“So is the little lad still as strong as his loud mouth?” Hook’s boots clapped against the deck as he stepped around Zane. The point of his sword was aimed toward him as he circled.
Zane wiped away excess glop from his face and held up his own weapon. “I’ll beat you at your own game, Hook.” Even I could’ve laughed at that one. Zane must’ve been digging down really deep for comebacks now.
Hook threw back his head in a guffaw. “Ha! You’re very persistent. And stupid. Watching you die will be entertaining for us all. I promise.”
My fingers finally latched onto the knot, and I started working at it. I could feel sweat trickling down the back of my neck, and my heart pounded in my ears. If I didn’t free myself soon, Zane would be dead, and I would feel responsible, just like I always had for my mother’s death.
“I came on this ship to kill you, and I don’t plan on failing,” Zane sneered. He had a lot of courage for one so hung over and suffering from blood loss.
If he kept pestering the captain, he’d be finished off before I freed myself. I mentally cursed at him to shut up while I still scrambled to untie the ropes.
“Kill me?” Hook slashed his sword in the air with a chuckle. “Don’t flatter yourself, boy.”
“You could’ve killed me long ago. The minute I came out of that cell, you could’ve run a sword through my gut. But you didn’t because you’re a coward!” Zane breathed heavily, his pale chest heaving.
My fingers ached with the effort to untie myself, and in my panic, the knot almost slipped from my grasp once.
Hook stepped forward suddenly and shoved his shoulder into Zane’s wounded one. He shouted in pain and fell to his knees, holding the wound.
“If I’m such a coward, fight me!” Hook looked like a madman.
Zane gazed up at him, clenching his jaw as he tried to stand. His legs gave way and he fell back onto them.
The knot was so close.
The crowd laughed as Hook yanked Zane up by his collar, shouting into his face angrily. “I said fight me!”
As soon as I saw the jagged hook brought up into the air to strike Zane, I yanked down on the final strand of the knot, untangling it and slackening my bonds, setting myself free.
Any normal human being would’ve just been like, “Hey, man, I know it sucks you’re about to get killed and all, but I just got my own one-way ticket out of here, so I’m gonna split. No hard feelings?” But sadly, I was very much not like any normal human being.
And I didn’t know if I ever would be.
So naturally, my weak hands latched onto Hook’s arm, jerking as his momentum took my body with him.
When he realized what I was doing, he yanked me to face him. “Girl!” he hissed. Throwing me away from him, I landed on my butt and scraped up my palms a little while trying to catch myself. Zane, on the other hand, shoved to the ground, too, lost his strength to stand, and then his head hit the deck with a sickening thwap.
Hook was beyond angry now. Marching across the deck, he seemed to shake the whole boat in the swaying sea as he kicked Zane in the stomach multiple times, knocking the air out of his body.
I tried getting up to do something (actually nothing, really), but Hook used the same boot to shove me down. “Enough! I’m going to kill the rat, fair or not!” Lifting his sleek sword into the air, Hook aimed its tip at Zane’s exposed chest.
The boy looked up, terrified, and braced himself. My own heart seemed to stop, and I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see Hook kill someone. Someone I couldn’t save.
But thankfully, I didn’t have to.
“Not so fast, Hook!” a voice yowled, making everyone freeze.
Hook pulled his boot from my chest, and I let myself sink to the deck to catch my breath. Just then, I heard a loud swoosh, and a familiar dagger flew right through Hook’s feathered hat.
Wrenching around in surprise, Hook turned just in time to see Peter swoop down and onto his ship.
Relief flushed over me almost instantly. Thank God for Peter.
Wait, had I seriously just thought that?
Hook's face turned from startled to angry in a split second. He began frantically and furiously shoving past his dopey men, his eyes crazed and the veins on his forehead threatening to burst.
“Pan!”
Seeing this as a great moment of distraction, I rolled as best I could back toward Zane. His lanky body had been kicked numerous times by the now scrambling pirates, scrunched up in a ball and covering his head. I pressed my hands to the back of his good shoulder, and he snapped his head up in surprise, locking his large brown eyes on mine.
