Forever Neverland

by Forever Neverland (epub)

  The truth was, his thoughts were anything but happy. He was troubled.

  Hook had bested him in battle. How? Why? How? It ripped at the very fabric of what he knew to be true. It just wasn’t the way things worked. Not in his world.

  But this isn’t my world, Peter thought. A cloud loomed closer up ahead. He brought his arms down to his sides and ploughed right into it.

  “Peter!” he faintly heard Tootles hollering after him from behind. But he wasn’t around long enough to see that Tinkerbell shimmered, hesitantly, at the edge of the cloud and then shot into the white unknown after Peter. Tootles followed them both as quickly as he could.

  And I fell, Peter thought. I never fall.

  But the worst thoughts that had taken up residence in his troubled mind of late were all about Wendy.

  Wendy.

  She had certainly grown, hadn’t she. He would have had to be an utter idiot not to notice. She’d become tall and strong and her hair had highlights in it that he’d never noticed before. Her eyes were darker. They seemed full of mysteries now. . . and something else.

  She was. . . . Well, she’s beautiful, he thought, his fists tightening at his sides. Duh. She’s beautiful. You knew she would be, didn’t you, Peter?

  He had seen something special in her five years ago, as he’d perched on her windowsill and watched her play with her brothers. He’d noticed something singular and exceptional and an unknown part of him had recognized it and latched on tooth and nail. She was the first and only girl he had ever taken to Neverland.

  Wendy. A girl who was most certainly a girl – but one who loved life the way a boy did. There could be nothing more unique and special than that.

  And she hates me, Peter thought. Wendy hates me.

  With a frustrated growl, Peter ran his hand through his hair, grabbed a fist full of it, and then let it go. His head was beginning to ache. And the clouds had left a film of water over his face that was getting into his eyes.

  He’d been doing okay for a while. Once he’d had enough of Tinkerbell’s tea to chase the lingering pain from his body. But then those damn thoughts had settled in.

  He was grateful to Tink, of course, for healing him and taking such great care of him. She’d been so concerned that he might fall again that she had sprinkled enough pixie dust over his head and body for twenty men, and grouchy ones at that.

  She was a good friend. He knew that.

  And that troubled him, too. Because he knew he was treating her like dirt. And he couldn’t help himself. He was well and truly angry. And more than a touch scared.

  What had he ever done to make Wendy hate him? Again, his thoughts turned back. He showed her his world! He made her a Lost Boy! He saved her from Hook!

  Hook. She was with Hook at this very moment. And yet, Peter was able to return home. He’d promised he would not return home until all of Neverland’s children were okay.

  If the star hadn’t winked out this time – did that mean that Wendy was okay?

  “How?” he asked out loud. He shot through the other end of the cloud, water vapor clinging to his jacket and the ends of his blonde hair. He hastily rubbed his leather sleeve across his eyes to clear them. He could feel the scowl on his face. “How can she be all right with….” He gritted his teeth and picked up his pace, feeling the same need for speed in the air that he’d often felt on the ground. “How can she possibly be okay with him!”

  “What, Peter?” Tinkerbell hovered frenetically by his ear, her wings flapping so fast that they were invisible. She’d caught up with him somehow and had to raise her tiny voice in order to be heard over the wind they raised as they sped through the night sky.

  Peter was vaguely impressed with her flying ability. But then, she was a pixie. Fairies were amazing creatures, in general.

  He shook his head, waving her inquiry away. Tinkerbell frowned. “I don’t think he’s going to hurt her!” she yelled back at him.

  Peter turned toward her and blinked. “What?”

  “Hook!” Tink replied. “He isn’t going to hurt Wendy!”

  Peter’s scowl was back. “How the hell do you know?”

  Tinkerbell flinched at the tone of his voice. She backed up a few inches, turned away from him, and took several deep breaths.

  Peter was instantly sorry for swearing at her. He’d never done that before. Not even when he’d had too much wine.

