by Anna Katmore
When I lean farther over the edge to get a better glimpse, a clapboard comes loose and drops. It misses the balcony by a few inches, falls down in the garden, and breaks in two.
Her hands braced on the balustrade, Angel glances down, then she slides a look up to me. Quickly, I duck back. It’s not a good idea if she sees me up here…and the way I’ve changed. She wouldn’t recognize me.
After a few calming breaths, I lean out once more, but she’s disappeared from the balcony and the light in her room is out. Temptation rides me hard to fly down and sneak inside, but what would she say if she found a half naked stranger in her room?
Right, I have to find some clothes first.
Several windows in this street are open, mostly on the second floors. I try those that are dark, hoping that whoever lives in those houses have gone to sleep by now. The first two windows I fly through lead into beautifully decorated nurseries. Babies are sleeping peacefully in their cribs. I try a couple more houses farther down the street. In the last one, I get lucky. A young man in snoring in a wide bed, the covers draped up to his hips. From what I can see in the dark, we’re both the same built. There’s a closet opposite the window with a selection of clothes that might fit me.
Carefully skimming through the many shirts on hangers, I try to make no sound. But suddenly, the man stirs in his sleep, rolls onto his back and his left arm flops sideways over the edge of the bed. Startled, I retreat to the shadows, but he doesn’t awaken. So I quickly grab a few items from his closet and rush out through the open window.
There’s no one out here who could see me, so it should be alright to change on the roof. My booty is a dark red t-shirt with long sleeves, a leather jacket, and pants that look like the ones Angel wore when she came to Neverland—a funny light blue material. Everything fits perfectly.
The only problem is my feet are still naked and cold. Raiding another house, I grab a laced pair of black shoes that, after holding them against my soles, seem to be my size. Back on the roof of Angel’s house, I sit down and put them on, then I rock a few times back and forth on the balls of my feet. The shoes feel comfortable, perfectly made for running.
Now that I’m dressed, hopefully I’d fit into this strange world. I silently glide down to Angel’s balcony. A double wing door leads inside. One part is closed, the other stands wide open, with silky white curtains drawn together.
As soon as I slip inside, a whiff of her familiar scent envelopes me. Angel is fast asleep in the four-poster bed on the other end of the room. Her deep breaths sound peaceful in the silent darkness. I tiptoe over to her side and gaze down at her face.
Her soft hair and rosy lips tempt me to touch them. Much more so than last time I saw her. Or maybe they looked the same back then and I just didn’t notice? I’d love to skim my fingers across the tender skin on her cheek, but I don’t want to wake her. Instead, I tug gently at the duvet until her bare shoulder is freed. She’s wearing some strappy silk top or dress the color of eggshells. It almost blends in with her pale skin.
Pulling the duvet down a little more, I realize there’s no chain around her neck. She’s not wearing the ruby heart she got from James. The one I gave her first. It’s not on her nightstand, or anywhere on the desk next to the balcony doors. Damn. I would have loved to take it back to Neverland and dangle it in front of Hook’s nose. The rat’s ass would freak out, thinking I hurt his lovely girlfriend. Phase one of my plan to take vengeance on my brother.
There are several shelves and a chest of drawers at the other side of the room which I could search for the gem, but I have a better idea. I’ll come back tomorrow and just ask Angel about it.
Suppressing a snicker, I slip out through the curtains and glide up into the sky. Finding home is easy. I don’t need any more beans to show me the way when it’s etched in my memory from the weird flight here.
Dawn is breaking when I reach Neverland. I’m starved and dead tired, but there’s no chance I can crawl into bed when I return to the tree house. Five worried Lost Boys and an anxious pixie are awaiting me. Tami flings her arms around my neck even before my feet touch the ground.
“Oh, Peter!” she cries. “Thank the fairy light, you’re alive!”
I hug her to my chest but then put her down to her feet. “Of course, I’m alive. What did you think?”
