by Zoe Barton
“Fairy dust doesn’t work when it’s wet,” Peter told me offhandedly as he swooped down and caught Tink a few feet from the water.
The mermaids hissed at him and slid back under the ocean.
“See what I mean?” Peter told me, placing Tink on his shoulder as she waited impatiently for her fairy dust to dry. “Not friend material.”
“I still think they’re lovely,” I said stubbornly, even more determined to find one and become friends, but I knew better than to say so. It would be a little trickier than I expected. In the meantime, I decided to try befriending the humans on the island first. They couldn’t send a giant wave at me before we’d introduced ourselves. “Do you know where Tiger Lily is?”
“In there,” Peter said, gesturing loftily to the forest that covered most of the island.
I guessed that meant no.
“You know, she’s really not very friendly either. She likes me, of course. And some of the Lost Boys. Usually not the Wendy girls.”
I snorted softly to myself. Peter made it sound like everyone hated me.
We flew quickly around the rest of the island. I think that was Peter’s way of giving me a tour. Even the trees were different. They were much bigger than the ones at home—some of their trunks were as wide as I was tall. Their dark waxy leaves grew in all different sizes—from a few as small as my pinky toe to some as big as my dad—even on the same tree.
Then a ship emerged from one of the coves. The flag tied to its mast had a skull and bones, and its sails were red. Jolly Roger was painted on the side in faded white letters.
I gasped. “Is that the pirate ship?”
Peter’s eyes glittered, and for the first time, he looked a little dangerous. “Would you like an adventure now, or would you like to meet the Lost Boys first?”
“Now, please,” I said quickly.
He grinned, pointing down to the deck of the ship. “There’s Hook.”
The captain of the Jolly Roger hadn’t seen us yet. He strolled slowly up to the bow, smoking a cigar. He wore an old-fashioned coat with gold trim and a black hat with a long, fluffy feather. His shirt had ruffles, and his curly black hair was even longer than Mom’s. A chubby pirate lit him a second cigar. One of the other pirates slept on deck, curled up with a bit of rope for a teddy bear. Hook kicked him as he passed.
From Peter’s shoulder, Tink chimed in.
Peter made a face. “She says we don’t have time to kill Captain Hook.”
“There has to be something we can do,” I said thoughtfully. “I know!” Then I whispered my plan in his ear.
Pan liked the idea so much that he crowed. All the pirates looked up at once, searching the sky.
“There! There!” Captain Hook shouted, pointing straight at Peter. “Ready Long Tom!”
I turned to Peter to ask what Long Tom was, but Peter had already started flying toward the pirates. “I’ll be right back,” he told me. He swooped down to the Jolly Roger, his golden sword drawn. “Greetings, Hook!” he cried.
Passing over the deck, Peter sliced through Hook’s belt with one stroke, and the captain’s trousers fell, exposing underpants with little hearts on them.
“What are you laughing at?” Hook shouted at his crew, who stopped mid-ha. “Shoot him!”
I couldn’t just wait around and let Peter have all the fun. This was supposed to be my first adventure, after all. Grinning with excitement, I flew in after him.
“Good morning,” I told the captain brightly, and snatched his hat off.
The whole right side of his head was one big scar. His ear was completely gone. It was so ugly that I almost stopped flying to get a closer look, but then I noticed three pirates running toward me with their swords raised. I zipped quickly out of reach—to where Peter stood, lounging against a low cloud, the way that normal people might lean against a wall.
Tink tugged the hat out of my hands and dropped it ceremoniously on Peter’s head, arranging the long feather just so.
Peter stood up a little straighter and crowed again. “How clever I am!” he said, hands on his hips, watching the commotion on the Jolly Roger with glee.
Hook covered his scar with his one good hand, trying to keep the pirates from staring at it. “What happened to his ear?” I asked.
“The crocodile got another nibble,” Peter said wickedly.
I shuddered, which only made Peter smile even wider.
“Return that hat at once, you insolent youth,” the captain shouted at Peter, shaking his hook.
