by Kiki Thorpe
Copyright © 2018 Disney Enterprises, Inc. All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, 1745 Broadway, New York, NY 10019, and in Canada by Penguin Random House Canada Limited, Toronto, in conjunction with Disney Enterprises, Inc. Random House and the colophon are registered trademarks and A Stepping Stone Book and the colophon are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7364-3599-4 (trade) — ISBN 978-0-7364-8182-3 (lib. bdg.) —
ISBN 978-0-7364-3650-2 (ebook)
Ebook ISBN 9780736436502
rhcbooks.com
This book has been officially leveled by using the F&P Text Level Gradient™ Leveling System.
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v5.1
a
For Abigail
—K.T.
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Introduction
Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Excerpt from Through the Dark Forest
Far away from the world we know, on the distant Never Sea, lies an island called Never Land. It is a place full of magic, where mermaids sing, fairies play, and children never grow up. Adventures happen every day, and anything is possible.
Though many children have heard of Never Land, only a special few ever find it. The secret, they know, lies not in a set of directions but deep within their hearts, for believing in magic can make extraordinary things happen. It can open doorways you never even knew were there.
One day, through an accident of magic, four special girls found a portal to Never Land right in their own backyard. The enchanted island became the girls’ secret playground, one they visited every chance they got. With the fairies of Pixie Hollow as their friends and guides, they made many magical discoveries.
But Never Land isn’t the only island on the Never Sea. When a special friend goes missing, the girls set out across the sea to find her. Beyond the shores of Never Land, they encounter places far stranger than they ever could have imagined….
This is their story.
The box sat on a high shelf, peeking out from behind a stack of old magazines. It was a plain brown box, dusty with neglect. It looked no different from a dozen other boxes in the basement, and yet six-year-old Gabby Vasquez was sure she’d never noticed it before.
Gabby turned to her older sister, Mia, who was lying on the couch with her nose stuck in a book.
“What’s in there?” Gabby asked, pointing at the box.
Mia glanced up. “Junk, probably,” she said with a sulk. Mia was in a bad mood. It was the first Saturday of summer, and the sisters’ plans to go swimming had been spoiled by a sudden rainstorm. Instead of splashing in the pool with their friends, they had spent the morning moping around the house and squabbling over the remote control. At last, in exasperation, their mother had sent them both down to the basement to get them “out of her hair.”
As Mia went back to reading, Gabby looked around the room. An old wooden chair sat in the corner. Gabby grabbed it and dragged it noisily over to the shelf. Mia watched her over the top of her book.
Gabby climbed onto the chair and reached for the box. Even on her tiptoes, she couldn’t quite touch it.
She climbed off the chair and found a pillow. She put the pillow on the chair, stepped on top of it, and reached for the box again. Beneath her, the chair wobbled.
With a loud sigh, Mia set her book down. “For Pete’s sake, Gabby, don’t hurt yourself. I’ll get it.”
Mia climbed onto the chair and took down the box, which was taped tightly shut. Someone had written across the top in fat black marker.
Gabby knew all her letters, but sometimes she still had trouble with long words. “What does it say?” she asked.
“‘Treasure,’ ” Mia read. “‘Handle with care.’”
The girls raised their eyebrows at each other. “I’ll get the scissors!” Gabby exclaimed. She raced up the stairs and hurried down a moment later with the kitchen shears. Mia reached for them, but Gabby held the scissors out of her grasp. “I get to open it. I saw it first!”
“Careful, Gabby.” Mia hovered over her sister as she sliced through the packing tape and pulled open the flaps.
The box was full of crumpled yellowed newspaper. The girls eagerly began to dig through it.
“I’ve got it—oh.” Mia lifted something from the box, then sat down with a disappointed sigh. “It’s only an old boat.”
“Only” isn’t the right word, Gabby thought. True, the little wooden boat wasn’t fancy. Its green paint was chipped and faded, and it didn’t have a lot of sails or a dragon-shaped prow or anything else grand. It was just a humble little fishing boat, with a squat cabin, a single sail, and a net made out of string. Even its name was funny. Tino’s Treasure was painted on the side in wobbly, uneven letters.
But Gabby sensed something special about it right away. “Let me see,” she said, reaching for the boat.
The moment it was in her hands, a shiver ran through her. She felt as if the boat were waiting for something.
An adventure, maybe, Gabby thought.
“There’s got to be something else in here.” Mia fished through the newspaper still inside the box. Gabby knew she was hoping to find jewelry or some elegant keepsake. Mia loved pretty things.
“Oh…look!” Mia pulled out a small gold-handled magnifying glass. She held it up to her eye, like a detective, and peered at Gabby’s face. “Aha! A clue! From your mustache, I conclude that you had milk for breakfast.”
Gabby giggled. “Where’d this stuff come from?” she asked her sister.
“I don’t know,” Mia said. “Let’s ask Papi.”
They went upstairs and found their father in the living room, working on his laptop. “Papi, look at this.” Gabby held up the boat.
