Lost Boy

Something Good

"What color were you planning on using?" His voice was accented, so he must have been from London, but I was worried more about why he was here as opposed to how good looking he may or may not be.

"Wh-what are you doing in my room?" My voice stutters when I'm emotional; more so when I'm angry or on the verge of tears, and in my case, it was both! The boy took a step closer to me, and I gripped my extended paint brush tighter, ready to...well, whatever you do when you're dumb enough to think a paint brush could be used as a weapon.

"I came to visit," he glanced around the room, "and see Wendy."

"Well, y-you've got the wrong house!" The boy furrowed his brows in confusion and looked up at my book shelf. I glanced as well and saw that the little woman had settled down on top of one of my snow globes, her legs crossed impatiently.

"Tink, I thought you said this was the place?" He knew her?! He knew a fairy! I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that they exist, and he's talking to her, or it, like it's nothing? Are you kidding me?!

The woman squeaked in response, gesturing to me and then to the Charles Dickens book, so it didn't exactly take a genius to figure out she was talking about me. The boy looked back at me and, suddenly, I got defensive again because this time, he wasn't smiling. He was angry...at me.

"You trapped Tinkerbell?" He seethed, taking another step closer so there was only a few feet between us. That's what she's called? I stood my ground and grit my teeth to keep them from chattering from the freezing air. The window was still wide-open.

"No!" I looked at the fairy and she didn't look all that impressed, crossing her arms over her little chest in anger, "I mean--well, not exactly." I glanced at the boy and gripped my brush until my knuckles ached.

"I didn't know what it was! I woke up because my window was open--"

"Yeah, that was Tink--!"

"I didn't know that!" I silenced the boy, and his face lightened up slightly. Still, he seemed annoyed at my actions. "I mean--how was I supposed to know that a fairy was going to fly through my window?!" I tried to keep my voice down, in fear of my parents waking up and to see that a boy had come through my window in the middle of the night. I'd be grounded for the rest of my life!

"Maybe not trap her under a jar?" The boy's face shone with anger, but his voice was surprisingly calm. It's like he's accustomed to scolding kids before. Hang on, wait. I'm not a kid! He looks the same age as me! Why am I letting him treat me like a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar?

"Right," I sass, throwing my paint brush on the floor and trudging back to my disheveled bed. I should have just gone back to sleep...unless I'm dreaming. That's still plausible, right? I climb into bed and beneath the covers, hoping that if slept in my dream, I'd wake up in real life. I scrunched up my nose and kept my eyes tight, concentrating on sleep when the same voice intruded my ears.

"What are you doing?" My eyes flew open and I flung the sheets off of me and looked around the room. There was no one. I breathed a sigh of relief, blaming it all on stress or lack of sleep and fell back on the mattress, staring at my ceiling full of glowing stars my mom bought at the store. Only, instead of stars, there was the same boy sprawled across my ceiling as if it were a bed, staring at me curiously as he mirrored my sleeping position up top. I shrieked in surprise and he giggled. He actually giggled! Like it was the silliest thing in the world! I ran from my sanctuary and kept my eyes trained on the boy as he mercilessly floated down like a leaf on my now empty bed, crossing his legs and smiling at me warmly. He didn't seem mad anymore, I guess. But this was worse. I'm blaming aliens. He's gotta be one! I mean, what else could it be? He floats! That's how he came through me six story window. He's come to take me back to his leaders.