucky, and I was a fool to think this trip would turn up smoothly. I wouldn't have even been this distraught if it had been any other book, but the story was special, and finding this older, and quite expensive book on my trip of freedom made it so.
The two men stared at me, and I was once again reminded that they had asked something. "What?" I asked, my voice soft. I wasn't sure whether I was more angry or sad. Maybe a bit of both.
"Are you okay?" The man in the blue trunks asked. The man in the pink trunks behind him looked so guilty and sorry that he looked like a puppy, but I was just done. I knew I was overreacting but I had so little in my life. I quickly grabbed my soaked bag and felt relief to find that the plastic cover I had bought for Antonio's drawing had been a good investment. The picture was saved, along with my passport and some money I had kept in a ziploc bag.
Instead of answering, I grabbed my ruined book and my bag and got up, pushing past the two men and walking towards where the bus had dropped me off before. I could tell my actions shocked them, and I cringed when I felt my clothes stick to my body. I smelled like I had decided to drink an entire bar empty.
The two men followed me, but I had a minute head start. They jogged up to me, stopping in front of me to try and apologize again. I just moved passed them and kept going. "Please, let me apologize!" The man in blue called out, coming beside me this time. "No need." I replied dryly.
He stayed silent, but continued to follow. His friend remained a few steps behind us, tentatively getting closer and closer. I had finally reached the bus stop, and walked straight up the the trash can that was there. They watched as I brought the book up. They saw me staring at it, for a long while. They saw me flip through what pages I could, and they saw, along with me, the ink smeared, wrinkled paper. And then they watched me drop the book into the trash.
"Please, let me repay you." The man spoke up from behind me. I turned around, figuring I had to deal with them before I could be alone and move on.
"I said it was fine." I sighed out. I brought my hand to rub my eyes. I could feel a headache coming along already. "No really, because of this idiot over here, your things are ruined."
The man gestured to his friend in pink, who gave me a guilty smile. "I really am an idiot," the friend said, now coming to stand beside the other man.
"It was a mistake, you didn't mean it so it's fine. Just go back and enjoy the rest of your day." I turned around again, watching as others began to show up. Good, that meant the bus wouldn't be too far away.
"At least let me get you some new clothes and see you to town. It's the least we can do." I was about to say no until a family came to stand beside me. The parent's took a few sniffs and whipped their heads towards me, giving me looks of disgust before dragging their kids far away.
At that moment, the bus came rolling to a stop in front of us, and I knew I had to get on it. "New clothes won't really help. The beer's all over me, I'll just smell and make the new clothes smell too. Thanks though."
I hopped onto the bus, and was surprised when the men hopped on too. The man in blue came to sit in the seat beside me, and the guy in pink sat behind us. "That's okay, you can take a shower once you get to your hotel in town. We can still get you new clothes to replace the ones we ruined today."
The man in blue was stubborn, but so was I. "My hotel isn't in town."
"Where are you staying?" The man in pink asked. "I'm staying in a hostel in Rome." I answered without thinking, and I probably shouldn't have told him that. They could be some perverts or kidnappers.
"Well you can shower in our hotel room then." The man in blue said. I tensed and inched away from him. This wasn't a good sign. They are definitely bad guys. They either think I would sleep with one or maybe even both of them, or they could be some crazy psychopaths wanting to murder me.
He was looking at me, and he could tell my change in attitude right away. His eyes widened and his friend behind us laughed. "I promise we aren't perverts or anything. I just- we just- the beer- I- sorry- we need to repay you and- I don't mean- I just-"
His friend erupted into another fit of laugher, and the man beside me became more red by the second. The bus made its stop in town, and many people left. The two men got up, the man in pink bounding off but the man in blue stayed. "Please come. I feel really bad about what happened, especially about your book. I could tell it meant something to you. This is the only way I can feel better knowing I did something to help."
The bus driver was complaining in Italian, glaring at the two of us. Even without being able to understand Italian, I could tell he wanted the man off the bus, and I wouldn't doubt he would leave without letting him off. I hesitated but got up. The man was happy, his lips curving up to a wide smile, showing his deep dimples.
I followed him off and met up again with his friend. "I'm Finn by the way. And that idiot who caused this whole thing is my friend, Jonah." I smiled and nodded my head, replying with my name. I followed them in silence, winding around the small, ancient roads. The shops were small and adorable, but as we walked I could tell the shops were getting more expensive.
We reached a high end hotel, and I felt out of place walking in there. My clothes were still wet, smelling like alcohol, and my sand covered flip flops squished underneath me. My bag was even dripping a little on the nice and clean floors, which earned a few glares and evil looks from both the staff and the residents.
"Here, take the keycard and go ahead to the suite. There are two rooms in the suite and you can choose whichever, both have bathrooms connected to it. We'll just go grab some clothes for you and we'll be right back. The suite's on the top floor, and we are suite number four."
I nodded my head and followed his instructions. "Oh, and get something cheap!" I called to them as they walked out the door. Jonah turned was the one to turn, winking at me before turning away.
I got onto the elevator and rocked back and forth on my feet until I reached the top floor. I walked out and found the suite's door before I finally stopped myself. I barely knew these guys and here I am about to enter their room to shower. What was I doing?
I cleared my mind of all worries and decided to trust my gut, and for some reason it told me to just go with it, so with that, I slipped the keycard into the slot and entered their room.