Chapter Text
Oh, to Neverland I go.
October, 6:41 PM:
In the darkness of Palma Nueva, near the city of Metro, the sounds of an old cartoon echo through the night.
“Fighting evil by moonlight
Winning love by daylight
Never running from a real fight
She is the one named...”
Then comes mom’s voice, sharp like the edge of paper. “You had Danny locked up!? What the hell is wrong with you!?”
Dad’s voice comes after, louder and rougher, the kind of voice that fills the cracks in the walls. “What’s wrong with me!? What’s wrong with you!? I saw you two at the cafe yesterday!”
“She will never turn her back on a friend
She is always there to defend
She is the one on whom we can depend
She is the one named Sailor...”
Maxine raises the volume until the cartoons cover some of the nonsense. She knows this game well enough, after all. One of them tries to walk away but never gets far before it starts again. Her stuffed animal sits on her, limp and careless in her lap. She presses its ears against her own. It doesn’t help much.
Words tumble through the floorboards: “You’re insane!” “Give me your phone!” “Here! Take it then!”
She doesn’t know what they’re talking about. She doesn’t know who ‘Danny’ is. She doesn’t want to know.
Instead, she turns her attention back to the TV, trying to focus on the colors and music. When that doesn’t work, Max slides off her pink bed, padding softly across the carpet. She can smell it from here, coffee and smoke, and a bit of rain from dad’s jacket. She gets to the window and fumbles at the latch long enough to hear more.
“Where are the messages, huh!?” “There ARE no messages!” “Do you think I’m stupid!?” “I think you’re batshit insane!”
Maxine winces at the volume. Her heart starts to beat faster, then finally, the latch gives way and opens. The window squeaks. She freezes and waits.
No one hears over the yelling.
The night air rushes in hard enough to push her hair back, cool and quiet. She climbs out, her bare feet pushing against the paint. Then she lands, and the ground feels huge beneath her. She meanders into the yard, enjoying how the chilly grass feels, and how the sounds of the house get quieter. She turns back once, to look in the window. She can see the shadows moving behind the curtains. How they dance with each other left to right. No one would ever guess that the shadows were liars.
She sits under the tree at the edge of the yard, with the night sky as her only companion. It’s clear, save for a few passing clouds. The moon is big and bright, and stars sparkle brighter than she’s ever seen. Maxine doesn’t know how long she was out there before she hears the door open and grass crinkle. Heavy footsteps get closer and closer, but the girl does nothing. Part of her hopes that if she stays still enough, they won’t see her.
“That can’t be comfortable.”
Maxine doesn’t turn to face her.
“Come on, Max. Let’s go inside. It’s getting cold out here.”
“No,” Max says with a frown, “It’s loud in there.”
Her mother deflates ever so slightly. “I promise it’s not loud anymore, honey. Daddy and I were just...” she trails off, unsure of how to finish. “Are you watching the stars?”
“Grandma said you can make wishes on shooting stars. I’m not seeing any tonight though.” Nor the night before, nor before that.
Her mother hesitates for a second before speaking again. “Oh really? What about that one?” Max blinks and turns to her mother, confused by the smirk on her face. Her mother points and Max follows her finger until she sees it, a white light coasting across the sky. It’s slow, and blinks, and is not at all like what she’s seen on TV.
“That’s an airplane, Mama,” the girl says, disappointed.
“Well, we can pretend right?” The woman retorts, “Let’s pretend that it’s a shooting star, just for tonight.” When Max doesn’t seem to budge, her mother tries a bit harder. “Make a wish, honey. For whatever you want.”
Max doesn’t really buy it but she wants to make her mother happy. And so, she does. She traces the path of the airplane in the sky and pretends. She pretends that it’s a shooting star like she’s seen in her books and like she’s seen in her cartoons. She imagines the tail long enough to cover the whole city. She closes her eyes and makes the wish.
When she opens her eyes, her mother is still there with an expectant look. “Soo... what’d you wish for?”
