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 Posted: Wed Jan 02, 2013 10:29 am
Hello!
Title says all. I want to post it to FictionPress, but I need it better than it is now. Each and every one of you have something you can change it with, so speak up! Like it says up in the title: This is a WIP, so I'll need you guys to help me every step of the way!
-chrysanthemums Word Count So Far: 2340
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Posted: Wed Jan 02, 2013 10:31 am
I stepped outside into the muggy morning, breathing in the humid New Orleans scent. It was hefty and dewy, with a trace of the crawfish boil our neighborhood had last night. A normal smell, so ordinary that it blended into the air. I rubbed my eyes with a yawn.
Why did I have to go to school today, after being up ‘til two in the morning? It’s not like I was ordered a specific time to sleep! The drunken adults were even encouraging the display I put on last night. I shook my head before I could carry on with the thought.
I sighed, slinging my book bag higher over my shoulder as I strolled across the sidewalk. In fear of sounding like the whiney high school teenager that I am, it just wasn’t fair.
That actually brought a smile to my lips. Almost finished.
The crawfish boil wasn’t the only important happening yesterday; it was my eighteenth birthday. I, Felicia May Clark, in light of my birthday yesterday, the morning of May 19th, am officially an adult!
My smile turned into more of a smirk, knowing that in just two weeks, school would end, icing out the finishing touches on my new, professional birthday cake. It was like this every year; my birthday would come, and the ending of school made my new happiness flourish through most of summer. Another yawn interrupted my inner monologue, and I furrowed my eyebrows in frustration.
Well, at least it was a Friday. Another point for how incredibly perfect today was, even with the thick, wet air surrounding me. It made my long hair stick to my body, rather than frizz itself out around me. Perks of having a naturally straight-as-a-board texture.
But, of course, I wanted thick hair, hair that curled endlessly whenever I put hot rollers in, instead of hanging limply to my side.
I knew the grass was always greener.
The school abruptly invaded my sight, since I hadn’t been paying attention. It was pretty, if not a bit plain. A slight hanging covered the entrance in the middle, a littering of trees, park benches and open grass taking up the room in front. The building itself had red brick, with the smallest touch of wrought iron wherever it could tastefully be placed. Reserved. Elegant.
I noticed that I was early; barely anyone was there. I groaned, and checked the clock on my phone.
6:09. No wonder I was so tired; the sun hasn’t even awoken yet, the sky a murky light blue. I knew Kevin had something to do with it; his annual birthday prank to me, one of his last chances to be an annoying little brother before I left for college: changing the time on my alarm clock. I knew it was in good taste, though, and let out a chuckle before deciding what to do before the remaining hour was up.
I plopped my schoolbag on one of the wooden tables, making sure the bench was dry before sitting myself down. Another tradition; my whole outfit was new, courtesy to my mother and my best friend, Camilla. Slim, fashionably faded dark jeans, a brown short-sleeved sweater that was heavily sagged in the front over a blue tank top, and brown sandals with different-colored gems encrusting it. Cam made it important to paint all ten of my nails the same shade as my tank top, saying it “made my blue eyes even more blue”, and my mom insisted she pull back the top layer of my hair, only the sun-made blonde part, into another blue clip, showing the brown lowlights of my mixed hair.
I felt slightly uncomfortable, considering that every other day was spent in a t-shirt and jeans. But, like I said; tradition.
Bad things would happen if you broke tradition.
I checked my phone again. 6:10. Wow, okay. This is going to take a while. I pulled out my headphones, and dug through my bag before I found the English book I have to read. We just got it Monday, but I guess it’s a good idea to get it out of the way.
I grimaced at the title. The Prince and the Pauper, by Mark Twain. It already sounded boring, unless the Prince was handsome. No, still boring.
As I opened the cover, my back prickled up. I tensed up, and set the book down. Goosebumps covered my skin, and icy pricks covered my muscles. It felt… It felt like I was being watched.
