Chapter 7- All At Once (NEW!)

He didn’t know how hard it was to weave through alleyways like he did with healthy limbs. But sooner or later, when the sun was close to turning in for the day, he found the marketplace, and snuck through the shacks and shops to reach the garden behind them, refreshingly green and full of life. It was only a matter of time before he found the only store with Ichabod’s name on it.

As he went closer to the store after turning a corner outside of the garden he noticed someone sitting just outside, ominously, almost as if just a shadow. He was sitting with his back to the alleyway, facing down into what appeared to be one of his books. Suddenly, he felt a chill race down his spine. Now he knew how Oliver felt, except he didn’t feel like he was being watched. It was a feeling that this wasn’t a good idea, which it would only lead to trouble. Then again, he HAD offered before, and at this point he just needed a place to stay and heal. Food wouldn’t be a problem after his knee got better.

Then the old man looked David’s way, and the chills resumed.

“What’s your name, boy?”

David took a step back, almost in a limp, in alarm.

The man didn’t seem to move. All he did was put down the book.

“I can assure you, I won’t hurt you, nor get you caught,” The man said calmly, in a raspy warm old voice. “I know children like you and believe me I don’t mean any harm.”

For some reason, David felt too scared to say anything, not even an "okay".

“Holten, by the way. Ichabod is my first name."

David, in a fit of what must have been sheer over-confidence, spoke without thinking. “Ichabod...Holten, huh? What a strange name-" Oops.

David quickly clamped his mouth shut with his hands, eyes wide in an embarrassed expression.

Yet, to David’s surprise, the man chuckled! He stared, open-mouthed. “Is this man mad?”

Ichabod replied, “I’ve gotten that a lot. Almost every child that has stayed here has told me that. What kind of a name is Ichabod Holten?”

He continued to chuckle in a raspy voice, which calmed David down immensely but kept him on edge.

“Yet it’s as much of a name as… what did you say your name was?”

He was much calmer now. “David.”

“Well… David what?”

“Well, that’s it. Just David.”

“I see... So they didn’t give you a last name at the orphanage?”

“No- Wait. How did you know?”

Ichabod sat up from his chair. “You must be joking. Your outfit practically gives it away. You’re lucky you weren’t found by any policemen!”

David looked down and shrugged. He must have been that good at hiding.

“Anyways,” Ichabod said. “My name is just as much of a name as David.”

The light from one of the streetlights had gone on and shined into the whole corridor, as well as onto both of them. Ichabod’s face looked like it was aging at a graceful pace, with strong blue eyes supported with visible bags of flesh, even from afar. His hands, as well as the rest of his body, looked like they were once full of strength and skill, but had aged and now looked frail and accomplished. Yet unlike any other old man David had seen in his life, Ichabod was smiling as he leaned against the store's entranceway.

“So what brings you here, David?” 

“Well,” David began. He started limping forward dramatically to get more sympathy.

“You had offered me a place to stay. Well, I need help. My leg was hurt and-”

He realized that the limping didn’t help; Ichabod’s eyes stayed focused on the boy’s face, so he stopped and instead truthfully hobbled over to him.

“I don’t know anywhere else I can go to. Please help me.”

Ichabod gave a quick look to his leg, which looked like an actual injury. Yet there was something David didn’t know about the old man that he would soon find out. Ichabod was not a push-over. He had been once, and never again.

“Who says you are not taking me for a fool?”

David was taken aback. But he looked like a nice person. He had even offered.

“I’ve risked my dignity letting ingrates like you take refuge here. If you be taking me as a gullible old man, then you’re not welcome here.”

“B-b-but Ichabod, I’m not. I-” David stopped when Holton gave him a dirty look.

“Then what was that with the limping? Trying to squeeze a good tear out of me? To get a quick ticket to refuge by getting sympathy? You were attempting to fool me, so be gone. Leave. Now.”

David was shocked and marred with panic. Wha…How could…no…no…

He didn’t even notice that it had been five and a half months since he cried. He had kept it in, even after all of the abuse, all of the pain, all of the hardship. Yet now, tears blurred his sight and the sobs came up again.