My selfish side told me to leave him. He’d treated me horribly. This boy had tried to steal the only possession I had left, given to me by my mother, and he was just a bigheaded, drunken English boy, one who made an enemy of Hook, which would probably just cause me more issues in the long run. Something in my chest, however, felt like it was cracking open and letting my compassion out. I was a big pansy who needed to listen to her brain for once, but not this time. It was time to act like the hero I knew I wasn’t and try and help him, even if it meant risking my own life (which was a definite).
Mustering all the strength I thought I had, I hoisted him up as best I could, only to fall right back down. Zane was taller than me, and even though I was pretty tall myself, this boy was still larger. And heavier. It took all my strength just to drag-limp him across the deck toward a set of stairs leading up to the stern of the ship while completely on my butt. Up there, I saw less of a commotion, so I could possibly get Zane and myself to safety.
There was a loud, furious cry above as I dragged Zane onto the first step. I looked to see who was battling up there, when a huge weapon crunched into the railing right in front of me. Peter’s sword had missed Hook in his swing and was now wedged in the beautiful ship’s crafted railing, right by my head. He was breathing heavily and trying to free it furiously as Hook was coming to his senses. Seeing me, he smiled briefly, his face dripping in sweat, but he was clearly happy. I was beginning to think Peter could never be unhappy.
“How’re you?” he drawled, as if it were a joke, as he ducked under the swing of a sword coming at him. I was just barely able to dodge it myself, or else I would’ve been decapitated.
“Really, Peter?” I said, pushing the now half-out-of-it Zane up another step. It was a huge workout pushing a full-grown male up a flight of stairs without his help, especially when your leg was only half operational. Though, rather shockingly, it was performing beyond humanly possible at the moment. Still painful—and maybe with the help of the adrenaline coursing through my body—but it felt almost like it was healing.
Peter just winked at me and shot up into the sky. I pushed aside the anger I’d had for him abandoning me and threatening me. Because at that point in time, I didn’t care much what his intentions were, only that I knew he was here to rescue me—finally.
Wait—hold up.
Peter was flying.
I mean, duh. Why hadn’t I thought of it before now? Peter Pan. Tinkerbell. Flying. It all made perfect sense. Obviously.
Zane’s cheeks were so pale I wondered how he was still conscious. His eyes rolled around like they couldn’t focus. The wound in his shoulder was still bleeding.
I gritted my teeth. “No, stop. No dying on me after all that.” I’d have to focus on one thing at a time right now, and Peter flying wasn’t one of them. But, man, was I going to bring it up later.
If there ever was a later.
I shoved Zane as best I could up the next stair and the next, going as fast as my body could manage. I persisted. But if anyone needed to get fit, it was definitely me. This was excruciating.
When I finally hauled him onto the last stair, Zane’s eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped down like a rag doll. If I hadn’t used my super-catlike reflexes and caught his head, it would have smacked into the corner of the rail. If you’re wondering how super my catlike reflexes are, you should know they
’re not very super, because Zane still hit his head on the railing on top of already being knocked out.
Now that Zane for sure wasn’t waking up, I tried lifting him, only to fail miserably. I growled in frustration and tried over and over to get him up, but he wouldn’t budge. As I was about to give up, strong hands wrapped around mine and pulled Zane upward like he weighed nothing.
It was Peter, who shouted, “Throw him overboard!”
“Are you crazy?” I cried, looking down at the fighting still raging on the main deck. Others had joined Peter, others I didn’t recognize nor could distinguish with how fast and chaotic everything was.
“Just trust me,” Peter commanded, annoyance sprinkled onto his face as his eyes met mine.
“Trust you?” I asked skeptically.
Without my consent, Peter growled and lifted both Zane and me off our feet, holding us above the crashing waves below as he flew. My stomach dropped as I watched the water churn below.
Peter’s arms shook with the weight of two heavy (not that heavy…) people in his grasp and accidentally let us go as a pirate slashed a sword at him. “Hold on!” he called, but we were already falling.
