Support

All children, except one, grow up.

That boy is me – Peter Pan. The boy that will never grow up, the boy that believes in fairies. I was the boy standing under the wet bus stop with nothing but himself. No money, no other clothes except the ones that he was wearing (and still wearing), I won’t be needing any in Neverland. That boy is me.

Home was about a hundred miles away – or so I hoped - I looked towards the direction I came from; to the left. I smiled. Yep, home was so far away I couldn’t see it from here. Running away was interesting, exhilarating – oh wow, isn’t that a big word.

I cringed, another one of dad’s long words. One time, I failed English and I had to read the dictionary every night. “Who needs school anyway?” I said at loud. It’s nothing but a bar-less prison for people like me. To be isolated in reality was too . . . depressing.

This time I shuddered. Not too long before I escaped, I had that teenager talk. What was that term mom used again? Self – self harm? I think that’s it. The thought was . . . gruesomely disgusting. “Ew.”

Oh, but it was not about the thought of whatever oba-baloo that I was previously talking about! It was the long words, I think I’m maturing. Probably the lack of cartoons – I don’t think there are TVs at Neverland, though.

The rain finally stopped, I started walking. North, west, I had no clue where I was going. “We won’t need compasses in Neverland, no we won’t.” I whispered, looking from left to right before crossing the street.

I looked up at the sky, it was starless. I sighed and clutched my sides, how am I supposed to go to Neverland when there are not stars?

“That’s it; I gotta get away from this place.”

I started running. It was funny, I ran away to somewhere I would run away from again. Get it? I do, and that’s all that matters. Me. Me. Me.

Soon people would start talking. I had lost my shoe – the left one – on the way to the city. I felt like I was about to fly, the freezing air hitting my face. I was about to fly, I knew it but something was holding me down – my shoes. But as soon as I took them off, the magic was already gone.

“I need pixie dust,” I mumbled, rubbing my dirty chin. The city was loud, it was Friday I think. Lights everywhere, people everywhere, and it made me nervous. Crowds made me nervous. I wanted to run but my pumping heart wouldn’t let me. I leaned my hands on my knees for support and heaved for breath. I felt like my heart was about to exploded soon.

I sat on the sidewalk to catch my breath. My gray shirt was darker because of sweat and it was also running down my face and to the rest of my body. All those years of soccer finally paying off, and running out real quick. I didn’t think I could run anymore.

“Hey kid, where’re y’er parents?”

Ever since I was old enough to understand, I was always thought to ignore strangers. So I did but –

“I’m no stranger!”

My head whipped to the sound of the voice. Despite the earlier statement, he really was a stranger – at the time, anyway. Tall, a bit old looking because of the white ticks all over his face and the white hair on the top of his head. The bottle in his hand gave me the impression he was drunk; I cringed.

Then he rolled his eyes and said, “I’m not drunk, I can’t afford rum.” I caught up to the fact that he could read my mind; so I started talking with it. But he rose the hand where the bottle was held and looked like he was about to hit me but then I realized that the bottle was broken.

I had the urge to run away – sharp glass, sharp glass that could hurt me. I shuddered, the man looked confused then threw the broken glass carelessly behind his back. I gasped when I heard the crash.

“Still haven’t gotten over that fear, ‘ey?”

I gulped, “W-what fear?” He didn’t answer but he grabbed and handful of my shirt and pulled at it. I flinched almost immediately when his face was right at mine.

He sneered and his eye twitched a bit – it was actually kind of funny – and glared at me. “Grow up,” he growled and he let go and I dropped to the ground. It all happened so fast; I blinked a few times in confusion before realizing it was all my imagination.

There was no old man, just the wind. I was back sitting on the dirty sidewalk like nothing had happened. But it did happen. It really did. The fall hurt, I could remember the pain and how much it lasted and the shock that came right after; I was surprised nobody looked at me silly.

I’ve told the story a million times before, but nobody ever believed me. The thought never left my noggin as I walked around. I sighed and looked up at the sky again but still no stars. It started to rain, water dropped straight into my wide open eye and it somehow triggered my crying.

Everybody started running into buildings, trying to not get wet but I didn't see the point for me to even try. I was already soaked, I regretted not bringing any other clothes with me. I'm going to be sick, like I always did. If I'm sick, I can't fly. I'll probably get everybody else sick too, so I ran.

"It was real," I cried, turning to a dark alley.

Nobody believes kids like me.