“I… din’t mean to… I just needed… some help. Please sir…let me stay here, just for tonight…please. I’m…I’m…I’m sorry.”

Meanwhile, he had turned back to his book. “I told you once, I won’t say it again. Go away-” He didn’t finish, because David had painfully limped closer to him, expecting that answer. He wasn’t confident as before, yet he felt he didn’t need it.

He had something else, and it came out with his words as he shoved down the book and spoke directly at his face.

“BUT…YOU…PROMISED, Ichabod! I remember you offered your place as a hideout to my friend and me if we needed it. So maybe I was returning the favor to you, because you were the one who lied first.” He never felt so much in control, regardless how much his eyes were filled with tears.

Yet the other person was unfazed. Ichabod looked up at him with his dark blue eyes… and shook his head with a smile. David didn’t know what to expect.

“You’re not as heartless as the others I’ve seen around here.”

At that moment David realized that his accent was different than everyone else’s.

“So answer me truthfully,” Ichabod said, leaning forward in his chair. “What is an orphan like you doing around here?”

David didn’t show it, but he was too scared to disobey anyone again.

So David told him everything that had happened, summing up what had been going on over the past few months into a few sentences, while Ichabod listened, sitting back in his wooden chair, almost too relaxed.

"I see. So you left the orphanage in order to escape a fight and punishment?”

David nodded in blank-faced shame, his body bent over in the chair, his head almost touching his knees. But he didn't expect what came next.

 “Well, that doesn’t sound very gentlemanlike. Aren’t you taught never to run from a fight?”

David looked confused. His head rose up a bit, to look up at Ichabod’s face.

“No. We were never taught that.”

“Oh.”

“It was implied though,” David guessed.

“I see. I might not be able to help with the punishments, but maybe I can help you with that.”

David was skeptical. “How so?”

“I can teach you to fight.”

He could only be grateful to his new host, but the truth was…

“Thank you, Ichabod. But I already know how to fight, somewhat…”

“Then if you knew, why did you leave?”

“Well, I learned how to fight while away, so now I know. The fact is, I’m never going back there again.”

“Understood. Now, do come in. Please. Where are my manners?”

As he limped inside, the smell of old paper hit him in the face. He wondered where that came from, but then his eyes adjusted to the low light and found the source.

The shop was FILLED with books, from top to bottom, stack upon stack, piled up like the buildings outside, so much so that this small shop, as well as the storage area behind the counter, looked like a miniature world.

“That’s what happens when you don’t have enough room for your book collection,” he chuckled, noticing David’s wide-eyed stares at the whole arrangement.

“Wait here. I’ll find something to make you a bed. I know you hurt yourself.” He walked briskly through the piles and climbed a flight of stairs hidden by a few stacks.

That left David alone in his city. He slowly walked through it like a giant, looking at the covers of the books.

BryimcoHSihc[oih . Ťŋō£€ü±.

It didn’t take long before he gave up. After all of those lessons, he still couldn’t read.

“Ichabod, what are these books about?”

“Can’t you read the spines?”

“Well, um, no sir.”

“Are they that damaged?”

Should I tell him? … Then again, why should I lie about this?

“No. I just can’t read.”

Ichabod dramatically dropped what he was doing and rushed to him, as if the boy had gotten hurt or something.

“You can’t read?! You, the boy who miraculously ended up at a bookstore, cannot read?!”

David looked down in annoyed embarrassment.

“Yes, yes. You don’t have to be so insulting about it.”

“Insulting? Me? No, not at all. I just find it very ironic. It’s like being in a duel and you don’t even know which side of the sword to hold. How much do you know?”

“Just the alphabet. I know some Latin, for some reason.”

The older man scoffed, blowing the dust off the books nearby.

“Church teachings, they never help in the outside world. Here, you see the letters?”

And for the next while, he tried giving David a quick lesson in English but to no avail.

“Well, you’re missing out. Here’s a great one: Sir Robin and his Blaxburt.”

“What’s a blaxburt?”

