Everland (11 page)

Jack balls his hand and lifts it, ready to pummel the boy.

“I said enough!” Pete yells. “I’m in charge. I make the rules. If any of you have a problem with them, you can take it up with me.”

Jack lifts his hands as if in surrender and takes a step back. “You’re the boss.”

“Glad we have an understanding,” Pete says, glaring at Jack as if challenging him to argue. Jack says nothing and instead heads toward a gathering of boys congregated by the statue in the city’s center.

Pickpocket rubs his jaw again. “Thanks, Pete. He’s getting worse.”

Pete nods. “We’ve lost three Scavengers in the last month, and the ones that are still running are bringing back less and less each scavenge. He’s not coping with the dwindling supplies very well. I’ll talk to him.”

“You’d better do it sooner than later. The Littles are frightened of him and the Biggers are about to string him up by his bootstraps,” Pyro says.

“I’ll take care of it today. Go have Doc take a look at that,” Pete says, pointing at the gash on Pickpocket’s chin.

Pickpocket rubs his sleeve across the open wound. “Nah, it’s just a paper cut.”

Pete grins and shakes his head. He cups his hands to his mouth and crows like a rooster. His voice reverberates off the metal pipes. Children spill from the buildings and tunnels.

“Listen up, Lost Boys! We have guests,” Pete says.

With wide eyes and gaping mouths, the children stare at me. “It’s a girl,” the younger ones whisper to one another, pointing in my direction.

“Oh, here we go again with the ‘it’s a girl,’ ” Bella says, rolling her eyes. She deploys her wings and flutters to the ground, landing on the dirt floor with a thud. “What do you numskulls think I am?”

“She’s so … so huge,” a young boy says. Approaching with caution, he tips his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. “You’re not from Everland, are you? Are you one of those pirates?”

“Of course not. Do you think I would bring a Marauder down here?” Pete asks.

The boys train their eyes on me, but say nothing. I fidget and try not to meet their gaze. Mikey shifts closer to me, clearly uncomfortable.

Shaking his head and rubbing his face with one hand, Pete mumbles, “I’m going to have to have Cogs check the air intake. You Littles must be oxygen deprived.”

He marches to the city center, leaving me feeling vulnerable as the group of gawking boys surrounds me. Pete climbs the fountain, stands on the statue, curls in his bottom lip, and blows out a shrill whistle.

“Lost Boys!” he announces. “This is Gwen. You will treat her with the same respect you would treat any other Lost Boy. Is this clear?”

“Or Lost Girl,” Bella adds in a disgruntled tone.

The boys murmur their reply, but their words are muddled.

“I said, is that clear?” Pete shouts.

The boys reply, “Yes, sir!” Some grunt but say nothing.

“Wait!” a teenage boy calls, peering through goggles with thick lenses. His eyes appear larger than they should behind the glass. “She isn’t a Lost Kid unless there’s a vote. That’s what the rules say.” His tone is authoritative, but still has a hint of hesitancy.

“Justice’s gotta point,” Scout says, and spits on the ground.

Justice twists a knob on the side of his goggles. The lenses move forward, protruding from his face like two telescopes. He pulls a spiral notebook from his shirt pocket, flips a few pages, and clears his throat.

“According to the Statutes of the City of Lost Kids, section fifteen, article five, subarticle A-3, ‘No Lost Boy shall bring outsiders within the city limits without prior consent and two-thirds vote of the Lost citizens,’ ” the boy says, holding up the notebook. “Rules are rules.”

Bella marches up to Justice and swats the paper pad out of his hand. A few loose pages slip from the metal spiral spine as the notebook flutters to the floor. The boy frowns at Bella as his lips press into a thin line.

“Do that again, princess, and I’ll dip your wings in candle wax. You’ll be grounded for at least a day or more,” Justice says, glaring at Bella.

Bella is unfazed and only smirks. “You and your book of stupid rules! I’m tired of them.”

Justice grimaces. “You do know what the statutes say about retaliating against another Lost Boy, don’t you, Bella?”

“I’m not a Lost Boy—the rules don’t apply to me.” She crosses her arms, almost as if she is expecting the boy to challenge her.

“We’re going to have to call an emergency council meeting and make an amendment to include Lost Girls,” he growls.

Justice bends to pick up his notebook, but Bella steps on it. She leans in close so that she is only centimeters from his face. “Are you sure you really want to do that?” she says. “Remember what happened the last time you called an emergency council meeting? How did that work out for you?”

