Always Neverland (7 page)

Peter crowed in triumph. The Lost Boys cheered too, and even Tink twinkled in a pleased way.

“Thank you, Never birds,” I said, feeling very smug as the flock flapped back to their nests. If this didn't prove I wasn't the stupidest visitor they'd ever had, then nothing would. “That went well, I think.”

“I like this Wendy girl,” Kyle told Peter as I flew down to the blankets and Polaroids.

“She's very clever. That's why I brought her,” Peter said, and I smiled wider.

Half buried under the blankets, I found what I had been hoping for—a sword, straight and silver, that came to a nice sharp point. One of the pirates had left it behind.

I admired the pretty swirling guard around the hilt and wondered when I would get a chance to use it.

Chapter 9.
I Find Out I'm Good at Pretending

K
yle jabbed again with his short, flat blade. I scrambled out of the way, but not quickly enough. The point of Kyle's sword caught my pajamas, and the fabric ripped.

The littlest Lost Boy lowered his weapon. “Oops. Sorry, Wendy girl.”

I looked down at my pajamas and sighed. Kyle had torn a palm-sized hole in the knee.

The Lost Boys had been trying to teach me how to use my new sword. It wasn't going all that well.

Peter lay back lazily in midair, as if an invisible lounge chair hung in the sky, and he played his pipes, watching us. I had the feeling he still didn't know what to do with me, but after tricking the pirates, we'd gotten past the taking-me-home-early idea.

While I practiced, the moon had risen, brightening everyone's blades with its silvery light. Unfortunately, I had gotten a little sweaty and
a lot
frustrated, but not any better.

“You're in trouble now, Kyle,” Dibs said, smirking a little from his perch in the lower branches of the Tree Home. “Wendy girls are very particular about their clothes.”

I wasn't upset about that. I was upset that my sword and I weren't getting along, but Kyle's eyes still got really big.

“It's okay,” I told him. “Neverland is a little too hot for long pants anyway.” I grabbed a handful of loose fabric and tugged, ripping straight across until the bottom of the torn pajama leg came completely off.

The Lost Boys stared at me like no Wendy girl in the history of Neverland had ever ripped her clothes on purpose. Dibs's mouth even gaped open.

“They're just pajamas,” I pointed out, trying not to laugh.

“You should probably do the other side,” Button said solemnly.

I nodded. “Kyle, if you could,” I said, gesturing to the other pajama leg, and with a giggle, Kyle used his sword to make a tear near that knee. I grabbed the hem and ripped the bottom of the leg right off. Suddenly, I had shorts instead of pants. “At home, we call these cutoffs.”

A gentle Neverland breeze swirled around my ankles, and I felt much,
much
cooler.

“Now you look like one of us,” Prank said. His pants had holes in them, and his shirt was stained with mud and grass. But he smiled like it was a compliment, so I grinned back.

“Yeah, but you need to fight like us too,” Dibs said. “Otherwise, Peter won't let you go on adventures. Right, Peter?”

We all looked up at Peter. He nodded, moving his pipes along with his head so that he didn't have to stop playing.

“Again,” I said to Kyle, raising my sword.

Kyle swung his sword. I blocked it, just barely, but then Kyle hooked his hilt around mine. My new sword fell to the ground with a clatter.

The fairy chimed in a smug way, and Dibs grinned. “Tink's right. You
are
hopeless.”

“I am
not
,” I said, snatching the sword back and glaring at Dibs. I was too embarrassed to look at Peter.

Sighing deeply, Kyle raised his weapon high above his head, and I watched him, trying to guess where he would strike and how I could counter it.

“Wendy girl, you're thinking too hard,” Button said suddenly.

“No, I'm not,” I said, feeling even more defensive. “I just need a little more practice, that's all.”

“Oooooh,” said the Lost Boys together, as if a great mystery had been revealed.

“That's your problem, then,” said Kyle sympathetically, lowering his sword. “I had the same trouble when I first came to Neverland.”

“You don't need to
practice
,” said Prank. “You need to Pretend.”

“You know the saying
Practice makes perfect
? It doesn't work here,” said Button. “In Neverland, it's
Pretend
that makes perfect.”

All four of them—even Dibs—looked at me earnestly, waiting for me to do something, and I stared back, confused. “Wait.
What
am I supposed to do?”

“You have to Pretend to be a great swordsman,” said Dibs, rolling his eyes.

“Swords
woman
,” I said automatically, but I still didn't understand.

“Look—at home, you would've had to practice and practice and practice to get good,” said Kyle, “but you're in Neverland now. In Neverland, Pretending is even better than being something for real. If you Pretend that you're already a great swordswoman, you will be one, and then no pirate will ever stand a chance against our Wendy girl.”

I nodded slowly. I could do that. Michael and I pretended to be sailors and explorers and stuff in the tree house at home all the time.