When Mr. Vasquez saw the boat, his eyes widened. “The Treasure! My gosh, I haven’t seen this in years!” He took it gently in his hands, smiling as if at an old friend. “I thought it was lost. Where on earth did you find it?”
“In the basement,” Gabby told him.
“This, too.” Mia held out the magnifying glass.
“Abuelo’s old magnifying glass,” their father said warmly.
“This belonged to Grandpa?” Gabby couldn’t believe it. Their grandfather was a stern, grumpy man. When they visited, he spent most of his time watching television and grumbling about the news. Gabby couldn’t imagine him ever playing with such a wonderful toy.
“No,” their father said. “This belonged to my abuelo, your great-grandfather. He loved model ships. Look.” Mr. Vasquez took the magnifying glass and held it up to the fishing net. “See the detail? All those knots were done by hand. And these.” He pointed out the rubber tires hanging on the side. “These bumpers came off an old toy car. I used to spend hours playing with this. I pretended it was my boat, and imagined all the adventures I could have.”
Gabby had been imagining that, too. “Papi, can I play with it?”
Her father hesitated, but only for a second. “Of course, mija. But be careful. It’s special to me.”
“I will. I promise.” Gabby gently took the boat. She made it rock up and down, as if it were sailing on the sea.
The doorbell rang.
Their father got up to answer it.
“Hi, Mr. Vasquez,” said two familiar voices.
Gabby and Mia both ran to the door. Their friends Kate McCrady and Lainey Winters stood on the doorstep. Water streamed from their raincoats.
“Can Mia and Gabby come out to play?” Lainey asked. She was trying to use her wet sleeve to wipe the raindrops off her big round glasses, rather unsucessfully.
“In this weather?” Mr. Vasquez asked with a frown.
Kate’s broad white smile flashed beneath her hood. “Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Vasquez,” she assured him. “We won’t be out in the rain for long.”
The girls exchanged secret looks. They all knew what Kate meant. They were going to Never Land! A portal to the magical island lay behind a loose fence board in Mia and Gabby’s backyard. The four girls had discovered it together, and they used it to travel to Never Land whenever they could.
“Please, Papi. Just for a little bit,” Gabby begged.
“All right,” he said. “But come inside right away if you see lightning.”
“We will!” the sisters said in unison.
Kate and Lainey waited on the doorstep while Gabby and Mia scrambled into their raincoats. Gabby was halfway to the door when she spied the model ship on the coffee table. She grabbed it, tucked it under her raincoat, and ran after the other girls.
In Pixie Hollow, the fairy Tinker Bell stared out the window of her teakettle workshop. Outside, a warm wind was blowing. The wind was strong. It bent the buttercups, rattled the meadow grass, and made the cart mice jumpy.
The wind blew down the chimney spout of the kettle, making a loud whistle, but Tink didn’t notice. She was watching a butterfly outside.
The butterfly struggled against the wind. Its wings fluttered and flapped desperately, but it wasn’t getting anywhere. Tink felt sorry for it.
At some point, though, the butterfly seemed to stop struggling. It spread its wings and let the wind carry it. Up, up it soared. Tink leaned out the window to watch it as it became a small dot of yellow against the treetops. Then it was an even smaller dot against the blue sky.
Tink couldn’t see the butterfly anymore, but still she stayed with it. In her mind, she was the butterfly, flying high above Never Land, higher than she’d ever gone. She could see beyond Never Land, across the sea, all the way to the edge of the world, where the sky was pink and purple and gold and even some colors she’d never seen before. She could—
“Tinker Bell. Tink? Tink!”
Tinker Bell snapped out of her reverie. Her friend Bobble the sparrow man was standing in the doorway of her workshop. He held a large, greasy black pot in his skinny arms. He frowned at Tink with concern.
“Oh! Fly with you, Bobble,” Tink greeted him. Traces of her daydream clung like cobwebs to the corners of her mind. She shook her head to clear them. “What have you got there?”
“Dulcie’s pot is giving her trouble again,” Bobble said. “It keeps turning her chocolate mousse into gooseberry jelly. She sent it to be tinkered. Asked for you specifically.”
“I’ll take a look at it,” Tink replied. “You can leave it there.”
Bobble set the pot down with a grunt of relief. “That pot’s got a mind of its own. I swear it made itself heavier the whole way here. I keep telling Dulcie she ought to have someone make her a new one, but she won’t hear of it. Says she’s attached to the old thing.”
“That’s okay,” Tinker Bell said. “I like a challenge.”
Tink turned to her worktable. But Bobble continued to stand in the doorway, blinking at her through his glasses. They were made from two dewdrops held in place by wire frames, and they made his eyes look enormous. It was hard not to notice him staring.
“Is there something else?” Tink asked.
Bobble cleared his throat. “Erm…if you don’t mind my asking, are you feeling all right?”
“Yes,” Tink answered. “Why?”
“It’s just that you don’t seem yourself lately,” Bobble said.
“I’m all right,” Tink replied, rubbing her forehead. “I think I just have a bit of island fever.”
“Fever?” Bobble’s brow furrowed. “Should I call a nursing fairy?”
