Hey Mister

The bus came to a halt. “This is your stop kid;” Peter put a hand on Jack’s shoulder as they stepped onto the sidewalk. They walked a few blocks until they reached a very plain home on the little street. “Twenty-three Chaplin.” Jack looked up at Peter who, still stone faced, was emotionlessly wishing him well. They’d given each other nothing but grief since the moment they met and he was sure that the strange man hated every last inch of him. His bloodshot eyes started to water, he pushed Peter’s arm away and ran towards the front door, slamming it shut.

• • •

“Hey mister!” a small boy said, tugging at Peter’s sweater. “Are you a pirate?”

Peter looked over his shoulder, no sign of a parent in sight. Deciding to use the noise of the chatting patrons of the streetcar to his advantage, he pretended not to hear and made no comment.

“Hey! Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well are you gonna answer me?”

The one eyed man took a moment to sarcastically ponder the question. “No, I don’t think I will.”

The child stared and pouted at the young man before him. “You’re weird…” he mumbled.

“I prefer odd,” Peter replied, “but that’s just personal preference.” He turned away and resumed ignoring the little pest.

Giggling began to bubble from the boy. “You’re funny mister!”

“Well,” Peter started, not returning his attention to him, “To be honest I find you rather annoying.”

“This is my stop, good day kid.” He swung his bag over his shoulder as he stepped off onto the curb, glad to be on his way. After checking his pocket watch, Peter, realizing his bag had mysteriously become a great deal heavier, turned to see the same little boy clinging to and climbing his bag. As though the boy was a monstrous insect, he flung off the pack and backed away.

“Argh! I be a stowaway!” the boy said before breaking into laughter.

His brow wrinkling, teeth grinding, and eyes glaring at anything in front of him, Peter retrieved his bag and began to walk away without a word.

“You don’t talk much do you mister?” he said trailing eagerly behind. “I’m Jack, and if you don’t hurry up and tell me your name I’m just gonna keep calling you Mister and Pirate-”

“I’m Peter,” he snapped, cutting him off, “and call me a pirate one more time and I’ll show you how I came to look like this! And trust me when I say you don’t want to see!” he pointed aggressively to the eye-patch strapped snugly around his forehead covering his left eye. Jack didn't make a sound as the man turned to leave yet again, he watched him from the curb before broke down in tears and chased after him. Ramming into Peter’s back, he slung his arms around his waist and buried his sobbing eyes into the soft fabric of Peter’s sweater. Many of the passers-bys began to stare, their piercing eyes seeping into his heart as Jack’s tears seeped through his clothes. He sighed and placed a hand on the boy’s head.

“OK, what’s the matter kid?” he said, happy that the watchful eyes began to return to their own problems.

He pried Jack off of him with a small shove; the mess of a face looked up at him with a mixture of fear and exaggerated tears. “I’m lost!” was all he could manage.
Of course, just my luck. Peter thought, rolling his eyes. “Fine, I’ll help. But we’ll have to make it snappy, I have to be somewhere in about an hour-or-so.” His words were met with another tearful hug, though it was short-lived as Peter pried him away and grabbed his arm. “So do you know what your address is?” he non-asked, practically dragging Jack behind him.

“Of course I do!” Jack pouted, wiping the remains of his tears on his own sweater. “Twenty-three Chaplin Road in Wembley.” Peter stopped dead in his tracks, causing Jack to walk right into him.

“Wembley?!” he said with disbelief, “That’s a two hour walk; an hour at the very least by bus!” he rubbed his temples, “This won’t work, I have to be at the airport. If I leave after I drop you off it’ll be another hour on the bus to Heathrow.”
You could just leave him at the Yard, one of the many voices in his head told him. Or better yet just leave him here; he can find someone less busy to take care of him. He scammed you didn't he? All reasonable possibilities – not all ethical – but possibilities none the less. He glanced down at Jack who was looking guiltier with every passing moment. It’s not like you to leave a deed undone, especially when you already gave him your word. Another drawn out sigh. “Wait here.” He said as he headed towards a small café – the place he had intended on going before bumping into Jack – and stepped inside.