Despite herself, Maxine smiles. “I can’t tell you that, Mama. It won’t come true if I do.”
Her mother raises her hands in defeat, “Right, right. How could I forget? Now come on, let’s go inside before dad has a fit.” The woman chuckles, Max doesn’t.
The walk back to the house feels longer than it is, even with her mother’s presence. The cool grass does little to soothe her racing heart, nor the pit forming in her stomach when they walk past dad. He’s sitting in the living room with his police uniform partially on and a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. The TV is on mute, replaying some long forgotten, black-and-white show. He turns when they go by, giving them a passing glance before turning his attention back to the TV. Maxine is grateful for that. She is even more grateful when her mother doesn’t follow her into her room and instead stops by the door.
“Have, uh, a good night, sweetie. Mommy loves you very much, no matter what. I hope you know that.”
“Love you too, Mama.” Maxine says, plopping in her bed without fanfare. She keeps her back to the door until her mother sighs and the door clinks shut. And then her lip starts to quiver. Before long, a single tear comes down her face.
And then it appeared. A single, pale blue crab. It was small, big enough to fit in the palm of her hand and glowing with a faint aqua aura that rivaled her nightlight. The crab scuttled across her bed, settling near her face. Maxine jumps and squeaks, startled at the creature.
“Whoa, what are you?” She asked, though a part of her felt like she already knew. Somehow, in the back of her mind, she knew. The crab raised both its uneven claws up happily, scuttling back and forth. “...Cancer.”
The crab made a noise that sounded like a dozen birds chirping at once.
Max’s blue eyes went wide as she wildly flailed and gestured towards the creature. “Shhhh!”
But the crab didn’t listen, and continued its happy chirping. It scuttled back and forth across the girl’s bed until she tackled it, sending them both tumbling to the floor. She continued to wrestle the crab, annoyed at its agility, before thundering footsteps rapidly approached her door. It flew open seconds later, and her father’s intense, icy glare scanned the room in an instant. Maxine froze in place.
“Max,” her father says louder than necessary, “Are you okay? What’s all that noise?”
“Uh, uh,” the child sputtered. She looked around and saw no crab anywhere. Not even a trace of it. “Yeah, m’okay. Just saw a... bug.”
“A bug,” her father repeats flatly.
“Er, yeah. It was this big,” Maxine expands her little arms as far as they could go. Her father didn’t look convinced. For a moment, he didn’t say anything and instead stared at her. Then --
“Maybe if you stopped opening your window, bugs wouldn’t get in.” He eventually settles on with a sigh. For the briefest moment, the coldness of his glare vanished into something warm. “Do you want me to check for any more...bugs?”
“No!” the girl suddenly shouts, startling even herself. “I mean, no thanks, dad. I think I got it.”
Her father stares again, for longer this time. Maxine can see the emotions run across his face, one after the other. It settles on dad’s favorite one; a distant aloofness.
“If you say so, Max.” He says. Then he turns to leave, but before the door fully closes, he pauses. “Hey,” he doesn’t turn around. “Sorry. For earlier, I mean. No matter what happens, remember that dad loves you. Okay? No matter what.”
And then he leaves, closing the door with a quiet click.
Maxine remains in place a little while longer and looks around her room. Plushies thrown everywhere, clothes haphazardly tossed into barely closed drawers, and her closet partially open. A faint, blue glow emanates from her bed, under her blanket. She pouts.
“You almost got me in trouble,” she says in a hushed tone. The blue glow moves until a single black, starry eye pops out and looks around. “It’s okay. Dad’s gone.”
Cancer slowly walked toward her, raising its claws happily. It made the same chirping sound again, lower this time. Weirdly, Max felt she could understand what it was saying.
You made a wish, it says. You will never be alone again.
December, 5:13 PM:
Winters in Palma Nueva could hardly be called that, in Max’s opinion. It’s cooler than the rest of the year, but it’s far from cold. Now, as she meanders along in the woods behind her house, Max kinda wishes it would snow.
