He moves in front of me, shaking his head. “This was a stupid way to come. I don’t know what I was thinking, but we should just go back through—”
I peer around him, and that’s when my eyes come into proper focus.
The mermaid is with someone. Actually, she’s kissing someone.
A lot.
“Peter?” I say his name, but it sounds foreign as I do. It’s a funny feeling, floating but in the bad way. Like I’m at sea and I’m adrift. I think I call his name again as I walk towards him, but he doesn’t stop.
Rye grabs my arm again. “Let’s just go.” He shakes his head. “We don’t want to see this. Marin’s a piece of work. We should—”
“Peter Pan!” I yell loud enough for him to finally notice me.
He pulls back from the mermaid and looks around confused till his eyes finally land on me about ten metres away from him.
“Wendy!” He beams.
“Daphne,” I say, and Rye’s head falls as the mermaid giggles.
“Daphne.” Peter nods, smiling indifferently as he props himself up a bit. “Rye! What are you doing out on this side of the island?”
Rye just shakes his head, gives him a little shrug. “Foraging.”
I look past Peter to the mermaid leaning on his shoulder, staring up at him dreamily, before I look back at him.
“What are you doing?” I ask, sounding braver than my insides feel.
“Kissing.”
And obviously so. I just saw them doing that. I don’t know why him saying it out loud feels like somebody’s dropped a piano on me. Now that I’m closer, I can see he’s sort of shimmery—specks of scales from rubbing up against a mermaid.
“Oh.” I nod a couple of times as I stare over at him. “Why?”
“Because it’s good.” Peter shrugs, and Rye sighs next to me.
“Oh.” I nod again. Another piano.
“Daphne,” Peter says in a voice that makes me feel stupid. “You’re not the only girl I play with.”
Piano.
“Did you think you were?” he asks me, smiling like he’s confused.
I stare over at him, do my best not to let it show on my face that it feels like a little bit of me is folding up inside myself, tucking itself away into a far back corner where I won’t be able to reach it again.
Peter smiles over at me mindlessly, nodding his chin towards Rye. “Come join us.”
Rye shifts uncomfortably beside me, and I glare over at Peter, unable to look away.
“No.” I shake my head.
Peter looks over at me, head tilted, like he’s trying to read a sign in another language.
“Why do you look…stupid and sad?” he calls to me.
Because I am those things, I think.
I say nothing, and Peter gives the mermaid a look as though to imply that I’m the one making things awkward. He sniffs, amused, and the mermaid covers her mouth with her hand, doing a terrible job of suppressing her laugh.
Something about his indifference and how strangely beautiful and cruel she is at once makes my eyes go glassy.
Peter squints over at me in disbelief. “Are you crying?”
And with that, the mermaid lets out a delighted little squeal, and Peter lets out one single laugh, watching me like I’m not the person he shares his bed with every night.
I turn quickly on my heel and walk back into the jungle.
“Where are you going?” Rye calls, walking after me. “I’ll bring you back to the grounds. You can stay with us.”
I turn to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Is he like that with Calla?”
Rye sighs, tilting his head. “Daphne, I—”
“Does he do that with Calla?” I ask tonelessly.
He says nothing.
“Yes or no, Rye?”
Rye sighs. “Yes.”
I shake my head at him. “I’m not going back to the Old Valley.”
He looks stressed. “Then where are you going?”
Where am I going? I don’t know. Except yes, I do. There’s only one place left that I can go, really.
I start walking again.
“At least fly there,” he calls to me.
I shake my head. “I can’t fly without him.”
Rye grimaces.
I look back at the rock, and Peter’s there, reclined on the rock, hands behind his head, the mermaid gazing at him all adoringly, finger running down over his nose.
And that’s enough for me. I take off through the jungle.
Flying would be faster, that’s definitely true, and though I’ve never tried, I really am sure that I couldn’t do it without him—that’s what Peter says anyway—and I don’t know if you can do it when you’re sad, because happy thoughts, that’s what Peter always says, and I have none. I’m not willing to feel like a failure at the same time as I’m busy feeling like an idiot.