“Exactly. It piqued my curiosity too, when I first picked it up. That’s how they get you to read it. The give you a peek into the world they’ve made, the size of the eye of a needle. It’s up to us to go further in, and sometimes it’s too easy.”

As he opened the red-covered book to the first page, David wondered out loud:

“Ichabod, could you read that story to me?”

He looked up from the book down to his new “helper”.

“Tell you what. After we finish the work quota for today, I’ll read it to you. Deal?”

“Deal.” For some reason, David was a little excited. He wanted to know what a blaxburt was.

And so the day passed like a fleeting dream. It took no time at all for Ichabod to start reading, resting in his rocking chair while his audience sat cross-legged at his feet. The story began in the wild islands of Peroquai, somewhere between England and America, where a knight, names Sir Robin, was sent by the Queen to explore new lands. A mighty storm blew in mid-voyage, but through his cleverness, they passed through it without as much damage to their fleet. Once they landed in the island, he was marooned by the evil crew and ended up befriending a strange-looking cat with a long face and a club in place of a back leg. And it was here that Ichabod stopped.

“Wait, don’t stop! What happens next?”

“That will be for another time. Anyways, it’s getting late. You should eat something before laying down. Sleeping on an empty stomach is an awful thing to feel.”

David was used to sleeping hungry. It was painful to feel at first but he needed to if he was going to survive.

Yet he didn’t need to survive. He needed to get better.

So after they shared a roll and a glass of milk each, his body welcomed sleep with open arms. It was the first time in months that David slept under real covers, where he truly felt secure and warm before falling asleep a few moments after his head touched the pillow.

…

He never slept so deeply in his life. It felt like he slept forever, a warm, tropical-like aura cozying him into breezy breaths and relaxed eyes. And when he finally awoke, when the sun had already begun its stroll across the sky, he never felt more refreshed. Then he moved his legs to get up of the floor and-

It’s gone. The pain is gone! How on earth-

He checked his knee, through a growing rip, to find that the bump had gone down and his knee had quickly discolored from deep blue to light purples.  Interestingly, his knee had come to look like the sky from his old dreams. Speaking of which, he hadn’t had any of those for a while. Maybe they went on vacation.

As he put weight on the leg, it felt more manageable. He could walk more now- to his amazement. He practiced as he walked to the front of the store, to find Ichabod sitting on a stool behind the counter, sipping a hot drink.

“David! Good morning. I thought you’d never wake up.”

“What time is it?”

“About 10 o’clock. You- wait, you can walk now.” Ichabod deserved to look at him suspiciously.

“I know. I can’t explain it either. It must have healed overnight.”

“Not that quickly. You got it yesterday, right? Let me see.”

He gasped with surprise at the healing knee, which looked very injured just last night. And he smiled. Now David looked concerned.

“It did heal! Very quickly too. You- well- you must be gifted or something.”

“I’m not. I might have a different look than everybody else, but that’s it.”

“You don’t get it, David. When I got hurt like this, it would take days to do what took you overnight. Something very miraculous.”

        “Okaay. So what do we do?”

        “Nothing. It’s just between us. Can you walk well now?”

        “Yes. Why?”

“We need to get some things to eat, then I need your help around the shop. You know, with organizing the books. When we finish, you can read as much as you want.”

So for the next couple of days, as he knee got better, that’s how the schedule was. David stole meals for each of them and helped Ichabod organize the shop, to turn the city into an organized village. Afterwards, they would be read Sir Robin, mostly outside in the garden when the sun was turning in, until he felt tired.

It didn’t take long to reach the climax, when Sir Robin fights the army of the wicked King Jasper for his beloved blaxburt- named Harlu-, which is held in in his castle. While Johan escaped the confines, his master unknowingly clashed swords with the guardsmen and eventually the King himself. David saw it all so vividly in his mind, down to the knight’s freckles. He even daydreamed about the story while working on the third day, imagining himself fighting alongside the knight.

After he finished work in the store later on, he sat outside and watched a group of men in a playful swordfight.

