The Librarian (Book One: Little Boy Lost) (9 page)

  
“C’mon, Wes!”
 
There was so much to explore, Taylor didn’t want to spend her time watching Wesley chicken out.

  
“Yes,” a grumpy voice said from behind Wesley. “Come, Wes.” Wesley turned just in time to see the trunk’s bark pull away from the tree to reveal two eyes hiding in the tree’s flesh beneath. Eyes in the tree. They looked human. A mouth with sharp teeth and wooden lips had already appeared beneath the eyes. It was filled with wet muck that came alive with the worms crawling through it. “Do it!” the mouth snarled, its lips grinding against tree bark as they moved. “Get out of my branches!”

  
Wesley tightened his grip, wrapping one leg around the vine before closing his eyes and stepping off the branch. He slid down the vine, falling fast and out-of-control until he could wrap his other leg around the vine to stabilize his descent. His feet hit the ground, and while his knees nearly gave out on him, he landed clean.

  
“Nice!” Taylor said, clapping and laughing.

  
“Yeah! Piece-o-cake!” Wesley looked around for Locke’s approval. “Where’d he go?”

  
“I... I don’t know.” She began to search. “Crazy little dude was right here two seconds ago.” Wesley looked with her, shifting his gaze upward when a handful of leaves floated down on him from above.

  
“Hey!” Wesley yelled. Locke was scaling the tree with one of the tree’s vines held firmly between his teeth. He was moving quickly too, hand-over-hand, already well above the limb where Wesley had stopped. “He needs to get down.”

  
“Why?” Taylor asked. “Worried he’s gonna show you up?”

  
“We’re in Oz, Taylor. The tree just talked to me.”

  
“What?!”

  
The tree... talked! To! Me!”

  
Taylor looked up at Locke just as he reached the tree’s peak. He was so high he looked like a tiny squirrel perched on a branch to appreciate the view.
 

  
He stepped onto the bough, both arms out for balance. Once steadied, a mischievous grin crept onto his face. Then, all at once, vine in hand, Locke sprinted the length of the branch and sprung into the air.

  
Taylor covered her mouth with a single hand. Her jaw hung slack. “Oh my god!”

  
“AKKKHHHHHAAAAAA!”

  
Locke’s battle cry was loud and proud and likely carried beyond the meadow and into the far reaches of Oz. His hair whipped in the air as he sailed head first toward the ground, the vine spiraling behind him like a corkscrew in his wake.

  
Wesley stood in awe, but Taylor watched in horror, sure Locke was seconds away from certain death. But the vine pulled taught and the change in momentum snapped Locke’s small body around, swinging his legs to the front so that he was no longer falling face first toward the ground. His legs thrashed wildly as the vine pulled him from his death spiral and allowed for a shallow landing. He crashed to earth, summersaulting through the grass before coming to rest, his arms and legs all pointing in seemingly impossible directions.

  
Taylor hurried over, but Locke was already getting to his feet and dusting himself off.

  
“Are you crazy?!” Taylor screamed, her anger mingled with excitement. “Why’d you do that?!”

  
“Because I
can
.”

  
“That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!” she exclaimed. Wesley noticed pink rushing into Taylor’s cheeks and felt like calling Locke a show-off but bit his tongue.

  
Taylor started walking, motioning for the boys to follow. “Now, c’mon. Let’s get out of here before that thing starts throwing apples at us.”

  
Locke looked over his shoulder at the tree. He was trying to understand what Taylor meant as he started after her:
Do trees throw apples in the real world?

  
Wesley watched them leave. Being with Taylor was often the only time Wesley didn’t feel like disappearing, but he sometimes found himself fading into the background like this because she had so many friends. It rarely lasted, though. She was Wesley’s best friend and never forgot to include him. And yet, for some reason, he worried she might today.

  
“Good job, Wes.”

  
Wesley turned. The face in the tree’s trunk reappeared near its massive base. It didn’t seem nearly as horrifying as it had before, and Wesley began to suspect it had scared him on purpose to help him conquer his fear.

