The Librarian (Book One: Little Boy Lost) (13 page)

  
“I... I...”

  
“Answer me!”

  
“I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry!”

  
Douglas tilted his head, studying his son through calmer eyes. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” He let go of Randy’s arm and smoothed his suit coat with both hands. “I’m sure you’ll get another shot at him anyway.”

  
He dusted his son off as the Horseman joined them. Randy was relieved to see he had pulled the hood back over his head. “Right now we’ve got to move,” Douglas explained. “We’ve got work to do, but we don’t want to be out in the open like this when everything shifts.”

  
Randy wiped his eyes. “What do you mean... shift?”

  
“You’ll see.”

  
Randy watched Douglas take off his coat as he and the Horseman came together and started toward the tree line. Randy turned his attention on the empty cabin nearby. He could almost feel the tiny shack’s pull on him, a quiet whisper calling out.

  
It’s not safe with your dad. Not anymore.

  
Randy pushed the thought from his mind. The portal was closed. He couldn’t go back even if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. He’d never join Wesley and Taylor. They hated him. They wouldn’t take him into their pathetic little group anyway.

  
You know that isn’t true.

  
Randy hurried after Douglas and the Horseman. Things had gotten really weird – Randy didn’t have a clue what was going on – but he knew his dad would take care of him.

  
Will he?

  
“Shut up,” Randy said. Douglas and the Horseman passed into the forest, and Randy quickened his pace, following his dad deeper into Oz.

  
He had nowhere else to go.

WESLEY BENT HIS glasses back into shape as he and the others followed the librarian through the main hall and down one of the library’s long aisles.

  
The old man was gripping the Peter Pan dagger loosely in his right hand. He was walking with a hunch once more, and while he didn’t have his staff or cane, Wesley noticed he had to use the bookcases for support on a few occasions.
 

  
“Here we are.” The Neverland carving was there, hanging at the end of the aisle, waiting.

  
Taylor’s eyes were already welling with tears. “You could stay,” she said desperately. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I promise. It would be something new everyday. And you could hang out with us on weekends. And... and...”

  
“Take care of our guy,” Locke said coolly. “Okay?”

  
She lunged forward and wrapped both arms around him. The move caught him off-guard, but he eventually allowed himself to sink into the warmth of her embrace.

  
Taylor let him go, wiping tears and missing that embarrassment had brought a slight tinge of color to Locke’s cheeks. She took a spot beside the librarian, and he patted her on the back as Wesley moved toward their departing friend.

  
“Hey,” Wesley began.

  
“Hey,” Locke echoed.

  
“We’re okay, right? I mean, we’ll probably never see each other again, but... I need to know we’re okay.” Wesley lowered his gaze.

   
“It was an adventure, right?”

  
Wesley looked up. “Heck yeah!” he replied. Locke offered his hand, and Wesley took it. The Lost Boy pulled him in for the kind of hug men usually reserve for a lifelong friend.

  
“Good,” Locke whispered into Wesley’s ear. “Now go write another one.”

  
They pulled apart, and Wesley began to nod.

  
Stand up for yourself, Wes.

  
Life’s what you make it.

  
Believe in yourself.

  
Stop hiding who you really are.

  
Everyone in Wesley’s life had been singing from the same hymn book for a long time now, but Locke had found a way to make the song his own.

  
Write your own story.

  
Wes finally understood.

  
Locke turned to the librarian. Without a word, the old man turned to the Neverland carving and pushed the dagger into place. He stepped back, guiding Wesley and Taylor with him to make sure both were watching from a safe distance.

  
The carving began to shimmer just as the Oz carving had when the children opened that portal earlier in the day. The light brightened, and the tentacles appeared, reaching into the library and slowly wrapping themselves around Locke’s tiny body.

  
The Lost Boy turned to face his friends, wanting the moment to last as long as it possibly could. It was funny, just a few hours before he’d wanted nothing more than to free himself from the real world and the ugly people in it, now all he wanted to do was stay.

  
The light pulsed, growing so bright Taylor had to shield her eyes. So did the old man. But Wesley kept watching, just as reluctant to let go as Locke.

  
The fingers of light continued to circle Locke’s body, coiling around his legs, his torso and his arms until eventually his entire body was aglow.

  
Behind him, the carving was gone, nothing but white light where the chiseled landscape had been. As expected, the pool of light began to ripple and allowed a slight glimpse into Neverland. There was a rocky cliff on the other side of the portal that looked out on a great lagoon. In the distance, two wooden ships were locked in an epic battle, their canons booming, their sails flapping in the wind. But Wesley didn’t look. Even with the smell of gunpowder hanging in the air, even with the cool sea air stinging his face – Wesley kept his gaze firmly fixed on his friend.

  
Wesley raised his hand into the air, a motionless wave. Locke did the same before quietly mouthing two words.

  
“Thank you.”

  
The light grew so intense Wesley saw little more than the dark silhouette of Locke’s body. Then, he couldn’t see him at all. He couldn’t see anything. Nothing but white.

  
“Thank you... Locke Underfoot.”

  
Moments later, the light dimmed and soon the world began to take shape around Wesley once more. The bookcases were first to appear – then a desk nearby. Taylor and the librarian came into view just after that, and eventually the light waned enough that Wesley could see the pool of light hanging on the stone wall ahead of him. But there was nothing blocking his vision. Nothing between him and the carving as the tentacles began to recede into the woodwork.

  
Wesley’s friend was gone.

