Six Points of Light:Hook's Origin

by Kalynn Bayron

  “Yes, Tobin. One of those lions swiped at him and almost cut his arm clean off. That’s what the story is anyway.”

  “Peter,” said James, ready to change the subject. “I need to tell you something.”

  Peter looked at him quizzically.

  “Do you remember the man I told you about? Mr. O’Malley?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he knows things. He has shown me things I wouldn’t have believed were possible.” Peter sat down on the bed. “Peter, this man has been to Neverland. He's seen it with his own eyes.”

  Peter said nothing.

  “He was there as a young man. He swore me to secrecy, but I needed to tell you because I knew you would want to know.”

  Peter jumped up, jarring the bed and causing James to wince in pain.

  “Where is he? Where did he go?”

  “He was here a moment ago. Peter, I don't think he can actually show us the way to Neverland, but I think he may have something in his possession that can help us.”

  “What? What is it?” Peter asked impatiently.

  James took a deep breath. “He has a collection of fairies that he keeps in jars in his tent.”

  “Where did he go, James?!” Peter was frantic.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  Peter spoke the words slowly, as if he were trying to comprehend its meaning. “He actually has fairies?” His voice cracked as he said the word fairies again.

  “Yes,” James said. “Please, Peter. I don’t know how long it will take for me to heal, but when I do, I promise I will help you get to Neverland.”

  “I want to go right now.”

  “We can’t go now. I need time to heal.”

  “I don’t care if you can’t go, I want to go now!” shouted Peter.

  James sat in silence. Peter’s word’s stung him.

  Sister Maddie and Wendy returned to the room. Peter hurried out, ending their conversation and glaring at Wendy. James thought that, if a look could kill, Peter would be dead, because the daggers in Wendy’s eyes were sharp and focused squarely on him as he left the room.

  “I don’t know what Peter would do without you,” said Sister Maddie. “He has been relentless in his efforts to see you, but I couldn’t allow it. Not right at that moment, dear.”

  Wendy stood outside the infirmary while Sister Maddie helped James into a clean dressing gown and settled him back into bed. Wendy rejoined them and assisted Sister Maddie in redressing his wound. She took special care to clean the gash on the side of James's face, which seemed like a paper cut compared to the loss of his hand.

  “This will leave a scar,” said Wendy, gently touching his left cheek.

  “I guess it will,” said James, looking down. Would she think less of him if he had a scar on his face? The thought troubled him.

  “It’s all right,” she said, gently resting her hand on his shoulder. “It will create a most fearsome character of you.”

  “James hasn’t a fearsome bone in his body,” said Sister Maddie.

  James rolled his eyes in embarrassment.

  “That may be so,” said Wendy. “But that is what people will think when they see you. How amazing is it that you were attacked by an alligator?”

  “Wendy!” said Sister Maddie.

  “I'm sorry,” said Wendy, smiling. “I just think that it will be a fascinating story to tell your grandchildren.”

  Wendy was not like any other girl James had ever met. She was smart and witty and didn’t seem to be phased one bit by the enormity of his tragedy. In fact, she seemed to be enthralled by it, looking for the silver lining. James wondered if her personality was always so bubbly.

  “Tell me,” said Wendy, her green eyes glowing. “You seem very close to Peter. Do you know what an insufferable brat he is?”

  “Wendy... dear, you aren’t helping,” said Sister Maddie.

  James laughed. Sister Maddie turned, tossing her hands lightly into the air in a sign of surrender.

  “I am keenly aware of that particular fact,” said James, smiling. “But he has another side to him that most people don't see. He's been through a lot.”

  Wendy looked thoughtful.

  “I appreciate your company,” said James. “But please don’t feel obligated to stay. If you are tired or—”

  “Stop right there,” Wendy interjected. “The first thing you should know about me is that I rarely do anything that doesn't suit me. Keeping you company suits me just fine at the moment, so unless you are asking me to leave...”

