I ran, bare-chested and barefooted, wearing only my deerskin trousers and my knife. I looked, finally, like the wild boy that Peter always wanted me to be, but I would never be so much of a boy again.
Peter wanted me to stay a boy, but it was Peter, finally, who made me a man.
Then I was at the tree, and there was Nod, sitting on the ground with his back against the trunk, holding his left hand over the bleeding wrist of his right.
Nod gave me a weary smile as I ran to him. It was a very grown-up smile, not the smile of the boy he’d once been at all. “I was a little harder to kill than Peter thought I’d be.”
“You’d think he’d know that, having watched you at Battle all these years.”
I inspected the wound. Peter had done a bad job of it. He’d cut into the inside of Nod’s wrist but not come close to taking the whole hand off. There were a few other nicks and cuts on his chest and arms but the wrist was the worst thing.
I went for the bandages and water, and wrapped Nod’s wrist up tight so that the bleeding would stop.
“Where are Sally and Charlie?” he asked; then he looked at me closely. “Jamie, you have a beard.”
“So do you,” I said, scraping my hand down the side of his cheek.
He seemed surprised by this, and touched his face. It was only a few stringy hairs, but they hadn’t been there before.
Nod laughed, and I was struck by how different that laugh was, how much older it sounded.
“We’re growing up, Jamie,” he said. “I wonder why, after all this time.”
“It’s because we don’t love Peter anymore,” I said. I’d only just figured this out when I saw Nod’s face. “Because we don’t want to be boys and do boy things for always. The island will keep you young if you want it, and Peter never wants to be a man. But we don’t want it anymore.”
“No,” Nod said. “I had enough of being a boy when Fog died.”
I finished patching Nod up and then ran to collect all that I thought we would need on the boat—water, food, rope, weapons. I made certain to pack one of the pirate swords as well as an axe and several small daggers.
There was a great deal to carry, but there was no sense in pushing a rowboat into the sea without supplies. All we would be doing was trading Peter’s death for the slow death of starvation.
I let Nod rest until I was ready. He wanted to carry some of the supplies, but I wouldn’t let him. He’d lost too much blood and I was worried he wouldn’t be able to make it to Skull Rock as it was.
Somehow night had fallen again. How did the days pass so quickly then? I felt as though I’d just left to find Charlie, to save him from the Many-Eyed. I felt like I’d been on the island forever, running in circles, trying to escape Peter’s trap.
Once, a long time before, I’d found a wolf’s paw inside one of our rope traps. Just the paw, not the rest of the wolf. It was mangled and torn and horrible-looking, for the wolf had chewed off its own foot rather than be caught.
I should have chewed off my foot long ago, but I didn’t know that I was in a trap. Peter smiled and made me think there was only joy. Even when there was blood he made me think it was only play, until there was so much of it even Peter couldn’t pretend anymore.
Fireflies lit the night in the forest. I used to love to watch them light up, sparkling like stars close enough to touch, but I swatted any that came near me. I wasn’t certain anymore that they were fireflies. They might be fairies in disguise, spying for Peter and telling tales back to him.
And if they were fairies, they would have no love for me, for I’d burned all the plains where they’d lived.
Would I have still burned the plains if it meant getting rid of the Many-Eyed and saving Charlie? Yes. I would have. But I would have warned the fairies, if I’d known they were there. This was another fault to lay at Peter’s door.
If he hadn’t kept the fairies secret, then they might have been saved. Peter had wanted them all to himself, to keep their magic just for him.
Peter wanted to fly, but he wanted the rest of us bound to earth.
I tried to hurry Nod along, but he was tired and bloodless and not driven by the same fear that I was. He cared about Sally and Charlie, but it wasn’t the same.
Or so I thought.
We’d hardly spoken since leaving the tree. I could think only of Sally and Charlie and Peter and what might happen while I was gone.
Sally wanted me to trust her, to believe that she could look after herself because she had done so for years before she met me. But Sally didn’t know Peter, not really. Peter wasn’t like the boys that Sally fought for food on the streets of the city.
We’d crossed into the dunes, and the sky opened up above us. So many stars wheeled overhead it was hard to imagine them all. They were brighter that night than they’d ever been and they seemed to cry out to me, “Hurry, hurry, hurry.”
“I know she loves you,” Nod said.
He startled me. I wasn’t thinking about love. I was thinking about getting Sally and Charlie off the island and away from Peter. “What?”
“Sally,” Nod said.
I thought he might be blushing.
“So?” I said. I wasn’t certain why we were talking about this now.
“I was hoping it would be me, but it’s you. And I just wanted you to know that’s all right.”
It felt strangely like he was giving us a blessing, and it made me feel awkward in a way that I’d never been with Nod before.
“Okay,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
“You’ve always been the best of us, Jamie,” Nod said, and his voice cracked. “Me and Fog, we always looked up to you. We always wanted to be just like you, only we never were.”
If he was crying I didn’t want to see. I only wanted to get to the beach. The night was spinning on and Peter could have found them by now.
“I wasn’t as good as you think,” I said.
“You kept us alive. You looked after us. We all knew it, even if we didn’t say so. We knew it made Peter jealous.”
