by Thomas Hayes
Chapter Sixteen
A short while later, from the front of Wes’ flying machine, I looked ahead and saw the Island of the Lost Boys. Several of the buildings—the homes of the boys—were burning. Many of the trees were black and leafless, evidence of the rampage of the pirates.
Behind me, filling the deck of the blimp, were about two dozen Native warriors, who we had picked up on the way. Peter stood with them, going over a plan with a female warrior dressed in armor and holding a spear. After a moment, he looked up and saw we were approaching the island.
“We’ll only be docking a few moments,” Peter said, addressing the ship. “Just long enough to gather supplies.”
Peter walked to me as Wes brought the blimp down.
“Peter,” I asked, my voice wavering more than I wanted it to. “Will my brother be okay?”
“I promise,” Peter said. “I’ll do everything in my power to bring Tim back to you and get you out of here. Even if it means giving up my dying breath.”
That didn’t exactly fill me with confidence, but I knew Peter was my best shot at fixing this terrible mistake.
“But what about…” I stopped. It was something I had been thinking of since we left the fairies’ island. “Where Tim is now, is he okay? Are they treating him okay?”
Peter nodded. “The people Hook has been capturing from Never Land, they’re all meant to be transferred over to the witch so she can put them under her spell. She wants them unharmed, and in the best shape possible. So wherever Tim is, we can know he’s being treated reasonably, at least. Hook wouldn’t want to upset the witch.”
Again, not exactly what I wanted to hear, but at least Peter was confident Tim was alive.
The blimp came to a stop, and we all jumped into rowboats to be lowered onto the water. Peter went right into directing Wes, Tiger Lily, and the fairies.
“Tiger Lily, lead the Natives from house to house, finding anything that can be useful against the pirates—weapons, slingshots, smoke bombs. Hook obviously trashed most of the houses, but he couldn’t have taken everything.
“Fairies, you scour the island. The trees to the north are filled with cocoanuts, which I know you like to use as armor. Also check my house. There are things there—including fairy weapons—from our battles many years ago. Wes, you also go to my house. Grab all my swords and anything else we need. You know where the good stuff is.”
We hit the shore and everyone went off in the direction Peter told them.
“What about me?” I asked.
“Come with me, this way.” Peter headed toward the village. “There’s something I’ve been waiting to show you.”
I followed Peter through the decimated village and toward a small hut, located on the ground behind his treehouse. Unlike every other hut in the village, however, this one was built into a rounded, mossy hill; the hill itself was the hut, in fact, and there was a wooden door on the front of it. The hut was hidden behind vines and bushes, as if it was some kind of secret.
Peter pushed the bushes aside and opened the door. “Come in,” he said. “Watch your step. I’ll let some light in.”
I walked in behind Peter. At first I couldn’t see anything inside the hut, but then Peter opened some skylights and wooden slats, and it was filled with light. The hidden hut—no bigger than my bedroom—was filled with boxes and overflowing shelves.
“What’s all this?” I asked.
“Mementos,” Peter said. “Of our time together, mostly. When I came back to Never Land and you wouldn’t talk to me—well, no one else was really talking to me, either, except Wendy and her brothers. So I spent most of my time in here, collecting things from our old adventures. From back when you and I were friends.”
I looked around, curious to see what Peter had been keeping in there. There were old books lying on the ground, maps strewn about shelves, and dozens of musty cardboard boxes, filled with various trinkets. One thing that really caught my eye was a series of tribal masks nailed to the wall, staring at me.
“But that’s not why we’re here,” Peter said, making his way to a bookshelf. “The old stuff. We aren’t here to look at that. Not really.”
Peter reached behind the bookshelf and dragged out a wooden treasure chest. It had the insignia of a skull and crossbones on it, so I assumed Peter had stolen it from a pirate at some point.
“What’s in there?” I asked. “Treasure?”
“No.” Peter opened one of the pouches on his belt and retrieved a key. “It’s something I had made for you.”
He seemed slightly embarrassed.
“You had it made for me?”
“Yeah. I thought maybe someday you’d come back. On your own, maybe, or for some reason like this. To be honest, I knew someday there’d be a chance I might have to go ask you to come back, if we ever needed your help. So, I wanted to make sure I was prepared.”
Peter opened the chest and took something out. When he turned to me, he was holding a sword. It looked exactly like Peter’s, except the handle wasn’t silver—it was gold.
“It’s an exact replica of your old sword,” Peter said. “Back when we used to go on adventures together, you and I always carried our matching swords. Except yours was a lot smaller back then, of course.” He laughed through his nose. “No bigger than a crayon. But, knowing one day you might come back, and knowing you’d be human, I had that made. Just in case.”
I took the sword from Peter. It was surprisingly light. The hilt shone bright and I could see my reflection in it, distorted. The hilt and handle were decorated with beautiful, swirling markings that I had seen on the clothes and buildings of the fairies.
“You don’t have to take it with you when we go to the Island of the Pirates,” Peter said. “I don’t expect you to have to use it, obviously. But I thought maybe you’d want to bring it, for protection or whatever.”
I looked at the sword, confused. “What is it you want me to do when we get to Hook’s island, anyway?”
“You and half the fairies will head to the prison, at the far end of Hook’s town. That’s where Tim is. And you’ll be safer there. That’s if you want to come with us.”
“I do. I have to.”
“You really don’t. We have plenty of people and we—”
“Tim’s there. I’m going.”
Peter smirked. “I had a feeling you might say that. So, the plan is, you take some of the fairies, and you go to the prison. They’ll take care of most stuff, like getting you in.”