The last things I saw before crashing into cold darkness was the blood on Zane’s white chest and the barnacle-covered starboard side of the Jolly Roger.
Twelve
I woke up on a small cot with a wool blanket over me. It was dark, and a lit candle burned on a small wooden stool beside the bed. There was a large reddish-brown curtain hanging as a makeshift door to the little room, concealing me from whatever was beyond. Sweat covered me as a sudden rush of nausea hit me, and I quickly leaned over to throw up into a little bucket next to my cot. I couldn’t stop gagging for several minutes afterward.
Why did I keep waking up in strange places? And vomiting?
Recovering, I lay back and took a deep breath. The ceiling was wood, but instead of parallel logs like in a cabin, the trunks intertwined with each other and made very cool, artistic tangles, similar to that of Peter’s hideout. The one closest above me had little marks on it, tally marks, and I counted at least forty-eight that I could see. It reminded me of being in a jail cell, and then I instantly wanted to throw up again as another wave of nausea washed over me. I never wanted to go back to any place like jail ever again. Where was I anyway?
Pushing my blanket away with my feet, I tried to sit up, but it took me a while, and it wasn’t easy with the constant nausea threatening to control me. So focused on my stomach, only after I was sitting up did I notice I was nude. Scrambling, I quickly brought the blanket over me again and glowered at the curtain, praying it wasn’t Peter who’d undressed me.
I visually searched the room for my clothes but saw nothing. I felt under the cot and around my bed, but again, nothing. I wondered if anyone was nearby, so I coughed to get someone’s attention. It came out only as a slight croak at first.
“Hello?” I waited a few seconds and then heard a jingle of small bell sounds, suddenly blinded by a bright red light that sailed through the curtain door. It startled me, but my eyes finally adjusted.
It was a red fairy, and she was dressed in an old nurse’s uniform, including a hat with a red cross on its front. She also had very long red hair and elfin features. She chimed again, but I couldn’t understand bell talk and, quite frankly, was terrified of their species, thanks to that demon fly from the week before.
I’d only just barely gotten used to the idea of fairies a few days earlier, so it was still shocking to have one so close to me. I continued to gaze at her without a sound.
The fairy nodded and fluttered back behind the curtain, as if she somehow magically understood me, and returned with underwear and some clothes that weren’t mine, but I guessed they were better than being stark naked. She flew out as quickly as she’d come, leaving me to unfold the attire, wincing at how ugly the outfit was. But it didn’t really matter; I was determined not to be in this room much longer, and I couldn’t leave naked, could I? So I slipped on the old nightgown and tried to stand. Wobbling briefly, I steadied myself, waiting for my dizziness to subside.
Wait. No pain. There was no pain coming from my leg.
Pulling up the skirt of the dress, I was almost knocked off my feet in shock. There was no wound on my knee. Not even a scratch or a scar. How was that even possible?
I was cautious when I took a few steps forward, testing the strength of my knee carefully. But even after a few steps, only shaky from fatigue, there still wasn’t any pain. Had I dreamed up the Jolly Roger? Had it been a lie this entire time? It’d felt real, all too terrifyingly real. But it also wasn’t logical whatsoever.
But I was beginning to guess nothing here ever was.
When my head felt clear enough, I took a few steps and made it past the curtain and into an open area—a lounge centered in the hallway. The hallway beyond the lounge had many doorways down its length and it branched off to smaller hallways with more doorways, all of which had curtains for doors just like my room. The lounge area was quaint and comfortable, with a large fireplace at its center and nice couches with animal hide covers adorning them. As quickly as I could, I moved to the couches and felt instant relief when I sank into the cowhide loveseat, out of the way of bustling fairy nurses who all moseyed by without even glancing my way. The trunk housing the fireplace explained the many low and twisting "branches” in the ceiling. Strange décor for a hospital, I thought, but I didn’t question it as I relaxed into the furriness of the seat under me. Finally, comfort.