The curved metal glinted cruelly in the growing light. I gulped, but Peter only shouted back, “Never, you codfish!” To me, he asked, “What does insolent mean?”
I didn’t know. Back home, I had a computer for this sort of question. So, I guessed. “I’m sure it’s a compliment.”
“Tink couldn’t tell me either,” Peter said with a deep, sad sigh.
“Prepare to meet your end, boy!” Hook shouted. He moved quickly out of the way, revealing a cylinder-shaped object made out of black iron, longer than I was tall.
“Uh-oh,” I said. “Is that a cannon?”
Tink started chittering anxiously. The pirates around the cannon leered, showing missing teeth. Peter just stood tall in front of the cloud. Slowly, tauntingly, he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue.
“Fire!” cried Hook.
“Incoming!” shouted Peter.
Something black and round blasted out of the cannon with a puff of smoke.
Maybe Peter and Tink were used to cannonballs, but I certainly wasn’t.
I barrel-rolled out of the way, holding on to the straps of my backpack so I wouldn’t lose it. A few seconds later, the cannonball fell into the ocean with a comforting thunk. Still tumbling, I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“That was close,” I told Peter, righting myself. My heart was still beating pretty hard.
Peter suddenly pointed. “Something fell out of your bag.”
I looked down. A rectangular glint of silver was dropping toward the ocean. “Oh, no—Mom’s iPod!”
I raced it to the water, arms stretched out to grab it. If I lost it, there was no way I could keep from getting in trouble when I went home. I almost rescued it—I came close enough to hear “Jingle Bells” playing. Ten feet from the water, my fingertips brushed it, and I reached just a little farther.
But then huge jaws, lined with foot-long teeth, rose from the water and snapped up Mom’s iPod.
Chapter 5.
I Try to Be a Mother
I screamed and shot away from the water, zipping over to where Peter was waiting.
“What was that?” I asked, hiding behind Peter. The monster swam over a huge wave toward the pirates, all the teeth visible in its enormous jaws.
“Croc, the crocodile,” he said, like I should know.
“You dogs!” Hook shouted to his men on the ship. “Ready the cannon again!”
“It’s as big as a dinosaur!” I said.
The monster slithered around the Jolly Roger lazily. The only parts of him visible above the water were the dark green ridges on his back and his yellow, bulblike eyes. He was huge—about two-thirds the length of the ship.
Then Croc rose from the sea and clawed at the ship’s rail. Seeing his old enemy, Captain Hook screamed so loudly that the sound echoed off Neverland’s cliffs.
“Raise anchor, lads!” a chubby pirate shouted. “Unlash the sails!”
“What’s that long scar?” I asked. It ran from right above the crocodile’s eye all the way down to his tail.
“War wound,” Peter said. “Compliments of Hook.”
Since he couldn’t get over the rail, Croc sank slowly back into the ocean. The pirates tried to aim the cannon at him, but the reptile sank out of sight.
The fairy chirped something to Peter.
“Tink’s right,” he said, tossing his head so that the feather bounced in an eye-catching way. “We should go. It won’t be any fun to bother the pirates while the c
rocodile’s here.”
“But what about the iPod?” I said.
Tink said something with a smug smile, and Peter nodded solemnly. “Looks like it’s gone forever.”
He started flying back toward the island, and I flew after him, worrying about home. Mom was going to be really mad.
“It wasn’t mine.”
But Peter spoke before I could explain about Mom.
“What is an iPod?” he asked.
“It plays music.”
“I can do that.” Peter pulled some wooden pipes out of his pocket—hollow reeds dried out, cut to different lengths, and tied together flat with very slender vines. He started to blow a merry tune. He watched me eagerly, like he wanted me to say that he was much better than anything that had just gotten eaten by a crocodile.
I smiled a little. Peter’s playing wasn’t exactly the same, and it definitely wouldn’t keep me from getting in trouble for losing Mom’s iPod. But it was nice of him to try. Just as nice as covering me with a cloud blanket while I slept.
