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. . . I skipped breakfast this morning. I claimed I had an agonizing muscle pain from yesterday's intense training session.
In reality, I didn't want the boys to notice the cuts running across my knuckles. I tightly held my right hand in my left palm while I scurried to the weaponry hut. I dug through the baskets, trying to find something to hide the wounds. I pulled out a pair of fingerless gloves that are meant for adding extra grip when shooting arrows.
Perfect.
My fingers wiggled through the holes as I slightly hissed in pain when the rough material rubbed past my knuckles.
"Since when do you wear gloves?" I jumped at Corbyn's voice.
"Umm... blisters," I stammered, "I got some real nasty blisters."
Corbyn slowly nodded as he aimed his throwing star. When he let go, it hit the bullseye with ease.
I placed an arrow in my crossbow then aimed it at the target. I bit down on my lower lip as I focused on the center. Once I released the trigger, the arrow flew into the air and landed in front of the tree into the ground.
"Having an off-day, Cass," Zach snickered as he walked up to my fallen arrow.
"I see you found your cockiness, again, Zach," I rolled my eyes and bent down to pull the arrow out from the ground.
"I never lost it to began with, Cass," he tilted his head to the side, "Unlike your aim. It rather comes and goes, don't you think?"
As I stood back up, I pointed a finger to his chest defensively. I was about to go off on him until Pan pushed us apart.
"Guys, guys, no need to argue," he said coolly, "We both know there is only one way to settle this." Pan strided up to Jack and took the apple he was going to snack on. He tossed it into the air and caught it, "We're going to play one of my favorite games."
"Oh, hell no, I'm out of here," I heard Jack whisper as he left the area.
Pan paid no attention to him, "I call it 'Target Practice'. Daniel, do you want to do the honors?"
He threw the apple toward Daniel. He caught it in one swift motion and went over to the target.
"The rules are quite simple," Pan continued as Daniel placed the apple on the top of his head, "Don't miss."
"Ladies first."
My breath hitched in my throat. I hesitantly grabbed an arrow and looked up at Daniel. We haven't talked for days but, even now, he won't even glance my way. He seemed emotionless, indifferent nonetheless.
I placed the arrow in the crossbow and get into my stance. My hand began to tremble slightly as I aimed the weapon. I glimpsed down at my shaking hand, but I noticed something weird about the arrow. I removed it from the crossbow and held it up vertically. There was the slightest bend in the center.
"No," I said quietly.
Pan raised his eyebrow at me, "No?"
"No, we aren't playing your little game," I shoved the arrow at his chest, making him stumble back, "Because my arrows are bent."
"And you should know better than anybody, Pan," I glanced back at Zach, "Cheaters never win."
A small chuckle escaped his lips as he turns toward Zach, who's eyes were glued to the ground.
"Ok, ok," he swirled his tongue around the inside of his cheek, "Fine, but thanks to Zach, I want everyone to make new arrows to replace the old ones."
Daniel removed the apple from his head while letting out a quiet sigh of relief. I put away my crossbow and arrows as I looked out for anyone around; the boys had gone into the forest to gather materials for the arrows. Once I made sure the coast is clear, I slowly slipped off my glove. The cuts were red from irritation from the worn leather.
Suddenly, my hand was snatched away from me. I looked up to meet Pan's concerned, emerald eyes as he examined my wounds. His touch was surprisingly gentle while he lifts it closer to his face.
"What happened?" he asked in an almost-whisper while his eyebrows knitted together.
"Nothing," I shook him off and covered the cut with my other palm, "Don't worry about it. Besides, it's not like you actually care anyways."
Pan rolled his eyes and dropped my hand, "You're right, I don't."
He pursed his lips as he glimpses down once more at my shielded hand. A brief moment passed and he sighed. "Close your eyes," he commanded while placing his hand on my shoulder.
Before I could ask him why, Pan covered my eyes anyways. I felt a rush of wind go by us, it was a similar sensation to when I first arrived in Neverland. He removed his hand, revealing the inside of his treehouse, and walked over to the trunk at the end of his bed. Pan popped it open and pulled out a bottle of a clear liquid and cloth bandages.
Instinctively, I sat down on the bed as he brought the medical supplies to me. He poured the liquid onto one of the bandages and took my wounded hand again, "This is going to sting, so just, please, hold still."
Pan dabbed the cloth delicately over the cuts. It did sting, but my confusion overpowered the pain. My eyes darted back and forth at my hand and to his face. There was precision in his eyes while he sucked in his bottom lip.
"For someone who doesn't care, you sure look like you do," I spoke up as he begun to wrap the dry bandage over my knuckles.
He glanced back up at me then continued to remains silent. Pan tightened the bandage, making me hiss in pain. He glimpsed up at me apologetically.
"Is this supposedly your worst, Peter Pan?" I slightly laughed out.
Pan shook his head as a smirk tugged at his lips, but he stayed quiet. As much as I hated it, his small smile was contagious. I wanted to hate him so much. What he did during his games was terrible. What he said about Brandon was awful. At times, he treated the boys unfairly. But at the same time, Pan surprised me. After hide and seek, he tried to console me about my sister. Then he showed up in my vision in the reflection pool and reminded me to trust Dahlia. Finally, he took it upon himself to carefully clean up my cuts.
I told him to give me his worst, but the only thing he had done was move me out of the treehouse.
"What are you playing at?" I asked out loud, not expecting an answer.
He snapped his head up at me and smiled smugly. "My worst."