“You were gone half a day and the entire night,” Toby says and claps a hand on my shoulder. He has to reach up now to do so. It surprises me, how little my aged appearance seems to unsettle them. Then again, they had thirty-three days time to get used to it, while I got the full scale slammed at my face in a second.
“After what happened to you”—he grimaces and his gaze moves up and down my front—“we just didn’t know if we’d ever see you again. Where have you been? What happened to you?” He frowns as if the next thing he’s going to say is the most important question of all. “And where did you get these weird clothes from?”
I almost blurt out that I visited London but, just in time, I hold off. No one needs to know yet. Not before I got a chance to talk to Angel. Jaw set, I tell them in a cold voice, “Hook did this to me. Somehow he found out how to make me age again. I got these things from town.” Swallowing hard after a short pause, I say through gritted teeth. “And he took the gold.”
Appearing the most appalled of all, Skippy sucks in a breath. “Hook found the treasure?”
I nod. “It’s all gone.”
Everybody looks as stricken as I felt when I found the cave empty. Everybody but one little pixie. Her eyes closed, she lets go of a relieved sigh.
Stan turns to her, quirking his brows in a reproachful frown. “What the hell was that?”
Tami searches his face for a long time, then her gaze skates over the rest of us. “Now, come on, you all.” She flutters a few feet up and puts her fists to her hips. “For once in forever, we don’t have to worry about pirates ambushing us or Hook coming to slice all our throats because of this darn treasure.”
I suck in a lungful of air to reply, but she cuts me off with a raised finger that she points at my nose. “No, you won’t, Peter! Maybe you and Hook had your peaceful moments. But after what he did to you—making you grow up and all—it’s obvious things haven’t changed. He’d be chasing us until he gets what he wants. And it was his from the beginning.”
She glides down until her bare feet are planted firmly on the ground again, then she stalks up to me and stands on her tiptoes, gaze lifted to mine. The top of her head is level with my navel right now, and still she manages to make me back off. “It’s time to stop this stupid game and give us all a break!”
After a long pause, I say in a low voice, “I didn’t know you felt like this.”
“Maybe because you never asked, Peter Pan.”
She’s right. I never did. All these years, I simply assumed everyone was having fun and liked things the way they were. The pixie, too. Big mistake, obviously. Arms folded over my chest, I look at the Lost Boys, one by one. “Do you feel the same way?”
Sparky digs a hole into the dirt ground with his toe. His face turns an evil red from the base of his throat up to the hairline of his buzz cut. “I think I’m actually with Tami on this.”
All the boys gasp, turning to him. They might have been prepared for Tameeka to back out, but Sparky’s retreat is a surprise to everyone. He lowers his gaze to his toes—or he would if his round tummy wasn’t in the way.
“Fine. Anyone else?” I snap. This really isn’t my week.
Toby rakes his black hair back and ties it to a ponytail at the back of his head, showing his undercut. He always does this when he’s in battle mood. “I say we leave the kids home and the rest of us go and bring the treasure back!”
Tami growls at him for this comment, but then she takes Sparky’s hand and pulls him away from us, while Skippy, Loney and Stan howl in agreement. They drum their fists on their chests and dance around me like Indians.
“What’s the plan?” Toby asks.
Looking after the pixie and stout Sparky, I feel a rift cracking between us. Is this because I’m older now? And why am I the only one aging so fast? The other boys are still the same as they were yesterday, last month, ten years ago.
Toby tugs on my jacket. “Peter…?”
Pulled out of my thoughts, I turn to him. I do have a plan. But it’s too early to tell them about it. First I have to see Angel again. “All in good time. Let me just sleep a couple hours”—I stretch my neck and yawn—“and later today I have to run an errand.” I want to time my next visit to London so that Angel is awake. “We’ll talk about everything tomorrow.”
Running the zipper of his bear vest up and down, Stan asks in a skeptical voice, “Since when do you have to run errands without us?”
“Since I grew a beard,” I snap back. But then I start laughing. Only because I look older now, I don’t have to act or actually feel older, right? Grabbing a wooden sword from the rack by the mattress mountain, I challenge him. “And don’t you ever question me again. I’m still the better sword fighter out of all of you.”