From Peter’s shoulder, Tink chimed something, interrupting his tune, and he took the pipes away from his mouth. “Look! There are the Lost Boys now. And Tiger Lily.”
“Where?” I asked excitedly, and Peter pointed to a clearing below us.
I saw Tiger Lily first—her chin held high, her long black hair braided with feathers, the beaded diamond pattern stitched on her deerskin dress. She looked like a princess should look, tall and proud and royal. The Lost Boys gathered around her, all leaning forward, like they were listening intently.
None of them looked up, and no one looked all that excited to make a new friend. I started to feel awkward. Like maybe nobody wanted me in Neverland.
Then Peter crowed as loud as he could to get their attention.
All the Lost Boys turned at once. Then they waved wildly, crying, “Peter! Peter!” and once, “Hey, it’s the Wendy girl!”
Tiger Lily looked too. When I thought she glanced my way, I tried to wave at her, but she must not have seen. She turned and disappeared into the trees.
My shyness didn’t get any better after Peter and I landed.
“What a hat, Peter!” cried one Lost Boy.
“Is it Hook’s?”
“Of course it’s Hook’s,” said Peter.
“Can I try it?” asked another Lost Boy.
I’d landed a little bit behind Peter and was waiting for him to introduce me. My stomach was in knots. Standing there, I wasn’t at all sure that they wanted me to come.
“Later,” Peter said, stepping aside, gesturing to me with both hands and a huge grin. “Lost Boys,” he announced proudly, “I’ve brought you the latest Wendy girl.”
The Lost Boys rushed forward, crowding around me, pressing very close. It was too much attention at once. I had to stop myself from taking a step back.
“My name is Ashley,” I said, hoping that the Lost Boys wouldn’t call me Wendy girl all the time the way Peter did.
No such luck.
“Hi, Wendy girl!” said the second-shortest one. His hair was just as curly as Peter’s, but a whiter shade of blond. “I’m Dibs!”
Another boy pushed Dibs out of the way. He was almost as tall as I was, and his dark hair was a little long. His pants looked like bell-bottoms. He had obviously been in Neverland for a while. “Prank,” he said, shaking my hand heartily.
“I’m Button,” said a slow, bashful voice. It belonged to the shyest of the Lost Boys, the one standing to the side and shuffling his feet. It was obvious where he got his name. He had hundreds of buttons sewn to his shirt, straining against the ragged fabric. (He was a little chubbier than the rest.)
“Hi, Button,” I said. At least they were much friendlier than Tink. And Peter, actually.
“And that’s Kyle,” Peter said, pointing to the little boy hiding behind Button.
“Kyle?” I repeated, surprised. I mean, I had a Kyle in my class two years ago. After Dibs and Prank and Button, Kyle seemed like a pretty ordinary name.
The little boy scowled immediately, looking a lot like Peter did when he didn’t like something. The Lost Boys were quick to defend him.
“He hasn’t gotten a Neverland name yet.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“He just got here.”
“You should be grateful to Kyle,” said Peter. “He’s the one who kept saying we could use a Wendy girl to help out.”
“Well, really, he was nagging,” said one (Prank, I think), but the other two elbowed him hard.
“I didn’t mean to insult anyone,” I said quickly. “I’ve always liked the name Kyle.” Then I leaned closer to the littlest Lost Boy, adding, “Actually, I should thank you for convincing Peter to go get me.”
Kyle smiled at that. His front teeth were missing. It made me wonder how long his front teeth would be missing, if he didn’t get any older.
I looked around for other Lost Boys waiting to be introduced, but nobody else was there. “Shouldn’t there be more of you?” I had expected lots and lots of them.
“We lost a few recently,” Prank said, looking a little nervous.
“They were growing up,” Peter said darkly, and all the Lost Boys shuddered.
“What happened to them?” I asked, curious.
“Are you sure this is a Wendy girl, Peter?” asked Dibs.
Prank was suspicious too. “She certainly asks a lot of questions. Wendy girls don’t ask questions.”
“Where’s her nightgown?” Button said. “I thought all Wendy girls were supposed to have nightgowns.”