Cancer is walking besides her, its eyes and claws raised dutifully. In a scant two months, it had grown. No longer could it fit in her arms, and now resembled a large dog.
“Say, Can-Can. Why didn’t the phone wanna go to the dentist? ‘Cause he was scared of losing his blue tooth!” Cancer stops scuttling and turns to look at its master. Maxine can’t help but to giggle at her own joke. “Y’know, you can at least pretend to laugh.” The crab blinks thrice. Then it grabs a stick and gestures it toward her. The girl pouts, but takes the stick nonetheless. They continue to walk together, getting deeper in the forest, the sounds of the city gradually fading until the only sound was the sound of leaves crunching under Max’s feet.
“...so she goes and tells Mrs. Crabtree that I pushed her first! Nuh-Uh! I only pushed her because she pushed me first! You believe me, don’t ya’, Can-Can?”
Cancer makes a sound.
“Exaaactly,” Max says triumphantly. Then she pouts, “Dad didn’t believe me though.”
Finally, they hit a clearing. A wide, vast opening where the trees grew scarce and the wind picked up. The lake was large and open, with the clearest waters Maxine had ever seen. Mist spread across its surface like a heavy breath on glass, and when the sun set, it caught the light in warm shards of gold. Even the trees seemed to lean closer to the water, as if studying their own reflections with every ripple.
It always smelled like rain here, no matter the season. For the kids who grew up here the lake was half legend. Some people said the bottom was endless, that it was filled with treasure. She’d heard that on cloudless nights, the lake mirrored the stars so perfectly that stepping into it felt like walking through the sky.
Maxine always liked to visit this lake. The peace and quiet always helped her to focus and relax. Cancer seemed to mirror her feelings, running towards the water with happy chirps.
Splash!
“Can-Can!” Max panics. She rushes to the water and looks around. Cancer is floating across the waves, looking at her with concern. “Oh... yeah. Crab.” She looks around then sighs. “I’m glad no one saw that.”
“Saw what?” A voice says behind her.
Max jumps and screams, flailing wildly as she turns around. She feels the impact of something and hears a grunt, but before she could process what had happened, Cancer drove out of the water and slammed into the person’s chest with an audible thump. Some more grunting followed before something heavy hit the water. She quickly regains her composure and dashes to the lake side, ignoring Cancer’s victorious chirping. There’s a glimpse of him, a boy with bronze, sun-kissed skin and dark hair, before he drifts under the surface. He doesn’t seem to be moving much, and that only adds to Max’s panic.
“Cancer!” She shouts, gesturing to the boy. “Help him!” Without hesitation, the crab jumps forward and into the water with a loud splash. She watches closely as Cancer gets close and reaches out, but then a sudden low hum fills her ears. The world hummed. A low vibration rolled through Maxine’s tiny body, not as a sound, but pressure. Then a spark came. It was terribly brief, and faint enough that she thought she could’ve imagined it, but when Cancer made a pained chirping sound and recoiled, she knew it was real. Then the humming stopped and Maxine let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
“What --?” She tries to say, but her confusion was quickly replaced by panic as the boy further sunk beneath the waves. Without thinking, Maxine made a sign with her hands, the same one that summoned Cancer. Nothing happened. “Darn it!” She tried another sign, her index finger, pinky and thumb outwards, but still nothing happened. “Summon appear! I choose you! Uhhh, go-go gadget summon!” Despite her rapid hand flailing and yelling, nothing appeared. “Think, Max!”
She froze. The world narrowed to the widening circles in the water, the stillness that followed panic. Her chest tightened -- Max couldn’t swim. She knew that. Her father had long since told her to never drift to the deep end, and yet, the thought of doing nothing, just watching, was heavier than the fear that clawed at her ribs. Her knees trembled, and for a moment, she almost turned away. Almost.
The next thing she knew was that her tiny feet were moving as fast as they could towards the water.