  
“Thanks!” With that, Wesley took off and the strange being disappeared into the tree’s trunk again.

  
Wesley caught up to Locke who was already trailing a good distance behind Taylor.

  
“Hey, man.”

  
“Hey,” Locke echoed.

  
“You think those guys from the library will find us?”

  
“I doubt it,” Locke started. “But I hope they’re waiting. We won’t be surprised this time. We’ll be ready.”

  
“I bet you fight guys like that all the time in Neverland, huh?”

  
“Every day.”

  
Wesley took a spot beside Locke so they could talk as they walked. He had something else to say but was taking his time as he tried to find the words.

  
“I’m sorry for what happened in the library,” he finally said. “When we met. It’s just... it happened so fast. I didn’t have time to think.”

  
“You were protecting your girl,” Locke said. “It’s forgotten. I should say sorry to you.”

  
“She’s not my girl.” Wesley cringed at his own words then quickly changed the subject. “So, I don’t get it. If Neverland’s
half
this cool, why would you ever waste time in a dead-end place like Astoria?”

  
“What do you mean?”

  
“I moved to Astoria last year, and I read books just so I can get away from that place. You get fairies and Indian chiefs, pirates. I get... gym class.” Wesley pointed to the tree they climbed. It was just about to disappear beneath the horizon. “That? I could never do something like that where I come from.”

  
“You don’t have trees in Astoria?”

  
“No. No, man. You don’t understand. It’s not about trees. It’s my life.” Wesley sighed. “My life sucks.”

  
“Life’s what you make it, Wes.”

  
Wesley chuckled. Locke was so naïve about the real world. Not that he held it against the kid. How could he know what middle school life was like for a kid like Wesley? How could he know Wesley spent more lunches hiding in the boy’s bathroom than eating in the cafeteria?

  
“Maybe in Neverland. But sixth grade is a little more complicated than that. There’s... drama.” He shook his head. “I wear glasses. What do you think that means?”

  
“My friend wears glasses. We call him Goggles. He’s in charge of the maps.”

  
“Well,” Wesley began. “In my world they just make me a geek. I don’t get to be in charge of anything.”

  
“Oh,” Locke said quietly. “What’s a geek?”

  
“Exactly!” Wesley said. “See? In my world there’s all this stuff that matters to people. Do you have glasses? Are you athletic? What kind of clothes do you wear? Is it my fault my mom tries to dress me like I’m getting ready for the senior tour?” Locke didn’t answer. “My life sucks, man. And the worst part? There’s nothing I coulda done about it. All that stuff kids think is so important, it’s all stuff that’s completely out of my control.”

  
Wesley looked over to get Locke’s response only to find the Lost boy was no longer at his side. He had stopped a few feet back and was wearing an expression of absolute disgust.

  
“What?” Wesley asked. “What’d I say?”

  
“There isn’t anyone in Neverland who wouldn’t trade places with you, Wesley.”

  
Just ahead of them Taylor found a small grove of trees bearing silver lunch pails instead of fruit. When she turned to find the boys she saw they had stopped and were squared-off against one another. She rolled her eyes then headed their way to see what was going on.

  
“They don’t know me, Locke. They don’t know my life. Okay?
You
don’t know me either.” Wesley was trying to keep his cool but really took issue with what Locke said. “I get bullied every day. Every day. Sound like fun? Your friends are really going to trade swimming with mermaids for punches in the arm?”

  
“And what did you do
today
to make sure it doesn’t happen
tomorrow
?” Locke asked.

  
“Easy for you to say. You’re a freakin Lost Boy. What am I gonna do about it?!”

  
“Who saved me back in the museum?”

  
“It’s a library, Locke. Okay! It’s not a museum. And I didn’t save you. I had an idea. That’s it. That’s all I did. I said, ‘let’s go this way.’ Doesn’t exactly make me a hero, does it?”

