by Zoe Barton
“We understand,” said Button. “We’ve all lost our mothers somehow.”
“Usually, though, Lost Boys just get—you know—lost. I’ve never heard of a mother leaving,” said Prank. “No wonder you came to Neverland.”
“You’re better off here,” said Kyle, patting my shoulder with a comforting smile. “Maybe you’ll stay and become a Lost Girl.”
I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t planned to stay forever. Could I? Mom and Dad were probably home. By Tuesday, they’d be done with their work, and then it would be Christmas.
But it was nice to feel accepted. So, I didn’t say anything.
“Neverland doesn’t have any Lost Girls.” Prank frowned at Kyle.
“So?” said Kyle. “I bet once it didn’t have any Lost Boys either. She could be the first Lost Girl.”
“Impossible. Do you think that will strike fear into Hook’s heart?” To me, Prank added, “It’s not personal, but we do have to protect our reputation. I can just hear Smee now: ‘Look, Cap’n—here come Peter Pan, the Lost Boys, and a Lost Girl.’ It totally messes up the sound of it.”
Prank did a really good impression of Smee—the same raspy accent and the overexaggerated cheerfulness. I couldn’t help giggling.
Button wasn’t paying attention. He was examining the tree. “We should probably get your bed set up, before it gets any later.”
Chapter 10.
Button Makes Me a Hammock
Bed. Just hearing the word made me realize how tired I was, even more tired than I’d been earlier. My arms were sluggish with weariness, my eyelids heavy. Apparently, sleeping on the back of the wind hadn’t given me the most restful night ever. “Okay,” I said. “Tell me what I need to do.”
“We make the hammocks out of two leaves,” Button said. “They need to be about six feet long and right on top of each other.”
I stared up at the enormous tree. Moonlight reflected off the glossy leaves. Right above us, there was a cluster of leaves no longer than my pinky finger, and a little higher to the right, a whole branch with leaves the length of my leg. I didn’t see even one six-foot-long leaf.
It might be a long time before I got to sleep.
“They’re usually up where the other hammock beds are,” Button said, a little anxiously. “Is that okay?”
I nodded, so grateful that I had to resist the urge to hug him. Button smiled, like he was pleased to be helpful, and when he took off, I flew up after him, leaving Kyle and Prank bickering behind us.
“Maybe we could rename ourselves. We could be the Lost Children. Or the Lost Kids,” said Kyle.
“The ‘Lost Kids’? That still sounds stupid. If we’re going to change our name, it’ll have to be just as cool as what we already have.”
Button flew to the row of branches directly below Peter’s red house, maybe seventy-five feet above the ground. There, the four leaf hammocks Prank had shown me earlier swayed a little in the breeze. One of them was occupied.
“Good night, Dibs,” Button called, but Dibs just scowled at us both and drew a ragged blanket up until it covered his face.
“Don’t mind him,” Button whispered, landing on a branch a little above the other hammocks, directly opposite Peter’s house. “Dibs just really wanted a mother.”
Even with the blanket, you could still see how upset he was—something about how his body was all hunched up. It made me want to apologize again, but I didn’t know how. Especially since I had this feeling that Dibs would just say something nasty like he had before.
Button tugged two leaves of the right size into place until they were matched from end to end above and below the branch they grew from. One leaf’s waxy side faced the sky, and the other faced the ground.
“What’s the top leaf for?” I asked.
“To keep the rain off.” Button held the stems tightly to the top and bottom of the branch with both hands. “Can you hold it in place—just like this?”
I placed my hands exactly like Button had. Each stem was as thick around as my big toe. “It rains in Neverland?”
“Thunderstorms, mostly,” Button said, inspecting the tree’s trunk, where a number of vines snaked up toward the sky. He tested each of them and then picked a thick one, grabbing the end and pulling it off. “You know, Dibs won’t say it, and neither will the others, but we’re really glad that you saved us from having to move.”
“I did?” I asked, surprised.
