“Smee hates me,” I blurt.
“No, lass. He doesn’t hate you. He’s just suspicious.” Hook keeps turning the crank, and I can tell it’s getting more difficult the higher we go, because the muscles in his arms begin to show through his shirt.
“Of me?”
“Of course.”
“What? Why?” I put my hands on my hips. “I’m harmless.”
He laughs at that, a hearty one that makes me go warm all over. “You, harmless?” He smiles down at me.
What is this feeling? It’s new. It’s scary. It’s probably just my fear of falling to my death off the side of the platform.
“Smee is the most careful of all my crew. Naturally, he has his misgivings about you. After all, you came to this island under the arm of our greatest enemy. You lived with him, and I’m pretty certain you’d run right back to him if given half a chance.” His voice sobers on his last words, the smile gone from his lips.
“He thinks I’m a spy?”
“He thinks you could be, yes. He doesn’t want you parroting information back to Pan.”
I mean, it makes sense. I’d still argue I’m harmless—it’s not like I know any inside intel on the Jolly Roger. Hell, I can barely find my way around the deck, much less have any idea of what lies inside. But if Smee loves Hook like he seems to, then he’ll want to protect him from every possible threat.
“I wouldn’t do that,” I say quietly.
“You certain?” He focuses on turning the crank. “I’m not so sure.”
“Look, you’re the one who kidnapped me from the Lost Boys and?—”
“Isavedyou from the Lost Boys,” he corrects me.
I wheel on him, hands back on hips. “You didn’tsaveme. You stole me, and you killed Coy in the process!” I don’t realize I’m shouting until the words are out.
“I told you, lass,” he grates. “What I did was a kindness.”
“How can murder be kindness?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“He was already dead.”
“He wasn’t!” I step to him, staring up into his deep blue eyes as he stops turning the crank. “He was alive. He helped me. He kept me safe. He was my friend.” My voice breaks on the last word, my eyes filling with tears.
He sighs and runs his free hand through his black hair. “Listen, lass, I know you won’t believe me when I tell you this, but it’s the truth. That boy—all those boys—they are well and trulylost. They’re dead. They died young, most of them so young that they barely remember their parents. Pan—” Hook’s face sours just at the use of his name. “He takes them when they die.”
“No.” I shake my head. “They aren’t dead. I was there. I was with them. They are living, breathing people. Coy wasalive.” I swipe my tears from my cheeks, the hurt still so close to the surface that if it’s grazed, it bleeds. “He was alive,” I whisper.
“All right, lass. All right.” He sighs and returns to the crank, turning faster now as we rise over the trees and hover closer to the edge of the cliff.
I’m stuck in that memory now, unable to see anything except the look in Coy’s eyes as he fell. He wasn’t dead. I don’t care what Hook says to try to make himself seem less of a villain, I know what I saw. What I felt. Coy wasreal. That thought strikes me wrong, though. Because none of this is real. Not a single solitary bit of this fantasy is the least bit true. I have to remember that. I keep slipping deeper into it, like I’m being seduced by the make believe of Neverland.
I can’t be her. Iwon’tbe her. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep that damn cinderblock wall at bay. So maybe Hook’s right on some level. None of this is real … which means Coy isn’t either. I rub my temples, a headache threatening to set in.
“Here we are.” He stops cranking, and the platform halts abruptly, hanging so high in the air that I swallow hard.
He jumps a short distance to a rock outcrop. “Come on. You can make it.” He holds out his hand. “Just don’t look?—”
I peer between the platform and the rock, then grip hard onto one of the ropes overhead.
“Down.” He grimaces.
“I can’t.” I shake my head vehemently. “Nope. That’s a whole lot of nope.”