  Then Tinkerbell raised her chin and squared her shoulders. She turned to face him once more. “He’s not that kind of captain, Peter!”

  Peter came to a dead stop, then, all thought of apology gone from his mind.

  Tootles, who had been progressively picking up speed in order to catch up with the two of them, proceeded to plough directly into Peter’s back.

  Peter lurched forward a few feet, tumbled a bit in the air, and then caught himself. He straightened and whirled on Tinkerbell, ignoring Tootles.

  The moon shone over Peter’s left shoulder, outlining his tall, strong form in blue-white light. “Captain James Hook is a scoundrel! A villain!” he yelled, his hands gesturing angrily as he spoke. “Hook is a pirate lord, Tink! He doesn’t care about anyone but himself! He’s evil – always has been and always will be!” He shook his head adamantly and pointed a nearly accusatory finger at the tiny pixie. “He will never change, Tinkerbell!” He backed up in the air, shaking his head once more for emphasis. “Never.”

  Tinkerbell gazed open-mouthed at Peter.

  He had never spoken to her like this before. What was wrong with him? What had gotten into him? He had never cursed at her. Not even when he’d banished her from Neverland for a week because she’d tricked the Lost Boys into shooting down the “Wendy Bird” had he been so angry.

  This wasn’t the Peter she knew.

  The night air had grown quiet around them. Tootles hovered several feet away, obviously unsure of what to do or say.

  And Tinkerbell couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  There was red in Peter’s eyes. It wasn’t the too-much-pixie-dust-wine kind of red that sometimes lined and marred his emerald gaze. It was a flash of ruby and scarlet, lit by some internal fire, and she’d be damned if it didn’t look exactly like the blood-colored glow that was known to befall Hook’s own blue gaze right before he struck with the silver weapon on the end of his right arm.

  As Peter hovered there in the air, safe in the abundance of pixie dust she’d sprinkled upon him on the ground, Tinkerbell took in Peter’s broad form. The black clothing. The shadow of stubble on his cheeks and chin.

  Finally, she looked back into his red, glowing eyes. And as Peter turned and shot once more through the air toward that waiting, second star, Tinkerbell worriedly shook her head.

  “People change, Peter,” she whispered. She hugged herself against a sudden, hard chill. And then she and Tootles flew quietly after Pan.

  *****

  Tiger Lily crouched silent and low behind the butter-bee bushes lining the shore of Pirate’s Cove. Out on the horizon, trapped in the pink and purple glow of a dawning sea, sat the Jolly Roger, anchored, as always, several hundred yards away in the salty water.

  There was little movement on deck. Tiger Lily could tell, even from this distance, that the crew of the massive pirate ship was subdued. Every now and then, a shout rang out across the distance, but it was only a higher ranking crew member giving orders to another. Daily chores. Swabbing decks and all of that nonsense that pirates busied themselves with.

  The captain had made only one appearance. He’d emerged from his quarters, given some form of instruction to his first mate, and then disappeared below decks. There’d been no further sign of him for the last ten minutes.

  And there was no sign of Peter. Tiger Lily scanned the skies once more, her eagle eye searching for any indication of movement in the puffy pink-white clouds. Nothing.

  “It looks like they’re preparing to come to shore.”

  Tiger Lily looked up and over at Lean Wolf. He was shielding his
gaze from the sun with his right hand, his eyes squinted so that he could make things out clearly across the distance between them and the pirate ship.

  “They’re lowering the boats into the water.”

  He was right. Tiger Lily watched as the men on board began to navigate the pulley system so that two small row boats were settled gently atop the sea. This was a development.

  She straightened and moved away from the bush so that she could stand once more in the shadows. She turned to her two companions. “We’ll need to take word back to camp. Lean Wolf, you’re the fastest. Go and warn the others.”

  Lean Wolf nodded. Once.

  “Panther, you stay with me. We’ll keep an eye on Hook’s men and see if they know anything about where to find Peter.”

