The Broken Locket

I reached into my pocket and smiled as I felt the folded letter exactly where I had left it. I pulled it out and read it for what must have been the hundredth time. It was long, three pages to be exact, and handwritten. I remember when I found it hidden inside my favorite book. I still don't know how long the note was there before I found it. I have tried asking him, but he refuses to tell me.

I walked along the train tracks and made a game of it while I waited for him. I hopped from one railroad tie to the next and back again after I reached a certain distance. I was just about to jump to the tie directly in front of me when a strong pair of arms grabbed me from behind. I immediately knew it was him. His scent was as familiar to me as the shoes I walked in. "Ryder!" I said playfully. "Thalia!" he countered in a mimicking voice. I laughed quietly and turned to face him. He was wearing a Nirvana t-shirt and the same ripped, black skinny jeans he always wore. He wore a black beanie to cover his dark hair and black vans. I wore around the same thing - a plain black shirt, underneath one of Ryder's red flannels, along with black jeans and converse. I had always loved how similar our style and taste in music was. Those two key opinions determined how well I would get along with anyone: friends, family members, classmates, and Ryder.

He grabbed my hand and we walked silently along the tracks. It wasn't an awkward silence; it never was. As we walked I thought about the way you would think his personality is like based off his looks versus what he was really like. A lot of people I knew, including my father, thought he was a rebellious teenager looking for trouble. True, he was nineteen and did have a few tattoos, but he was not quite as rebellious as people thought. Many thought the same about me. I had dyed my hair too many times for people to take me seriously. They all thought I was some sort of troublemaker, a disaster about to unleash.

My father strongly disapproved of our relationship and I truly believed that he would do anything to separate us. He referred to our love as a "ticking time bomb, or a grenade, destined to explode". It had caused a rift between us and I still did not know how it would be mended. I knew he was angry and disappointed in me for choosing Ryder over the nice, sweater-vest clad boys that were his friends' sons. But I couldn't help it - those boys weren't, well to put it nicely, interesting. They didn't have a sense of humor or adventure, and they certainly did not seem to take a liking to me. Ryder had all of those things and more. He reminded me of myself, but stronger and surer. He rarely doubted himself and he put his trust into people, no matter who they were. He had an aura about him that made him seem important, confident, and respected. However, my father clearly did not sense that aura as I did.

I found myself lost in my own thoughts and I had no idea how much time had passed when Ryder looked at me, with confusion clear in his brown eyes. "What?" I questioned. "I asked you where you wanted to eat after we finish our walk." "Oh! Um, McClaron's is fine." He agreed and we kept walking. This time I managed to keep a conversation going. We talked about bands, books, video games, TV and movies, and finally, us. "I think your dad is finally coming around and getting on board with our relationship. He didn't slam the door as hard as usual when I picked you up yesterday. " Ryder said sarcastically while laughing. I laughed and rolled my eyes. "Yeah right. I don't think he'll ever be "on board" with anything involving you," I replied. "Then we'll just have to run away," Ryder said, a mischievous glint in his eye. I smirked and said, "We wouldn't get far before my father called the cops and claimed you kidnapped me." I heard the sweet sound of his laughter fill my ears before curiosity got the best of me. "Where?" I asked. "What?" Ryder was obviously confused. "Where would we run away to?" I asked. He paused for a moment and thought about his answer before saying, "Neverland. Yeah, I like that. Neverland." "Neverland?" I questioned. "Somewhere in Neverland." He lips parted into a grin and he lowered his voice as he said, "You could be my Wendy." "Only if you're my Peter Pan."