I looked down at my pajamas. They were perfectly presentable. The neon pink and green stripes weren’t even a little bit faded. “I haven’t worn a nightgown since I was eight.” It seemed weird that they wouldn’t like me just because I slept in the wrong clothes.
“Well, I like her,” said Kyle, giving all the other Lost Boys that fierce scowl. “Peter, what do you think?”
The Lost Boys all turned to their leader. Under Hook’s hat, Peter regarded me shrewdly. “Well, she’s not like any of the Wendy girls we’ve had in Neverland before, but I’m sure that she’ll make a fine mother for you all.”
“A mother!” chorused the Lost Boys, delighted.
“A mother?” I repeated. My stomach plummeted. I’d come to Neverland for adventure!
The Lost Boys crowded around me again, pressing so close that I couldn’t tell who was saying what.
“Will you tell us stories?”
“Will you make us dinner?”
“Make us cookies?”
“Sew up our clothes?”
“Why does everyone think I can sew?” I asked, confused.
The Lost Boys obviously had really old-fashioned ideas about girls. Maybe because they had been stuck in Neverland so long. It had been decades since Grandma Delaney had been the Wendy girl.
“You’re our mother,” said Dibs wistfully.
“I’m eleven,” I told them.
“That’s not a problem,” Kyle said.
“It just takes a little Pretending,” Button said.
“All of the Wendy girls were young,” Prank added.
“It is a problem,” I said. “I can’t be anybody’s mother. I won’t have time to—” But I didn’t get a chance to finish.
All the Lost Boys gasped at once, staring at me.
“But that’s why you came, isn’t it?” Dibs said finally. “Peter brought you to be our mother, didn’t he?”
I had come to Neverland to be their friend, not their mom, but it wasn’t my opinion they wanted.
One by one, the Lost Boys and Tink turned to Peter.
“Maybe you’re right, Tink,” Peter said, looking at me. The feather on Hook’s hat fell in front of his face, and he pushed it aside hastily. “If she doesn’t want to be our mother, she isn’t much use to us. Maybe I should take her back.”
I’d just gotten to Neverland. I couldn’t leave now. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to talk to the mermaids. Or
Tiger Lily.
I thought quickly. There had to be a way out of this.
Then I hung my head and shuffled my feet like I was moping. “It’s not that I don’t want to be your mother. I just don’t think that I can.”
“Sure, you can,” Button said encouragingly.
“All Wendy girls can be mothers!” Dibs said.
“But I’m not sure that you would like it,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Mothers today are different. Not what you’re expecting.”
“We’ll love it!”
“Please, Wendy girl,” Dibs said.
I looked at him for a long minute, weighing the decision.
I definitely had a plan, but tricking the Lost Boys wasn’t the best way to start our friendship. Then again, I knew being their mother was all wrong, even if they didn’t know it yet. They had no idea how much fun our adventures could be if I wasn’t stuck being a mother. They would all forgive me as soon as they found out.
Finally, reluctantly, I nodded.
The Lost Boys raised a cheer. Even Peter smiled. Only Tink had doubts. She flew up to the branch above me, watching me through narrowed eyes.
“First things first,” I said. “To be a mother, I need some paper.”
“Paper?” Prank repeated, confused.
“Not the apron?” Dibs said. “You mean the apron, right?”
“Dibs, get your mother paper!” Peter ordered. Dibs scurried over to a birch tree and started ripping off long strips of bark.
“And glasses,” I added.
“I’ll do it!” said Button, and he began gathering twigs and handfuls of grass.
“And I’ll need a computer,” I said firmly.
The Lost Boys all looked at each other, puzzled.
“A what?” Prank said.
“Computers are banned from Neverland,” Peter said in his most commanding voice. It made me think that he didn’t know what one was.
“Okay, just the paper and glasses, then,” I said quickly, ready to get it over with.
Dibs dropped the bark in my lap, which actually did look like paper, and Button ceremoniously presented me with the glasses he had made—twigs bound together with long grasses.
“Wow,” I said, impressed. “This is really something, Button.”