by Liz Braswell
“Aye, I’d try there first,” Slightly said, nodding.
Wendy tried to quell the quick thumping of her heart. Mermaids! First she got to see her fairy—who admittedly was much more hostile than she had imagined, but Wendy was working on that—and now mermaids! With glittering scales and flowing hair! Everything was turning out so wonderfully.
“All right then, lead the way!” she cried.
“Ah…well…you go on ahead,” Slightly suggested. “We’ll just wait until you bring him up to speed. Once you tell him about what you did, and where his shadow is, and give him some time to…you know…react to that.”
“He might be very angry,” Cubby said, nodding.
“Or very happy,” one of the twins said.
“Too very happy,” the other one added.
“He might fly off and go by hisself,” Skipper mumbled. “Or fly off the handle—right at you, or Tink. Or Slightly, even.”
The fox boy nodded. “I don’t know how he’ll take all this news. You tell him, let him work it out for a bit. I don’t want him taking nothing out on me because he ain’t got his head on straight. He’s sore enough as it is.”
“But together we can convince him, or argue with him. And be ready to immediately go get the pirates!” Wendy said desperately. “Power in numbers!”
“‘Do as thou wilt,’” Slightly quoted back at her. “We wiln’t. Not until Peter’s all right with all of this and all of us.”
“‘All of this’ sounds like a terrible idea,” Wendy said forlornly.
But the little fairy smiled, looking more than a touch smug.
Luna chose that moment to burst onto the scene.
She had found one of the “secret” doors to the hideout almost immediately and scrambled down—much more elegantly than Wendy. She barked happily, pleased with her entrance and audience.
“Wow! A wolf!” Cubby said in awe.
“He’s so fierce!” Skipper sighed.
“She’s mine,” Wendy said proudly, going over to pet her. “And I’m hers.”
“That’s incredible. She’s beautiful,” Slightly said, a little jealous but more impressed.
As she ran her hands over the wolf’s coat, Wendy saw with dismay it was covered in burrs and mud. Luna panted—a little laboriously—and leaned extra hard against her human friend. It was obvious she was exhausted. Still part puppy, she was too young to realize when she had worn herself out.
Honestly, Wendy was feeling a little done in as well. Flying was hard work. And so was being kidnapped by pirates.
“Poor girl! Well, if we must go on alone,” she said (a little peevishly; she couldn’t help it), “I think we will require a bit of rest and refreshment here first.”
The fairy looked outraged and put her hands on her hips. She made a very obvious walking motion with two of her fingers, then pointed to the door. No. We have to keep going.
“I’m sorry, you might be used to spending most of your day on wing,” Wendy said politely, “but while it’s glorious sport, like something out of a dream, well, unlike a dream, it’s a bit exhausting. Like all sports, really. And Luna had to run here on foot. She’s had it.”
The fairy frowned at Luna and then tossed her head. Like she was saying, Fine, all right, but only for your wolf. Not for you.
“You heard her, boys! It’s teatime!” Slightly cried.
In a sort of reverse of Snow White’s story, the boys ran around gathering what provisions they could like dwarfs desperately making everything nice for their lady guest. The twins quickly filled a basket with berries and fruit. Cubby found a big bowl of nuts. Slightly blew embers into a lovely little fire and put the kettle on (where they had gotten the kettle, a highly decorated affair of blue and gold enamel, was a mystery). Tootles somehow managed to carry and set out a stack of mismatched cups: wood, bone china, and coconut shell. Skipper brought out a pot of golden comb honey.
While this happy chaos was happening, Wendy took the opportunity to approach the fairy alone, in a—very slightly—quieter part of the hideout.
“Tinker Bell?” she ventured. “So that is your name?”
The fairy looked at her in surprise—then grudgingly nodded her head.
“Did you…Did you really keep Peter from going to London…on purpose?”
Tinker Bell looked away, but she didn’t disagree.
Wendy was torn. More than anything she wanted this beautiful little fairy to be her friend, to like her back, to initiate her into the secret world of flowers and fey folk. But she had to know the truth.