Justice releases the notebook, leaving it under Bella’s boot. He stands, rolls his shoulders back, and straightens his waistcoat. “I was cleaning glue from the gears of my spectacles for weeks,” Justice mutters.

Bella stands on her tiptoes so she’s close to Justice’s ear. “Pete and I found firecrackers on our last scavenge. It’d be a shame if they found their way into your sleeping quarters.”

“Bella, that’s enough,” Pete says, the tone of his voice indicating a stern warning.

“Fine!” Bella says. But she leans close one more time and whispers, “I still wouldn’t advise any emergency council meetings if I were you.” She winks, spins on the heels of her boots, stomps to the center of the city, and stands in front of the statue.

Pete rolls his eyes. “Did you have to do that?” he says.

Bella cocks her weight to one hip and grins.

“But the rules state we must vote first. You have no idea if these two are associated with the Marauders,” Justice says, picking up his notebook and flipping through the pages.

“Gwen and Mikey are
my
guests. They’re staying,” Pete says, dismissing the altercation between Bella and Justice. He strides toward Mikey and me. “I declare you, Gwen … What did you say your last name was?” he asks.

“I didn’t say what it was. It’s Darling, Gwen Darling,” I mumble.

“Hmm, not as bad as Gwen the Immune, but you might consider taking a new name now that you’re a Lost Kid,” Pete says. “All the smart kids do. You could go with Stubbornly. Feisty. How about Cheeky?”

The boys erupt in laughter.

I scowl. “Thanks for the advice, Prince Charming.”

“So is that a no?”

I give him a light smack on his chest and narrow my eyes.

Pete winks. “I’m only kidding.” He throws his arms in the air in a dramatic display. “Gwen Darling, do you promise to protect all of those smaller than you, even the Lost Bugs, except when Sous the Chef serves them for dinner because there is nothing else to eat?” Pete asks a little too loudly.

The littlest of the Lost Boys giggle, some of them scrunching up their noses at the suggestion of eating bugs.

“I guess so,” I say.

Pete turns to Justice. “Are you satisfied now?”

Justice’s telescope eyes scrutinize me before he gives a quick nod.

“Excellent! Gwen Darling, I declare you a Lost Kid. You will all regard her with the same dignity as you would any other Lost Kid. Anyone who treats her otherwise will have to report to me, and I assure you the Plungers have an endless amount of drains to snake. I’m sure they’d be thrilled with an extra hand or two,” Pete says.

A hush blankets the gathering of boys, but no one challenges Pete.

He points at Mikey. “And he’s a Lost Boy, too. No questions asked.”

A melodious cheer erupts from the crowd. Bella claps with an expression of boredom on her face. “Huzzah,” she says with sarcasm.

Mikey smiles a muddy grin, still dirty from his earthy disguise. Justice studies my brother with a pinched expression but says nothing. An East Asian boy Mikey’s age raises his hand and bounces on the balls of his feet. “Pete! Hey, Pete! Right here!” the boy shouts.

The crowd parts as the young boy steps forward.

Pete rolls his eyes. “Yes, Gabs?”

“Does she like to tell stories? I mean like real stories. Not the stories you tell because they’re way too short, and I don’t think you really like telling stories anyway. Stories like my mum used to tell about warriors and battles and even fire-breathing dragons that roar so loud it shakes the ground like an earthquake. That’s really where earthquakes come from, you know. It’s dragons who are really, really, really mad. The kind of mad your mum gets because you drew on the walls when you know you shouldn’t. And the dragon mums, they’re mad because someone stole their dragon eggs and the mum dragons are trying to find their babies. Sometimes they dive into mountains and make volcanoes. That’s not really lava, you know. It’s dragon spit that will burn you up and then you’ll know better not to touch the dragon spit because … well, I guess you won’t because then you’d be all burned up. Anyway … does she tell stories?”

“And that is why we call him Gabs,” Pete says through the side of his mouth.

The boy peers at me with obsidian-colored eyes hidden beneath overgrown, jet-black hair. He waits for my response, an eager, wide-eyed expression spanning his face. Immediately, I like Gabs, and from the crooked smile on Mikey’s face, I can tell he likes him, too.

“Well, I don’t know about that. I …” My gaze catches the hint of disappointment in Gabs. When I glance back at Mikey, he’s fidgeting with the arm of his teddy bear. Because he was only five when the war started, hardly old enough for primary school, I realize he doesn’t know how to make friends. He pulls his bear in tighter before he speaks.

“She tells great stories,” Mikey says shyly, but a frown forms. “Well, she used to when she was just my sister and not my mum.”