“I wouldn’t be that much help to Sir Robin if I couldn’t do that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sword fighting. When you read it to me, I wondered what it must be like to swordfight.”

“Would you like to know?”

“Know… how to sword fight?”

“Yes, David. I can teach you.”

“You can- wait, what?” David’s head perked straight up to meet Ichabod’s face.

“I can teach you how to fight like a real gentleman.”

David was impressed. This old man, who seemed to be a worn-out book lover, happened to know about something he never knew about until then.

 “Well, business is doing well enough to close up for the day. How about we begin your lessons right now, David?”

“Really? Well, um, sure. Great! Let’s go. I assume you have equipment?”

“Yes, in a shed outside. That’s not saying I’ve used it recently. By the way, want to know something about the courtyard?”

“Yes. What?”

“It was meant to be where everyone else threw away their junk, but a few of us loved open spaces too much for us to leave it a heap,” he said with a proud smile on his face. 

After he went with Ichabod to gather up the equipment, he was given a sword to hold, to get a feel for the weapon.

The sword was heavy, with a worn out wooden handle. But the blade was shined and beautiful, as if carefully and lovingly cleaned, but never sharpened.

They faced each other, one a slower pro, the other as amateur as it gets. Before they did anything, he taught David the first thing before any duel; the courtesy to bow to each other.
“I don’t get it,” David said, slightly confused. “If we’re about to attack each other, why be so courteous?” Ichabod didn’t answer.

        He showed David how to parry, to attack, to feint, to use the opponent’s strengths as weaknesses and how to stay calm mid-battle. During each quick-lesson, they would have a quick duel. After multiple small duels, David realized how much better he was getting.

A couple of days passed, and he never felt more energized and excited to greet the day. Yet no matter how early he awoke, Ichabod always sat at the window of his small kitchen, hidden from the alley, sipping a strong morning tea. But this time, something happened. Ichabod looked at him in shock.

“Ichabod, what happened?”

He searched for the right words as he spoke.

“Well, David, uh… your eyes… they…”

“They what? What happened?”

“They’re different. They look lighter.”

“…HUH?!”

Ichabod showed the boy a mirror, and sure enough, blue slivers had grown in his eyes from the edge and center, making them a shade of blue-hazel! They both were at a loss for words. The poor boy was especially scared out of his wits.

“…Ichabod, what’s happening to me? Am I sick? Am I going to die? Is this permanent? Why is this happening?”

“I don’t know of any disease that changes eye color. I don’t believe you’re going to die. Heaven know if it’s permanent.”

Then Ichabod realized-

“If it is permanent, will anyone recognize you? Will the people in the Orphanage recognize you?”

It was a feeble question, but he could see in David’s huge, changing eyes that it seemed like a good thing. He decided to take his mind off of his eyes- after all, he could still see perfectly.

While they weren’t dueling or reading, the little boy would enjoy his new playground, without a care in the world. He ran across his new paradise, climbing the biggest trees and skipping through the grass that poked up from the ground.

At one point, he even taught himself to tumble. Then he got brave enough to cartwheel. To Ichabod’s surprise, it didn’t take him that long to flip in the air, then flip even higher, then do it over and over again. Even the old man didn’t know what to think of it.

Soon he was trying different ways to climb up a wall, or flip over it. Then he brought his sword into the fray and slowly learned to flip while holding such a heavy object. He couldn’t explain how he was doing all of these things, but all he knew was when he tried those things out, he was too confident to care what others thought- he could do anything. He didn’t realize that when he kept having those feelings, his hair got lighter and his eyes shimmered with new colors of blue and green.

Later on, after another few days, the duels got longer and more intense. Each one of them got the upper hand before losing it, only to retrieve it later. As the days progressed even further David seemed to get better and better, to the surprise at the other men sitting in their garden. Later on, he was winning every duel, even with tricks he couldn’t name yet. He periodically had the momentum to flip around his opponent, using a dodge to tumble to the weaker side. This spectacle attracted all of the men to come watch. They jokingly taunted Ichabod about how he was losing to a little boy. Then Ichabod would hand them a sword and watch them get narrowly beaten as well.

