Peter by day, Pan by night

Chapter 30

        Exhaustion has finally caught up with them. Most of the hammocks are filled. A few lost boys are still up at the fire, claiming they don’t need sleep at all.

        Jacob tugs on my hand. His eyes are heavy under his blond curls. “Wendy?” His voice slurs.

        I smile and pick him up. He leans his head against my shoulder. “Which one is your bed?”

        But the little boy’s eyes are closed, his breathing deep and even.

        “That one.” Daine shifts in the darkest corner. He points at a hammock near him.

        “Thank you.” I whisper and tiptoe across the room. Jacob moves slightly. “Shh…” I pull his arms away from my neck and gently lay him down in the swaying hammock.

        What a strange way to sleep. But it beats the cobblestone streets.

        I tuck a blue blanket around his shoulders.

        Jacob’s long blond eyelashes flutter. “Mother?” He whispers, his fingers curling around my hand.

        My heart breaks. I open my mouth to answer, but his hand goes limp. He’s asleep.

        I brush back his curls and kiss his forehead. “I’m here.”

        I pull away from the sleeping boy. My eyes catch on Daine. I swallow and sit down next to him. The shadows wrap around us, the peaceful and rather loud snoring of the other boys fills the silence between us.

        Daine digs his knife into a piece of wood. Many times I have watched him turn a shapeless block into a masterpiece. I wonder what he will make this time. Sometimes he’ll carve more stars, but usually it is some sort of animal. Only once did he carve a girl.

        “Mothers.” Daine grunts and shakes his head.

        I sit back. Now-surrounded by snoring boys-he is willing to talk?

        “What about them?”

        “They aren’t all-” he waves his hand in the air. “All that.”

        I wet my lips and choose my words carefully. “I don’t know where my mother is. I don’t even know who she is. But most mothers do their job and do it well. I’ve seen them walking with their children or carrying their babies-for hours at a time. Being a mother must be hard, but most of them do their best.”

        “Not most.” His dagger rips off the bark. The chunk of wood falls to the floor, but the loud thud is lost in the synchronized snores. “Because if most of them actually did do their job, there wouldn’t be so many lost boys and girls. And don’t get me started on fathers. If they actually do stick around, they are always busy or working. Or-have you seen Felix’s face? That is what a father does.”

        “Fathers and mothers are people, Daine. They mess up like anyone else.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “I wish they didn’t. But you still can’t generalize like that. They aren’t all bad.”

        Daine’s dagger flashes as he rips away pieces from his block. It is quickly disappearing. “Well, I don’t need them. I’ve survived fine without ‘loving parents’.”