I scanned the area for clues that might lead me to Peter or Zane. They had to be around here somewhere, both wounded like me. Unless they hadn’t survived.
The tangle of intertwined branches and hallways was overwhelming. Either of them could’ve been anywhere, and I knew it’d take forever to find them in this place. Maybe Peter would find me, if he wasn’t captured somewhere or injured or… dead. No, I told myself, don’t start to panic. Look for signs.
Narrowing my eyes, I tried to read a sign that was painted on the wall on the far corner of a little hallway to my right. The words seemed to swim into each other and not make sense, and I got a little swoony after I struggled to read it, so instead, I focused on finding another nurse or someone in charge. Preferably someone who spoke English, too.
I wanted to ask a beautiful dark-skinned nurse as she passed, but then I thought better of it. I had no way of interpreting their bell talk, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of these people. Excuse me, I mean fairies. I’d probably just be a distraction to them as they hurriedly fluttered up and down the hallways of the facility, totally focused on whatever they were doing—carrying supplies of all shapes and sizes, shouting in bell talk, sipping little drinks. It was sort of cute to see them as the helpers.
Sitting and staring at the fireplace, I felt a non-fairy presence near me. Slowly looking around, I noticed no one was there, just a fairy that wasn’t paying attention to me as she zoomed down the main hallway. So I turned my focus back to the fireplace, biting my lip. What had made me so paranoid lately? Oh yeah, probably everything I’d experienced sneaking up on me in Neverland so far.
Was I getting used to calling this horrid place by such a name? No. Was it easier just to go with it? Yeah.
Someone coughed, and I whipped around, startled again. There was movement in a corner leading to a branched-off hallway, and I leaned forward in my chair to see who or what it was. A little boy’s thin eyes suddenly peeked out from the corner. Snide.
“I can see you—” But I was cut off.
Suddenly, loud, high-pitched voices sounded up and down the hallway, making me jump and flail to try and prepare myself. Banging and the sound of feet pounded their way toward me, echoing off the walls of the facility, only to amplify the noise. Snide, Sniffs, and the rest of the boys from before leapt out from the corner, and—oof!
I was tackled on the chair by at least three of them, all crowing and hooting and giggling while the others join
ed in pursuit. I had no idea what inclined the little twerps to drag my body to the ground and dogpile onto me, but they did it anyway. I tried to push one off my chest, since he was nearly choking me to death, but he just wiggled his rear in my face with a laugh.
I barely knew these kids. Why were they attacking me?
I struggled against one who had landed on my foot, and Mitch’s older, just as excited expression, came into view amidst the struggling on top of me.
“You’re back!” he screeched as I tried to retrieve my arm from a very pudgy boy who was rolling on it—Purdle, I thought. When I knew I wouldn’t be able to move it, I glared evenly at the not-helpful blond kid leaning over me.
“Is jumping on me”—air was knocked out of me, and I turned to try and pry them off by their limbs—“necessary?” I croaked.
Purdle just chuckled and crowed again, completely rambunctious and not caring whatsoever.
Before I could say anything else, a different kid, Whimsley, if I remembered correctly, pushed his pudgy friend off of my arm and held it up high. “I win! I got to ‘er first, boys!”
All the boys hollered and whined in protest, now beginning to fight each other while still on top of me.
They’d forgotten I was underneath them, so I was able to shove two of them off my legs, gently, and another from my lower body, then finally, the last one from my hair and shoulders. They all fell to the floor, and I stood as fast as I could to prevent them from tackling me again.
The boys retreated and all sat on the floor, looking up at me like I was supposed to do something.
I wiped the dirt from my nightgown and smoothed back my hair. “My name is Lacey, not little boys’ pillow.”
That was a good comeback, Lacey. You’re hilarious. I know. Thanks, me, I thought.
Shaking my head at them, I regretted my cockiness the second I felt the dizziness descend like a violent wall. My head started to spin, and I felt nauseous again. Quickly, I stepped over the boys and made it back to my room before resuming vomiting.
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