  *****

  Michael knocked softly on the big oak door that barred the way into the captain’s enormous cabin. He was shaking – just a little – and couldn’t believe he was actually about to step foot into the very room in which his arch nemesis slept and ate and dressed.

  “Who is it?” Wendy’s voice came quietly from beyond.

  “It’s me, sis.” He cleared his throat to speak a little louder. “It’s Michael.”

  He expected her to say, “come in,” but instead, he heard her footsteps race quickly across the wooden planks beyond and then he moved back as she turned the knob on the door and it swung open.

  “Michael,” she leaned down and hugged him as if she hadn’t seen him in ages. He blinked and hugged her back, wondering at the sudden show of emotion. And then he felt the wetness on his cheek where hers had pressed against it.

  He pulled away. “You’ve been crying.”

  Wendy looked up and stiffened. She stood, straightening, her eyes on something behind Michael. She hurriedly wiped at her cheeks and eyes and motioned for her brother to come into the room.

  Michael glanced once over his shoulder. Billy Jukes was leaning against a wooden banister, his one good eye locked on Michael and Wendy. It glittered in the noon-day light, his expression making it clear that he’d noticed the exchange.

  Suddenly self-conscious, and feeling inexplicably protective of his big sister, Michael stepped into the captain’s quarters and Wendy closed the door after him.

  “What’s going on? Why were you-” Michael had meant to ask her, once more, why she had been crying, but when Wendy moved away and he was able to get a good look at his surroundings, he could do no more than stand there, in awe, and gaze at the luxuriousness of Captain James Hook’s living quarters.

  “Wow. . . .”

  Wendy sighed heavily. “Yes. He does seem to have a lot of things, doesn’t he.”

  “Holy smokes. . . .” Michael deftly ran his hand over a gold engraved harp that rested against the nearest wall. Beside it was a violin, polished and perfect in its intricate scroll work. Michael moved down the row of instruments, his shaking fingers running over the smooth wood and carved ivory. The occasional ruby or emerald inlay winked at him in the light streaming through the cut glass windows.

  “We’re going to shore, you know,” he told her as he eyed the precious belongings of the notorious pirate captain.

  “Yes, Smee told me,” Wendy replied.

  “They said it would take them a while to get everything ready. I asked if I could come see you since we were leaving anyway, and Captain Hook gave Jukes the order to escort me here.”

  Wendy was quiet. Michael was too absorbed in what he was seeing to notice that she was too quiet.

  And then, as if jolted out of his admiration by his own words, Michael shook his head, dug his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a folded scrap of paper. “I saved this when mom and dad were taking all of your stories and giving them to Dr. Coffer.”

  Wendy took the paper from him and unfolded it. Her own handwriting covered every inch of the sheet, from edge to edge. It was one of his favorite bits from one of her best stories. He’d managed to swipe it just before their father had ripped through her room, a tornado of unfantasy, seizing and destroying the realms that Wendy had so carefully built up over the years.

  He watched her reading the words now, a tiny smile playing about her pink lips. And he didn’t fail to notice when her eyes became shiny once more.

  “Oh Michael,” she whispered. “Will we ever be able to go home again?”

  Michael was not an ordinary ten year old. And so, when she asked if they would ever be able to go home again, he knew she didn’t mean it literally. He knew that what she actually meant was, “How will we ever face that again? How will we ever be able to live in that world when it refuses to believe in this one?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.” And he didn’t know if he even wanted to, anyway. It was better here. He was tired of cleaning out the gun deck, but at least here, no one beat him up. Hook wouldn’t let his men lay a finger on him, in fact. It was strange, but even amidst his worst enemies in Neverland, he was safer than he was among his peers in the “real” world.

  Wendy finished reading the paper and refolded it. “That was one of my favorites, you know.”

  “Mine too,” he told her.

  She handed the sheet back to him and he repocketed it. “I have a few as well,” she told him as she dug into her own jeans pocket and pulled out the papers she’d swiped from Dr. Coffer’s table during their last session. “It was the story I wrote for you the day he gave me those pills.”

