by A. C. Wise
The thought frightens her, and Jane pushes it away, turning so she’s facing outward again. At least they can still see most of the cave from here. The faint orange glow seems to come from a place where the ground slopes downward. Whatever the source, it’s in the part of the cave that’s hidden.
“Wendy!” Peter’s shout comes from the direction of the cave entrance. Jane tenses, pressing herself flat against the stone. She should have known Peter would find them here, but is he calling her, or her mother?
“It’s—” Timothy starts, his voice too loud. Jane slaps a hand over his mouth, pulling him back into the shadows of the rock overhang.
Timothy squirms, and Jane hisses in his ear.
“Hush.”
When he stills, Jane lets go. His breathing remains fast, his eyes wide in the dark. Peter must know by now that she stole Timothy, and now he’s come looking for them both.
“I wish we had a weapon.” Jane tries not to move her lips as she speaks.
“I have this.” Timothy pulls a slingshot from the pocket of his ragged trousers, holding it out to her.
“You’re brilliant.” Jane would hug him, but the movement would be awkward on their platform. She settles for patting his shoulder. She still has the arrowhead she picked up from the path tucked into her sleeve. It fits perfectly into the leather sling, and she draws the weapon taut, sighting along her arm. She’s never fired a slingshot before, but how hard can it be? Peter’s boys surely aren’t trained hunters, and yet she saw them take down a wild boar. The rules in Neverland are different, and so it stands to reason that Jane can be a marksman too, if she tries.
There’s just enough light from the orange glow to allow Jane to see her mother standing with her hands on her hips, facing the entrance to the cave. She can’t see Tiger Lily anymore, but Jane is certain she must be nearby. Shouts echo, bouncing around the stone, then Peter bursts through the crack in the wall followed by Arthur, and a boy whose name Jane can’t remember. All three boys are armed with swords, but all three draw up short at the sight of her mother. Peter recovers first, jabbing an accusing finger in her direction.
“What are you doing here? You’re not allowed.”
“Yes, I am.” Her mother’s voice is steady. Jane edges forward, bracing Timothy’s slingshot against the rock. “You invited me.”
“You’re a liar.” Peter glares at her mother, his face scrunching up.
Jane’s breath catches, a soft sound in the dark, but enough to make Timothy look at her. She shakes her head. Even if she could speak without being heard, what would she say? Her mother was here, in Neverland, and never told Jane a single word about it. Her mind whirls, but there isn’t time to process everything and still pay attention to what’s going on.
“Peter.” Her mother doesn’t raise her voice, and in fact it’s quieter as she says Peter’s name. Her tone makes Jane shiver.
“No!” Peter stamps his foot. “You’re not my Wendy.”
Jane isn’t certain, but she thinks she sees her mother flinch ever so slightly. Peter’s tone is petulant and harsh all at once, but he still has to tip his head back to look her mother in the eye. If they weren’t in danger, Jane might almost find it funny.
Next to her mother, Peter looks like a spoiled and rotten little boy. But threat bristles in his posture, and she remembers how he stilled the boar and what he did to Rufus.
“I am Wendy, Peter. I told you before, I grew up.”
“You’re not supposed to do that. It’s against the rules!”
“You wanted a mother.” Jane’s mother spreads her arms. Behind Peter, Arthur and the other boy shift nervously. “That’s what I am. I’m a mother, and you took my daughter away.”
The words swell inside Jane and her fingers cramp around the slingshot. She wants to make herself known. She wants to run to her mother and throw herself between her and Peter, but she doesn’t dare interfere.
“She isn’t armed,” Arthur calls out, his voice going from uncertain to bold in the space of a sentence. Jane hates him, more than she ever did before. Can’t he see how wonderful and formidable her mother is? Can’t he see she’s someone to be feared? “And she’s all alone.”
Jane bites her tongue, keeping herself from calling out. She nudges Timothy beside her, cutting her eyes to him and trying to convey without words that they must be ready even as they keep themselves hidden.
“You’re not going to hurt me, Peter.” Her mother ignores Arthur, keeping her attention fixed on Peter.
Her mother steps toward Peter. Jane holds her breath. Then everything happens all at once.