“Peter’s not jealous of me,” I said. “Only of anyone that takes me away from him.”
“He is,” Nod insisted. “He knows no one will ever love him the way we all loved you.”
My throat felt clogged suddenly. I cleared it noisily, but found I couldn’t say anything. What could I possibly say?
“We all loved you, and so we loved Peter too, because you did. But when you stopped, so did the rest of us. You always made us see him through your eyes.”
If I’d known I had that kind of power over the boys . . . I might have left sooner. I might have saved more of them.
It took such a long time for me to see Peter as he truly was. He blinded me, and shame wriggled in my stomach.
Was this, too, part of growing up? Was it facing the bad things you’d done as well as the good, and knowing all your mistakes had consequences?
Peter made mistakes all the time—he was thoughtless; he hurt people. But it never troubled him, not for a moment. He forgot all about it in an instant. That was being a boy.
I wasn’t a boy anymore.
Then she screamed, and screamed again. It echoed over the dunes, high and shrill.
Peter. Peter had found them.
I dropped everything I was carrying and ran for my life, for Sally’s life, for Charlie’s life.
One more time, I ran.
chapter 17
Nod ran with me, or tried to, but he soon fell behind. I heard him panting and coughing, trying to keep up. Sally’s scream went on and on.
I don’t know how long I ran, listening to that scream hovering in the air, and then it stopped.
When it stopped, I ran faster, though I didn’t know that I could. My body already felt like it was pushed far past the point of pain or exhaustion. I didn�
�t feel anything except fear, except the pounding of my heart driving me along.
In my mind I saw Sally on the beach, her arms spread out in an “X” like Crow, a big red smile at her throat where there shouldn’t be one at all.
Her blue eyes empty and open, a cloud of dark hair around her head. Just like my mother.
Because that was what Peter did. If I loved someone he took them away. I should never have loved her in the first place. Or Charlie. Or Nod.
Or Fog or Crow or Del or anybody.
Not even my mother. I’d loved her, and so Peter had cut her away from me, just as quick as the pirate he was. He took what he wanted and left what he didn’t behind.
The moon was full, like it always was on the island, watching with its cold, cold eye. The seasons changed but the moon never did. The moon was Peter’s brother, never changing.
It lit up the sand and the ocean like daylight, but at first I didn’t see them. I did see the rowboat, though—Charlie had been right about that. But what good was the boat if Charlie and Sally were dead?
Then I did see them. And everything was worse, much worse than I’d imagined. Peter hadn’t slit Sally’s throat and left her for me to weep over.
He’d brought a crocodile to the beach.
I knew Peter must have done it on purpose, for the crocodiles always stayed near the pond. None of them would have roamed the forest or cruised as far as the place where the marsh met the sea. In all the years I’d been there, I had never seen such a thing.
A huge crocodile, its belly round and dragging in the sand, sprinted after Charlie with surprising speed.
Peter was high above the sand, laughing in the air as Charlie ran, trying to reach the safety of the rocks at the other end. The little boy was so scared he was zigzagging this way and that, always just out of reach of the crocodile’s snapping jaws. I heard his thin cry of terror streaming behind him.
I was sure that if Charlie managed to reach the rocks, Peter would grab him and drop him into the crocodile’s open mouth. Peter was well past the point of pretending to care anymore. No one remained to pretend for—almost all the boys were gone, and the ones who were left no longer believed in him.
I ran, not knowing how I could do it again, knowing only that if I didn’t reach him in time, Charlie would be eaten for certain. And I wished I’d thought to bring some arrows, for nothing would have pleased me more than to shoot Peter out of the sky and watch him fall like a burning star to earth.
There were trails of dark blood in the sand. I caught a glimpse, just from the corner of my eye, something that looked like Sally.
Or something that used to be Sally.
If Sally was dead, I couldn’t help her. Charlie was what mattered now.
Peter didn’t appear to have noticed me yet, for he was too busy laughing himself silly at Charlie’s struggle to reach and climb the rocks.
The last time I was at those rocks I’d had to scrape off what was left of six boys and bury them all. I didn’t want to do that again. I didn’t think I could bear it, to put Charlie in the ground.
The crocodile snapped and this time it caught Charlie’s leg. He screamed in terror as the croc ripped away his pants and teeth grazed his leg, but he wasn’t caught, not yet.
I put on a burst of speed, my dagger out in my left hand, and leapt onto the back of the crocodile. Its scaly back scratched my bare chest and I felt all the muscles of the creature bunching. The animal bucked, trying to roll over and throw me off, but I dug in my knees hard and wrapped my right arm under its jaw to hold it in place and then I slashed as hard as I could across its neck with my other hand.
It wasn’t quite enough, though blood poured over my arm, and the crocodile twisted back and forth, trying to get me off so it could bite and claw.
Peter cried, “That’s not fair of you, Jamie! That’s no fun!”
I didn’t know where Charlie was, but I hoped he was hiding from Peter. It was difficult to see anything except the heaving animal underneath me, lashing its tail and tossing its head to and fro in a desperate attempt to make me go away.
