The Never Boy

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My father is insane. I don't think he was always this way. But somewhere between meeting my Mom and having me, it all went to shit. When I was younger, my father used to tell me amazing stories about flying pirate ships and fairies with grudges. I soaked them up as if they were truth. My father used to tell them to me so passionately, it felt like he had been there when they happened. As I got older, I began to realize that these stories were just that - stories. Also with my age came the realization that my father did not believe they were just stories. He actually believed they had all happened, and that's when I came to the conclusion that my Dad was missing a couple screws up top.

The only sane person in my house was my Uncle Shmee. If you've ever met my Uncle Shmee, then you'd know that that's saying something. Don't get me wrong, I have some sane family, although I don't live with them. Sometimes I wish I did; on days that my Dad was just too much to handle, I would stay with my Aunt and her daughter. My cousin grew up hearing the same stories I did, although my Aunt obviously didn't believe that they had all actually come to pass. If you're wondering about my Mom, she died was I was little, and my Dad doest like to talk about it much.

"JAMES?!" I hear my name being called from downstairs.

That would be my Dad. Believe me, I really do love him, and sometimes I wish I could just grab him by the shoulders and knock some sense into him. If I tried to do that, he'd probably try to tell me that the fairies stole his sanity years ago. I wouldn't throw that theory out the window at this point.

I grab my bag off my bed and stick my phone in my pocket. I should probably stay in my room and lock the door instead of heading downstairs, but then my Dad would say that I was missing out on an amazing experience and that I would love it there, but I'm a push over when it comes to my mentally acute father, so I shut my bedroom door behind me.

As I walk down the staircase, I admire all the pictures lining the walls right from when I was born until now. As I walked, the pictures that contained my fair-haired mother dissipated until they were gone. Once I reached the bottom, I can see my dad shouting some instructions to many large muscled men with naked women tattooed on their arms. I would say that I was surprised, but I don't like to lie. My dad was standing over the kitchen table with a huge map spread across it. He was a tall and lanky man, with short chopped black hair and a defined jaw. Uncle Shmee used to tell me he had long black hair that went to the middle of his back when he was young, but I couldn't imagine it. My uncle and a few other men were standing around him, discussing something in hushed tones. I clear my throat to make my presence known, and my Dad spins around a wide grin on his face.

"James, my dear boy. I'd like you to meet my crew!" he bellows whilst gesturing to the room full of about thirty men.

I had no idea how they all fit in our tiny dining room, but stranger things had happened. Uncle Shmee just smiles at me with his lop sided grin. He's even happy with our plans for today, despite how insane they sounded.

"Right," I say, not showing any emotion at all. I gave up reacting to my father's antics ages ago. I think I gave up the exact moment that he came to the parent job fair dressed as a pirate with a hook on where his prosthetic hand is supposed to go. It was a very cringe-worthy experience, considering our last name and how I was called "Hooker" for almost three years until I switched schools.

"I'll just wait in the car," I say, going to head out the front door. I hopped into the driver's seat, deciding that I didn't want to go through my father's awful driving today. I shoved my bag into the back seat and waited for a few minutes, before I realized that there was a huge moving truck parked at the end of the driveway. All of my Dad's crew was going between it and the house, packing up all my Dad's things. Wait, was that my bed? My dresser? I hop out of the car and stop one of the men as they were walking down the driveway.

"Is that my nightstand?" I ask with an eyebrow raised.

He just gives me a grunt and keeps walking. My Dad then walks out of the house with a huge rolled up map and my uncle at his side. I stalk up to him.

"Why are they packing up our entire house into that moving van?" I ask, pointing behind me.

"Well like I told you, we're going to Neverland!" he says, with that same wide grin on his face.

I bring my hand up to my temple and rub slowly, trying to process how much of an idiot my father is.

"Going," I pause. "Going to Neverland. Not moving there." I say as calmly as I can.

"Well of course we're moving there! What did you think I meant?" he chuckles, as if I'm the one that's being stupid.

I grab my stereo out of one of the crewmembers hands as he's walking by and hold it up in my father's face.

"I never agreed to move to, of all places, Neverland!" I point out, placing my stereo in my father's hands.

My dad, then pretending as if I hadn't said anything, hands my stereo to another crewmember and then proceeds to lock our house door behind him. I walk behind my father and my uncle as they pile into my Dad's minivan.

"Get in son; we have to make it to the docks on time," he tells me, then without another thought about me, slams the van door and starts it.

Docks? I really hope this isn't going where I think it's going. For my own sanity at this point.

I open the back door and get inside, pushing my bag onto the next seat. I lean back in my seat and slip my headphones in. I hope this doesn't end badly. Knowing my Dad, I doubt it will end in anything but a bigger headache for me.

Author Note:

Chapter 1 complete! Hope you like and give it a vote and comment if you did!