Thinking of what to pack for 'boarding school' is difficult. The list of things I can't take is extensive and it makes me wonder what is acceptable. It's not likely that I'm actually going to use any of the items. It's all just for show - as if we don't all know what's really going on. 

My rolling bag is stuffed with clothing that I wouldn't mind dying in. My striped collared tee with the embroidered flowers on the chest, my mid-rise jeans that are acid washed, and a baseball hoodie I literally stole from Charlie's wardrobe when I was waiting for him to get ready for a concert. 

I purposefully take my time folding and organizing the clothing. I know that the second I am done packing my parents are going to high tail me out of here. They haven't so much as said a word to me since we got home last night. It's like we're all over the formalities. They know I know they never cared and I know they know I am not torn up about it. Like Charlie said, they choose to do wrong over and over again. At some point, I have to stop asking why and stop waiting for them to change. 

My brain is on autopilot as we drive down to the docks. It's like I'm standing still on a conveyor belt. Not a single complex thought crosses my mind as I stare at the blurring scenery outside the window. 

My mother's phone rings in her purse. She pulls it out, her eyebrow creases wrinkling at the screen. "It's Brendan." 

She says it to my father but I'm paying attention now. 

"Aren't you going to answer it?" he snaps at her. He rolls his eyes as he turns the steering wheel. "That's what you do when the phone rings, darling." 

Darling. It makes me miss Aaron. I hate how it sounds when my father says it. It shouldn't be used with so much contempt. 

"Everything's always a big issue with you, Ken. I blink and you find a way to make me feel stupid for it." 

"It's not that hard to do, dear." 

Answer the phone! I want to scream. 

She scoffs. "You're one to talk. I think I'd take a good look in the mirror before calling anyone else stupid." She doesn't give him time to reply as she taps the icon on her phone. "Hello?" 

The car's AC is too loud for me to hear Brendan's voice on the other side. I'm left to watch my mother's face twist and contort dramatically. 

"She's not picking up because we took her phone away. She's grounded." 

He's asking for me? 

"I can't put her on the phone. She's not with me." My mother's eyes dart to the rearview mirror and land on me. They are a warning to keep quiet. 

"I don't know. The boarding school is strict on outside communication." 

Brendan wants to speak to me. 

"She left this morning . . . Why would I have thought to tell you? You never seemed interested in her whereabouts before . . . Yes, well, she's our daughter, not yours."

My father is pulling up to the parking lot across the street from the docks. "Hang up. You can call him back later." 

I bite my lip. Brendan getting involved ruins the plan and ruins him. It's better for him not to ask so many questions. It's not like he can help though a selfish part of me likes the idea of him trying. 

"I'm very busy, Brendan. Goodbye." She cuts him off just like that, dropping her phone in her purse after placing it on silent. 

"He was asking about me?" 

My mother scowls. It must hurt for their favorite child to finally call but not for them. 

Good. 

I pull my suitcase out of the trunk by myself and trail behind them as they walk over to the massive beast of a ship. Nausea swells up in my stomach as it gets closer. I am nothing but a dot standing next to it. A dot that can easily be lost and forgotten. 

We hike up the ramp as seagulls screech overhead. There might have been times where a child's scream was heard over the waves and boat horns by a person in passing. This person might have looked over to the ship and realized they had never seen it move from the dock. Questions would start forming in their head. Then they'd hear the seagulls call and chalk up the plea for help as nothing more than that. 

Researchers Hansen and Smith are waiting for me at the end of the cargo crate catwalk. I don't say goodbye to my parents. I walk through them, bumping their shoulders in the process. I don't look back. 

Smith descends below the deck and Hansen takes my suitcase to follow behind me. I'm surrounded already. 

The familiar smell of rust is pertroid now. Its stench is fused with the scent of rot and I'm anticipating a dead rat to appear on the ground with parasites crawling out of its insides. The dingy lanterns give away to fluorescents and the bleach smell makes my eyes water. 

I get light headed as we get to the last set of stairs. There is no hint of ventilation and thus, the air becomes stale and humid. I can feel Hansen and Smith's body heat radiating off of them and it's enough to make me want to peel off my own skin. 

Smith doesn't ask me for an ID. He buzzes us in and holds the door open. He seems really proud of it too - like he's being a real gentleman. 

There are four security guards instead of the usual two. Hansen hands them my suitcase and I watch as they tear it up like vultures. Any of the folding or organizing I did is a total waste as they dump out it's contents and rummage through everything. Another guard roughly shoves me into a wall, forcing my hands up for his partner to pat me down. 

I ball my fists. "Let me know if you find anything interesting." 