“Did you really do it because you were…jealous of me?”
Tinker Bell crossed her arms and scowled at her. She jingled something disdainful.
“Of…me?” Wendy repeated, indicating her torn dress, her size, her brown hair, her overall very un-fairylike plainness.
Tinker Bell nodded, a little less certainly.
“Well, I think that’s very flattering. Perhaps even the highest compliment I’ve ever been paid—no matter how backhanded. I thank you.”
The fairy rolled her eyes. Wendy sighed. She sat down heavily on a barrel.
“If we are being completely honest here, and I feel we should be since we are companions in this strange adventure, then I should tell you straight: I do like Peter Pan. I used to worship him, in fact. I used to dream about him, too. I suppose if he had actually come to me, I might have…well, who knows. He’s all I ever cared about, really, besides Mother and Father and Michael and John and Nana, of course.”
Tinker Bell had an aha! look on her face, and waggled an accusing finger at the human girl.
“But I never even saw him while I was awake, Tinker Bell,” Wendy pointed out. “These thoughts of him were just that—all in my imagination. I am very sorry it upset you to come and listen to my stories. But I was never even aware that you and Peter were there. You have had such amazing, real adventures with him here in Never Land. All I ever had was his shadow.”
Tinker Bell blinked. It was obviously an entirely new idea for her.
“It was a very naughty thing you did to Peter out of jealousy, Tinker Bell. Preventing him from getting his own shadow…And what I did was naughty, too, trading that shadow to his enemy to come here. Far more naughty, really. Especially since it seems to have resulted in putting all of Never Land in danger. We both have a lot to answer for. Apologies and reparations to make. Together.”
The fairy looked outraged at this suggestion of any similarity between them. But then she recovered herself, crossing her arms again. Go on, she seemed to say.
“And look, here we are, talking about Peter while he isn’t even here at all! In person, or in shadow form!” Wendy said with a laugh. “Is he really the king of Never Land, after all? Invading our conversations and making everything about himself even when he’s not present? Hook can’t stop talking about him, the Lost Boys are depressed about him, you are constantly jealous around him, and I—well, I sold him out when I couldn’t have him. It’s ridiculous, really, the effect he has on all our lives.
“Tinker Bell!”
The fairy jumped at the sudden, direct address: Wendy was looking at her sternly, full of purpose, shoulders back and jaw firm.
“You and I must resolve not to discuss him any longer, at least until everything else is settled and we have properly saved Never Land. Surely the two of us have other things we could talk about that don’t involve a boy. Other things that warrant our attention. Pirates, flying, the job of getting this shadow back, beating Captain Hook. The adventures we have. Our lives. The life of a fairy. The life of a plain human girl. That should be more than enough for many hours of solid conversation. So enough talk about him for now. Are we agreed?”
The fairy looked at her as if it were a weird thing to ask.
And Wendy supposed it was a bit odd. Wasn’t Peter the very reason they were thrown together in the first place?
But then, as the thought really wound its way through her mind, the fairy relaxed.
She shook her head from side to side, as if sloshing the idea around and physically measuring it.
Finally, she nodded. She put out her tiny hand.
Wendy grinned, thrilled to have made some headway with the fairy at last.
She very carefully took the tiny hand between her own index finger and thumb and gave it a gentle but solid shake.
“Excellent. This should make our task that much easier, as well as our working together.”
Tinker Bell narrowed her eyes at that—maybe the idea of actively working together with the human girl, or at least expressing it out loud, was still a bit much. But she didn’t jingle or otherwise comment. Whatever their feelings toward each other or Peter were, they had a job to do.
The tea was filling but strange. Wendy could have done with some proper sandwiches, pastries, or crackers. And she had to sneak the questionable day-old rabbit meat to Luna, who snapped it up discreetly and happily. But she appreciatively drank the strange reddish-brown decoction of leaves and twigs the Lost Boys swore was just like proper tea if you didn’t think about it too much. And in truth, it wasn’t bad; it just wasn’t East India Company Darjeeling. It had a warm, almost cinnamony taste.