  
Taylor arrived just as the boys were starting to talk over one another. She could tell something was wrong. She’d spent enough time on playgrounds and ball courts to know how boys eyeball each other right before fists fly. She couldn’t imagine Wesley starting a fight, but he was sure looking at Locke like he wanted to.

  
“What’s going on?” she asked.

  
Wesley motioned toward Locke. “Your new friend’s trying to tell me that
Peter Pan
would rather be
Wesley Bates
. I guess he’d rather be Astoria’s
biggest loser
than Neverland’s
biggest hero
, huh, Locke?”

  
“Don’t say that about yourself! You’re not—“

  
Wesley was quick to cut her off. “Did you see how everyone reacted when Randy won? He got a standing ovation. You’d think he was heavyweight champion of the world. If I won I woulda got laughed off the stage. Tell me I’m wrong.” Taylor looked away. “That’s what I thought,” Wesley smirked. “Stealing my essay was probably the biggest favor Randy Stanford ever did for me.”

  
Locke started to leave, but Wesley yelled after him. “Why’re you mad? At least she’s my friend. I just met you, and you’re already telling me how to live my life.”

  
The Lost Boy stopped, looking back. “I think you’re yelling at the wrong people,” he said. “My friends, everyone in Neverland, they have to live the life someone wrote for them. It never changes. It’s the same, every single day.”

  
“Really? Then why can
you
do anything you want?”

  
Locke stepped toward him. While Wesley was fuming, Locke was in complete control, his movements perfectly measured, each of his words carefully chosen to hammer his point home.

  
“Have you read
Peter and Wendy
?” Locke asked.

  
“Twice,” Wesley answered smugly.

  
“And have you ever heard of Locke Underfoot?”

  
“Never!”

  
“
That’s
why.” His final words came in a hushed tone, but Wesley heard the sorrow hiding behind his soft breath. He’d forced Locke to open up about his own issues and felt bad about it as Locke began to leave once more.

  
“Locke? I’m sorry. I just—“

  
“Do you even know why you’re apologizing?” Locke had stopped once more but refused to look Wesley in the eye. “I’m the Gatekeeper, Wesley. I’m the only person in Neverland who knows everything around us is a lie. You want to know why I go to Astoria?” He rattled the keys on his belt. “Because every once in a while I get lucky, and I don’t have the right key. It’s real life, not some fairy tale to put kids to bed at night.” That one made Taylor wince a little. Locke turned. “You get bullied, Wes? I have to watch a friend drink the same bottle of poison over and over again, all because it’s written in some stupid book.” He blew out a disgusted breath. “Her life is controlled by words on a page. You’ve got a chance to write your own story... and you don’t.”

TAYLOR AND LOCKE sat together in the meadow, both eating from silver lunch pails they’d picked from a tree nearby. Wesley was with them but sat alone, perched on a hollow log near the tree line with a bottle of water at his feet and his open backpack on the ground beside that. While his friends marveled at a towering mountain range in the distance, Wesley’s thoughts were even further away. He was still hurting after the argument with Locke. Not that Locke had said anything particularly mean-spirited. Truthfully, he wished Locke had. Randy had said much worse, and it had never taken Wesley this long to recover. But Locke had echoed what people had been telling him all year, and it hurt.

  
Stand up for yourself, Wes.

  
Life’s what you make it.

  
Believe in yourself.

  
Stop hiding who you are.

  
It was like the script for a lame after-school special, and Wesley was sick of hearing about it. Everyone Wesley knew had been singing from the same hymn book, but now this kid from Neverland was chiming in. It was all just too much. His dad had a question he liked to ask. “What’s more likely,” he would start. “That you’re right, and everyone’s wrong – or maybe it’s the other way around?” Wesley was glad his dad wasn’t there to ask him that now.

  
Taylor stood up, an empty lunch pail in her hand. “What do we do when we’re done?”

  
“I don’t know,” Locke said, rubbing hands together as he came to his feet. “This is a new one for me too.”