I stabbed at the croc again and again, trying to reach the soft underbelly, and finally it slowed. Hot blood gushed from its many wounds, and then it stilled.
I rolled off its back and away from its claws and teeth, not trusting that it was entirely dead yet. Blood coated my hands and arms and sand stuck to it so when I tried to swipe the sweat from my eyes I got a face full of the fine grains.
Spitting and trying to clear my eyes I called, “Charlie!”
“Jamie!” he said from somewhere in front of me, and he didn’t sound happy or relieved that I’d killed the crocodile. He sounded terrified.
I shook the sand off, my eyes still blurry, and then the world swam into focus again.
Peter was holding Charlie tucked in one arm, almost the way I did, like he cared about Charlie, except that in his other hand he held his knifepoint over Charlie’s heart.
Peter watched Charlie’s face and mine, though Charlie was looking only at me. His eyes were pleading for me to do something, do anything, to save him.
I’d told him I would protect him.
“Caught your little duckling now, haven’t I?” Peter said.
His voice was singsong and somehow very young. His eyes darted between Charlie and me, sure that I wouldn’t be able to stop him. I saw the cruel glee at this certainty, his enjoyment of our distress.
“Thought you could get away from me but you won’t. Nobody ever leaves the island, Jamie. Nobody. Especially not you. And certainly not this little duck, who went wandering from his mama. Should have stayed home like you were supposed to. Should have listened and minded. Now you’ve been naughty and you have to be punished. All the boys must follow my rules, for this is my island.”
He stroked the knifepoint down Charlie’s chest toward his belly, and the smaller boy tried to shrink away but Peter held him tight.
“It’s me you want to punish,” I said. I tried hard not to sound scared, not to sound like I would do anything if he would only let Charlie go. “Why hurt him?”
“Because it will punish you if I kill him,” Peter said. “I know you, Jamie. I know your heart, even if you think I don’t. It will hurt you more if you can’t save him than it would if I killed you outright.”
“Why not just let us go?”
“Because who would I play with if you all were gone?” Peter said. “No, you have to stay here with me, Jamie, the way you said you would always. And for you to stay here with me means the rest of them must die. They keep you from me.”
“I’m not going to stay a boy, Peter. I’m going to grow up,” I said. “I already am.”
He seemed to look at me then for the first time, really look at me. He hadn’t, not properly, since before he took Charlie to the Many-Eyed. Now he took in my taller body and my bigger hands and the hair on my face that hadn’t been there before.
His face twisted into something awful then, something monstrous and terrifying. He pulled Charlie tighter to his body and the younger boy cried out in pain.
“No,” Peter said, stalking closer to me. “No, no, no, no, no! You’re not allowed to grow up. You’re supposed to stay here with me forever, for always. Who am I to play with if you grow up, Jamie?”
His eyes, I saw, glittered with tears, but I couldn’t believe in them. Peter wasn’t really hurt. He only wanted to have his way, like always. But he was coming closer to me, closer and closer, and I waited for my chance. The dagger was still in my hand.
“It’s over, Peter,” I said. “No one wants to play with you anymore. And you destroyed the tunnel to the Other Place, so you can’t bring any more boys here. You’re going to be alone here forever unless you grow up.”
“No, I’m not growing up! I’m never growing up!” Peter screamed.
Then he screamed agai
n, this time in surprise, and he dropped Charlie. I lunged to scoop him up as Peter flailed at the back of his thigh, reaching for something.
Nod had snuck up behind Peter while he talked to me, so quiet and careful I hadn’t even noticed Nod there, and had thrown his knife at Peter, right into his leg.
Peter pulled the knife from his thigh and howled in pain and also, I think, in shock that he was actually hurt. He rose straight up from the ground, cursing all the terrible words he’d ever heard from the pirates.
A little golden firefly light bobbed around his head as he shouted his fury at us. Then he abruptly soared away, leaving us on the beach.
Nod’s expression was fierce and proud. “I got him back. He got me but I got him back.”
“And you saved Charlie,” I said.
I sank to the ground then, the world gone all wobbly, and Charlie rolled out of my arms.
Nod ran to me, pushing me over so I didn’t collapse on my face but on my back instead. I shook all over, every muscle trembling from exertion and shock.
I’d been running and running and running for days, it seemed, trying to stop the inevitable, trying to stop Peter from slaughtering them all.
My breath came in thready gasps. Nod and Charlie leaned over me, identical expressions of worry on their faces.
“Jamie?” Charlie asked.
I flopped my hand at him. It was all I had the energy to do. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Nod said. “You’re white as bone under all that blood and sand.”
I tried to nod my head yes, to say that I was fine. I must have fainted then, for the next thing I knew the stars were gone and the sky above me the pale blue of just after dawn.
Charlie held my right hand in his smaller one. Tears streamed down his face. My left hand was still closed around my dagger.
“Charlie? Where’s Nod?”
“Burying Sally,” Charlie said, and pointed behind me.
I sat up straight then. I’d forgotten, forgotten the long trails of blood in the sand, forgotten the thing that I saw out of the corner of my eye as I sprinted down the beach to save Charlie from the crocodile.
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