Peter by day, Pan by night

Chapter 4

        We step out of the tunnel and I realize that I don’t know where Kelvin is.

        Most of the lost boys have dispersed. About three of them-including Felix-are still hanging around the clearing, but the rest are gone.

        “Where’s Kelvin?”

        Bert ignores my question, “Didn’t you want to see Pan’s place?”

        “Not until I know that-”

        “Kelvin’s fine.” Felix cracks his knuckles as he walks toward me. His eyes are dark beneath his patch of blond hair. “He’s with his family.”

        I fold my arms. “A gang of lost boys is no family.”

        “And you would know this…how? You are an orphan, just like him. We’re all orphans. Our parents might not have died when Pan found us, but they have by now.” Felix leans closer, his stale breath hitting me. I step away from him, my nose crinkling in disgust.

        Bert fidgets. “Like Felix said, Kelvin is fine. Now about our tour.”

        One of the boys stands up. He spins a dagger between his fingers. He glances at me, then scrapes his knife along a block of wood.

        “What are you doing?” I ask.

        He keeps his head down. “Whittling.”

        A hand tugs on my arm. “Let’s go.” Bert whines.

        “Wait a moment.” I turn back towards the boy. “Can I see it, please?”

        His mouth twists, caught somewhere between a frown and a grin. “All right.” He hands me the figure.

        My eyes brighten as I study what he has made out of a chunk of wood. “Me? Is this supposed to be me?”

        “Do you see any others girls around here? ‘Course it’s you.” He shuffles his feet. His dark brown hair brushes across his forehead. Green eyes smile at me. Green like Peter’s eyes. “I’m not done with it yet.”

        I hand him the wooden girl. I look at his dagger and don’t see danger. I see talent. Beautiful, simple talent. “Thank you. Oh, I never got your name.”

        “Daine.”

        “Well, Daine. Thank you.”  I squint in the bright sunlight. He looks like he is my age, maybe even a bit older. Of course, he has probably been around for centuries. This island is messing with my mind.

        “Bert?” I turn around. The leaves shake in the largest tree.

        “Are you coming or not?” A voice yells down. Oh, so Peter doesn’t live under the tree, he lives in it.

        This time I don’t ask Bert to fly me up. Climbing trees is better than climbing tunnels.

        My bare feet scrape against the bark as I reach up and grab the lowest branch. Good thing the other three boys walk away. No need for them to watch as I try to pull myself up.

        I carefully weave my way through the maze of branches and leaves.

        Branches scratch my feet and hands, but I can’t stop grinning. My stomach grumbles a bit. It doesn’t slow me down. Hunger I am used to.

        “You made it.” A hand appears in front of my face. Bert pulls me into some sort of treehouse.

        “Amazing.” I balance on a nearby branch, peeking into Peter’s fort. It is simple, as if someone wove branches together to make a floor and roof. Papers, daggers, and various oddities are spread out on the wood. A squirrel scampers across the pile.