         During and after the duels he constantly reinforced every trick. He learned to recognize ones he didn’t understand, with newfound grace and force he never knew he had before. After one of the later duels, instead of David getting winded and exhausted, the roles switched. Now Ichabod, given his expertise, was the one panting, a look of disbelief and pride, while the other showed off his brand new confidence. David never felt so tall in his life, especially when others applauded on the good show they saw.

“I knew it! You’re a natural, David!” He exclaimed happily.

 “I am? Well, after all this time, I guess I am!” David couldn’t help but be amused at his discovered talent, feeling incredibly poised as he rebalanced the sword in his hand. Then he had another crazy idea…

“May I ask you of a favor, Sir?”

“Of course,” Ichabod said while still breathing heavily. “What is it?”

“Do you have any smaller swords that I can use?”

“What? But you’ve barely gotten how to use the sword yet.”

“Really? You really think so?” David arched an eyebrow, a smooth snicker formed at his mouth’s corner.

Ichabod returned a smug look back to him. The men couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

“Okay, David. Though it’s only been a week or so.” He took out a smaller sword from the cylinder.

“Let’s see how you do with a smaller weapon. I’ll cut that confidence down to size,” he said as he gave David the dagger. To him, it felt much better than the sword, with a lighter and shorter blade than before.

To Ichabod’s, and David’s, surprise, the dagger did wonders for him, allowing him to practically dance circles around his teacher, swinging, clanging and twirling with the utmost of ease and skill. He ended the duel in record time, immobilizing Ichabod in minutes. Ichabod was very impressed, while hiding a sense of embarrassment over losing to a young boy who just learned how to swordfight.

The sun began to set as they both sat to rest their aching bodies. It even caught up to the young boy.

“Well, that was a fantastic lesson, dear David. I must say you are one of the finest swordsman I’ve ever trained. And after only a few days.”

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“How about a treat? After supper, I’ll bring you to a play.”

“Thank you, but what’s a play?”

“Hmm, well you are very ignorant, my dear child. It’s short for a show that plays at a theater. Now, I insist that you will love it by the time we get back home.”

After a small supper, he took him out onto the street, lit only by the streetlights and some windows. It seemed like the whole world was asleep. Ichabod led him into what looked like an average store, except they weren’t selling any produce or toys, but… tickets?

“Here you go. Oh, you’ll love it, boy. If I could only have three passions in this world, it’s plays, sword fighting and books.”

He gave a small, satisfying chuckle as they passed through the actual store, its shelves covered with drapes in hopes of avoiding theft. They followed the small crowd bend under an arch and down a short flight of stairs. What David never expected was to see a small stage complete with curtains and plenty of seats in the audience that filled up quickly.

“This is a small theater company, David. They make smaller versions of what’s popular, see? The play they are doing now is… ‘Peter Pan, or the Boy that Never Grew Up’. Great! I have yet to see that. Here are our seats. Hmmm, I expected the audience to look older…”

Some of the people around them weren’t the posh and snobby people that David had expected, rather teenagers, young couples and some bigger families. Their energy filled the room, and he could feel something that he wouldn’t understand until later. The audience was only slightly bigger than the stage, which seemed crammed with colorful clothes and pieces of wood. The stage was the only thing that was lit, with two bubs shining on both corners. When they dimmed slightly, the audience instinctively knew to calm down. As they reach their seats, one of the actors steps onto the stage, dressed in clothing that he had never seen a man wear; a bright red robe, shiny green boots and a blue hat, with a gold feather in it.

“Dreamers and lovers of fine art, I welcome you to the beloved Dream Flyer theater company. Usually we have a more…well, a greyer audience (he stopped for the ensuing chuckles), but we’re so happy that everyone else heard about this play, so we will not let you down. All we ask, as you all know, is to do what we call the theatre’s creed.”

