Page 5 of Protector

“That’s a weird name,” I say back, but slam my mouth closed when I realise I said it out loud.

That was rude of me.

“It’s a character from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, apparently. My mother loves the play, but my father wouldn’t let her call me Lysander or Oberon.” He chuckles, and I just scrunch up my nose because I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Never mind,” he says when he sees my reaction, and I study his features, searing them to my memory.

“I like Peter Pan,” I offer, and he smiles.

“Second star on the right.” When he nudges my arm with his, I turn in my seat to fully face him, tucking my legs underneath myself.

“And straight on till morning.”

My cheeks almost hurt from how big my smile is. I can’t believe he knows Peter Pan. King and Dax are bored with it now because I read the book and watch the film over and over.

“What’s your name?” he asks me, and my shyness comes rushing back.

No one has ever asked me my name.

“Bonnie.”

“Pretty,” he replies, nodding, and I just shrug, trying not to let my cheeks go red again. “I like your flower.”

I blush a little more, watching the petals twirl as I spin the root in my fingers.

“Why are you here?” I ask, filling the awkward silence.

“I’ve come to live with my mum.”

I look at him, waiting for him to tell me more. Who is his mum?

“Maria is my mum,” he answers, reading my mind.

That makes me smile. I love Maria. But I had no idea she had a son. I’ve never heard her speak about him. But then, not many people know that my daddy has a daughter, so I suppose it isn’t that weird.

“My dad died recently, so I’ve been brought to live here with her. Better off too, probably. I’ve missed her.”

I continue to stare at him blankly and take in everything he’s said, but he must take my silence for something else as he jumps in quickly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk about that.”

I shake my head.

“My mummy is dead,” I say back, and his eyes sparkle with pain. “How old are you?” I ask him, feeling brave.

“Ten.”

“I’m eight,” I say proudly, and he nods.

We fall into silence again, and I don’t know if it’s awkward or not, but strangely, I feel comfortable around him.

“Yo, Puck,” King calls out, and we both turn to look at him. He waves him over, and Puck looks back at me whilst he stands.

“You know King?” I question, a little annoyed that, of course, King knew who Puck was. For just once, I want to be the one who knows someone first. I want to meet someone, talk to them, share stories or laughs. For just once, I wish I wasn’t the last to know or be seen.

“Not really, I met him earlier.” He shrugs, and I almost jump for joy that Puck wasn’t something I was entirely kept hidden away from.

“Catch you later, Bon.” He leaves me with one more smile and jogs over to King.

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