What to do…, he thought. If anything would help him make up his mind, it was coffee; the one and only thing that he ever had to force himself to drink, the bitterness made for a clean slate in his mind, allowing him to start over and think of other alternatives.

“Petey?” a voice called, interrupting his thoughts. “Peteeeey!” it called again even louder as a frilly-dressed woman tackle-hugged him, causing him to fall flat on his back for everyone inside the café to see.

“Selene…dear. You’re crushing my ribs.” He moaned from the floor. The bubbly girl quickly rose from the floor as Peter hauled himself up, clutching the edge of the counter.

“Sorry Petey,” she said grabbing his coffee from the cashier, “I just didn't think I’d see you before you left on your trip.” Brushing her pink and white polka-dot dress she caught the eyes of Jack who, from as far as she could tell, was staring very intently at her. “Who’s the kid? She asked, pointing at the window.

Peter turned and glared at Jack, “An annoying stray cat who won’t let me alone.” As he stepped through the door he shot another disappointed look at the tag-along. “It’s not polite to stare, especially at a lady.”

“Well then introduce us Mr. I’m-so-gentlemanly!” Jack retorted, a proud smirk spread across his face.
Peter rolled his eyes. “Selene, this is Jack. Jack, this is my girlfriend Selene.”

“I like the kitty on your dress Miss Selene!”

“Oh thank you! It’s just so adorable isn't it? It’s so nice to have a young man who compliments my outfits from time to time.”

“I compliment you and your clothes all the time!” Peter replied, taken aback by such a harsh comment. “Anyway, would you mind taking this lad home? I need to get on a bus now if I want to make it to the train station on time.”

“NO! You promised to take me home Peter!” Jack whined, his eyes beginning to redden.

“Yeah Petey, you promised!” Selene chimed in, “And ‘a gentleman of your standards never goes back on a promise’, riiiight?”
Peter removed his glasses and rubbed his eye. “I never ‘promised’ him anything, but I suppose you’re not exactly giving me much choice?”

“Nope!” she cooed, hugging his arm. “Scotland’s not going anywhere, so you can spare one day out of your trip to do a good deed.”
Peter glanced down at the pair of bright blue eyes that looked hopefully up at him. He frowned and took Jack’s hand as he headed to the bus stop.


• • •


“Ungrateful little brat…” Peter mumbled under his breath. Turning to the street to begin his walk back to the bus stop, he heard a door open.

“Hey mister!” Jack came running from the house wearing a bright bandanna tied around his head. “Thought I wouldn't say g’bye didn't you?” he said smiling.

“To be honest, I wouldn't care if you did or not.” Peter lied.

Jack frowned, “You really are a grouchy pirate, mister.”

Peter’s brow began to wrinkle, the corner of his mouth twitched. “I thought I told you not to call me that?”

Jack smirked; his childish plot sparkled in his eyes. “I did it on purpose this time. You said you’d show me the other side of your patch if I called you a pirate! So c’mon!”



Peter, knowing his defeat and knowing it wasn't within his nature to go back on his promises, pulled the band over his head and held his bangs back with one hand. Jack stared and then shuddered but said nothing, allowing Peter to put it back on without a blood-curdling scream to calm afterwards.

“Okay, my turn.” Jack bent over and pulled up one of his pant-legs. Peter stood in disbelief when he saw the prosthetic leg. “Guess this makes us both pirates, huh?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Peter said, extending his hand. “No hard feelings?”

Jack threw out his hand, “Absolutely none captain!” he said in a serious tone, the likes of which Peter hadn’t witnessed all day from him.

“Captain? Well then I guess that makes you my first mate, kid.” He rubbed Jack’s head, waving as he turned to leave.



“Hey mister!” Jack called after him.

Peter turned.

“See ya later?”

Peter smiled for the first time that day. “You bet.”