I pin a poster I made online on Granny's corkboard. If there's one place my mother will see it, it's here. I set the stack on the counter and sit on a stool as Ruby, always kind and attentive, pours me a cup of coffee.

"Thanks, but after the mocha at the café, I don't think I can go back," I say, even though I've had coffee here since then. I'm not in the mood for mocha-less caffeine.

"I've had Mrs. Potts's hazelnut latté, so I hear you." Ruby moves the mug behind the counter, and her eyes shift to the pile of paper. "Do you think you'll find your parents with those lost item posters?"

"I hope so. It seems like my only option. It may be my last option. So far, I've put them up on electrical posts, store windows, the Town Hall's message board, and at the post office."

"You'll find them."

Before I can reply, a blonde woman with her hair in a messy bun approaches. She wears a forest green knit vest and a matching dress with a flowy, asymmetrical skirt, the soft fabric cut to give the appearance of leaves. Intricate gold and bronze accents adorn the bodice, strings holding it together at the front. Beneath the dress, she wears a textured full-length bodysuit with tiny pieces of silver glitter—stars in a night sky. A green shimmery neck scarf completes her unique outfit. The woman's clothes are tattered, as though she's gotten every use out of them as she could and still refuses to part with them.

"Hey, Ruby. Can I get a—" I recognize the shock on her face—the same reaction I've seen from all the others. Here we go again. "Isabella? How are you here? You're so...young."

"That's because I'm sixteen. Do I know you?"

The woman takes a step back. "Of course you do. In Neverland. Don't you remember?" she replies with a New Zealand-ish accent.

"Her memories are lost," Ruby explains.

I swivel the stool to face the woman head-on, the pieces fitting together. It's like she's stepped out of a fairytale, and it dawns on me who she's portraying. However, when I glance down at her shoes, they're not pom-pom slippers. Instead, they're olive combat boots. This may be a different interpretation, like Killian. "Let me guess. Blonde hair. Green dress. You're supposed to be Tinker Bell, aren't you?"

"'Supposed to be?'" she asks, glancing at Ruby. "I am Tinker Bell." She wears a vial filled with sparkling powder around her neck. The dust matches the faded color of her clothes.

"Oh, I see. Neverland's a strip club."

"What's a strip club?" She moves closer, fear in her eyes. "Is that where they strip fairies of their wings in this land?"

"It's nothing like that," Ruby interjects. "And there's no use in trying to reason with her. She doesn't believe. What did you want?"

"A whiskey. Neat."

"Ooh, this is a badass Tinker Bell. I'm curious. How much money do you make?" I ask.

"Excuse me?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'll bring it to your table, Tink," Ruby says, and the woman walks away. "She's not a stripper."

"Sorry, but it's the only way this Neverland shit makes sense," I say, swiveling to face the counter.

"So you think a couple of strippers called the Lost Boys kidnapped Henry and took him to a club where their leader, Peter Pan, was waiting for 'em?" Ruby looks at me like I'm an idiot, and she has a point. The situation is far more absurd than that. I'm still struggling to grasp the truth of this strange world I've been thrust into.

"That sounds absurd," I say.

"More absurd than the truth?"

"Nope, sounds about right. I'll take that coffee now."

Ruby lifts the mug and places it back in front of me.

"Thank you."

She smiles and shakes her head as though I'm a pain in the ass, which I probably am; not gonna lie. While trying to distract myself with coffee, my mind reels from all the craziness since I arrived in Storybrooke. I still can't believe how much my life has changed in such a short time.

But I have questions about this Tinker Bell chick. Who the hell is she? And how many other people in town think they know me? And what's the deal with all these flying monkeys? How many of them are there? Who really kidnapped Henry? Was he even kidnapped in the first place? A group of strippers called the Lost Boys didn't do it. And who is this Peter Pan guy? Where is he, and what's his real name? Is he in Storybrooke?

So. Many. Questions.

They keep piling up, and I'm barely scratching the surface. If only coffee could solve all the problems of the world.