Confused, I glance down at Mikey. “Mikey, I’m not your …”

Gabs wraps his arms around my waist. “Oh! You’re a mother? Will you be my mother, too? I’ve missed my own mum so much.”

I look at Pete, surprised. He gives me a lopsided smile and shrugs.

Mikey tugs at my shirt. “Are you really his mother now, too? That would make him my brother. I’ve always wanted a brother.”

Gabs peers at me and I search for words, but they jumble with my conflicted thoughts. Overwhelmed, I look to Pete for help. He approaches, wiggling an eyebrow at me. Wrapping both arms around my neck, he presses his warm face against mine.

“I could use a mum as well,” he says, planting a wet kiss on my cheek.

“Eww, gross!” I say as I wipe the remnants of his slobbery kiss off with the sleeve of my coat. The warmth of his lips on my face brings a rush of heat to my cheeks. I jab an elbow into his ribs, giving him a disgusted look, and try not to let him see the blush I feel growing hot on my skin.

Pete chuckles. “Well, there you have it. I think this calls for a celebration. Gabs, tell Stock to pull the brew and pop from storage. Take Mikey with you to help carry the tins,” Pete says.

“Got it!” Gabs says, wrapping a thin arm around my brother’s shoulder. “Come on, Mikey. You’re really going to like Stock. He’s tall and skinny, sort of like the Jolly Green Giant, but he’s not so green. He’s more of a chocolaty color if you ask me. Speaking of chocolate, are you hungry? I’m starving. I’ll take you to meet Sous the Chef, which is spelled S-O-U-S. Not Sue like the girl’s name.”

Gabs grips Mikey by the hand, but my brother pulls from the boy.

“Well, what’s wrong?” Gabs asks. “You’re not scared, are you?”

My brother shrugs and peers at me with an uneasy glance.

“There’s nothing to be scared of. Here, you can play with this.” Gabs pulls out a rusty soup can from the pocket of his oversize coat and hands it to my brother. Gold wire spirals from the top, giving it the impression of having hair. Arms and legs made of clock scraps are bolted onto the tin. An antique key protrudes from the back of the can.

Mikey shrinks behind me.

“It’s okay. It’s Clink the Robotock. Watch this,” Gabs says, twisting the key. He sets the can on the ground and it hobbles on clumsy legs. “Pete made it for me.”

Mikey hands his bear to Gabs before picking up the toy and twisting the key. He smiles when the arms and legs swivel.

“A teddy bear!” Gabs exclaims. “You’re so lucky. I left mine in my bedroom when the house got all smoky.”

“You can borrow it,” Mikey says. His voice is timid.

Gabs pats my brother’s back. “Really? Wow, thanks! Come on. I’ll show you around the Lost City first.” The boys walk off with Gabs still chatting, the brown bear tucked under his arm.

“Well, well,” Pete says, watching them disappear into the crowd of kids. “Someone who actually likes to hear Gabs talk. There’s always a first time for everything.”

“You made him a toy?” I ask, surprised.

Pete stares into my eyes and smiles. “We may have been robbed of our childhoods, but they still have theirs. This here and now is their childhood. It isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing.”

My heart swells with a mixture of emotions for this boy. In just a short time I have regarded him with fear, anger, curiosity, wonder, gratitude, respect, and now something new: affection? My cheeks flush with embarrassment at the thought.

“What about Joanna? When are we going after her?” I ask, changing the subject.

“We’ll leave once we gather supplies, but first I have to convince our rescue team.”

Pete points to a crowd of boys near the statue. Jack stands bare-chested, his fists raised in front of him. Scout spits on the ground and mirrors his stance. A crowd of kids exchanges small trinkets, as if placing bets. Pickpocket leans against the base of the statue, his arms folded in front of him as he shakes his head.

“Convince them?” I ask, cringing as I watch Jack’s fist connect with his competition’s cheek. Scout takes the punch with hardly a flinch.

“It’ll take a lot to persuade them,” he says, scratching his head. “We don’t do rescues.”

“Not even for a Lost Kid?” I ask, shocked that they would abandon one of their own.

“Once those pirates have you, you don’t come back. We can’t risk the lives of other children for one careless child,” Pete says. “We have strict rules about venturing into Everland. If you go, we won’t come after you. That’s why we pick the fastest runners, the most agile of the Lost Boys to be Scavengers. The bottom line is, once you leave the Lost City, your neck is on the line, and we’re not coming to save you. If you can’t handle Everland and what lies beyond it, you don’t belong there. Joanna will be our first rescue.”