He took out what seemed to look like an old piece of rolled up parchment, blew off the dust, and in one fowl swoop untied the string holding it together and unraveled it. He could hear some members of the audience whisper it along with him:

“BEHOLD, though you may be seated, you may feel the wood of the chair under you, you may be acting on this very stage, but the mind will be soaring with dreams and visions of another world. That is the world of imagination, where only believers dare.

“BEHOLD, as you hear the parts, the mission is to keep an open mind. From the young to the old, one thing we can always trust in ourselves is our ability to make our own fantasies, and even turn them into realities.

“HENCEFORTH, when there’s a fantasy world, imagine that for yourselves, and the play will bring the fantastic to you.”

As he finished rolling up the parchment, his arm floated across the audience, as if sprinkling something over the crowd.
“Tonight, we shall all hope to inspire you to imagine, and amaze you all at once. Thank you fellow thespians, and enjoy the show!”

The audience clapped loudly, some even hollering and whistling, already filling the room with excitement and warmth. They calmed down fairly quickly after the actor returned behind the bright red curtain.

“Ichabod, what did he mean by ‘making our own fantasies into realities’?”

“Hush boy. The play is about to begin.”

It was then that David recognized some of the boys from the street. Two of them were in the play, acting as the boys named “John” and “Michael”. A girl played “Wendy” and another girl, slightly older, played a boy covered in red leaves named “Peter Pan”, which David learned not to care about. The play started slowly, discussing family issues he never had nor cared to deal with.

Then he talked about flying. That got his attention. He’s going to fly?

He had told his friends at the orphanage about flying people, but that was in his head. Would he actually see it? That would be something else.

He didn’t know that the harnesses pulled Peter up, but when he soared into the air, even a few feet up, David’s eyes stared in awe. He was completely and utterly spellbound, swept up in the fantasy with the rest of the crowd. The stage disappeared and in its place was a dream so real that he was scared to blink out of the fear of missing something. The boy and three children soared right out of the window into the night sky.

He could feel the wind blowing through his hair, the slight chill sending tingles down his spine. He felt like he was flying with them, on their way to a place called Neverland, where he could never grow up. It was beautiful, lush forests and golden beaches surrounded by blue sky, where adventure waited for you amongst the pirates, Indians and animals. It was a land so dangerous, yet so accepting and exotic at the same time. He felt like he was there, even whispering reactions to what the actors said onstage.

Then the mean Captain Hook kidnapped the Lost Boys and Wendy John and Michael. Then Tink drank Peter’s poisoned medicine. Her light began to flicker. She was dying. No! She can’t die! She can’t!

“Her light is growing faint,” Peter solemnly said as he slowly turned to the crowd.

“And if it goes out, that means she is dead! Her voice…it’s so low, I…I can scarcely tell what she is saying. She says…she thinks she could get well again if children believed in fairies!” He raised his hands out to the crowd, calling out to them- to him- in dire need. Peter needed his help!

“Do you believe in fairies? Say that you believe!”

The crowd was hesitant. They were so tense they couldn’t say a word.

“If you believe,” Peter tried a new approach, “Clap your hands! Clap your hands!”

He didn’t know who started it, but David knew he had to do something. He clapped as hard and as loud as he could. The whole room erupted in applause, calling out their strong belief in fairies with firmer ovation. Her light began to shimmer and glow.

David clapped harder to help Tinkerbell, but- then he felt something else. As he willed for her to get better, the warm sensation came from inside him. That same feeling from before, but in overload. He didn’t just applaud- he began to believe that it was possible for fairies like Tinker bell to exist, to live, to thrive. He didn’t know how he got the idea, but it was such a lovely thought, he never wanted it to go away.

Finally her light exploded into the brightness rivalling that of the sun. She flew gleefully around Peter, celebrating her resurrection without a care to those who revived her. The whole crowd cheered and whistled at their success. Peter just had a huge grin on his face. Then she flew towards him and danced around him with glee. David never felt that happy in his life. That’s when he knew he found something to believe in that night. He found it in Neverland.  