  “No!” James all but shouted. He looked down into his lap. “Please stay. I enjoy your company very much.”

  Wendy smiled and reached into a satchel that was hanging on the back of the wooden rocking chair. She pulled from it a small book bound in a simple leather cover with the words El Draque scrawled across the front.

  “Do you know much about sailing?” asked Wendy.

  “I do, as a matter of fact.” James recalled all of the books he had read on famous explorers and their valiant journeys across the seas. He longed to be a sailor, but now it seemed as if that dream would remain just that... a dream. No crew in the world would want a one-handed deckhand.

  “You know of Sir Francis Drake then?” she asked.

  “Of course. He sailed around the world. He was extraordinary.”

  “Did you know he was a pirate?” Wendy asked.

  “He was certainly not a pirate. He had the support of the Queen. He even traveled to America to replenish the settlers who were starving at the Roanoke settlement.”

  “That's only half of the story,” she shot back. “To the Spanish, he was a pirate, a thief.”

  “Perhaps in defense of his own ships and his own crew.” James felt himself becoming agitated. He didn't want to be mad at Wendy, but her personality was all fire and fury, and he was like a stack of dried hay. Together, they were combustible.

  “Piracy... in self-defense? I've never heard of such a thing. But history is written by the victors, James. Sir Francis was a pirate. That does not mean that I admire him any less.”

  “You first call him a pirate and then say you admire him. Which is it?”

  “He was an adventurer, he was fearless. That is what I admire,” she said.

  “You have an affinity for pirates.” James felt his arm and wrist throbbing. “I will never be an adventurer, I'm afraid. Not now.” He meant to say this quietly, but Wendy heard every word.

  “How can you know at this moment what the future will bring?” she asked.

  James felt the weight of the day's events pressing down on him. His arm was paining him to no end.

  “I haven't given up on you, James. Don't give up on yourself.”

  “Why do you care what happens to me? We've only just met.”

  “That is true, but I feel like I've known you forever, and that counts for something in my book.” James saw for the first time a crack in her fiery exterior, a hint of shyness as she lowered her eyes. “I will read, you rest,” she said quickly. She opened her book and began to read to him.

  James watched as she effortlessly glided through the chapters, giving her opinion at the end of each one. He listened intently and was content for the time being.

  He didn't want to think about what had befallen him. He didn't want to think about Neverland or Peter. He only wanted this moment.

  CHAPTER 10

  REVELATIONS

  O'Malley was long gone, and Peter was near to madness.

  “Where did he go? He just disappeared?” Peter shouted.

  James tried his best to calm his friend, but it was pointless. Peter stormed about, pacing the ground where O’Malley’s tent had stood. James was not ready to revisit that spot on the grounds where he had lost his hand. He stood off a ways, watching Peter rant and rave.

  “Right here! He was here! Where is he now?” Peter wailed.

  Sister Maddie had been unable to find O'Malley after sending him off to fetch clean dressings for James's
wound. He had stayed behind after the other members of the traveling circus packed up their camp and moved on. He’d stayed, from what James could figure, to make sure he would live through his ordeal, and when James had finally come out of his delirium, O'Malley had disappeared without a trace.

  James stood on the sloping hill, watching Peter crumple into a pile of tears and shouts. He kept his right arm tucked inside of his jacket pocket. The wound had begun to heal but it still required a dressing. He kept it hidden, as it often drew stares from the other children.

  He felt powerless to help Peter. He was sure they could not get to Neverland without O'Malley's help, and the man was gone.

  James looked out over the grassy hills to the forest, dark and foreboding at the edge of the grounds. He hadn't been to the hollow since his accident, and he didn’t want to return. The happy memories of him and Peter laughing and joking and reading from the diary seemed so far away. Things were different; Peter was different. His obsession with Neverland had reached a fever pitch after James told him what he had seen in O'Malley's tent that fateful night. Now, James wished he had never told him any of it.

