Page 32 of Darling

“We’re almost there.” Curly stood up suddenly, leaned over Fyodor, and pulled the cord on the window to let the driver know to stop the bus. Then he stumbled down the stairs to the side door, like he was relieved for a reason to escape the conversation.

Wendy turned anxiously to Tinkerbelle. She had been so tired from all the running, and distracted from meeting so many people in such a short amount of time, she’d forgotten they were going anywhere at all. She assumed they’d just hopped onto the bus to escape.

Tinkerbelle nodded out the window as everyone got to their feet. “The Mermaid’s Lagoon,” she said to Wendy. “We’re getting in through the back.”

“I bet you Peter is already there,” Ominotago said to Tinkerbelle as they stepped onto the pavement outside. “That son of a bitch can wiggle out of anything.”

Tinkerbelle made a little hum in agreement as Wendy followed her into the street. The bus door snapped shut behind Wendy, and she jumped anxiously. Unthinkingly she reached out to Tinkerbelle, then realized what she was doing and dropped her arms to her sides.

Ominotago caught the gesture and paused. She dropped Tinkerbelle’s hand and turned, catching both of Wendy’s hands in hers. Then Ominotago breathed in deeply and let the breath out slowly.

The lights of the Mermaid’s Lagoon glowed rainbows across the sidewalk behind Ominotago, and the streetlamp threw her face into shadow, like the center of a halo. Wendy glanced over Ominotago’s shoulder at Tinkerbelle, who crowded close to them both until they were in a small triangle.

“Breathe with me,” Ominotago demanded in a way that brokered no argument.

Wendy tried to calm her racing heart, but it wasn’t quite working. She was breathing entirely too fast. Distantly, outside herself, she felt stupid and childish. She had been fine on the bus, seconds ago, and she’d held it together for the majority of the night, but somehow now she wanted to curl inside herself until she was small enough to disappear.

Ominotago squeezed Wendy’s hands hard enough that it shocked her out of her own head and back into the warm brown of Ominotago’s gaze. Wendy focused on this stranger’s face as she mimicked the speed of her breaths. Ominotago’s eyebrows, black and graceful like they had been painted on with ink; her nose that spread seamlessly into her cheekbones; the stubborn jut of her chin and the girlish curve of her mouth; her blue-and-purple-and-pink blush, blending like watercolors, lovely like nothing Wendy had ever seen.

Tinkerbelle’s beautiful girlfriend, broad-shouldered and strong, taking her time teaching Wendy how to breathe in the middle of the street, was wasting valuable time with someone she’d just met as the boys disappeared into an alley around the corner. Ominotago’s hands were warm. Wendy could feel how they were calloused from playing sports and thought about Tinkerbelle’s small, impossibly soft hands. Wendy broke Ominotago’s gaze to look over at the other girl. Tinkerbelle’s head was bowed as she matched Ominotago’s breaths, the glow of the streetlights reflected dramatically off the gold glitter she’d applied around her eyes. Wendy looked back at Ominotago and realized she was breathing at the same pace as Ominotago, Wendy’s shoulders naturally having fallen from being pinched around her ears.

Ominotago nodded slightly and loosened her grip on Wendy’s hands until she was holding them as sweetly as if they’d been friends for years.

“Tinkerbelle told me what happened,” she said seriously. “You have had a very long night.”

“Y-yeah.” Wendy’s voice broke and she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I have. I really just want to go home now.”

Ominotago nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. But the night is going to get a bit longer.”

Now that Wendy was relaxed enough to stop hyperventilating, she was too unguarded to stop tears from springing to her eyes at hearing that.

“Tinkerbelle told me you just arrived in the city and that you haven’t even started school yet. You shouldn’t be here; you should be at home,” Ominotago said, firm and resolute. “You didn’t deserve to be lured outside, to be pressured into changing train cars, to be kidnapped, or to be held in that man’s home. You also didn’t deserve to be around explosions or be in a position to make a decision about how to handle police in a community where you know no one, and trust very few of the people around you.”

Something wild and anguished opened up like a flower in Wendy’s chest, and suddenly she found herself crying in the middle of the street. She didn’t deserve any of this at all, and it was so refreshing to hear anyone in this group of people admit that out loud. Nothing on earth could have prepared her for what had happened in the past three hours. Even though she was extremely aware that making the decision to leave home was entirely her own horrible choice, Ominotago seemed like a normal person with a normal perspective, so it was validating to hear her describe the entire night so bluntly.

Ominotago let go of Wendy’s hands and gripped her by the shoulders instead. “You don’t deserve any of those things, but tonight is important to everyone here. Curly has been waiting for this night for a year, Nibs has been waiting for three. Even my friends have been waiting for months. Now, I don’t know you, Wendy.” Ominotago tilted up her chin in challenge. “But from what Tinkerbelle has told me, I know that you’re daring, I know that you’re clever, and I know that you are strong, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. However, you intruded on something we have been working on, and we need you to keep it together. For the rest of us.”

Wendy looked over at Tinkerbelle, who nodded back at her firmly.

“Wendy promised,” Tinkerbelle said. “And she spit-shook.”

Wendy remembered having to touch Tinkerbelle’s saliva-covered hand, and it was ridiculous enough to make her stop crying as she wondered at the intensity with which Tinkerbelle and Ominotago took such a gesture seriously.

“Enough people have been hurt over this whole thing, and we’re not adding outsiders to that tally,” Ominotago said resolutely. “If Tinkerbelle can’t get you home safely, I will. If I’m otherwise occupied, any one of the boys will handle it. I understand if you’re worried about going somewhere with a boy you just met, but I promise you, you’re safe with them. Fyodor is here on a visa and can only stay if he continues his education. Minsu is literally a Boy Scout. Charles would die before touching you any way you did not want him to. Waatese is a boxer in addition to playing football, and he’s family. You’re safest with him. My friends and I have parents who care where we are at night, and we are supposed to be home by two a.m.”

Ominotago dropped her hands from Wendy’s shoulders. “That’s four hours from now,” she said simply. “You should be home before then.”

“What about Fyodor? You were yelling at him on the train,” Wendy said. She wasn’t scared of him in particular; it just seemed strange Ominotago would warn Fyodor away from Curly so aggressively if she thought he was so safe for Wendy to be around.

Ominotago scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Despite his dramatics, Fyodor is asexual—he won’t touch you. But for Curly? He can do better. Fyodor flirts with everyone, and Curly hasn’t ever dated anyone before. He’s vulnerable. He doesn’t need a playboy boyfriend … or girlfriend. He needs stability.”

Tinkerbelle brushed her shoulder against Wendy’s playfully and smiled more openly than Wendy had seen her that night. “Fyodor would be good for you, though. Since you’re the type of girl who likes bad boys who feel dangerous,” Tinkerbelle teased. “Fyodor’s got that appeal, but on the inside he’s actually a good person. Fyodor would never kidnap anyone.”

Ominotago nodded. “All bark and no bite. Good kisser, but nothing else.” She opened her arms to give Wendy a brusque side hug. “Are you going to be all right?” she asked.

Wendy closed her eyes and took another deep breath. She had made it this far; she could make it to the end of the night. She rolled her shoulders, bent down, and tightened her shoelaces. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time and battery: 11:03 p.m., 8 percent battery, and a single text from Eleanor that said: Called the police and gave them your deets. FaceTime me when you’re alone and DON’T GET MURDERED BEFORE THEN.

Will do. Ty she sent back while Tinkerbelle read over her shoulder and nodded in approval.