“Yeah—when you stopped Peter from chasing away the pirates.” Button began to wrap the vine around the stems I was holding down. “Whenever Peter attacks from a tree, Hook figures that he must live there and sends his pirates to investigate. We’ve lost our last three trees that way.”
“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to me that the Lost Boys wouldn’t want to move either.
Button tied the vine around the branch and bound stems with an expert knot, and, tugging yards and yards of extra vine from the tree trunk, he nodded at the other side of the leaf. “Can you hold that end the same way, please?”
I flew down the branch, and, grabbing the ends of the leaf, I clamped my hands over them like Button had done on the other side. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” Button said. He began to fly around and around the branch with another vine—this one more slender—weaving a net around the leaf hammock as he went. His hands were so sure and quick that I had a hard time following them in the moonlight.
It was strange to watch Button. Earlier that day, I’d thought that he was the most bumbling of the Lost Boys, but as he wrapped the last of the vine around the ends of the leaves I held down, Button seemed as confident as Peter.
“Cool,” I said. The netting looked pretty professional.
Tying the final knot, Button ducked his head bashfully. “Well, I may not be a very good fighter, but I can always make things. Would you mind testing it out?”
I wiggled through one of the larger holes in the netting and lay down carefully on the bottom leaf, staring at the branch above me. I was ready to fly up again if the hammock showed any sign of falling, but the net around the bottom leaf held my weight without even creaking. The inside had a soft texture, a little bit like flannel. That leaf hammock was actually more comfortable than my bed at home.
I almost fell asleep right then, but Button asked, a little anxiously, “Well? Is it okay?”
“Wow,” I said, sitting up abruptly and fighting my way awake again. “You’re really good at making things.”
Button ducked his head, not wanting to show how proud he felt. “Want to see something else I made?”
I kind of wanted to get straight to sleep, but I didn’t want to offend him when he was being so nice to me. “Sure,” I said, flying quickly out of bed before I drifted off again.
Button flew down to the branch below us, one that was right next to a leaf hammock (it was so much wider than the others that I suspected that it was his). A few leaves as long as my arm leaned up against the trunk, and when he removed them, Button looked at me eagerly.
There, carved straight into the trunk, was a ship sailing on a choppy sea. Captain Hook’s pirate ship, I realized, flying closer and squinting in the dim light. A flag with a skull and crossbones hung from the mast, and the words Jolly Roger had been added on the hull. The ship was so wonderfully carved that the wide sails seemed to billow and ripple above the deck.
“Button, you’re an artist,” I said, astonished.
“You think so?” He stood up a little straighter, his chest swelling with pride. “I do my best. My mother was an artist. Or at least I think she was. I remember her standing in front of an easel with a paintbrush. It’s actually all that I can remember.” His voice wobbled; but when I looked up in alarm, wondering if he was all right, his face was blank, without a trace of sadness.
He obviously didn’t want anyone to know that he missed his mother, so I pretended not to notice, concentrating on the tree trunk.
A little farther down, I spotted another carving—a
lion, every hair in his mane crafted separately, his jaws opened in a roar. Each tooth looked sharp enough to pierce the skin. “I love this one. I can almost hear him.”
Button ducked his head bashfully again, but it had to have been a happy thought. He rose at least three feet in the air. “There’s the one I’m carving now,” he said, pointing to a charcoal sketch a little below the lion—a humanlike figure with short hair, wings, and a rose-petal dress. So far, only one foot had been carved.
I knew exactly who it was supposed to be. “Tinker Bell.”
“Don’t tell her it’s here. Otherwise, she’ll sneak up all the time to see how much I’ve carved.”
I nodded, smirking. If Tink reacted to this carving the same way that she had to the Polaroid earlier, she would become a major pain in the butt.
Farther down, I saw drawings of leaves and lions and fairies and something that looked a lot like Peter’s house, circling around the trunk and out of sight. “But why would you carve it all the way up here? If you made it closer to the ground, more people could admire your work. You definitely deserve to be admired.”
