First Billing
And a bonus story from one of my favorite writers
Today, I thought I’d share a story I wrote inspired by a series I’m reading. It’s a fun riff on Peter Pan, focused on “The Wendy,” which also happens to be the title of the first book. It’s written by the Dragon Authors, a.k.a. Erin Michelle Skye and Steven A. Brown.
I also want to share “Raven and the Mango Road Trip,” by Jim Latham, one of my friends from my Medium days. Jim came on as an editor for my publication, Tempest in Under 1000, and our friendship grew from there. I think you’ll like this story, first in a series inspired by his daughter. It’s one of my favorites. I’ve included a link to story 2 on his website at the end. While you’re there, you might want to pick up his short story collection, Noon in Florida. (Here a link to it on Amazon ) It's short but extremely satisfying. I couldn’t put it down and read it in one sitting!
(All links are non-affiliate. I don’t make any money if you click. I just want to make it easy for you to enjoy the stories I think you’ll like.)
Without further ado, here’s First Billing:
First Billing
Wendy eyed Alice with suspicion. Both girls had been consigned to the waiting room, an indignity neither had been forced to endure before. For her part, Alice pretended to ignore Wendy, stealing surreptitious glances when she thought the older girl wasn’t looking.
Wendy was accustomed to riffs and retellings of her story, enjoying them, in fact. The Wendy Darling of Peter Pan fame had become a little boring, to be honest. She jumped at the chance every time a writer came to her with a fresh take.
But she had never been forced to share the spotlight with another classic child heroine. It was galling to think she might have to work with Alice. She stared with increased intensity at the girl she now considered her rival for top billing, as though her eyes could bore into her head and pull out whatever she might know about their current situation.
Alice, acutely aware of her gaze, decided she was done with furtive peeks at Wendy. Refusing to be intimidated and, of course, knowing that she had been in the game longer, with more copies sold, she returned the older girl’s stare, upping the ante with a cold, knowing smile.
Despite her bravado, Alice, in fact, was worried. Very worried. It had been suggested to her that today’s children were more sophisticated and that she needed a new look, a new hook. She sincerely hoped this wasn’t it. Lost boys and pirates would do nothing to help her reputation. She’d be a laughingstock!
The girls continued their staring match, neither speaking, until the tension between them threatened to tear both from the page of whatever story they currently found themselves inhabiting. Just when it had become unbearable and both felt they must surely say something, the door to the writer’s office opened.
Wendy gasped in horror. Alice’s mouth froze in the midst of opening to speak, as the shock of what she saw overtook her. Mutual animosity forgotten in the face of this challenge, the girls shifted closer to one another in solidarity, as the writer ushered a young upstart heroine out of his office.
Lucy Pevensie, with no real pedigree to speak of, and no riffs or retellings, smiled broadly at Wendy and Alice. “Hello ladies. I can’t wait to show you your parts in my new book!”
Raven and the Mango Roadtrip
Raven drained her mango smoothie, wiped her mouth, and set her glass down.
“Looks like it’s time to go, Popsicle.”
I looked over the short cinder-block wall built on the edge of the roof. On the street, three men pulled masks over their faces. Two of them faced the street as the third cut through our cast-iron gate with a battery operated Saws-All.
I swallowed the last bite of my carne asada taco. “You’re right, Kid. They got here pretty quick.”
Raven threw the deadbolt on the door at the top of the stairs and slung her bag over her shoulder.
“I’m not criticizing you,” I said, “but maybe you should be a little more nervous about three men coming to kidnap you.”
She smiled and said, “They’re amateurs.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“All three of them ran inside,” Raven said. “Nobody’s on the street. Nobody’s around the back. We’re home free on the fire escape.”
Our fire escape was a wrought iron ladder running down the side of the house. Near the bottom of the ladder a back gate allowed access to the alley.
Raven threw a leg over the wall and started climbing down.
I waited for her to get far enough below me that I wouldn’t stomp on her hands. “You missed something,” I said.
She didn’t look up. “Promise you’re not making something up just to harass me?”
“Nobody’s in the car,” I said. “The keys are in the ignition.”
“Perfect,” Raven said from the ground. “I love road trips.”