Never (Never, #1) (18)

Yes, it’s true that their tininess can inhibit the diversity of what they might feel in a single instant, but it is my personal opinion that Tinker Bell was occasionally (and particularly) ill-tempered and frightfully bold.

That said, I did arrive in Neverland a tinge nervous that perhaps in the same way Pan was fated to always find a girl like me, maybe too was the same girl fated to be hated by the fairies.

But the little fairy hovering in my face, she’s like a speck of sunshine. Very pale, almost translucent skin, huge light blue eyes and long, straight,? nearly white-blond hair.

“Well, hello.” I give her my warmest smile.

She sounds like chimes when she speaks.

“No, I can understand you.” I nod at her, and Peter looks over, frowning and curious.

“You speak Stj?r?” he asks me, floating over. He swats the fairy away carelessly as he zones in on me.

“I don’t—I didn’t know I did.” I give him a look. “But maybe?”

The fairy chimes again, landing on top of Peter’s head, strutting around, ignoring how he’d just shooed her away a moment ago.

“I think my grandmothers taught me.” I look from her to Peter. “I thought we were playing, but—I’m Daphne,” I tell her as I extend my finger out for her to shake. She shakes it back. “Rune?” I repeat her name back to her and look over at Peter to check.

He nods, glaring at the fairy, who zips down his arm like it’s a water slide before flying back up to my ear and tinkering

“Oh!” I beam at her. “Well, it’s my absolute pleasure! Yes, I arrived today, just.” I nod. “Yes, from London. Oh, it wasn’t so bad. I’d never seen the inside of a black hole before, so that was rather special.”

I can see in my peripheral vision Peter and the Lost Boys hovering behind us, watching, curious.

“She likes you,” says Brodie.

“Should she not?” I frown, a bit confused.

“Oh.” He jumps over to me. “I meant nothing by it. How good that she does.” Then he leans in close and whispers quietly, “Just that this one doesn’t like Peter much.”

That strikes me as interesting because, as far as I knew, all fairies like Peter. Actually, all female creatures like Peter, as though he has a magic kind of pull over us. There is an innate assumption that men are immune to whatever it is about Peter that we* tend to love, and of course that’s occasionally true,? but it’s not always (nor often) the case.

Girls might be drawn in by his boyish charm and those stupid stars he has stuck in his eyes, but Wendy says the boys often find that Peter has a gravity for them also. Not in the same ways, necessarily, but in how he can climb anything or that he catches lightning bolts and spears them back at the clouds or the way he flies so low just above the water’s surface that he skims the sharks’ fins the same way you do mindlessly with a stair railing.

My point is, really, that to find anyone immune to him is a rarity, thus I like her already.

I nod. “Well, Rune, I’m entirely delighted to meet you.” I give her my warmest smile as Peter floats on over.

“What are you two birds saying?”

Rune jingles angrily.

“I like birds. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Peter frowns.

More jingles.

“Fine.” Peter looks quite sheepish. “I’m sorry then.” His cheeks are pink now, and I can’t imagine he gets scolded all that often, because he swats his hand. “You can go.”

Rune chimes again and it’s mocking. She grins at me and flits away, and I feel a bit sad that she’s gone.

“Where does she live then?” I look around.

“Just around a corner.” Peter shrugs as he looks at his own bicep.

“Which?”

Percival shrugs. “Dunno.”

“Well then.” I give them all a pointed look, and each of their faces (bar Peter’s) falters at it. “Where am I to live?”

Peter glances around. “Here, stupid,” he says after a moment.

“Here?” I repeat. “With all of you?”

Peter nods again, exchanging quizzical looks with the other boys.

“What will the neighbours think?”

Kinley looks over his shoulder. “What neighbours?”

“I can’t very well stay here,” I tell them all with a look.

Peter shrugs. “Of course you can.”

I lift an eyebrow. “But where would I sleep?”

Peter snorts a laugh as he shakes his head. “With me.”

I blink. A lot. “I beg your pardon?”

All those boys stare over at me, frowns on their faces as though my reaction is the odd one.

“Maybe she’s hard of hearing?” Percival whispers to Peter.

“With. Me.” Peter overenunciates.

I give him an exasperated look. “I. Heard. You. The. First. Time.”

“Oh.” Peter floats over, arms folded over his chest. “What is the problem then, girl?”

“Well—” I give him a cautious look, glancing around at the younger boys before I lower my voice. “What would people say?”

Peter shakes his head with a perplexed smile. “Whatever you want them to!”

I sigh. “No. I mean—”