Comatose

Red October

I do the first thing any normal girl would when presented with her stunning crush's criminal record: I spill my hot chocolate all across it.

Kamryn leaps up, snatching the folder away and shaking off the liquid as best she can. "Thanks for that," she says crossly, not exactly angry, but definitely not very pleased either.

Too bad I'm not in the apologizing mood. "You think Pan's looking for her?" I don't remember him mentioning the kid we've been looking for as a pretty foreign girl. "Why would he do that? How do you even know about him?"

The agent pauses for a moment in her drying techniques. She looks less irritated and more interested now. "You know him, then? I thought you might, being friends with Cameron--sorry, Rowan. But I hadn't really considered it a secret. Is it?"

Pan, a secret? Yes. My being involved with him? No. But it suddenly seems like those answers should be switched, considering the look on my face I see reflected in her dark sunglasses.

"I don't really know him," I tell her, trying to calm down my panicking heart. "I just know of him. Everyone in Haven does. But he's more of a...well, a local presence than any sort of celebrity. How would you even hear about Pan?"

"The same way I hear everything. Through the grapevine." I earn myself a withering look when she finally finishes with the folder and places it back on the table, carefully avoiding any and all chocolate residue. It's just sitting there, and I can't pour any other liquids on it without seeming suspicious, so I gingerly lift up one corner anyway.

The rest happens on its own. I'm too busy staring at the front sheet to hear Kamryn's exasperated breath at the cover falling onto a leftover puddle and staining it again. She must leave it alone at the lack of any comment from me, sarcastic or otherwise.

"Jane?" she prods. "Any reaction will do. Do you know this boy?"

I don't know how to answer. Yes, I know Pan. Yes, I know Pan better than I know my own self. Yes, I know Pan like I know the sun rises on one end of the world and sets on the other. Turns out, that's a perfect way to describe it; I've never seen it, but I trust what I've been told.

Turns out, I should've asked for proof.

The boy in the picture here, the one she's asking me to identify with, is a complete stranger. His age is listed as fourteen years old, and it shows. From the golden melting pot of blond colors on his head to the sparkling green eyes and full-on joyful grin, this boy is as different from Pan as a canary is from an eagle. His name--Tancred Dale--is unfamiliar to me. Pan's name is Pan. He's never mentioned another, never seemed to need one other than his patented single syllable. Three letters, one boy. But this...

This is someone else entirely.

"I don't," I respond easily. "Never met him before. Like I said, I know of him, not the guy personally." Never before have I said anything more true.

With a sweeping motion, I push both files back toward Kamryn and pick up what remains of my drink. There's very little left, certainly not enough to make bringing it home worth it, so I just toss it in a nearby trash can and brush the imaginary lint from my black canvas jacket. "I've gotta go," I explain smoothly. "That boyfriend of mine will worry."

She stares back at me. Possibly she blinked; I can't really tell with the glasses. "We're not done here," she counters evenly.

"No," I reply. "But I am. Meet you at the cemetery, Agent Parker, same time next week?"

After only the briefest of pauses, she nods. "See you then, Miss Jane." It takes a lot in me to smile her way and walk out of the cafe.

The second I'm out of her sight, though, I let myself break down.