  Wendy joined James on the hill. He smiled warmly at her, and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Her hair was pulled back into a loose braid that fell down over her shoulder. She was wearing a long wool coat over her dress that she pulled close around her neck. The wind was blowing steadily, and the air was chilly.

  “Is he still upset that he didn’t get to see that strange man?”

  “Yes, it seems that way,” said James. He had not told Wendy about any of the things he and Peter had learned about Neverland. He didn't want to risk sounding like a lunatic. Not to her.

  “How long has it been, James? It’s been weeks. Shouldn’t he have moved on by now? It can’t be healthy for him to still be so angry.”

  Wendy's younger brother ran past James and down the hill towards Peter.

  “Are they still getting on all right?” asked James.

  “Oh yes. John cannot get enough of his dear Peter,” she said sarcastically.

  James laughed. He had been laughing a lot lately. Every moment he spent with Wendy was a happy one. She had captured his heart. He put his left arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close. She nestled in to his chest, and James was all but lost in the tide of her breathing.

  John made his way down to where Peter was sobbing. James could see they were having some kind of heated conversation when Peter suddenly stood up and shoved John hard to the ground.

  “Did you see that?” asked Wendy, pulling free from James's embrace.

  He had indeed seen what Peter had done and, fearing that Peter would not tolerate a scolding from Wendy, decided to go down and try, yet again, to talk to him.

  John came barreling up the hill, cheeks flushed and eyes watering. Wendy embraced him and dusted his clothes off as James went down to confront Peter. He glanced back to see Wendy glaring down at Peter. She despised him.

  Peter was sitting on the ground in the very spot where O'Malley's tent had stood. He traced lines in the dirt and was mumbling to himself.

  James felt his pulse quicken as he walked down the hill. He did not want to be in that place. Memories flooded his mind. Tick-tock Tick-tock The alligator seemed like a figment of his imagination, but the tingling sensation in his right jacket pocket reminded him that it had not been a dream or a hallucination. He stopped just a few feet from where Peter was seated.

  “Are you all right, Peter?” James asked, knowing full well that the answer was no.

  “Oh, hello James,” said Peter mockingly. “Have you come to tell me how much you adore Wendy? Maybe you'd like to run away with her and leave me behind.”

  “Peter, I understand how upset you are. I do,” said James, trying to ignore Peter's insults. “But sitting down here in the dirt will not solve anything.”

  “And what else should I be doing?” Peter seemed to be asking a very sincere question.

  “I don't know, Peter.” He approached Peter slowly. He wanted to reach out to him, to embrace him, but he knew Peter wouldn’t allow it. “I know it’s hard to think about, but what if we just tried to be happy, right here, right now? We have so much to look forward to without running off to Neverland. We have each other, brother.”

  “How can I be happy? What do I have to look forward to? Everything is ruined! Nothing worked out the way it was supposed to!” shouted Peter.

  “What didn't work?” asked James confused.

  Just then, three boys came sprinting down the hill, tripping and falling all over themselves.

  “There you are, Peter!” shouted a blond little boy.

  “Go away, Caleb!” Peter shouted back.

  Caleb stopped and glanced at James. James tucked his arm away.

  “I will not go away,” said Caleb angrily.

  James thought the boys had come to fetch Peter for a game of tag or to go fishing, but he soon realized that they were angry with him.

  “I know what you did, Peter!” shouted one of the other boys. Peter stood up and glared at them.

  “You tried to blame it on us! Lying to Sister Angelica to try and get us in trouble! But we know the truth! It was your fault!” shouted Caleb.

  “Shut up, Caleb!” screamed Peter.

  Wendy approached James and stood just to his left, her hand resting on his back.

  “Calm down,” said James. He was the oldest one there; he tried to be the voice of reason.

  “You tell us to be calm?” asked Caleb. He seemed surprised. “After what he did to you?”

  “What are you talking about?” asked James.

  “Shut up, Caleb!” screamed Peter again, his cheeks ruddy and his chest heaving. He appeared to be teetering dangerously on the edge of sanity. James couldn’t understand why he was coming unhinged, and in such dramatic fashion.