Never one to miss out on a good fight, Stan draws his own sword and we battle across the ground level of the tree until one of us is lying flat on his back, begging for mercy. Today, this would be me, but only because the pixie got in my way and I tripped backward over her.
“Die, Peter Pan!” Stan barks and pushes his sword at me, which I catch between my arm and my ribcage, moaning and coughing like I breathed my last.
The Lost Boys cheer for my opponent. Tami, who’s still trapped under my left leg, scowls at me and curses in a language not made for young girls. I lift my leg and set her free, then I accept Toby’s and Loney’s hands to pull me up.
They let me get to bed eventually. Exhausted and fully dressed, I slump face-first into my pillow. Thank God, sleep comes over me before I can start mulling over the doom Hook pushed me into.
*
All is quiet when I wake again. The Lost Boys must have gone out to either play Catch the Indian or hunt dinner. My stomach rolls in protest at the thought of missing another fabulous meal roasted over a campfire. I haven’t eaten in…weeks! Raiding the pantry, where we always keep fruits, nuts and sometimes even veggies, I grab a handful of berries, a carrot, and two apples and plow through them in record time.
Next to the kitchen sink, there is a catapult for garbage. I place the apple core and banana peels into the leather strap and shoot them out through the hatch into the jungle, one at a time. Usually, the boys and I fight over who can operate this self-made little piece of ingenuity. Today, however, it’s boring.
When all the garbage is discarded and I’m ready to leave, I slide a glance over to Tami’s door. It’s closed. This normally means that the pixie is in her room. I’m wondering why she hasn’t come out. She should have heard me being up and about. Oh boy, she must be pretty mad.
I don’t like it when the pixie is in bad mood, or any of the others for that matter. I grimace and sigh, but finally I walk to the door and knock. “Tami? Can I come in?”
There’s no answer. After another knock, my hand drops to the brass doorknob. A slight twist, and the door cracks open. Used to simply walking inside, I’m not prepared for the consequences of my new height. A moan escapes me as my head knocks hard against the roof of the doorway. Stars dot my vision. Damn, is this the kind of trouble I have to deal with from now on? Rubbing my aching forehead, I stoop to fit through the door.
It takes a couple of seconds to recover and for my eyes to focus again. Tami’s room is empty. Her bed, the shape of a pink seashell, is neatly made. I turn and head out, but then I stop and cast a glance over my shoulder. A music clock stands on the chest of drawers that the Lost Boys and I carved for the pixie ages ago. Even though I never told anybody, the tune was always one of my favorite.
Since there’s no one else but me in here, I sneak over and spin the key. The porcelain princess begins to twirl on the small round platform. A smile tugs on my lips as the sweet song starts out. I hum along, but my voice is deeper than usual and strangely raspy. My happiness slips away.
In front of the chest, I sink to the floor, lean against the tower of drawers and tilt my head back. How can everything change in the blink of an eye? I don’t want to be old. I don’t want to look and sound like an adult. My nails dig into my palms until I feel the warm drops of blood in my fists. I hate that the Lost Boys have to lift their chins now if they want to look into my face. I hate that tossing garbage out of the tree with the catapult isn’t fun anymore. And I hate Tami being angry at me. She never was before.
Why, Hook, did you have to change my life when all was perfect?
Breathing deeply a few times through my nose, I press my lips together and grind my molars. The pixie might be happy there’s no reason for another battle with the pirates. But for me, the real fight has just begun. I’m not done with Captain James Hook yet. I swear I won’t rest until his dead body lies at my feet.
Pushing up from the floor, I rush back to the main room and zoom out through the hole in the treetop. It’s time to start phase one of my plan to destroy my father’s greatest mistake.
After last night, finding my way back to London is easy enough. East and up, then straight on toward a set of three stars in a triangle. Through a shower of falling stars, a loop around the moon, and descending behind it. Finally, taking a hard left curve at the clock tower.