Peter darts forward. Her mother lunges, just missing Peter as he twists away, laughing. Arthur and the other boy shout, brandishing their swords. They look silly—boys playing with toys—but at the same time, those toys are sharp. Sharp enough to kill and skin and hack apart a boar. Jane feels like a coiled spring. Movement catches her eye—Tiger Lily, circling around behind the boys—and she clamps down on a cheer.
Tiger Lily’s sword touches the throat of the boy who isn’t Arthur. He lets out a strangled cry as Tiger Lily grabs his shirt, yanking him backward. Beside Jane, Timothy fairly quivers with excitement, and Jane flashes him a grin.
“Peter! They got injuns!” Arthur shouts.
“That’s not fair.” Peter scowls. “You’re cheating!”
The boy who isn’t Arthur squirms in Tiger Lily’s grasp. Keeping her own sword pressed against his throat, she releases his shirt long enough to take his sword and kick it away before moving him over to one of the rock pillars, holding him tightly.
Peter waves his own blade erratically, turning and turning, trying to face them both at once. When he turns their way, Jane can’t help shrinking back into the shadows. His face is sharp and furious, but he also looks as though he might burst into frustrated tears at any moment.
“You’re not playing the game right!” Under the spoiled, whining tone there’s a dangerous edge.
While Peter is distracted, Jane watches her mother draw closer. But before she reaches Peter, Arthur barrels into her. Jane can’t hold herself back. She lets out a shout, scrambling from the rock shelf and charging toward Arthur. Timothy slides down after her, and there’s no time to tell him to go back.
“Leave my mother alone!” Jane pelts across the cavern floor and as soon as she’s within range, she lets the arrowhead fly.
It strikes Arthur’s shoulder. He turns, slapping at the spot as though insect-stung. It’s enough distraction for her mother to twist herself around and throw him off.
“Jane!” Fear lights her mother’s eyes. She holds out an arm and Jane runs to her. She meant to rescue her mother and be a hero, but it’s gone all wrong.
“I tried to be brave,” Jane whispers, hugging her mother tight.
“I know.” Her mother buries her face in Jane’s hair. “You were very brave.”
“Ah ha!” Arthur is on his feet again, running.
At first Jane can’t see what he’s running toward, then she remembers—Timothy.
“Jane, help!” Timothy tries to get away, but Arthur’s legs are longer.
Jane pulls away from her mother, ignoring the hands trying to hold her back. She has to get Timothy; she promised to keep him safe.
“Leave him alone!” Jane wishes she had another arrowhead to shoot.
All she has left tucked in her sleeve is the tiny stone from Peter’s soup, and that isn’t enough to hurt a boy like Arthur. She considers using it anyway. But she’s too late.
Arthur lunges forward with the point of his sword. All the breath goes out of her body, and Jane skids to a halt. The blood drains from Timothy’s face. He stands perfectly still, eyes wide.
“Hooray. That’s it, Arthur, you got ’im!” Peter claps, bouncing up and down.
Jane ignores Arthur and Peter both, ignores everything but Timothy as she rushes to him and grabs him by the shoulders. He presses his hands against his mid-section, but Jane can’t see any blood. Arthu
r towers over him, grinning. Jane whirls around, hitting him as hard as she can. Caught off balance, he staggers, tripping over his heels and letting out a stunned grunt as he hits the ground. Blood spots Arthur’s chin, and his hands fly to his nose. Jane turns her attention back to Timothy.
“Let me see. What happened?”
“I got kilt.” Timothy’s voice is a breathy whisper, his face so pale he looks like a ghost.
Jane’s hands tremble, but she makes herself kneel to loosen Timothy’s grip on his midsection as gently as she can. There’s no blood. Timothy’s shirt is whole even though she could swear she saw Arthur’s sword go right through him. Relief floods her, and Jane laughs, the sound bubbling up through her like water from an underground stream.
“There’s nothing. You’re all right!” Jane throws her arms around Timothy, hugging him as tight as she can.
Timothy doesn’t move, doesn’t put his arms around her in return. When she draws back, his face is solemn.