It just
had
to work—if it didn't, I would get stuck watching from the sidelines the next time Peter and the Lost Boys fought a battle.

I stared at my sword and Pretended as hard as I could: I was Ashley Delaney, famed swordswoman, Wendy girl as no Wendy girl had ever been, feared by pirates for her strength and cunning and skill. My blade had defeated many a foe already, and word had spread to the far reaches of Neverland.

My toes and fingers tingled again, just like they had that morning when Peter and I had flown toward the island. But it was stronger. It felt more like it does when your foot falls asleep and then starts to wake up.

Suddenly, the sword felt more comfortable in my hand, like I had been using it all my life. Instead of feeling sore at the exertion, the muscles in my arm kind of liked the weight of the sword. It was almost reassuring.

To test it out, I tried a little flourish.

“Oh, good,” said Kyle. “That's much better.”

I looked at the Lost Boys, and through my Pretending, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I could fight them and win.

Grinning, I told them, “Again—all four of you this time!”

Without any hesitation, Kyle, Prank, Button, and Dibs all leaped toward me, swords raised. I sprang up into the air to meet them.

I blocked Kyle's sword so hard that the force sent him spinning back through the trees, head over feet, giggling and trailing fairy dust.

Prank tried to catch my blade between both of his, but I twisted my weapon so his two swords went flying.

Dibs stabbed toward me, and I turned the blow aside, straight into the tree trunk behind me. The point of Dibs's sword slid into the wood and stuck fast.

And Button—poor Button—was so surprised that he dropped his sword and raised both hands in surrender.

“Hurrah for the Wendy girl!” Kyle said, flying back into the clearing with twigs tangled in his hair. “I
knew
you would be good at Pretending.”

Peter blew a triumphant little ditty into his pipes, grinning at me, and then flew high above the trees and out of sight. But we could still hear him crow.

I was so happy with my success that I rose into the air, and took a quick bow about a foot off the ground. Prank, Kyle, and Button applauded.

“Thanks,” I said, dropping to the grass and picking up Button's sword. When I handed it back, he took it from me sheepishly.

“But why did you have to be better than all of us?” Dibs said grumpily, trying to wiggle his blade out of the wood. I scowled at him.

“It just means that she can Pretend better than the rest of us,” Button said in his quiet way.

“Exactly what we should expect from our newest Wendy girl,” said Prank proudly, and I beamed, glad I was beginning to win them over.

Dibs snorted, clearly not satisfied. With one last tug, he freed his sword from the tree trunk, taking a huge chunk of wood with it. “Good at Pretending to be everything but our mother, you mean.”

I threw him a dirty look. He had no reason to bring
that
up again except to make me look bad, but then the other Lost Boys descended to the ground slowly, hanging their heads as if a very sad thought had come over all of them. That's the trouble with fairy dust—people can tell exactly what you're feeling just by looking at you.

It was really hard not to feel guilty.

I remembered the little imitation of Mom I had done earlier that day—with the twig glasses and bark paper. Someone had mentioned Pretending then. The Lost Boys probably thought I had been using Neverland's magic rather than just faking.

Now that I knew better, I probably should've Pretended to be a mom—just to see whether or not I could.

But I didn't.

I didn't want the Lost Boys to like me just because I Pretended to be their mother. Maybe I would make some cookies, but if they got me patching their clothes and tucking them in at night, they wouldn't think of me as a friend. I wanted them to like me for me.

They still didn't realize that a Wendy girl could have a few good adventures up her sleeve. At least, not
yet
.

“I'm sorry,” I told the Lost Boys, and I meant it.

Button must've heard how sincere I was. “It's okay.”

“It's
not
okay,” said Dibs, returning his sword to his hiding spot and slamming the door shut. I squirmed uncomfortably.

“Wendy girl, if you can't be our mother, then could you maybe tell us a
story
about mothers?” asked Kyle, and all the Lost Boys looked at me eagerly, rising a little and hovering a few inches above the ground.

“A story? About Mom?” I repeated, a little panicky. Mom breaking her promise about the Christmas tree probably wasn't the kind of story that the Lost Boys wanted, but that was the first one that came to mind.

“Yeah!” said Kyle enthusiastically.

“You have a mother, right?” said Dibs with a touch of mockery.

“Tell us something about her,” said Prank, just as excited as Kyle.

“Like what did she do when you last saw her?” asked Button.

“She . . .” My mind scrambled backward through my memories. For a minute, yesterday seemed very far away—adventures and adventures ago. Then I remembered watching the twin red lights on my parents' car as they disappeared down the street. All the hurt and disappointment came rushing back, as fresh as ever.

“She
left
,” I said shortly, and my voice caught on the second word.

“
Oh
,” said all the Lost Boys at once, coming back to the ground with a thud, and sympathy shone on all their faces. Even Dibs's, although he didn't say anything. He just climbed up into the Tree Home and disappeared among the higher branches.

“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

B
ed.
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?