The Child Thief

Chapter Two

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Nick
They rested in a small church courtyard. Over the past hour
or so Peter had led him along a maze of back streets and alleys, walking,
running, scaling walls, and ducking through bushes. Slipping about unseen
seemed to come naturally to him.
With the park long behind them, Nick began to breathe easier. He
collapsed on a bench and Peter hopped up next to him, perching on his
heels, reminding Nick of a gargoyle as he gazed up at the stars.
“Nick, you got someplace to go?”
“Sure,” Nick said. “Well, I’m going to…heck, over to…Well—” He
stopped. Where was he going? His money, his pack, everything was gone.
He didn’t have so much as a nickel, not even a jar of goddamn peanut butter
anymore. He felt the sting of tears. He couldn’t go home. He thought of the
bums in the park. How long before he was one of them? How long before
he was dirty, sick, cold, and hungry? How long before he was willing to do
almost anything for a handout? That was if he could even get out of
Brooklyn alive. The tears came. “I don’t know,” he blurted out.
While Nick cried big, heavy sobs into his own hands, the golden-eyed
boy stayed beside him. He didn’t speak, just sat there waiting for Nick to
finish.
“I got a place.”
Nick wiped at his eyes and looked at him.
“Avalon,” Peter said. “I have a fort there.”
Nick raised his eyebrows and managed a smirk. “A fort?”
“It’s at a secret place. An enchanted island. No grown-ups allowed. It’s
full of faeries, goblins, and trolls. We stay up as late as we want. No
teachers or parents to tell us what to do. We don’t have to take baths, brush
our teeth, or make our beds. We play with spears and swords, and
sometimes,” he lowered his voice, “we fight monsters.”
Nick shook his head and grinned wryly. “Peter, you’re a kook.”
“Would you like to come with me?”

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Nick hesitated, he knew Peter was joking about the secret place, about
faeries and all that other nonsense, but you wouldn’t guess it by the way he
said it. Why, you could almost believe it was true. But true or not, the idea
of a fort to sleep in, maybe some other runaways to hang out with, the idea
of anything other than being left out here in the dark, alone, sounded good.
“You live there?” Nick asked.
“Yup.”
“Don’t your parents care?”
“I don’t have any parents.”
“Oh,” Nick said. “Me neither. Not anymore.”
A long silence hung between them.
“A fort,” Nick said. “And faeries and goblins, huh?”
Peter nodded and grinned.
And Nick found himself grinning back.