I follow the river for a mile and a half. Reaching the outskirts, I aim for the street with Angel’s house. According to the bright sun high in the sky, it must be around three in the afternoon. The perfect time to arrive in London.
Best would be to return to the roof and then sneak down to her balcony to meet her. I barely landed, when Angel’s voice drifts up to me. She’s calling for Paulina and Brittney Renae. If I remember it right, they’re her little sisters. Stepping closer to the edge of the roof at the other side, I spot her in front of the house, two strawberry red-haired girls squeal as they come out the door and run toward her.
Angel is wearing a black coat that’s shaped like a dress and barely covers her knees, her feet stuffed in painful-looking high heeled shoes. Amazing, how easily she can walk in these. The girls flank her, taking her hands, and together they head down the street.
Never letting them out of sight, I follow, sneaking along the roofs. Less than a mile away from their home is a park. Since the line of houses stops quite a bit before the entrance, I glide down from the last roof, using a massive chestnut tree for cover.
As soon as the three girls enter the park, the twins let go of their older sister’s hands and squirm away, their pink dresses fluttering in the steady breeze. Angel strolls on.
Hands in the pockets of my new leather jacket, I amble a safe distance behind her. After another couple hundred feet, she lowers onto a bench at the side of the pebbled walkway and fishes a book out of her tote bag. She’s alone, reading—there might not be a better time to meet her. I pick up pace.
“Peter Pan!”
Baffled, I whirl around to the voice of a young girl. “Yes?”
“Stop or I’ll skewer you from the back!” one of Angel’s sisters shouts after the other, wielding a twig like a sword.
“You can try, Captain Hook, but you have to catch me first!” the other yells back over her shoulder. Laughing, both children scurry in their neat strappy shoes across the lawn, not cutting so much as a glance at me.
What the heck?
With my brows pulled down to a frown, I tear my gaze away from them—and instead look into the shiny brown eyes of a smiling Angel. She lowered her book and is staring at me from across the path, her expression intrigued.
The moment drags on, because I’m not sure what to do or say now. There’s only this funny warmth spreading in my chest when I look at her. Eventually, she breaks the awkward silence and asks, “Your name is Peter, isn’t it?”
By the rainbows of Neverland, she recognized me! I nod, a smile tugging on the corners o
f my mouth.
“I thought so, because you turned and said yes when Paulina shouted that name. They are my sisters.”
My smile slips. “Oh.” But then, it doesn’t matter. She’ll know who I am in a minute. “So you told them all about Neverland?”
Angel laughs like this is a joke. I don’t get it. “It’s actually their favorite story. I think in the past three years I’ve read the book a thousand times to them.”
“The book?” I frown as I sit down beside her. More, how could she tell the story over three years? It’s only been two months since she left Neverland. She doesn’t look older to me, so there can’t have passed more time here than in my world.
“Peter Pan?” she answers with a slight edge to her voice. Then her face relaxes again. “You probably only know the movie, right?”
Whatever is a movie?
I shrug, leaning forward to prop my elbows on my knees, and mumble, “Yeah.”
“That’s alright. Disney did a great take on the classic.”
My head starts to hurt. What in the world are we talking about? I need to put an end to this and get down to the point before she confuses the hell out of me. Slowly, I tilt my head toward her. “Do you ever miss Neverland?”
Now she makes big eyes at me. “Miss it? Well, that’s a big word, isn’t it?” She chuckles, and it sounds a little uncertain. “Of course I’d love to go there somehow, but to miss it means I’d have to have been there before. Right?”
“Right.” Which you have. But then it’s only logical that she’d hold back with a stranger. “You have no idea who I am, Angel, do you?”
She sucks in a breath, her eyes turning sharp. “Why did you call me that?”
“Because it’s your name.”
“My name is Angelina. Only the twins call me Angel. And I don’t remember telling you either of them.”
Now it’s my turn to chuckle about her defensiveness. “Well, I might have been a little younger when we last met. I’m Peter.”
“Yeah, I know. You said so before.”