Something tapped my shoulder. I screamed, ripping out my ear buds and grabbing the book as a shield. I held it in front of my face, only my eyes above the cover.
In front of me was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.
He was, shock, taller than my 5’ height, nearing 6. His curly caramel hair was trimmed so that it stuck closer to his neck, a bit darker at the roots but bleached blonde at the tips, blending together so perfectly that it had to be natural. His clothes were simple, but different; slim jeans, a white California button-up gathered at the elbows, a black tie, and dress shoes. His skin was perfectly tan, his vivid green eyes surrounded by a tangle of golden lashes.
Those same eyes were amused, but he had some audacity to keep his mouth neutral at my display. I narrowed my eyes, right past his near-dizzying beauty, to his overly confident stance. I could already tell his ego needed no more boosting, if there was even any more room.
“Hello there.”
And, of course, an accent. What else?
I lowered the book, not taking my eyes off his. “Hello.”
Even though the situation was awkward, he took it with grace, his lithe body owning the ground he stood on. After a few moments of him staring, I raised an eyebrow at him. “Is this how you greet everyone?”
He let out a velvety laugh. “No, no. Only you.”
I let myself relax, dropping the book back onto the table. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”
He cocked his head at me, his face curious. “How do you know that?”
I would have noticed you before.
I nodded to the schedule sticking out of his pocket. He didn’t look down, only another dashing smile. “Observant. I knew you would be.”
I was confused, but shook it off as crazy foreign talk.
“You look like you walked right out of a photo shoot. A random piece of blue paper sticks out like a sore thumb, you know.” I shrugged.
He took a step closer, just so I could take a step back. He looked a fragment hurt, but carried on with the conversation. “You people have strange ways of talking. Photo shoot? Sore thumb? How is any of that relevant?” I couldn’t place where he was from just by his accent. It sounded British, but with a lick of something else I’ve never heard before. It was close to Irish, but not exact.
I sighed. “I mean… you’re dressed… rather well for just school.”
His eyes twinkled, and I even saw his head get a tad bigger. “So are you, my dear.”
I looked down. Damnit, he’s right.
“Yesterday was my birthday. This is celebratory. Usually I wear t-shirts, maybe even a hoodie whenever it’s cold. Nothing special.” Why am I telling him how plain I usually look?
He seemed confused once more. Welcome to the club, buddy.
Before he could speak again, I whipped out my hand. Pale, compared to him, but I was usually pale compared to everyone. I had that red pigment everyone loved to hate.
“My name is Felicia. Usually people call me Fey, though.”
Instead of shaking it, he gently brought it up to his lips, his skin warm. “Felicia,” he purred.
I yanked my hand away. He looked up, shocked, before straightening up into a professional stance. “My formal name is Prince Elios James Marth the III, Heir to the Kingdom of Raegar, in the realm of Neverland. My grandfather, Second King Elios James Marth, and my father, Third King Fostar James Marth, announced me Keeper, along with rightful Prince of Raegar. But,” he said, “You can call me Peter.”
Well, that came out of nowhere.
This guy was crazy. This is Louisiana, for Christ’s sake! Maybe he’s been popping too many happy pills, but I backed away slowly to my bag.
“Okay, Peter, uh huh. This has been lovely, but I have to go… to class.” I began wrapping my headphones around my finger, eyes not leaving his form. He seemed peeved, probably because I didn’t show any praise or curtsey to him, and took another step forward.
“Now, wait a moment, Felicia,” he said angrily. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I gaped at him, incredulous, before sending him a glare. “Like hell I’m not! You’re insane. Neverland doesn’t exist. Let me guess, Prince; you think you’re Peter Pan, don’t you?”
He laughed at me, only making me angrier. “I know I am. And, as a future Queen, you should really clean your mouth; no fiancé of mine is going to talk like a lowly commoner.”
That made me drop everything. I spoke through my teeth as a stepped closer. “Queen? Fiancé? Who would want to marry you? Definitely not me, you arrogant slime.”
