The Grand Library

"Er, y-yes. Sounds good." Remember, you can't tell her. No matter how trustworthy she might seem, they would find out. And they would be mad, very mad. He tried to make sense of the letters, and managed to match the letters from the title to the page. 'Peter Pan'.

"Okay. Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie. 'Chapter One: Peter Breaks Through. All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, “Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!” This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.'" She began with the first paragraph.

The beginning of the end? What does that mean? Jay did his best to follow along, but matching the words with speech was difficult. He wanted to ask questions, but that always ended very poorly for him back home.

Bridgett continued. "Of course they lived at 14 [their house number on their street], and until Wendy came her mother was the chief one. She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; and her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner." She glanced up at Jay, he looked puzzled. "If you have comments or questions, feel free to stop me anytime." She smiled.

(Fun fact: Jay loves singing, but never does so at home. Also bet you can't guess his home life from all the incredibly subtle hints I've given hahaaaaa)

"There's… there's a lot of words here…" Jay crossed his ankles and brushed his hair out of his eyes, wincing a bit as a bruise twinged painfully. Stop showing pain! She'll ask questions, and you're a terrible liar. "Fourteen… mocking… con-… conspicuous…" He whispered barely audibly to himself, trying to figure out what they meant.

(Cool!! And aaah Jay's killing me, I want Bridgett to be able to adopt him and keep him safe and give him cocoa on cold days and you're killin' me man)

"Yeah, there are a lot of words. We could start with something simpler, if you like? If you want to keep going with this one, though, we can." She asked gently. She didn't want to do anything he didn't want to do.

(Do it, he'd gladly go with her lol. Get away from his gonnasayit abusive parents. I have a couple injury stories from where I tortured my cinnamon roll)

(Kidnap him for 'safety reasons')

"No… I like it, I'm just… I-I have trouble understanding it…" A pink tint rose to Jay's pale, thin cheeks.

(noooooooooo I'mma do it. Bridgett probs has to get to know him more first tho. How dare you torture the cinnamon roll. But then again, if you saw some of my other characters, you'd feel the same I think)

(Lol yeah I torture characters most if they deserve it the least.)

"Alright. Let me know if you want to take a break or if you want me to explain." Bridgett focused back on the book. "'The way Mr. Darling won her was this: the many gentlemen who had been boys when she was a girl discovered simultaneously that they loved her, and they all ran to her house to propose to her except Mr. Darling, who took a cab and nipped in first, and so he got her. He got all of her, except the innermost box and the kiss. He never knew about the box, and in time he gave up trying for the kiss. Wendy thought Napoleon could have got it, but I can picture him trying, and then going off in a passion, slamming the door.'"

(Like one time his parents were very drunk and threw an empty bottle at his head. He had to spend the evening picking shards of glass out of his scalp bc they refused to take him to the hospital)

(I don't think poor, precious 7 year old Jay deserves your torture. Neither did my 9 year old Stefan… I'll tell you 'bout him another time)

(You make me sad friend)

"Who's Napoleon? What's a cab? What's proposing?" Jay gasped, covering his mouth with his hands. "Am I asking too many questions?" He seemed worried, and sort of made an attempt to shrink down in his chair.

(Gud. That is my job basically lmao)

(true)
"Napoleon was a guy in history who was a French military leader and he tried to make himself a ruler. A cab's a kind of transportation with a guy in a car who drives you to where you want to go and proposing is what you do when you want to marry someone, it's asking them to spend the rest of their life with you." Bridgett smiled. "There's no such thing as too many questions in my mind."

"Are… a-are you sure it's not too much?" There was a hint of fear in his eyes, and confusion. He had never really had anyone answer his questions before, and especially not without being angry. His father's voice rang loudly in his ears, so loudly that he actually flinched. Don't meddle in things that aren't any of your business, boy! And the sound of shattering glass.

Bridgett nodded. "I'm sure."
When Jay flinched, she furrowed her eyebrows. Concern clear in her green eyes. "You okay, hon?"

"W-What?" He locked eyes with her for a moment, and if eyes were truly the window to the soul he would be giving everything away. "Yeah…. y-yeah, I'm fine… perfectly fine.." He lied.

Bridgett's smile slipped slightly. Jay was so young and so small, but his eyes were as tired as any adult she'd seen. As anyone's eyes who'd seen hard times.
"Are you sure?" She asked softly.

Jay hesitated for a few seconds, wanting so badly to simply shake his head 'no'. He couldn't bring himself to nod, tears stinging his eyes. His breath caught in his throat, and he seemed unable to speak.

"I see." Bridgett pushed the plate of cookies towards him before she stood up slowly so he wouldn't scare him. "I'll be back in a moment."
She went back upstairs to grab a few things.

The tears fell from his eyes as she left, and he quickly tried to wipe them away. You're weak! Stop crying! "Stupid!" He yelled, slapping himself hard across the face to try and come back to his senses.

Bridgett thought she heard Jay yell something as she went up the stairs, so she quickened her steps. She grabbed a blanket, a mug, and a few pillows. She filled the mug with hot cocoa and rushed back downstairs. "C'mere, you can bring the book if you want, but we're gonna make a Soft Spot." She went to the corner of the room where there was a nice window that overlooked a peaceful little garden.

Jay stopped for a few moments before grabbing the book and walking over to Bridgett. A red mark was already beginning to form on his face, but he ignored it. After all, he was very accustomed to that sort of pain. He sat down beside Bridgett, trying again to brush away the stubborn tears.

Bridgett set up the pillows for them to sit on and a few to make walls like a pillow fort. She wrapped the blanket around Jay's shoulders and took the book from his hands, replacing it with the cup of cocoa. She saw a red spot on his cheek and set the book down to run back upstairs. She grabbed some ice and a bag as fast as she could and ran back down and sat next to him, now out of breath. "Here… Put-this-on…" She pointed to his cheek as she caught her breath.