Luna had a big bowl of fresh, cold water, and Tootles insisted on having his tea the same way, on the floor. After that and several stale biscuits, plus a little rest (and more tummy rubs than any puppy could really ask for from a hideout full of instantly devoted fans), it was finally time to leave.
Outside the air was as fresh and bracing as Never Land air ever was. A great day for flying.
But while the two girls were getting ready to say their goodbyes, Wendy noticed that Skipper kept looking at her strangely—almost in fascination.
“Is there something wrong?” Wendy asked, of course immediately needing to fix whatever problem there was.
“Nuthin’,” Skipper said, turning away so she couldn’t see his face.
Wendy wasn’t the girl at parties who caused boys to blush. But she had seen it happen with others, like at the spring dance when John was caught off guard by a hello from Alice Cotswaldington. He had turned red, turned away, and choked into his punch.
This wasn’t that. Skipper didn’t seem to be blushing, exactly, and there was little wonder or fear in his eyes. He grew nervous under her scrutiny.
“Come on, you can tell me,” Wendy prodded. “Is it that you actually want to join me and Tinker Bell? Looking for Peter Pan, I mean?” She tried to keep the hope out of her voice.
“No!” he cried. He immediately looked down and lowered his voice to its usual mumble. “I don’t want to see Peter right now. Maybe not even after he’s finished being angry or whatever. Maybe not ever.”
His voice…
It hit Wendy all at once. Skipper’s constant staring at her and his reluctance to speak. The especially baggy clothing he wore and soft, almost babyish face he had despite his height. The obvious desire not to be noticed by the new girl while being unable to take his eyes off her.
“Skipper, you’re a girl!” Wendy exclaimed.
The Lost Boys all turned around at her cry.
Skipper swallowed and hardened her look, but that was all.
“Sort of,” Slightly said with a shrug.
“What do you mean, sort of?” Wendy demanded.
“She ain’t like you,” Cubby said.
“Not like me? She’s exactly like me!”
“She doesn’t wear…” one twin began.
“…dresses and ribbons,” the other one finished.
“She don’t talk like you.”
“Her hair’s short.”
“She don’t feel like a mother.”
“Yes, yes, but those are all just externalities!” Wendy protested. “She and I both have…”
Well, nothing that could be said aloud in mixed company.
How old was Skipper? Old enough to be reminded of these things once a month?
Skipper’s eyes were tortoiseshell, her eyelashes short and black. Wendy found herself imagining the Lost Boy with long hair in a proper girlish curl down her back, a ribbon round her neck, and a simple but fetching strolling frock…
And realized it would have been ridiculous.
This girl was perfectly at ease and comfortable in her jacket and animal getup. Anything less freeing would have forced her to stand weirdly or made her look like a clown.
“But…how are you a Lost Boy?” Wendy finally asked, baffled.
“Always wanted to be one,” Skipper answered, voice strong now that she had decided to speak. “I saw Peter come and take boys away from the orphanage. Only boys. Everyone knew that. Only boys could become Lost Boys. So I became a boy. The nurses forgot. They hated me—they hated who I was when I was a girl. They could barely read, so I changed my name in the books. I was a boy. And then, when Peter came, he took…me.”
Everyone was quiet during her little speech. As if it were as natural and acceptable an escape plan as selling Peter’s shadow.
“But why did you want to leave the home? Did they…” Wendy leaned in close and lowered her voice. “Did they hurt you…as a girl? Is that why you wanted to leave?”
Skipper gave her a look of shock and revulsion. “No! I just wanted to be free. Like all of us. To not have rules and not brush my teeth and hunt and fish and have fun all day. To never grow up. Ever.”
“Right on, Skipper!” Cubby cheered. “That’s my Lost Boy!”
“But she’s not…” Wendy started to correct.
Slightly smiled at her confusion.
“She is a Lost Boy,” he said gently. “One hundred percent. Like all of us.”
“But that’s the problem,” Skipper said sorrowfully. “I’m not exactly a boy.”
