Page 17 of Darling

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Tinkerbelle said coolly, lowering her eyelids. “We just stay out of their way, and they stay out of ours.”

Wendy didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t.

Tinkerbelle looked very pleased with herself. Wendy could feel the waves of Tinkerbelle’s satisfaction rolling off her, and it pissed Wendy off.

Peter, on the other hand, was looking out the window contentedly, like beating someone with a rock until their entire hand had to be cut off was a completely normal and reasonable thing to do. The train rocked suddenly, and Peter caught himself against the side of the door. Wendy’s eyes snapped to his arms. Arms that had carried her safely down the side of her house, had carried Slightly—whoever that was—all the way home after being tased. When she looked up, Peter was watching her.

“He tased a child, you know,” Peter said quietly. “A little boy who was crying and scared.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t the best way to handle the situation, I know, but I said I would never let anybody hurt him.”

Wendy could hear the unspoken And I would never let anyone hurt you. It was heavy in the air. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. She could feel the heat of his big hand through her sweater, like a brand.

“THIS IS WILSON. TRANSFER TO PURPLE-LINE TRAINS AT WILSON,” the train blared. Then the speaker crackled and the conductor took over. “THIS TRAIN WILL BE STANDING AT WILSON STATION FOR AT LEAST TWENTY MINUTES DUE TO A DISTURBANCE AT THE STATION. ALL PASSENGERS WHO NEED TO TRANSFER MUST EXIT THE TRAIN. THERE ARE SHUTTLES THAT WILL TAKE YOU TO THE NEXT STOP.”

Wendy looked up, alarmed. “Wh—”

Tinkerbelle shoved her out of the seat and toward the door. “Don’t worry about it; this happens every so often. Just follow the crowd down the stairs. This is our stop, anyway.”

Wendy was carried out of the train car and off to the platform by the people pushing behind her. She stumbled down the stairs and into the lobby, where it was immediately clear that something was wrong. At the front of the crowd, the station staff and several officers stood by the Wilson Station doors, shouting at passengers that they couldn’t go onto the platform.

At the sight of the officers, Peter went ashen. “I’m finding a new way out. Take care of Wendy.” He turned back against the press of the crowd.

“What?!” Tinkerbelle complained. “You said I wouldn’t have to watch her!” But Peter was too far away to hear.

Tinkerbelle looked back at Wendy, then tightened her lips in resolve. “Fuck this.” She scampered off after Peter.

Jesus Christ. Wendy continued making her way to the exit, but only because she had to. The people behind her wouldn’t let her stop and regroup. They rushed her to the front of the lobby and pressed her forcefully out the door and into the street and a world of lights and noise.

There had to be at least thirty cop cars parked around the Wilson and Broadway intersection, and maybe a hundred police officers in the area. Everyone who had been on the train was shouting about being kicked off and asking about the shuttles they’d been promised. The train staff had bullhorns and were yelling at the riders about what street the shuttles would be picking up passengers. The actual police had the sirens on all their cars going full force. Their lights threw the street into a strobe of blue and red. There were officers at every intersection redirecting traffic and officers randomly demanding that people show identification.

Wendy pulled out her phone and immediately looked for a ride share, but the price for the area had spiked to nearly $60, and she only had $35 allowance left in her bank account. Her phone battery was also way lower than she felt comfortable with. She had fallen asleep without plugging it in to charge, and now it was at 16 percent. She turned back to the train station.

“I need to get back on the train platform. I don’t care if I have to wait there for an hour. I just need to get back home,” Wendy said to one of the train workers nearby.

He shook his head. “No one is getting on the train at this station. What shuttle do you need to be on?”

Overwhelmed, Wendy couldn’t remember the name of the stop near her house.

“What neighborhood are you going to?” the train worker asked loudly, clearly losing patience.

Wendy wracked her brain but kept coming up empty, panic making memory difficult. The train worker grabbed her shoulder firmly, steered her back into the flow of the crowd, and returned to his job of denying people access into the station.

Wendy followed the crowd for half a block, then ducked into an alley and crouched down to catch her breath. Her phone’s alarm broke her panic attack, reminding her it was time to text Eleanor.

Wendy: don’t be mad at me but things are going BAD.

Eleanor: what are you lost or something

Wendy: lmao I wish!! I’m by the Wilson train stop and there’s like fifty million cops everywhere and Peter and Tinkerbelle are like N O W H E R E to be found and I’m freaking out

Eleanor: Tinkerbelle???

Wendy: Peter’s friend, the blond who you don’t think is hot

Eleanor: that’s a bad name. Do her parents even love her

Wendy: she has no parents!! Found that out too! But only after I said something weird about my family and why we came here. lmao kill me

Eleanor: ok coolcoolcoolcool alright you’re by yourself. Well. You do have options.