“Arthur got me. I’m kilt now. I can’t move. Those are the rules.” There are tears in Timothy’s eyes.
Jane stares at him, uncomprehending.
“But that doesn’t make any sense. You aren’t hurt. See?” She plucks at his shirt, showing it whole.
“Those are the rules,” Arthur says behind her. His voice sounds funny and muffled.
He’s still cupping his nose. When he draws one hand away it’s smeared red, and Jane feels a nasty surge of satisfaction.
With Jane’s arms no longer around him, Timothy sinks to the ground, drawing his knees up against his chest and hugging them.
“Get up.” Jane is unable to keep the frustration from her voice. “There’s nothing wrong with you!”
Timothy presses his lips together, his face a picture of misery. Jane wants to shake him. It’s only a silly game. Why must boys be so infuriating?
“You. This is your fault.” Jane lunges at Arthur with a clumsy swipe, ready to hit him again and break his nose for real. Even though he’s still armed, he jumps back.
“Jane!”
At her mother’s shout, Jane spins around. Her mother takes a step toward her, then freezes as Jane feels herself yanked backward, her feet going out from under her. Peter! She forgot about him. She kicks her heels, scrambling for purchase on the stone, but Peter’s grip is unshakable.
“Let her go.” Her mother’s voice is hard, but Jane hears the tremor inside it.
“Stay where you are.” Peter hauls Jane upright, flourishing his sword; there’s glee in his voice.
Jane considers stomping on Peter’s foot, but she’s afraid he’ll do something to her mother if she does.
“Let her go, Peter.” Her mother’s voice is firmer this time. Jane feels Peter tense.
“Leave her, and you can have me,” her mother says.
“I don’t want you anymore, you’re… old!” Peter hurls the word like it’s the worst thing he can think of, but there’s uncertainty in his voice.
“I’m the only Wendy.” Her mother takes another step. Jane tries to keep very still, but her heart betrays her, beating wildly.
“Mama, don’t.” Jane barely manages a whisper. Her mother can’t really mean to give herself up to Peter, can she? Jane takes a shuddering breath, tears slipping free as fear and exhaustion catch up with her. All of this is her fault. If she hadn’t gotten stolen in the first place, her mother wouldn’t be here, and none of them would be in danger.
“Peter.” Her mother’s voice shifts again.
Jane stills, done feeling sorry for herself. She knows that tone; it is a tone that is not to be questioned or disobeyed. She’s seen it work on her father, even her uncles, and certainly more than once Jane has felt its power for herself.
The look in her mother’s eyes matches the tone, but it’s so much worse. It’s a look Jane has never seen on her mother before. Burning and dangerous and stealing the breath from Jane’s lungs. It reminds her of the look Peter used to hypnotize the boar, to hypnotize her and make her take its meat.
“Let. Her. Go.” Her mother separates each word, dropping it like a stone. Jane’s legs tremble.
Peter’s grip slackens, and she almost collapses as he lets go. Her knees want to buckle, but her mother is there to catch her. Instead of folding Jane in her arms, she holds her by the shoulders and looks her in the eye. It reminds Jane of the day in the park, and the girl who knocked her down.
“I need you to stay with Timothy,” her mother says. “I need you to be brave one more time.”
Jane wants to shake her head, but there’s that look again, and she swallows her words. Everything is happening too fast. She only just found her mother, and now she’s losing her all over again. Jane curls her fingers around the empty slingshot in her hand, needing something to hold. She’s dangerously close to flying apart, her whole body vibrating even as she forces herself to remain still.
Her mother gives her one last assessing look. She wonders, suddenly, whether she looks different in Neverland too. Not as fierce as her mother, but changed. Her mother’s hands slide from Jane’s shoulders, and she steps away. Tiger Lily moves to stand beside her mother, dragging the boy who isn’t Arthur with her.
“What now?” Tiger Lily asks.
Jane’s mother doesn’t answer. Jane wants to shout, tell her mother to stay here, because if her mother does whatever it is she plans to do, something terrible will happen. But she promised her mother she would be brave, and be good, and she promised Timothy she would protect him, and she intends to keep her promises no matter how much it hurts. She holds her tongue, watching with stinging eyes as her mother straightens and holds out her hand.