“All right,” Wendy said uncertainly. “But…if it’s always been like this, why are you worried about it now?”
Skipper shrugged but looked a little desperate. “Peter don’t know. Not really. And Peter wants to kick Slightly out ’cause he wants new things. Peter’s always talking about silly girls. Stupid girls. There are so many…all over Never Land…and you in London.…And I guess Tink says he likes you, but you’re not like him, you know?”
Wendy considered this. True: Peter would never ask someone like Wendy to be a Lost Boy. He never did, in fact.
What would happen if she suddenly popped up in his crew?
“I see your point,” she said slowly. “I think, however, we can get this all straightened out. No need to worry about it right now. We’ll find Peter, retrieve his shadow, beat the pirates, have him make up with Slightly, and…then deal with you, however you wish. All right? But we’ll wait until things are a bit calmer and he can see things with a clearer head.”
Skipper nodded a little unhappily, but she had the look of a child who has just cried and is in the feeling calm and being mollified stage, tears having been sniffed away. Wendy wondered if the girl ever cried—had ever cried in her strange, short life—at least in front of other people.
“But, ahh.…” She couldn’t stop herself from asking, from leaning in and whispering: “Don’t you find it a little…bothersome to be with these wild boys all the time?”
For an answer, Skipper opened her mouth and let out a terrifically loud burp.
“Nice one, Skip,” Slightly said, touching his hat and bowing to her. The rest of the Lost Boys cackled and laughed and cheered and tried to follow suit, with considerably less success.
“Well,” Wendy said, trying not to appear flustered or embarrassed, “I suppose that answers that.”
“Mermaid Lagoon is that way, when the two of you are ready,” Slightly said, pointing to the southeast. “How will you go? There’s the path east and south beyond the Tonal Springs, or will you be trying to sail across the Bay of Skull Island?”
“Neither,” Wendy said politely—and perhaps just a little smugly. “We’ll be taking the ether.”
And with that, she neatly rose up off her toes and a few feet into the air.
&nbs
p; The Lost Boys cheered, crowed, and guffawed at that.
“Tink! You gave an outsider fairy dust?” Slightly called in mock outrage. “My my, how far down in the world we have come.”
Tinker Bell stuck her tongue out at him. Slightly made a very inappropriate, rude gesture back at her that Wendy had only seen thugs and urchins use. But he was laughing. The fairy tossed her head derisively.
Wendy wondered about their interactions. Tinker Bell had her own room in the Lost Boys’ hangout. Yet she seemed to treat them as meanly—or, at least, indifferently—as she did everyone else. For their part, the Lost Boys seemed to not to care what she thought, or they simply accepted that it was just part of her touchy personality. Maybe it’s not just me, Wendy thought. Maybe the fairy was naturally prickly and bad-tempered to everyone.
But she doubted if Tinker Bell had ever physically attacked a Lost Boy the way she had assaulted her back at the clearing with the crystal creature. And she couldn’t imagine Skipper acting the way Wendy had, stepping away and apologizing. The Lost Boy probably would have cracked Tinker Bell across the pate for such behavior.
Luna yawned, turning herself around several times before sitting down heavily next to Tootles. The little boy laughed and rubbed his face into her fur. The wolf looked wearily up at Wendy: Are we really taking off again so soon? Just look what a lovely group of playmates we have here. I could use a nap, too.…
“Can we…”
“…keep her?” the twins begged immediately.
“Just for now?”
“She’s so tired!”
“Nobody can keep her,” Wendy said. “She’s her own person.”
And yet…insomuch as Luna was anyone’s, she was Wendy’s. She was Wendy’s dream dog, the perfect companion for adventures in Never Land.
But was she a pet?
Perhaps something created in Never Land was never really a Londoner’s to begin with.
And the wolf really was just a puppy—a very large, very tired-looking one at that.
“Tinker Bell,” Wendy said as casually as she could, relishing the use of the fairy’s name and the intimacy it brought, “what do you think about Luna? Perhaps she is looking a little exhausted.”
