1. Bonnie
Age 6
Itry the handle to the door again, but it is too heavy for me. I’m strong; my cousin Dax tells me so all the time. He always says I’ve got big, strong arms for a little girl. King, my brother, just rolls his eyes. He does that a lot.
They are only a year older than me, but I don’t think that’s much bigger. It’s only one more. And I am nearly seven anyway.
Pulling on the handle once more, but getting nowhere, I let my arms drop, and I sink to the floor.
Daddy always does this when there’s people coming over. King and Dax get to stay, but I have to go to my room.
It is so unfair.
I have never met anyone new apart from the people who live or work in the mansion. King and Dax are my only friends.
And then there’s Maria. She’s the kind lady who brings me my dinner and tidies my room, although most of the time, she makes me help. She also teaches me lots of different lessons, like English and maths. I hate maths, though.
Daddy lets King and Dax go to a private school. He says they need to be sharp and educated if they’re going to take over the Districts one day. But I’m not allowed an education. Luckily for me, Maria teaches me lots of things.
Every day is the same.
Wake up, have breakfast, a few hours of school, and then play in the garden until dinner. I like playing in the trees.
My favourite book is Peter Pan and I am always Wendy, flying away with Peter, finding the Lost Boys and trying to kill Captain Hook.
My daddy reminds me of Captain Hook. But I would never say that to anybody. Not even King and Dax.
King would probably just roll his eyes. But he doesn’t understand.
My daddy likes King. He gets to do whatever he wants. He gets to meet new people who come to our home. He gets to go to a fancy school outside the mansion nearly every day.
He doesn’t get locked away in his room, not allowed to make any friends.
There’s a bang on the door, and I jump up, wiggling the handle again.
“I can’t open it, I’m stuck,” I cry slightly, puffing with all my might to get the door open.
Then I hear a jingle on the other side, and a key sliding into the lock, so I step back, fumbling over my feet. But I keep stepping back until I bump against my bed at the back of the room.
My daddy stands in the doorway, his belly sticking out over his belt, but still looking every bit threatening and scary in his dark suit and blank stare.
It’s his smile that scares me the most, though. My daddy doesn’t have a nice smile; he has an evil smile like Captain Hook. I know when daddy is smiling, it’s not because he is happy, it’s almost always the opposite.
I don’t say anything, terrified to speak in case I say something wrong. I always say something wrong. Even though I’ve been learning lots of new words recently, and I can read some books all on my own now. Maria is really proud of me.
Daddy scoffs, looking at my eyes that are starting to water.
“You look just like your mother.”
He tells me that all the time, but it never seems like a good thing. He’s always cross or angry about it.
But I never respond.
I don’t remember my mummy. I was only three when she died. That was really little. And now I’m six and can’t remember her much anymore.
I just remember the photos I have seen.
King has always said that it’s a good thing I look like her and that he looks like mummy too and Daddy is just angry that we are not ugly like him. It always makes me laugh in the end.
Everything about my daddy is ugly. But I still love him. Even if he is scary.
He’s my daddy, after all.
He walks away, leaving the doorway open, and that must mean all of his guests are gone. I’m surprised it was him who came to open it for me. Normally, it’s Maria.
I tiptoe out of my room and run down to the gardens, ready to hide for the rest of the day.
After being outside,my knees are muddy, my hair is askew, and there’s a cut on my arm from where I scraped it on a tree branch. I run back to the house, ready to eat something because I’m really hungry now, when I see King and my daddy in the window of the big office, the one I have been told over and over again, I am never allowed in.
I didn’t know King was allowed in there now, though.
Dax comes up behind me and rests his arm over my shoulders.
“Things are changing, Bonnie. You just keep yourself to yourself, okay?”
I don’t understand what he’s mumbling about, but I nod anyway. Dax and King are always right. When they tell me to believe something, I do. When they tell me to listen to them, I do. They are the only two boys in the whole wide world I trust.
They look after me.
Unlike Daddy.
“Come on, go and get cleaned up,” he finishes, looking me up and down, and I run into the house. I stop in the doorway and call out Dax’s name before I make my way upstairs. He’s still watching the window, but turns his head to look at me.
“Will you plait my hair?”
Dax runs a hand through his blond waves, and I can hear the sigh from here.
“Pleeease,” I beg, knowing he can’t say no to me.
He nods, following me in defeat.
It’s not until I’m lying in bed that night, my dark brown hair in one long French braid, with a purple bow at the end of it, that my mind trails off. Not into dreams or fairy tales. But my unusual life.
I never meet anyone new. I’m always hidden away. I’ve never been allowed to leave the house.
My daddy always makes comments about me being a girl.
I’ve never known any different, and that’s okay.
I’m not stupid, though. I’m quite clever for a six-year-old, thank you very much.
But this isn’t normal.
I wish I could do normal things, like go to the park and play with my friends.
Actually, I wish I had friends. Even just one.
All the little girls in the books King and Dax read to me have friends and they always play together.
Wendy, who, like me, had two brothers, was never shunned or hidden away. Her mummy and daddy loved her very much. She got to go on exciting adventures and meet lots of new people.
I am not Wendy Darling. I am not living a fairy tale, nor will I ever be.
I am Bonnie Rhivers, kept away from humanity, invisible to the world.
No, I am not Wendy Darling, but a Lost Boy.