Jane is amazed when Peter approaches. He drops his head, looking very much like a dog that knows it’s been naughty. She can’t see if there’s a sly expression on his face, but she suspects not. For this moment at least, he’s just a little boy. Something big and complicated turns over inside Jane’s chest. Her mother is her mother; she can’t be Peter’s mother, too.
Peter lets his sword fall. The sound of it clattering against the stone is the loudest thing Jane has ever heard. Peter reaches for her mother’s hand. Their fingertips brush. Her mother’s expression is set, steady, and at the same time there’s a sadness just below the surface, so vast Jane can’t begin to understand. A sob wants to break free inside her, but then so fast she barely has time to register it, her mother grabs Peter’s ear, twisting it hard.
“Ow! You cheated! That isn’t fair.” Peter flails, clawing, but her mother ignores him.
She drags Peter close, her voice dropping to something low and ugly, almost unrecognizable.
“Life isn’t fair. You learn that when you grow up.”
Peter’s cheeks color like he’s about to cry. Jane’s mother turns to Arthur, who stands slack-jawed and staring. Her mother gestures to the boy by Tiger Lily’s side.
“Take him and get out of here.” When Arthur doesn’t move, Jane’s mother lunges forward, her teeth bared. “Now!”
Arthur scrambles to obey, grabbing the other boy’s arm when Tiger Lily lets go. They run, not even looking back at Peter. They’re cowards, Jane thinks. She knows Peter has been beastly to them, but Arthur and the other boy are meant to be his friends. Shouldn’t they have at least some loyalty to him? Or maybe that’s the problem. Peter doesn’t have friends, only people he orders around.
Timothy told her that Arthur and the others never remember the horrible things Peter does. If they did, would they be happy here? Maybe some part of them does remember, and that’s why they run.
“Jane.” Her mother speaking her name draws her attention. “Take those swords. I need you to guard the entrance.”
“Yes, Mama.” Jane bends to pick up Arthur’s dropped sword.
Something about Peter’s blade makes her uneasy, and she doesn’t want to touch it. She can’t see where Tiger Lily kicked the other boy’s sword, but it doesn’t matter. Even if she handed one of the weapons to Timothy, he wouldn’t
take it, determined that he’s been “kilt” by Arthur’s sword all because of Peter and his ridiculous rules.
She wants to ask her mother what she means to do, tell her that this all feels wrong, but surely her mother knows. Surely after coming so far to find her, her mother would never do anything to put them in more danger. Moving on stiff legs, Jane crosses to stand next to Timothy. The sword feels strange in her hand, lighter than she expected, but still awkward. What if Arthur comes back and brings the others? What if she has to use the blade?
“No matter what you hear, don’t come any deeper into the cave. Do you understand me?” Her mother’s expression is the same she used to summon Peter to her side. Still caught in her mother’s grip, Peter looks stricken, miserable. Jane swallows hard.
She nods, not trusting herself to speak; the look in her mother’s eyes frightens her. What’s deeper in the cave? What does her mother mean to do? Peter’s eyes widen, his body ever so slightly trembling. He glances at Jane, and for a moment, his expression turns imploring, as though she might stand with him against her mother. Jane quickly looks away.
“Let’s go.” Tiger Lily tilts her head, indicating the direction of the orange glow.
A look of fear passes over her mother’s face, lightning-brief, then she nods at Tiger Lily. Jane bristles. Why should this stranger go with her mother, while she must wait here? Jane glances down at Timothy. He’s a small, pale shape in the dark. Her mother can take care of herself, but Timothy cannot. It isn’t that Jane is abandoning her mother, or even the other way around. Jane lifts her chin, putting her shoulders back. She is choosing this. She will stay behind for Timothy.
She sits, putting her arm around him. Timothy’s expression is grateful, but even so, Jane’s heart sinks as she watches her mother and Tiger Lily drag Peter deeper into the cave.
“What do you think will happen now?” Timothy’s voice is small, but Jane still startles. Even with his weight pressed against her, she’d nearly forgotten he was there, her mind so taken up with worry for her mother.