“No, not that kind of fever.” Tink sighed and looked out the window again. “Bobble, don’t you ever get the urge to fly beyond Never Land?”
Bobble shook his head. “Can’t say that I do.”
“Sometimes I just feel…I don’t know, like I’m missing something. Maybe there’s more I could be doing than just fixing pots and pans.”
“It’s the south wind,” Bobble told her firmly. “It’s been blowing hard lately. You’ve got to be careful when the wind blows from the south. Strange things are bound to happen. It can put odd notions in your head.”
“Hmm. Maybe,” said Tink. She didn’t believe that south-wind nonsense.
“Well.” Bobble peered at her carefully. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
Tink gave him a reassuring smile. “Yes, Bobble. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Just let me know if you need anything.” Bobble closed the door behind him.
When he was gone, Tink turned to Dulcie’s pot. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to fix it. Bobble was right about the pot having a mind of its own. No matter which ingredients the baking fairy used, the pot only cooked what it felt like making.
It was just the sort of problem Tink usually liked. But today her heart wasn’t in it. She examined the pot for a few moments, then set it aside.
From beneath her worktable, Tink pulled out a map. She unrolled it across the table, weighing the corners down with her tinker’s hammer and pots of glue. The map was made of birch bark so old it was starting to yellow. She had to take extra care that the edges didn’t crumble.
In the center of the map was a drawing of Never Land, but that didn’t interest Tink. She knew Never Land like the back of her hand. What caught her eye were words scribbled off to the side. Someone had written in faint, spidery handwriting:
Shadow Island
What was Shadow Island? Tink had been wondering ever since she found the map in the Home Tree library, shoved behind a shelf of books about caterpillar farming. She had crossed the sea dozens of times on adventures with Peter Pan, but she’d never seen Shadow Island. She’d never even heard of it.
Tink squinted at the map. She could see other lines overlapping the drawing. They were smudged and faint, as if someone had drawn something there, then erased it.
Like a shadow, Tink thought.
A spark of an idea had grown in Tink’s mind. If there really was a Shadow Island, maybe she could be the fairy to find it.
But how? A fairy could fly only so far before her wings gave out. Of course, she could ask her old friend Peter Pan to come—he could carry her when she got too tired. But Peter was unreliable. One minute he’d be there, the next he’d be off chasing eagles or playing with mermaids. Tink knew she couldn’t count on him.
“Bah!” said Tink, rolling up the map. Why was she wasting her time with mysteries and maps? She was a tinkering-talent fairy, and her place was here, in Pixie Hollow. Goodness knows she had plenty to do.
Tink went back to working on Dulcie’s pot. She’d just located the source of the problem—a patch of rust was making the pot surly—when she heard a whistle.
Her ears pricked up. This time it wasn’t the wind whistling in her chimney spout. It was a reed whistle. It sounded once, twice.
With a gasp, Tink let go of the pot and fluttered into the air. The whistle was a scout’s alarm. A fairy was in trouble!
Gabby and the other girls had almost reached the Home Tree when they heard the whistle. It was a thin piping sound, faint, but urgent, coming from across the meadow.
From all over Pixie Hollow, fairies came fluttering. They emerged from the tiny doorways that lined the Home Tree’s branches and dropped their thimble buckets and pine needle brooms to the ground. They left behind their herds of caterpillars and fie
ld mice and flew toward the meadow.
“What’s happening?” Mia called out to a fairy as she darted past.
The fairy barely paused. “It’s a scout’s alarm. Someone needs help!”
A fairy was in trouble! Gabby set down her great-grandfather’s boat between the roots of the Home Tree and ran after the fairies. The other girls were right behind her.
They followed the whistle all the way through the meadow to the orchard on the far side. The orchard was usually one of Gabby’s favorite places in Pixie Hollow. Plum, apple, and cherry trees grew there, and the grass was soft and green. Gabby loved to lie in the shade of an apple tree and watch harvest-talent fairies buzz back and forth, picking ripe fruit.
But today the orchard was still. The harvest fairies hovered next to their trees. They looked as if they were under a spell. As other fairies flew into the orchard, they stopped, too, and stared at something on the ground.
At first Gabby didn’t see it. As she ran forward, Mia suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Gabby, watch out!”
Then Gabby saw. A snake lay in the tall grass. It was long and green and as thick around as a jump rope. A few feet away, a lone fairy cowered at the base of a tree.
The whole orchard seemed frozen. Everyone watched the snake. The snake watched the fairy.
Slowly, the snake lifted its head and tested the air with its tongue.
“Why doesn’t the fairy fly away?” Gabby whispered.
“I don’t think she can,” Kate whispered back. “She’s too scared. She has no glow.” The fairy’s glow had gone out completely. She looked no brighter than a mouse.
“She’s afraid to move,” Lainey agreed. “A snake can strike much faster than a fairy can fly.”
Two animal-talent fairies, Fawn and Beck, had flown as close to the snake as they dared. They were talking to it in low voices. Gabby hoped they were telling it to go away.