Dad was going to be so mad at her.
The water was cold, much colder than she ever imagined. It hit her legs like stone, then her chest, dragging her breath away. The lake swallowed her whole as she lunged forward, arms flailing, eyes stinging. Every part of her screamed to go back, to breathe, to go call someone else for help. But another voice, smaller, steadier, said no. This person needed saving.
They needed her.
Her hand brushed against fabric, and the boy turned to face her. His eyes were wide, the coolest shade of honey-gold Max had ever seen, and his hair drifted all over the place like seaweed. For an instant, hope sparked like a light in the dark. She kicked wildly, and flailed her one free arm, pulling him toward the fading shimmer of light. In kind, the boy grabbed her, and held her just as tightly, matching her kicking rhythm with far more grace and calm. The water grew heavier around them, and the light dimmed. Maxine could barely tell which way was up anymore.
But still, she did not let go.
Then a voice echoed in her mind, completely different from anything she’d ever heard, but unmistakable in its familiarity.
“You’re in quite the pickle. But don’t worry. I’m here now. Sorry I was late.” The voice sounded like hers but distant and overlapped, like two of her were speaking at once. Suddenly, a black, blue and white hand reached down and yanked the two upwards. When they broke the surface, it was far from graceful. It was gasping, sputtering and possibly some crying, but alive and happy nonetheless. The boy clung to her and she to him, until a voice came from the side, and Max was enveloped in a tight, clawed embrace. Another pair of hands, more delicate and small, also wrapped her up tightly. After what seemed like minutes, Maxine finally gathered her composure. And looked at her saviour. The being looked similar to her but... older, in a way. Like a cool older sister she never had. She wore strange attire; a sleek, aquatic-looking chest piece made of layered blue scales that catch the light like watery ripples. Her high collar reminds Max of a crab’s shell - Cancer’s shell - curving upwards and back. A silver trim runs along the edges and with a smooth, streamlined design that reminds a prawn. A deep, dark blue sash crosses her chest, held in place by a round, silver crest with Cancer’s emblem.
Disregarding her wet clothes, or damp hair, the girl turns with curiosity in her eyes.
“Gemini,” comes a breathless whisper. Gemini smiles and nods, but doesn’t say anything. She instead gestures back to the boy.
The boy, equally haggard and drenched, matches her curiosity with a look of awe. His eyes drifted from her, to the two ethereal creatures that flank her on either side. His mouth opened to say something, then closed, then opened again.
“Uhh...”
“So, uh. Yeah.”
“You can, uh, use flow,” he says, slowly. He doesn’t seem as surprised as Max thought he would’ve been. His expression is a mixture of too many things at once for her to tell. Butterflies fill her stomach, and it’s not until Gemini places a hand on her shoulder does she realize she’s shaking.
And then something dawns on the little girl. Moments from recent memory flood into her mind. Her father’s words when he thought she wasn’t listening, ‘These damn powers are good for nothing. Those people create more problems than they’re worth.’ She recalls the news reports on TV long after she was supposed to be in bed, ‘This is your brain when you flow. Any questions?’ And the strange, grotesque images of deformed people and monsters. She didn’t fully understand why -- when she asked, her father simply dismissed her -- but she knew that to flow was bad. And here she was, using her flow to help. That boy must think of her as a monster.
She panics and turns to him, frantically gesturing between his face and her summons. “It’s not what it looks like! They’re, uh --” she trails off, words failing her. Then, after a moment, her head drops and she makes a weak sound. “Please don’t tell my dad.”
The boy looks at her with those round, bright eyes of his. Then he speaks in a low, awkward tone, “how can I tell your dad? I don’t know him.”
Maxine blinks. Then does so a second time. Perhaps she hadn’t heard him correctly. “Uh, um. Hmm. What?”
The boy clears his throat and starts to play with his hands. He turns, looking anywhere but her face, “I said, uh, how can I tell your dad?” He echoes, “I don’t know him.”
