“Did you see Hook?” Peter asks, staring up at the thatched roof.
I purse my lips. “Met him, actually.”*
Peter sharply turns to face me. “You met him?”
I nod, swallowing nervously.
He glares at me for a second, then rolls on his back again. “Dog,” Peter spits, and I frown up in the darkness.
“I didn’t think he was so bad.”
Peter head snaps in my direction with a sharpness that makes me nervous. “What did you say?”
“I mean—” I swallow. “I barely know him. I just…he seemed nice. He saved a boy.”
“I save boys,” he tells me gruffly.
“I’m sure you do.” I nod quickly. “I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t by saying that he does.” I swallow. “He just…did. In front of me.”
“Show-off,” Peter says under his breath before he gives me a look. “Don’t see him again.”
I prop myself up on my elbows and frown. “Are you going to see Calla again?”
“Who?” Peter frowns, confused. “Tiger Lily, do you mean?”
“That’s not her name, Peter,” I remind him.
“I know her name!” he snaps. “And it’s not the same thing.”
“How is it not the same thing?”
“Because.” Peter eyes me. “Calla is my friend.”
I square my shoulders a bit. “Well, maybe Hook is mine.”
Peter stares over at me through the darkness, and even through it, I can see his light eyes clouding over. “I’m your friend.”
“Am I not allowed others?” I ask, and my voice goes up strangely at the end.
Peter lies back down as he shakes his head. He sighs impatiently. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?” I lie back down next to him. I must admit, I do like being next to him. There’s no feeling exactly quite like it, but were I able to liken it to anything, I suppose it would be similar to the feeling of lying next to a lion. Scary and wonderful and dangerous and safe all at once.*
Peter says nothing for what feels like a long time before he looks over at me, brows as serious as I’ve ever seen them.
“Everything.”
* * *
* Or maybe it’s eight?
? Or is it twelve?
? Which I know about because of my mother’s time in Peru.
§ Or is it nine?
* Though I do know that it’s true whether I admit it or not.
? Which I’ll remind you are a bit like that water planet I grew up on a few galaxies over.
? I definitely do think he’s dreamy.
* Existential question: If your entire existence has been a childhood, do you still have one?
? Bollocks.
* Which means “very.”
* Or maybe it doesn’t. Who’s to say?
* Perhaps because we’re not on Earth?
* All things being Jamison.
* Extra tall now. I think he grew about a foot through all that. At least in my mind’s eye.
* Always kind of frowning.
? Believe it or not, that means “be quiet.”
* About a week ago, I don’t say aloud.
* Only if he likes you.
CHAPTER
FIVE
“Wake up, girl!” Peter Pan tells me, nose pressed up against mine.
I blink my eyes open and give him a tired smile as I breathe in deeply. Do I smell sweets? There’s a lovely, familiar smell. Something like home?
I rub my eye.
“Do you have sweets in your pocket?” I ask him.
“No.” Peter frowns a bit, and my heart pangs at the frown, as though I’m sad he’s sad. “Why?” Peter asks.
“Oh, nothing.” I smile up at him. “I just can smell pink bonbons, I think?”
Peter rolls his eyes. “Don’t be silly,” he says as he pulls me up from lying down, waving his hands through the air to get rid of the smell.
I have a big stretch as I yawn.
They don’t believe in blinds here. I haven’t had a lie in since I arrived. Quite frankly, I’m exhausted.
Peter thinks sleep is a waste of time. No surprises there.
I partly think much of his attitude comes from years of being grossly under slept.
“The day is waiting!” he tells me, flying up into the rafters and landing on a beam. He perches there, legs kicking and swinging as he beams down on me like my own personal sun, and it feels like lying out on a hot day when Peter’s focus is on you. A sort of saturating warmth.*
“I want to take you somewhere today,” he tells me with a smile.