When they pull me off the wall and lead me further down the narrow hallway - that is far too tight for all of us - the ground shifts beneath my feet. It's more than the sway of the ship being rocked by the waves. It's an acceleration. It's shifting us all backwards and then twisting us around until I have no idea how to stand upright. I stumble into Hansen who pulls me up. He is watching me intently. 

"What was that?" 

He glances back at the guards. 

It dawns on me. I don't need to see the outside of a window to know it. The ship is moving. It's sailing away from the docks for the first time I've ever seen it. 

"Why are we moving? Where are we going?" The hysteria in my voice must be evident because the guards rush towards me. I walk backwards which is a bad move considering I've never developed sea legs. I fall over and I'm left to be swept up by the men dressed in all black. They look like a modern spin on Death. 

I don't know why it hits me so hard. Either way, I am going to be trapped on the Jolly Roger - docked or at sea. But then I remember the plan was to get the files, get Tina, and get out. There is no getting out if all that surrounds us is water. There is no speedy escape if all we have is a life raft. That wasn't part of the plan. Nakpuna has spoiled everything without even knowing it. Or maybe he does know. Maybe I was doomed from the beginning. 

+++

The room I am placed in isn't as bad as I thought it would be. It has a bed and a sink on one side with a shower and toilet on the other. There's a door instead of jail bars but it still locks from the outside. 

The corridor I'm in is filled with other kids. They're all shut up in their rooms but I can hear them. I hear a little boy singing nursery rhymes, an older voice complaining that his toilet is clogged, and some sniffling. When they first locked me up, I didn't get to peek into any rooms. From my understanding, the kids hardly get any time to interact with each other. 

From the tiny window in my door, I see guards transporting a girl with blonde hair back to her room several times a day. Her room is all the way at the end of the hall. I imagine it's the very back of the ship. All I see is the top of her head but I know it's Tina. 

After a couple of days of physicals and examinations, Nakpuna makes an appearance. When he slides into my room, I nearly jump out of my seat. Since the ship had left the dock, I had expected him to be on vacation or something. I thought he had taken a few days off to straighten things out with Charlie. 

"Dovie Scarlet," he says, drawing out every syllable. The door closes behind him and he hovers next to it. "You've become more of a nuisance than you're worth." 

I sit up in my bed. "Then why don't you let me go?" 

He paces the length of the room with his arms folded behind his back. I can see the stump where his pinky should be and the faded pink stains on the sleeves of his lab coat. 

"There's an odd trend that goes on around here. Sometimes a child will go missing from my facility - a couple of times before they've even made it here, similar to your situation." 

"Good for them."

I try not to twitch under his studious gaze. He doesn't know about Neverland and that's why he's asking. 

He stops pacing and towers directly over me. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" 

I go for the answer that's closest to the truth. 

"If I did, you think I'd tell you?" 

His nostrils flare. 

"I suppose not. Not without motivation." 

He lets his words cling to the walls. He gives me time to speculate what he means and I fall for it. I envision torcher devices. I am reminded of the incredible anguish I was in prior to realizing my powers. Nakpuna has made it clear he doesn't have a heart. His work is the thing that is most dear to him so there's no telling what he would do to secure its success. 

"But I don't think you know about any of that." 

I stand up. My balance has gotten better so I don't automatically teter when I'm on my feet. He takes a few steps back, startled. 

"So what now? You go back to trying to get me to fly? Haven't you ever thought that if you succeeded in that I might go ahead and drop you from a deadly height?" 

"Charlie's pleasant attitude has rubbed off on you." 

"It's better than yours. There are enough child traffickers in the world," I spit. 

"I didn't snatch away any of these children!" He gestures beyond the walls. I'm sure the other kids can hear us but only a fraction of them are old enough to understand. "When I found them, no one wanted them. They were never going to live perfect lives. I've given them purpose." 

What he's saying is absurd. He couldn't possibly believe himself. 

"To be lab rats?" 

He looks at me like I'm dumb. "To contribute to the next big discovery." 

"Why kids? Why not consenting adults?" 

"There's something about youth that makes these kinds of DNA altering experiments more efficient. What it is specifically is not tangible. We just know the younger the better." 

My stomach twists into knots. "And you're telling me all this because you're never planning on letting me out." 

"Clever girl." 

He leaves me to sit with that on purpose. The taunting is punishment for getting Charlie so heavily involved and for stepping out of place. I'll let him treat me as if I'm a pawn in a game of chess. I'll be his test monkey for a little while but only to fulfill my part of the plan: get the files downloaded onto the hard drive, get Tina, get out. 

I pull the acorn Aaron gifted me out of my pocket and hold it to my chest. It scares me that the more time that passes, the more difficult it will become to recall Neverland. It will grow to be more and more like a dream I can never return to.