“YOU OKAY?” TAYLOR asked.

  
Wesley was biting at his lip. “Yeah, I think so.”

  
“Come now,” the librarian said. The old man walked with them into the main hall and toward the library’s lobby. “Can I assume you children know not to talk of what you saw here today?”

  
“Of course,” Wesley started. “But... well... what
did
we see? I mean... what the heck is going on around here?”

  
“Wesley?” Taylor winced at the tone in his voice and tried to let Wesley know he’d crossed a line.

  
“I’m sorry, it’s just—“

  
“It’s a great deal to take in,” the librarian said. “I know.”

  
“Why were those guys doing that to you?” Wesley asked before moving his gaze to the librarian’s burned arm.

  
“And what was Randy’s dad doing in Oz?” Taylor added.

  
“Yeah! How did he know? And who was that with him? Was that the Headless Horseman? I mean... for real?”

  
The librarian allowed their flood of questions to spill out before taking the time to answer.

  
“Well,” he began. “There are people who know about this place who aren’t willing to keep it a secret.”
 

  
“What kind of people?” Taylor asked. “Randy’s dad?”

  
“It’s nothing you children need to concern yourself with.”

  
“But maybe we can help.”

  
“I think you’ve done enough as it is.”

  
“I know.” Taylor let her head hang. “We’re so sorry.”

  
The librarian stopped, offering them both a puzzled look. “Why on earth would you need to apologize?”

  
“For everything that’s happened?”

  
“Can you imagine what might have happened if Locke hadn’t met kids who believed his story? Locke doesn’t realize it, but he has a very important job to do in Neverland. What if he’d met Randy instead? It’s belief like yours that makes this place what it is. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” The librarian shifted his gaze to the book under Wesley’s arm. “I see you have my book.”

  
“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.” Wesley tried to hand the large volume to the librarian but the old man waved it off.

  
“Something tells me it should have been yours all along.” He looked down his long nose at the boy. Wesley began to fidget despite the proud smile slowly spreading across his face. “Tell me, though. Did you find anything hidden within its pages?”

  
“Like what?” Wesley asked.

  
“Perhaps that’s best left for another day.”

  
Worry lines stretched across Wesley’s furrowed brow as the librarian told Taylor goodbye. Was there something waiting for him in the book? Something he was supposed to find? He didn’t check the book in front of the others, but something told him he had another mystery to add to his list.

  
The librarian watched the two kids start for the exit. “Be safe out there,” he said, waiting for them to disappear into the lobby. “Please... be safe.”

WESLEY AND TAYLOR walked through the lobby, both a little hesitant to go outside; they understood they’d be in a lot of trouble for disappearing on Ms. Easton like they did. Neither had a clue what was waiting for them outside the library doors.

  
“You sure you’re okay?” Taylor asked.

  
“I’m fine. Why do you keep asking that?”

  
“I don’t know. I just... why were you crying? Randy’s been bullying you since your first day. I don’t get it. I thought you’d do a little dance after punching his lights out like that.”

  
“I didn’t punch his lights out, Tay.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t like I imagined, either. Besides, you didn’t give
Locke
a hard time when
he
was crying.”

  
Taylor let her expression soften. “You mean when you jumped in front of his knife to save me?”

  
Wesley pushed the library’s heavy door open. Early evening light poured into the building. “How many times have you jumped in to save me, Taylor?”

  
She studied her friend. There was confidence in his eyes that she’d never seen before. He seemed so adult.

  
A chill ran the length of Taylor’s spine. Her skin felt funny too. Hot and tingly. It was like something they said had charged the air around them with electricity.

  
Maybe it was the way he had called her Taylor.

  
“Where have you two been?!”

  
Both children looked up with a start. Two police cars were idling near the school bus, their red and blue lights flashing. Ms. Easton was marching up the walk toward them, an adult couple on her left and a greying man in oil-stained overalls on her right.

  
“Is that—“

  
“Our parents!” Wesley couldn’t believe it. “We’re in some serious shi—“

  
Wesley’s mother grabbed him before he could finish. Taylor’s father had her by the arm too. Just like that, their parents were pulling them apart.

  
Neither one of them had a chance to say goodbye.

  
The electricity between them was gone.

WESLEY WAS SITTING on the edge of his bed and thumbing through a new comic book he’d bought the previous Wednesday. It was late, and there was an untouched plate of food on his desk: potatoes and pot roast. His father had sent him to his room for the evening. It wasn’t much of a punishment, but no one in the house could remember the last time Wesley was grounded which left them with little experience to draw on.

  
“...and I don’t want you hanging out with that Taylor Williams,” Wesley’s mom had told him on the drive home. “She’s a bad influence. I’ve been saying that all along.” That stung. That was his true punishment. And truthfully, it didn’t make any sense. His mom loved Taylor, always had. Wesley couldn’t understand why she had pinned everything that happened on her.

  
Nervous energy had him bouncing around his room like a ping-pong ball. He traded the comic for his video game before tossing that aside a few minutes later to play with his favorite action figures kept in a box under his bed. Even they couldn’t hold his attention long. They just weren’t enough. How would anything be enough now? His toys, his games, his whole world – everything seemed so ordinary.

  
Wesley slapped at a basketball on the floor beside him. It came to life with a hop, and he smacked it again. This time it bounced just out of his reach and rolled across the room before coming to rest beside the
Oz
book he’d taken from Randy – the book he’d won in today’s writing contest.