“Is it heavily guarded?”
“No, funnily enough, it’s not, because no one would be crazy enough to attack Hook’s island like this.”
“Except us.”
Peter laughed. “Exactly. But that’s where the fairies come in. They’ll be able to either distract or take out the guards.”
“And then how do we get the people out?”
“Fairies again. Best damn lock-pickers in Never Land. Lock-picking is easy when you’re the size of a key.”
“Right. And what do I do?”
“Find Tim, first of all. But, you’ll also need to talk to everyone else, and let them know where to go. Fairies can’t do that, can’t talk to them. So that’s your job.”
I thought it over. I was scared out of my mind, but hopefully everything would go as easily as Peter was making it sound.
“This way, we’re keeping you as far away from the action as possible.”
“Fine with me,” I said, holding up my hands. “As long as I can get Tim out of there and go home, that’s all I care about.”
I looked into the treasure chest. There was a golden necklace in it—with a butterfly-shaped pendent—and a framed photograph, facedown.
“What’s that? I’ve been meaning to ask—you have cameras in Never Land?”
“Kind of. One of the Lost Boys brought one with him when he came here. It’s old, but it still works.”
I picked up the photograph. Peter grabbed my hand.
“Wait.”
“What?�
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“You should know what that is before you look at it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Before all this went to hell, before my entire plan of telling you the truth was shot, I was gonna show you that. To prove to you the truth.”
“The picture?”
“Yeah. I was gonna bring you here right away. I probably should have. I should have brought you here before we went to go see Hook.”
Confused, I turned the frame over.
It was a black-and-white photo of Peter—a close-up, when he was younger. His head and shoulders took up almost the whole picture, but next to him, above his right shoulder, there was a glowing light. Because the light was so bright, it was clear the camera had a hard time focusing on it.
But, it also wasn’t just a glowing light. Inside it, there was a little human figure. A girl, in a white sundress, with sparkling wings. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail.
The girl was me. The fairy—no taller than a pencil and hovering in the air—was me. It was my face.
“There’s us,” Peter said. “Back when. Way back when. That’s right before Wendy came. When we were best friends.”
I stared at the photo. For the most part, I was still in denial. But a small part of me knew it was hard to ignore something when the proof’s right in front of you. That small part was becoming bigger with each moment I spent with Peter.
“Is this the only picture you have?”
“I have a few others. But they didn’t come out so good, because the camera has a hard time capturing the fairies. I keep that one here, because it’s where I keep all my most important stuff.”
I looked into the treasure chest. The only other thing in there was the gold necklace with the butterfly pendent.
“What’s that?”
“It was my mum’s. At least I assume it was my mum’s. I had it with me when the fairies found me.”
I stared at the necklace. The only thing Peter had kept in the chest was my sword, my picture, and his mom’s necklace.
“I keep that in there ‘cuz it’s the only one with your face. After you wouldn’t talk to me, I knew I had to keep it safe. It was the only way I could be sure I wouldn’t forget what you looked like.”
I tried to say something, but I didn’t know how to react.
“We missed you, Tink. I mean, Emily. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.”
“I just forgot. With you being here and everything, I keep forgetting. I know this is crazy, but I’m just glad to see you again. Really. It’s tough being alone without your best friend. I just hope you don’t hate me.”
“I don’t.”
“No?”
“No. I don’t remember any of this, and I’m sorry, I don’t know if it’s all true, but I appreciate you showing me this.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. There was never any information about where I came from. Maybe now I know.”
“I can tell you that you had a lot of family here. And friends, too. And a real lot of adventures.”
I looked up. Peter did, too. For the first time in many moments, we were looking at each other.
“It’s good to have you back here with us,” he said. “That’s all. It really is.”
Because the room was so small, we were close together.
“We should go,” I said. “I want to get this over with.”
“Right.” Peter shook his head. “If this is going to work, we need to get to Hook’s now.”
I headed for the door. Surprisingly, I felt Peter take my hand.
“Wait,” he said.
I turned around. Before I could say anything, Peter leaned forward and kissed me. Right on the lips. I was shocked—so shocked I didn’t move away right away. I let the kiss linger, not because I wanted to, but because the moment had taken me so off-guard.
Finally, I stepped back.
“Peter, you can’t do that,” I said. I shook my head. “You really can’t do that.”
“I know.” He held up his hands. “I know, but the whole time in here, I just kept thinking, this might be my only chance. My only chance to ever do that. And if that’s the case, I had to.”
“Why would this be your only chance?”
He smirked. “There’s a lot of pirates on that island, Emily. And all of ‘em want to kill me. Especially the one with the unstoppable magic.”
“Don’t say that.” I headed for the door. “Don’t say things like that.”
Peter chuckled. “Hey, I gotta be realistic. I’m gonna fight my damndest, but I gotta be truthful, too. This isn’t gonna be playtime.”
“Well, you could have asked me.”
“What, to kiss you? Would you have said yes?”
“No. But you still should have asked.”
Peter laughed. “Okay. Just do me a favor, though.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell Wendy.”
“That you kissed me?”
“Yes.”
I turned around. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. Don’t tell her. She shouldn’t know. It would be better for everyone if she didn’t know, let’s put it that way.”
“You gotta be kidding me.” I walked away. Suddenly, I went from confused to furious.
Peter caught up with me. “Look, there’s just a lot of history there, okay? Between you, me, and her. And it wouldn’t be good if she heard about it.”
“Would she do you physical harm?”
“Yes, most likely.”
“Then I’m definitely telling her.”