As I sit here, lost in thought, Ruby returns from tending a table and smiles. "How's it going over here?"

I blow a raspberry.

"Storybrooke treating you that bad, huh?"

I grin back at her. "It's been a wild ride, but I'm hanging in there."

She laughs, wiping down the counter. "I can only imagine. This town can be a bit of a rollercoaster, but it's worth it in the end."

"I'll say. I've met so many amazing people here. I wouldn't have believed it if someone told me all this was possible."

"I know what you mean," Ruby says, nodding. "But that's what makes Storybrooke so special. Anything is possible here."

I smile, grateful for my new friendships and extraordinary experiences. This little chat helps me step back from the madness outside the diner and the turmoil inside my head. This new life may be a rollercoaster ride, but I appreciate it. For the first time in forever, I can't wait to see what the future holds.

* * *

"It's been two hours, Killian. No one called to claim the necklace," I say as we stroll down the boardwalk.

"Someone will show up for it, I'm sure."

"I don't expect anyone to call this soon, but waiting for my phone to ring is driving me crazy."

Something changes in Killian's demeanor after I say those words. Something heavy weighing him down. "Calm yourself. When your dear mother and father lay their peepers upon your posters, they'll be ringing you up, posthaste. Until that moment arrives, you must let go and allow the winds to guide you." His words are meant to comfort me, but I can see the concern in his eyes. He must be worried about how I'm feeling. Despite his reassurance, I can tell he's struggling to hide his emotions about something I don't understand.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that everything will be okay—for both of us—but it's hard to ignore the knot forming in my stomach. "Let the winds guide me," I say, then blow a huff into the air, the salty smell of the ocean filling my nostrils. "Don't you understand what I'm feeling? I can't let go. Every time my phone goes off, I think it's my parents calling me. Even thinking about it gives me the jitters."

"Then why don't we head back to the Jolly Roger, and I can brew us up some tea. I know a recipe that calms the nerves like a charm."

"That sounds nice, but my mind will be focused on my phone. I wouldn't be able to enjoy that good moment with you."

"Fear not, love," he says with a grin. "When all is said and done, you'll have a more tranquil state of mind, regardless of the outcome." Killian's always so optimistic. It's refreshing after everything that goes on: Regina's threats, struggling to find my parents, Henry's theories, Delilah using me. I need some positivity in my life right now. Someone willing to listen.

"If you say so."

My phone rings, and we stop walking. I don't waste a second to answer it. "Hello," I say, pressing the device to my face.

"You'll never belie—"

I hang up, the call adding to my anxiety.

"What happened?" Killian asks.

"It was Delilah."

"I'm not following," he says with a shake of his head.

"We had a fight. She used me for her article."

"That doesn't sound like her."

"Well, she did. She wanted to get information out of me and use my history as bait to get a job for the paper. She never wanted to be friends with me."

"Now, I doubt that's true."

"Why?"

"Anyone would be mad to not want to be friends with you. You're special, Palmer. Never forget that." I was quick to judge him. I never should've assumed he was a killer or a rapist because he's dressed as a pirate rock band leader. There's more to people than how they dress and appear at first glance. People are books. You'll never know who they are if you don't turn to the first page.

The corner of my mouth pulls upward. "I'm glad you're my friend, Killian."

A slight smile appears on his face, and his eyes soften. "Hook. Call me Hook."

I nod, looking up into his pristine blue eyes. It's wonderful to have a true friend in this strange place.

"I'm glad you're my friend, as well, Palmer." At least someone is on my side. I've never had someone on my side. This is nice. No...This is exceptional. Beyond exceptional.

A squad car drives down the street nearby, and the siren zooms past, the sound jolting me back to reality.

"Was that Emma?" I ask, raising my head to Hook. "What's going on?"

"I've no idea. Possibly, it has something to do with these flying monstrosities," he says, gesturing toward the sky, and then we resume our leisure stroll.

"Where did they even come from?"

"It appears we're both clueless in that matter."

