What the fuuuuuuuck?I choke on my own spit and have to sit up sputtering. “What? No! Coy was alive.”
“Coy died a long, long time ago when he was still a little boy. To sickness or injury or who knows what. Peter brought his soul to Neverland and kept him here.”
“Like purgatory?”
“Is that your second question?” She readjusts so she’s leaning on me again.
“No!”
If she’s telling the truth, then Hook was telling the truth. So was Widow. Guilt coats me like a sticky film when I remember how I’d treated Widow earlier. I was a real dick. Still, it’s hard for me to accept. Coy wasaliveto me. He was warm and friendly. But if Tinker Bell is to be believed, it was his soul. And she didn’t say he was trapped here, but putting everything together—maybe that’s exactly what he was. Trapped in Neverland.
Hang on. Am I dead too? I open my mouth to ask that, then snap it closed again. I won’t waste a question on my existential crisis.
I need to focus on this next question. There are so many ways to ask it that will lead to a shit answer from the clever fairy who’s currently using me like a piece of furniture.
“What does it mean that I am Peter’s boon?” I wince, afraid she’s going to wriggle out of it.
“It means he made a wish to the island, and the island gave you to him as an answer to the wish.”
“What did he wish for—wait! That’s not my third question.” I put my finger to her lips, and she smacks it away.
This is what I was worried about—her answer only gave me another question. Ugh.
One more question. I have to pick a good one. At least, I should. But there’s something that’s been bothering me bigtime. The worst thing is, I think I already know the answer, but I have to be sure.
“Why did Peter want me to tell stories?”
She rolls her eyes. “You really are a dumdum.”
“That’s your answer?”
“No, but it’s perfectly obvious why—he needed you to?—”
Sally lands on my windowsill and makes a loud squawk.
Tinkerbell jumps straight up to the ceiling over the bed, her gaze on the bird as she hisses.
“What the?—”
Sally flies into the room right for Tinker Bell who flashes into the little orb and flies straight out the window. Sally follows. I run tothe sill and watch as Tinker Bell and Sally disappear through the trees.
When I look down, plenty of pirates are staring up at me from their spots around the bonfire. All except Bill Jukes, who is singing as loud as he possibly can to a mermaid statue in front of one of the cottages.
I pull my window closed. If Tinker Bell comes back, I have no doubt she’ll figure out how to get in. But I doubt she will. She already gave me my answers. The last one wasn’t quite as clear, but I think I’ve known the truth of it ever since I saw my reflection here. Maybe even before when I kept getting those odd headaches and horrible dreams.
Peter brought me here to tell him and his Lost Boys stories. I thought it was sweet, and if I’m being honest, I was flattered. I love stories. I lovetellingstories. I live in my head more than anywhere else. Which is scary, given my past, but it’s also who I am. Peter somehow knew that, and he brought me here to tell my stories to him. What did Clytemnestra say? That I was giving away my magic for free? If stories are magic—and I’ve always believed that’s true—then my stories are what erased the crow’s feet from Peter’s face and slapped them onto mine. My stories are what fed him, made him younger, kept all of them going while I faded away. And heknew. The whole time he knew what he was doing to me. Did Coy know? I swallow hard and think back to some of the looks he gave me. In hindsight, it’s perfectly clear. Guilt. He felt guilt. He knew. Yet he didn’t stop it.
I sit heavily on the bed and glance up at the window, half expecting a Yeti or some other fantastical creature to come crashing through. But there’s nothing, no one. Just Bill Jukes singing in a language I don’t know and the crackling of the bonfire.
Lying down, I let myself mourn for the Peter I thought I knew. God, I’ve been so completely clueless. About him, about Hook. I can’t afford to be that way any longer. I don’t know how to burn off my naivety, but I think hearing the truth from Tinker Bell was the first step. She wants Peter for herself? She can have him. I’m done with him. I won’t be used by anyone.
I close my eyes, letting my mind drift. My resolve grows even as I begin to fall asleep. I’m not going to be a soft target anymore. I’m going to get strong, learn from Widow and Bill, and then I’m going to make a break for the mainland on my own terms. Of course, I have no idea how to get there. Then again, there’s a Lost Boy waiting in the woods with a pouch full of fairy dust. If I can get to Geo and somehow snatch it from him, I’ll be one step closer to getting out of this mess.
I’m not waiting for anyone to save me. This time, I’m going to save myself.
Chapter
Fourteen