His green eyes crackled into fire. “Feel lucky, peasant, that I’m choosing you. Maids, Daughters of Dukes, even Mermaids want me to be their One.”
Alright, the peasant part really got me. I threw back my hand, and let it fly to his cheek.
I heard and felt a satisfying SLAP! ring around the courtyard. His head flew to the side, and stayed there for a moment, processing what just happened. He slowly turned his glare to me, and right whenever I met his eyes, I couldn’t move. He paralyzed me. I wasn’t being figurative.
He didn’t need to speak, so I spoke instead. I could do that much.
“If I’m such a lowly peasant, my Lord,” I spat, which caused his glare to falter slightly. “Then why me?”
“Oh, trust me,” he began, lowering his face so it was in front of mine. “If I could choose anyone else, anyone else, then I would.”
“Then choose someone else,” I said, trying to rip my eyes away.
His face faltered again, almost looking hurt. “It’s not that easy, Fey.”
He released me, and the sudden change dropped me towards the ground. He caught me before I could make impact. The anger in his eyes vanished.
“I lied,” he said truthfully, which made my ears perk. His arms were strong under me. “If I could choose anyone else, I wouldn’t. You’re my One.”
I groaned. “Alright, please, explain to me this One business.”
He smiled, his elfish features brightening. “I will, whenever I take you back to Raegar. Everything will become clear.”
This guy was definitely bipolar. I was still angry about our little episode earlier, but he seemed perfectly fine now. I bent my back, so I could propel myself over onto my feet, and turned around to look at him. His arms, which once held me, were still in their shape, and he looked surprised. He then stood up and let his arms fall gently to his side.
“I’m guessing you won’t return to Raegar with me?”
“As much as it pains me-,” and it didn’t, “- no. I think I’ll stay here, instead of fighting Pirates in Neverland.”
His teeth hissed at Pirates. My eyes widened.
“No. Freaking. Way. Pirates? As in Captain Ho-“
He quickly covered my mouth with his hand, eyes frantic. “Never, ever say his name. He knows when people say his name, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
The intensity in his gaze made me think twice about whether this place didn’t exist or not. How could he feel this strongly about a place that’s not real?
He dropped his hand from my face, but stayed close to me. He took in a deep breath. “Just so you know, I didn’t fly in just to choose the next pretty face. Like I said, I’m the next Keeper of Neverland. You, on the other hand, are the next Finder. If prophecy is correct, you’re my One as I am yours. If you don’t agree to return with me…” He took in a pained breath. “I’ll have to make you.”
I took a step back, fear rushing through my veins. He took a step back, too, his face morphing into one of horror. “No, no, not like that! I’m not kidnapping you! I want to bring you back, but only whenever you agree to!”
I almost sighed in relief. Almost. “So, what? You’re just going to stay here until I agree to leave with you? Because, newsflash; it won’t happen!”
Peter wrinkled his nose at the thought. “Here? On Earth? No, of course not. My home is Neverland. You’ve just turned eighteen, correct?”
“How do you know that?”
He grimaced slightly, as if it pained him to explain. “I’m the new Keeper, but I have a bit of Finding powers. Enough so that, whenever you turned of age, I could feel you.” He reached out a thin finger to tap my temple. “The Keeper and the Finder are connected, you know. Whenever you want to leave, just ask the question in your head, alright?”
I swat his hand away. “No, not alright! You think, right out of the blue, I’m just going to decide to leave my home?”
He smirked. “Like I said; ask.”
He leaned forward, brushing his lips against mine. An electric current ran through my body, and instincts told me to tangle my hands into his curls and kiss him deeper. But, even if I decided to, it ended much too quickly. He pulled back and, using the bench as a boost, jumped up and shot straight into the air, disappearing from sight.
Peter Pan.
And then, like the dignified woman I am, I fainted.
Word Count: 2340.
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