  “Oh...,” said Caleb, an insidious smirk spread across his face. “He doesn't know, does he?”

  James looked at Peter, who refused to make eye contact with him.

  “What is it I don’t know, Peter?” asked James. He felt as if he himself were balancing on the edge of a cliff, perilously close to pitching off the edge. His left hand began to tremble, and Wendy grasped it firmly. Caleb's two companions had taken several steps back and were now looking back and forth between James and Peter in rapt anticipation.

  “Tell him!” shouted Caleb. “Tell him that you are the one who let the animals out! Tell him you are the reason his hand is gone!”

  Peter sprang forward, tackling Caleb and pinning him to the ground. A flurry of punches rained down as Peter threw blow after blow. Caleb's nose began to bleed, and one of his front teeth flew into the grass.

  James could not move. It was not possible. He would not believe it.

  Caleb's companions jumped in to the fray, freeing him from Peter's grasp. They pulled Peter off and held his arms as he thrashed about.

  “Peter,” said Wendy softly. “How could you?”

  “You shut up!” screamed Peter. “It’s his own fault!” James stood motionless.

  “It’s true!” shouted Caleb. “He let them out. He said a man in a tent had something he needed and that the animals would distract everyone so he could sneak in and get what he wanted. We told him people would get hurt! He didn't even care!”

  “Peter said he was with you in the big tent that night,” said James, trying desperately to reconcile these things in his mind.

  “He’s a liar,” said Caleb. “He wasn’t with us at all. He snuck off right after the lights in the big tent went down.” James saw in the boy's face absolute sincerity. He was telling the truth.

  “Peter...” James could not think straight.

  “James, please, you will never understand,” sobbed Peter.

  “Were you there? Were you there by O’Malley’s tent that night?” asked James. He remembered the footsteps he’d heard approaching the tent then the commotion he’d heard as he’d faced almost certain death.
He also remembered Peter's reaction when he came to the infirmary. He seemed unaffected by what James had shared with him, as if he had already known what James would say.

  James rushed towards Peter, punching him and kicking him furiously.

  “James, stop! Stop it!” screamed Wendy. She grabbed at his jacket and tried to pull him away from Peter.

  “You did this to me! This is all your fault! All for Neverland! For nothing! You idiot!” James was blinded by his anger. His right hand was gone, and he wished to God in that moment that he had something to replace it with so that he could choke the life out of Peter.

  Peter stumbled and fell backwards on to the ground. Wendy threw herself between them and pushed James back.

  “No more! James, look at me!” screamed Wendy. The only thing James could see was Peter's bloody, smiling face.

  “Peter… brother…,” James groaned, tears filling his eyes. “How could you hear me screaming and not help me? I was dying, Peter!”

  “You should have died! It would make everything so much easier for me!” shouted Peter. “I have to get to Neverland, James, and there's no room for you! No place for you at all! You don't belong there!”

  James was speechless. This boy whom he had loved and protected like a brother was wishing him dead?

  “You, you wished this on me?” James sputtered. The tears were spilling down his face. “Why?”

  Peter glanced at Wendy. “It wasn’t my plan, in the beginning. I didn’t really care where you were at that moment, but it seemed extremely fortunate. Neverland is for people like me who don’t need to grow up. Growing up is all you have ever wanted to do! Grow up, Peter! Be responsible, Peter!” Peter mocked James’s tone of voice. “You’re such a miserable companion. I needed help, I needed you to read the diary to me, but I never needed you. I wanted to be rid of you. Did you believe my little act, James? Did I convince you that we were brothers? You miserable fool. You should have died. I wish you had, so that I wouldn’t have to look at your pitiful face for one more second.” Peter stood and ran off, disappearing into the woods.

  James sank to his knees. Wendy clung to him, cradling him as he sobbed openly and without shame. Grief and anger ran through him, dividing him as light is divided in a prism. It spiraled out of him, leaving him broken.