Page 8 of Protector

Even I was sent to school with King and Dax a few weeks after my arrival here, and I know it kills her that we get to leave and have normal lives when she can’t.

So I always come here with her so she doesn’t feel alone.

But Bonnie has been alone all of her life. If I can be that person to give her company, a light in the dark, a pillar of strength, then I will be.

Slipping out from her little bed, I creep to her door and slide outside, rushing to my room to pick up my notebook.

I’ve been writing things down ever since I could write.

My dad was always coming out with these random words of wisdom or poems, and I didn’t want to forget anything.

Then I started writing down my feelings, or things that happened in my day.

It’s basically a diary. And ever since I arrived here, I haven’t gone a single day without writing a little letter to Bonnie. I know she’ll never read them, but I’d like to think she can feel my words.

Bon,

You’re strong, and beautiful, and more than I will ever be.

Never let your father determine who you are. Never let his words break you.

Keep your head up and your shoulders back.

Fill your head with happy thoughts and fly the skies.

You can do whatever you want to do.

And I’ll be right here protecting you as you go.

Second star on the right…

Till Neverland,

Puck

Age 12

“You’re not paying attention,” Maria says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. I bring my eyes back from the window to look at her.

“Sorry, Maria, I’m just so bored with Shakespeare.”

Maria huffs under her breath, and I feel a little bad, but honestly, as much as I wanted to know more about the play that Puck got his name from, I can’t help but yawn.

“Can’t we read something else for a change? Something with love or action or?—”

“Love? A Midsummer Night’s Dream is all about love. It’s a love that conquers all. How can you say you want romance when there’s tons of it here?”

I know I’ve hit a nerve, but I don’t mean to. I just want to read something a little more suited to my age for a change.

“You’re getting too old for Peter Pan every day, missy,” she says, and I throw her a sassy look.

“I am also too young for a book written a million years ago,”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

“I just… I want to read about romance from this century. Romance that makes your heart boom. Romance that makes your hands all sweaty and your stomach flip with butterflies.”

“What would you know about that?” Maria asks. Not in a rude way, but in a curious way. I can see a glint in her eye that has me questioning if she knows how I’m starting to feel about Puck.

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