Peter frowns. “Course he has. Why wouldn’t he be?”
“He might miss his parents.” I shrug. “That can happen when a child is lost.”
Peter shakes his head as though he knows of such things, though I suppose of all the boys present in one way or another, he is the lost-est. “He has us.”
I give him a tall look. “We are hardly parental figures.”
He stands up taller, slips both his arms around me. “I think we’re okay.”
“You disappear on adventures for days at a time.” And you’d best believe that I absolutely sidestep the fact that I just did that also. Peter’s not brought it up, so I won’t either. “You’re not very safety conscious.”
“A father’s job is to instill in his sons a drive to have fun and to never grow up.”
I press my finger into my top lip as I stare at the boys and say nothing.
Peter rests his chin on top of my head, and for a quick minute, I feel like we are together—properly together—and I feel a dash of guilt for how I spent the day prior to this one. I think it was the day before? Right? Wasn’t it? It could have been a week before. It feels cloudy all of a sudden, and then I see some love bites on the nape of Peter’s neck and some ink smudges on his chest, and I know without knowing how he spent my birthday. And maybe in light of Jamison by the fire, I’m not really entitled to feel sad, but I do.
“What are we doing today?” I turn in his arms to face him.
“We?” he repeats. “Nothing.” He grimaces a bit. “I’ve got boy stuff to do.”
I frown a bit. “What’s boy stuff?”
“Secret boy stuff.” He shrugs. “I’ll take you to the Indians on my way.”
“I don’t think they’re Indi—”
“Rye wants to see you,” he says over me before his eyes pinch. “Do you think he has romance inside him for you?”
I shake my head reflexively, even though sometimes I do wonder. “No.”
Peter doesn’t buy it. “It would make me angry if he did.”
“I know.” I nod, feeling tired all of a sudden.
He nods his head. “Let’s go.”
We fly, of course. Peter only ever flies, I think a bit because no one else can ever seem to do it very well if they aren’t with him, which he likes, and also （obviously） convenience.
He drops me off by the river. Calla’s lying on the edge of it, barely wearing anything. She props herself up when she sees him, gives him a wave. Peter just nods his chin at her and flies off.
The way it crushes her—he’s crushed me like that before too—I feel guilty that he’s doing it for me. Not guilty enough to ask him to stop but enough that what I asked of Jem yesterday burns hot in my mind like a fever, and I feel like a traitor somehow to both of them.
Rye and I go for a walk past Cannibal Cove, past Moon Crescent Cove, and then a bit into the rainforest.
There are submerged caves he thinks I’ll like, and I can tell even before we get there that he’s going to be right.
Rune flies in and joins us on the way.
She tinkles in my face.
“It was wonderful, thank you!” And then I give her a grateful look. “I loved my dress.”
“Oh, I forgot it was your birthday!” Rye says, looking back at me. “Sorry! Was it good?”
“Yes.” I flash him a grateful smile. “I had a really happy day.”
“What did you do for it?” he asks.
“I went to the volcano,” I tell him, choosing my words carefully.
“Oh!” Rye sings, pleased for me. “Peter took you to the volcano? Did you like it as much as you thought you would?”
I pause, thinking how best to proceed.
“Someone”—I give Rye and Rune a delicate smile—“took me to the volcano, and yes”—another quick smile—“I liked it very much.”
The fairy stops flying, and the Stj?rna boy turns around, eyes pinched.
“Daphne,” he says at the same time as Rune jingles something.
“What?” I frown at Rye before turning to look at Rune. “Yes, he did,” I tell her. She replies something I won’t be telling you, and I gasp, “No, he did not!” She chimes, and I whisper to her, “Though not entirely without trying on my behalf.” And she winks at me.
“Where was Peter?” Rye asks, walking backwards, watching me.
“With your sister.” I shrug, like I don’t care. “It wasn’t on purpose by the way, and I didn’t ask Jem to take me. He just—”