The story got more intense as he joined Peter in stopping Captain Hook. He wished he had his sword with him so he could jump on the ship and give that dastardly Captain another hook for a hand. So instead he quietly cheered for Peter as he confronted the devilish Hook. He was never happier when Peter finally defeated the wholly unheroic figure and sent him into the mouth of the crocodile.

When he saw the Darling family reunite, he felt another tug. He wanted to feel a part of the Darling family, but he kept looking back at the boy in the red leaves, staring into the window from outside. He didn’t feel like one of the children; he felt like he was someone like Peter- someone magical, who never grow up, be friends with mermaids and Indians, fly with birds and fight on equal ground with pirates, all with a fairy loyally by his side. He wanted that life, yet he saw him look in to the nursery, watching the family hug and cry over each other like it was something he would never have.

He began to wonder if he would ever have a family like the Darlings. To have a Mother and Father who cleaned their messes, scolded them when they disobey and loved them with all of their hearts, naughty or not. Maybe he would find his parents again and have a real family- like them. As much as Ichabod was caring, he wasn’t like a Mother. Did he really want to leave his real dream behind for the thing he began to believe in?

Those thoughts had brought him back to Earth so fast, he felt himself fall into his chair as if he had jumped into it from the ceiling. He felt friendly eyes stare down at him.

“Ichabod, will I find my family?”

He didn’t shush him, but he did put his arm on his shoulder.

“You said you had parents, right?”

David leaned forward, taking in as much of the family as he could. “Yeah.”

“So you’ll find them someday. I promise you, you will find them. They’re just…lost.”

Neither of them knew what to say after that. He stood up to clap at the end in appreciation, but he began to feel more conflict than happy. He thought that it was a fun play, but that family…

They walked back in a comfortable silence, relishing the brisk air and the orange streets light’s colors as they faded into the blackness of the sky. Ichabod couldn’t help but notice the differences between that little boy with the bum knee and the boy with the sword-fighting skills, and confidence, of a man- almost too much for his little body. He even noticed how his hair had changed colors with David’s increasing happiness. Under the streets-light, it looked dark brown, and his head didn’t look up like he did on the way to the play.

“I know a good way to cheer you up. Think of the happy things you saw at the play. You loved Neverland, right?”

He looked up slightly. “Yes. Yes I did.”

“The Indians, the Pirates, the Lost Boys. Weren’t they something special?”

“Yes. They were.”

“What about the flying?”

“You mean when they flew the first time?” David said excitedly. This was taking his mind off of something.

“How did you feel?”

“Oh, Ichabod. It was…unbelievable! The way they swept off into the air. And did you see that fairy?! Oh, it was beautiful! With it’s glowing wings and trail of dust dancing over everyone in the crowd…”

“The fairy went into the crowd?”

“Yes. Didn’t you see?”

“David, that didn’t happen in the play. That was all you. You made up the part about the fairy.”

David was immediately knocked off of his momentum and walked speechless.

“If it would help, I have the book that’s based off of the play at home.”

“Wait-” David lowly got more excited. He knew something about books, and that was they could bring him to another world. Could he go back to Neverland?

“You have the book of the play?!”

“Yes, of course I do. I got it when it first came out two years ago.”

Ichabod never ran so quickly in a long time, his arm almost pulled out of the socket by an energized child. They even got back to the store much faster than expected.

“Where is it? Where is it, Ichabod?”

“Um, there, over there, I think. You don’t remember putting it away?”

 “No, you did it.”

“Oh, so it should be there then. That’s where I worked-”

“I got it! It’s a different name though.”

“I know, but that should be it. Does it have a boy in a tree playing a flute?”

“Yes.”

“Then enjoy. You’ve found it.”

He stopped everything to stare at the cover.  Inside this book was all of the dreams he had before but put into a book. It was the world he wanted so badly.

He must have stayed up all night lying on his stomach under the streetlamp’s light just to look at the pictures in the book. Those images made a world that David never wanted to leave. Even if he did find the nicest grown-ups in the world, it wouldn’t match the paradise that beckoned him.

Ichabod had gone to bed while his guest was in Neverland and he would stay there until the dimness of the streetlights finally forced his eyes shut.