Maxine stares at him. He almost looks like he’s about to run away. She’s almost sure that he might.
Then Gemini clears her throat. “I think he’s telling a joke. He looks like he’s in pain, though.”
Cancer chirps rapidly, seemingly agreeing.
Max sees the tips of his ears go red, then he clears his throat again. “...maybe. Forget I said anything.But, uh, thanks. For the save I mean. I woulda been fine, but the...” he gestures vaguely to Cancer, who in turn, gives the boy the stink eye. “...crab guy surprised me.”
“Are you kiddin’ me? It’s my fault. You scared me, and I jumped. Sorry for hitting you.”
“It kinda does sound like your fault when you put it like that.”
Maxine can’t help but to giggle at that and the boy can’t either. “My name is Maxine, by the way. But you can call me Max.”
“My name is Gouten. But you can call me, uh, anything I guess.”
“Anything? What about Tenny? Or Go-Go? Tennis? Stop and Go?” As Maxine listed off the names, the boy’s face became more unamused.
“You’ve got jokes.” Gouten says, deadpanned.
It’s now Maxine’s turn to awkwardly clear her throat. “Well, at least mine’s funny.”
Gouten rolls his eyes, and shifts his attention to her summons. “So, what are those?”
The girl tenses ever so slightly. She had hoped somewhere in her childish mind that he would either forget, or have the grace to not ask. She supposed it was unfair to assume such a thing. “Oh, uh, this is Cancer,” Maxine says softly, unsure. “Say hi, Can-Can.”
Cancer spits a bubble at Gouten. Gouten looks unimpressed.
“I don’t think it likes me very much.”
Cancer makes some rather aggressive chirping sounds and Max giggles. “He says it because you shocked him.”
“...it told you that.”
“Yes. He told me that.”
Gouten looked at Cancer and scowled, “Snitch. What about the other one?”
“Oh this is...” Max furrowed her brow. “Gemini.”
“I am,” Gemini says, giving the boy a polite nod. She turns back to Max and smiles. Max can’t help but to return it. “We’ll be in touch, little one.” With that, she walks to Cancer, touches its head and the two slowly vanish, scattering like fireflies in the wind. The wisps make a display of surrounding Maxine like pollen to a flower before fading to nothing. Despite the light feeling in her chest, and the immovable smile on her face, Maxine couldn’t help but to feel uneasy. Flowing was bad, that’s what she always heard. People who get caught up in the flow are bad, disruptive people. If her dad found out she could do that, would he think she was bad too? Did this boy think she was bad?
“Please don’t tell my dad.” Maxine repeats, “He’d be mad.”
“Why would he be mad?”
Max crosses her arms with a huff. Was he messing with her? Everyone knew flowing was bad. “Because... flow is bad. What? Don’tcha know? Are you new around here or somethin’?”
“I’m not new,” Gouten protests. “That sounds stupid. Why would flowing be bad? It just happens.”
“Dad said so, that’s why.”
He says something in a language that Maxine had never heard before before groaning and shaking his head. “Flow isn’t bad. Grandpa told me so and grandpa is never wrong.”
“Well, my dad says it's bad.”
“Grandpa says the weak don’t get to choose what’s good or bad.”
Maxine... doesn’t know what to say to that. “Dad’s not weak,” she says, but it sounds pathetic even to her.
“I won’t tell him. I’m no haole cop, brah.”
“You’re no... what?”
Gouten shakes his head. “I should probably go. Grandpa will be mad to know I went into the lake... again. But this time, I fell so it isn’t my fault.”
Despite herself, Maxine laughs. What a strange boy.
“Yeah, I’ll, uh, probably go too. Dad’ll probably yell that my hair got wet. Did’ya know, he spent twenty minutes on a ponytail?”
“How would I know? I don’t know your dad.” With that, he leaves, sopping wet and covered in dirt but as casually as he spoke.
A strange, curious boy indeed.