At the compliment, Button rose even higher with a proud smile. “I just wanted to decorate the staircase a little.”
“The staircase?” Then, for the first time, I noticed the steps that wound around the tree. They blended in almost as much as a Never bird, because each step rested either on the base of a branch or on an extra-large knot protruding from the trunk. I might not have seen the staircase at all, but each step had a groove in the middle, as if many feet had worn a path. “Whoa—where did that come from?”
“Well, we Pretended it there. The Lost Boys, I mean. A while ago. It took all four of us concentrating really hard,” said Button. “Peter and Tink had been off on an adventure for so long that we ran out of fairy dust. We couldn’t fly, so we either had to imagine ourselves a staircase to get to the hammocks or spend the night sleeping on the ground.”
I looked at Button curiously. If the Lost Boys could Pretend a staircase onto their tree, what else could be Pretended into being?
Chapter 11.
We Fake a Thunderstorm
“You have to stay here.”
“No, I don’t. You need my help.”
The voices woke me up, but it took me a moment to recognize them. I rubbed my eyes and stared around me in sleepy confusion. The light shining through the leaves was still weak and gray. The sun wasn’t even up yet.
“I’ve handled it plenty of times on my own.”
“Yeah, but you said yourself that this particular harvest isn’t a one-Lost-Boy job.”
I was sleeping between two giant leaves, inside a net woven from vines.
That’s right—I was in Neverland!
I sat up, suddenly wide-awake. I refused to sleep anymore if I could have adventures instead. As soon as that occurred to me, I started to float. Excitement can do that to a Wendy girl.
“Well, it’s not really a two-Lost-Boy job either, so it would be better if you stayed here. You’ll only get in my way.”
“I won’t. Prank, I promise I won’t.”
I peered over the edge of the leaf hammock. Prank flew across the clearing, carrying something that I couldn’t make out in the dim light. Kyle gave himself a running start and jumped up in the air, chasing after Prank.
They were going to do something way more exciting than spring cleaning. I just knew it. I wiggled through the leaf-hammock net and raced after them, following the sound of their voices.
“Go back, Kyle. The fairies will recognize you.”
“Won’t they recognize you? You’re the one who always goes over there. Besides, you promised to let me help.”
I ducked under a leafy branch and found them. Prank carried a large flat sheet of metal under his arm. It looked a lot like a cookie sheet. He also had a bucket hanging from his elbow and a plastic watering can in his other hand, but Kyle was trying to wrestle the watering can away.
“Hey, guys,” I said as casually as possible.
“Good morning!” said Kyle.
“Oh, no—not you, too,” said Prank with a groan.
“What are you guys up to?”
“We’re going to the fairies’ tree to harvest fairy dust!” Kyle cried. “That way, we’ll still be able to fly even if Tink gets mad and refuses to give us any.”
The fairies’ tree! I would love to see more fairies.
“Except it’s not ‘we.’ I’m the only one going,” said Prank.
“Prank, that’s not fair!”
“I can’t have you messing things up. Tricking an entire tree of fairies is a very delicate operation.”
“Well, of course Kyle wants to come,” I said quickly, cutting in before the argument got really carried away. “Your tricks are legendary in Neverland. It’s only natural we would want to see you in action.”
“But I want to help—,” Kyle started to protest, but I shot him a warning look. I knew what I was doing. Sometimes, a little flattery could go a long way. Well, much farther than arguing or begging anyway.
Prank’s mouth twitched oddly, like he wanted to smile very wide, but he thought it might be beneath his dignity as someone legendary in Neverland. “Fine, you can come,” he said finally, passing the watering can to Kyle and the oversized cookie sheet to me. “But you better do everything exactly how I tell you.”
“Yes!” Kyle cried, and, hugging the cookie sheet to my chest, I hid a triumphant smile.