"I told you one almost attacked me, right?"

"Aye, you did. However, your near attack doesn't give these reporters any reason to harass you about it. They should open their deadlights to some manners."

My feet glue themselves to the boardwalk, and my heart starts to race. "What?"

"It means for them to open their eyes."

"I know what it means." I take a deep breath to gather my thoughts. It's ridiculous what I'm about to ask, but if he was in my vision along with those other two pirates and the Jolly Roger, maybe he'll know what it means. "Did you ever encounter...ghost pirates?"

A soft smile appears on his face, and his eyes convey a sense of warmth and understanding. "Aye, I have. They're a jolly lot, those ghostly pirates. Always up for a good game of cards, and they never have to worry about scurvy." He smirks as he recalls his supposed encounter with the spectral buccaneers, clearly amused by the memory.

I chuckle, then say, "I'm serious. Have you?"

"You're not the only one being serious. It was many years ago, back when you were on my crew. A band of cursed pirates came along and commandeered our ship."

"What cursed them?"

Hook smiles. "What have we here? I didn't know we had a secret admirer of my dear lad's storybook in our midst." He leans in and says in a husky voice, "Careful, lass. You might find yourself bewitched by its whimsy and charm."

"I'm curious," I say, shoving his shoulder.

"So you haven't read the boy's book?"

"I have."

He puts on a teasing grin and bows his head, his eyes full of mischief.

"Not because I believe, though. I was bored."

"Then why all the inquiries?"

"I'm curious," I say, rising on my toes. "Humor me." I walk on, and he follows after a short beat.

"The poor sailors found themselves cursed after stealing a great deal of Aztec gold, left behind by Cortez himself."

"The Aztec gold?"

"Aye, love. It was cursed. It transformed them into a fearsome, undead crew. I'm rather impressed with how you managed to gain their trust and convince them to let you live. I still have no idea how you've done it."

"The Black Pearl," I whisper.

Hook furrows his brow. "How'd you know? Do you remember something?"

"No, it's a movie. A series of movies. Would you be up to some sort of movie marathon to educate you and bring you up to speed on modern knowledge?"

"You plan it, I'll be there."

"Could we also add Harry Potter to the list?"

"Of course, considering I have no idea who that is."

My jaw drops, teasing him. "You don't know who Harry Potter is?"

"No. Why? Is he some sort of wizard?"

"Yes," I exclaim.

"Really? I was merely guessing."

"Prepare to start watching this week. We have eight movies to get through, and they're about three hours each."

"You're staying in Storybrooke through the week?" Honestly, I don't know. It just came out. I didn't even think about it. It's as if I assumed I would. Maybe I will. If my parents are here, then of course I will.

"I-I guess so."

"Good." He wraps his hooked arm around me, and it's something I never knew I wanted. "I like having you around." I like having him around, too. I like having everyone around.

Storybrooke did something to me I never thought was possible. It broke down my walls. It didn't take them down, brick by brick. No. Storybrooke came full force ahead with bombs and cannons, forcing itself in. That's how I know this is right. Giving me no time to stop and repair my barriers let me see how much Storybrooke citizens care about me. They didn't waste time allowing me to adjust to their hospitality. They gave me everything they could all at once, giving me no time to breathe, which seemed bad at first, but now I see how meaningful it all was. They overwhelmed me with kindness.

Turns out I didn't need a bulldozer. I needed to build a door.

Although I don't accept their beliefs of magic systems, they're still the most wonderful people I've ever met. I suppose the nuts always are. It unites us misfits together since no one else can see it. We've experienced how horrible people can be, so we resort to killing them with kindness. I, on the other hand, gave people a taste of their own medicine. I was wrong to do so. I understand now that not everyone is cruel at heart. The world turned them into what they are like it did to me. It just takes one person to make it all go away. One person to send out kindness. One person to speak words of gentleness.

I wish everyone had a Mary Margaret in their life, or even a Hook. The world would be a much better place. As for me, I've got both. Maybe I am lucky.