Peter by day, Pan by night

Chapter 9

        Peter Pan.

        That's all I see. My eyes take in his folded arms, laughing green eyes and familiar smirk. I am not sure if I am only seeing a mask, or if this really is some part of him, but the broken boy from this morning has disappeared.

        I do not know what to do or even what to say. Everyone seems to be watching us. An idea flickers through my mind. I fall into a curtsey, deeper than the one I had just teased Kelvin with.

        To my surprise, Peter bows at the waist. Then he nods at our audience.

        The lost boys turn back to their work and general rough housing. Kelvin joins them.

        Peter and I stand inches apart. I have no words to give him. He showed me darkness when we were alone in his room. What will he show me now?

        Besides, I still don't believe him. Peter can't be Neverland's monster. Isn't he the leader? The closest thing to a king? He isn't evil, he's just a boy. Then again, that last statement could be considered contradictory.

        Peter runs his hand through his hair, like Kelvin did a few minutes ago. He doesn't say the words 'I am sorry' out loud. So I don't tell him I forgive or that I understand. Instead we both pretend that the moment never happened. We banish it to the shadows where it belongs. Why let it hang over our last few hours? I mean, my last few hours.

        "Have you ever rolled down a hill?" Peter asks.

        The question is so unexpected, I giggle. Wait, what? I don't giggle! I change the rebellious girliness into a hacking chuckle. "Rolling down a hill? Sounds painful."

        "Your cough sounds painful. Did you choke on something?"

        Just on my own silliness. Good thing he can't read my mind. "I'm fine. So you really want to tumble down this hill?" I know what bruises feel like. Not something I usually welcome.

        "The grass is soft. You won't get hurt."

        I rub my toe against the green grass. He's right, it is soft. But there might be rocks concealed in that tall wavy blades. Or, even worse, spiders. I might sleep alone in alleys, but I still scream when I see a daddy long legs. I grew up in an orphanage with plenty of bored, naughty boys who did more than tug braids. Their favorite ammunition was spiders.

        "I promise nothing bad will happen to you." Peter's smile disappears.

        "Okay." I nod. He pulls away from me and plops onto the ground.

        We lay down on our stomach, several inches between our heads. "Try not to move sideways!" He yells and then rolls down the hill.

        I groan inside, but follow his lead. I tumble over and over. The grass blurs into blue sky and back again.

        I land on my back at the bottom of the hill, laughter bubbling inside me. I am not ready to sit up yet. In fact, I want to stay here forever, lost in a sea of green below an ocean of blue.

        Peter gasps as he crawls over to me. "Told you nothing would happen."

        But something did happen. I found out that magic can be found in the things that you can do anywhere, not just on a magical island. I turn my head, glancing at Peter.

        With grass sticking in his hair and the dirt smeared on his cheeks, he looks like a little boy. "Grass matches your eyes." I do not know where that came from, but I blush as soon as I hear my own words.