Dodging tree limbs, we flew after Prank, who still carried the bucket in the crook of his elbow. “Your goal,” Prank said, sounding more serious than I’d ever heard him, “is to lure the fairies out of their tree long enough for me to collect the fairy dust.”
Overcome with excitement, Kyle began to snort softly through his nose, grinning widely.
Prank stopped and gave him a stern look. “This is no laughing matter, Kyle. If you can’t settle down and focus, then I really will make you go back.”
Kyle clamped his hand over his mouth, and I felt for him. I definitely knew what it was like for people to threaten to send you home.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked.
Prank turned away and started flying through the trees again. “To get all the fairies out at the same time, they have to believe that something irresistible is outside. The only thing all fairies find completely irresistible is—”
“A thunderstorm!” Kyle interrupted, letting his hand fall from his mouth.
“But why?” I asked, privately thinking that his plan was a little far-fetched.
“Because a lightning bolt will grant a wish,” Prank said. “If they can catch it.”
For the fairies’ sake, I hoped that lightning bolts were less deadly in Neverland than they were at home.
The idea excited Kyle so much that he started sailing through the trees a little higher than Prank and me, giggling madly again.
“Kyle,” Prank said sharply.
Kyle stopped giggling. “Sorry.”
“You’re Rain,” Prank told him, pointing at the watering can Kyle was carrying. “Let’s see you practice.”
With his eyebrows pinched together and his tongue sticking out, Kyle tipped the watering can carefully. A steady shower of water spilled from the spout and plopped to the forest floor ten feet below.
“No, not like that,” Prank said flatly, and Kyle’s face fell. “The hard part is not to overdo it,” Prank explained, a little more gently. “There’s only three of us—we could probably never mimic a thunderstorm in full swing, but we can probably convince the fairies that one is starting. Kyle, you just need to sprinkle a few drops here and there.”
“Maybe you can Pretend,” I suggested, suddenly remembering what the Lost Boys had said about Pretending being better than practicing. “Just imagine that you’re already a great rain faker or something.”
When Kyle looked to him for permission, Prank shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt.”
“Okay.” Kyle concentrated again,
his tongue sticking out, and he only spilled a few drops.
Prank nodded. “Much better. You’re Thunder, Wendy girl.”
It took me a second to remember that Prank meant me. “Please call me Ashley,” I said as I started to Pretend, my toes and fingers tingling.
I held the cookie sheet in front of me and rattled it. It did sound a lot like thunder.
“Good. Now follow me,” Prank said, flying forward.
Even though I had only seen it once before, I recognized the fairies’ tree as soon as we reached it. It stood at the edge of a cliff, high above the sea. It glowed in the predawn dark, lit from the inside with hundreds of different-colored lights.
“Those are the fairies,” Kyle whispered. “The white ones are girls, and the purplish ones are boys.”
“What about the blue ones?” I asked.
Kyle frowned a little, thinking. “Not sure.”
“Shh. No more talking,” Prank said, as strict as any general before a battle. But his eyes gleamed, like he couldn’t wait to get started. “We don’t want to wake them up too early.”
When we got close enough to see through the leaves, I stifled a gasp. I had been impressed when I’d seen Button make the hammock the night before, but that was nothing compared to what the fairies had constructed. With a few slender vines and some big leaves folded like origami, they had created a whole town. Miniature houses sat on every branch, complete with shutters and patios. One even had a swimming pool.
A few of the larger buildings made me think that the fairies had done some traveling. I saw a castle with a moat and a drawbridge, two Eiffel Towers, a couple of pyramids with a sphinx out front, a Statue of Liberty, and a skinny structure as tall as I was, which looked a lot like the Empire State Building.
It was completely stunning. Tink had to really love Peter and the Lost Boys to decide to live with them instead of here with the other fairies. Knowing that made me wish she liked me more.
Spread over the ground below the tree and its leaf buildings was a layer of what looked like fine gold sugar, a few inches deep. It glowed and glittered on its own—fairy dust. Since all the fairies lived there, their dust had collected on the ground, unused and unnoticed.