  “You said you didn’t have time to write,” Michael frowned.

  “I know I did.” She shook her head and ran a hand through her long hair. “I’m sorry, Michael. I fibbed to you because – ” She sighed heavily. “Because Mrs. Pence took the story from me and turned it over to Dr. Coffer before I went to meet him for our appointment that afternoon.” She pinched the bridge of her nose with a slim thumb and forefinger. “It didn’t go well. At all.” She shook her head again and lowered her hand. “And I was afraid that after the way that appointment went, if I so much as read you another word of my stories, you would get into as much trouble as I was in.” She turned from him and made her way to Hook’s bed, where she sank down onto it and stared at the floor.

  “Again, I’m sorry Michael.”

  Michael watched her carefully. He was hurt that she had lied to him. But, as he was, once again, not like other boys his age, instead of becoming angry, he began to try to see things through her eyes. It was something he did when things didn’t go the way he expected them to. It helped him understand the situation – and that ultimately made him feel better.

  So he stood there and started to hear things through Wendy’s ears, the way she would have heard them that day. Then he felt them through her skin. And what he saw and heard and felt scared him. Teachers taking things from him, doctors shooting him dark-eyed looks, classmates snickering behind their books at their desks and in the halls. She had been terrified for Michael – and for herself.

  And seeing and hearing and feeling all of this, Michael couldn’t really blame her for what she did.

  Which meant he couldn’t really be angry.

  Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and chewed on his cheek. Then he asked, “Can you read some of it to me now?”

  Wendy’s head snapped up. Her gray eyes were wide with surprise and confusion. She stared at him for several long moments and he shrugged. Then she straightened and unfolded the sheets of paper in her hand.

  When she cleared her throat and patted the space beside her on the bed, he couldn’t help but smile. He ran to the bed and jumped onto it without any further provocation.

  Wendy’s smile was back. She slid her arm around his shoulders and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Just a little bit, okay? We’ll probably have to go soon.” Then she turned her attention to the papers and began to read….

  In all of Neverland, there were only three rules one had to live by. The first was that you must never swim with the mermaids in Mermaid Lagoon. They were not to be trusted, as beautiful as they
were. This was easy for the Lost Boys to remember, for Peter never failed to remind them.

  The second rule was that Skull Rock was strictly off limits. For there, upon the highest peaks above its empty sockets, rested the weathered bones of the Never Bird. And some things were sacred.

  The third rule, and the only rule which the boys really paid any true attention to day in and day out, was that a Lost Boy must always – always – have fun.

  This was normally quite easy for Tootles, who was the sort of boy who could find something to admire in nearly everything. Even the pirates, with their cold, calculating Captain, could be a good thing. After all, if they were not there, then who would Peter Pan, the fearless leader of the Lost Boys, cross swords with and best in battle?

  However. Tootles, despite his size, was, in truth, rather slight of heart when it came to a few specific things.

  Thunder storms, with their flashes of hot white and their roaring and rumbling and shaking, were something that had always frightened Tootles. He did not understand them. Even here, in Neverland, where there was no orphanage to rattle around him, and no cold to make him shiver, there were still storms. And he still didn’t like them.

  Peter liked them. The other Lost Boys liked them as well, if only because Peter did. They made a game of chasing the lightning and following the thunder and trying to find the monster that bellowed such sounds and breathed such white fire.

  After all, a Lost Boy was to have fun, even in the rain.

  But Tootles did not enjoy playing in the storm. He was usually successful in making up some excuse to refrain from joining the others in this wet and terrifying revelry. Playing in a storm, he knew, deep down in his heart, was dangerous.

  And flying in a storm was even worse. . . .

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tootles cringed when he saw the massive anvil cloud looming up ahead. He knew they were nearing Neverland. It was a sensation in his bones that he figured would never go away, and it signaled the presence of the magic that made up the land. It hummed through his body and sang through his bloodstream.