I take it, and he leads me through hallways and caverns, on and on we go until I hear the crashing of the sea and strange sounds that can only be caused by wind through rock. My mother took me to the beach for a vacation when I was young, and I remember spending time on the shore with her as she stared across the water. It was cold then, but there was still plenty to see and do. I found shells, tried to catch the sure-footed crabs, and even tickled a starfish or two. But the thing I remember most is the small cave, rounded and perfect, as if the water had been kissing the rock in just the right place for just long enough to make a divot. When the wind would sweep across it, it would make a hollow moan, a sound that should’ve chilled me to my bones. Instead, it only drew me closer. So close in fact, that my mother had to pull me from the water’s edge, my clothes wet, my fingers going blue from cold.
“Moira?” Peter says, and I realize he’d asked me something.
“Sorry, I missed what you said.”
He smiles agreeably. “Just that we need to climb the stairs here.” He points, and I notice the sword strapped around his waist. I half-heartedly hope it’s just a toy.
“Oh, okay.” I follow him, the twins at my back as we go up and up. Once we reach the top, I’m huffing and puffing, my legs burning. “You know, there’s a reason I don’t go to the gym.” I wipe the sweat from my brow and look around. We’re at the edge of the jungle, a high ocean cliff falling away below us. The stairs are etched into the rock but remain hidden behind other masses of stone. You’d never notice them unless you knew right where they are. “Wait. It’s still dark?”
The twins exchange another one of their looks, the kind that tells me they’re saying plenty with just their eyes.
“I thought it was like, almost noon?” I pat my pockets even though I know it’s no use. My phone is still back on my desk. In my dorm. On the ‘mainland.’ I have no way of knowing what time it is.
Coy looks up at the sky, the moon low on the horizon now. “I’d say it’s betwixt 9 and 10 or so.”
“In the morning? Where’s the sun?”
Both twins look at Peter.
Peter sighs sadly. “The sun stopped rising in Neverland a long time ago.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I seriously need coffee.”
“Coffee?” Foy’s brows draw together. “That’s familiar. I think I’ve heard of it. Like bits of sticky caramel that get in your teeth and?—”
“That’s toffee.” Coy lightly smacks his brother on the back of the head. “Coffee’s a drink. At least I think that’s what it is.”
“Yeah, where’s the Starbucks around here?” I snicker at my own joke as all three of them stare at me blankly.
“What’s a Starbucks?” Peter asks.
“Never mind. Where’s the tree you wanted to show me?”
“We took the long way so you could get your bearings.” Peter points through the jungle.
I glance around at the roping vines and jagged rock. “I don’t think I could find my way out of this place with GPS and Magellan at my side, but sure. Thanks, I guess.”
Peter’s brows draw together in confusion.
“Sorry, I did it again. Doesn’t matter. Lead on.” I gesture toward the woods, a breeze soughing through the trees.
He moves to stand behind me, his body heat racing along my back. “Look up.”
I do and find the stars still laughing at me from their perches way up in the darkness.
Peter’s fingers graze along my chin, directing my line of sight toward the space above the jungle. That’s when I see the wide canopy, the towering branches blotting out those giggling stars and swaying slightly in the wind.
“It’s huge.”
“It’s home.” Peter wraps his arm around my waist, and we rise from the ground.
I manage to only squeak once as we fly over the jungle to the impossibly huge tree that shimmers gold in the moonlight. That’s when I see the structures created around its trunk. Like houses glued to its side, some haphazard and leaning, others perfectly square, and still others brightly painted and done with a clear design flair. In between are hammocks here and there along with the neverberry vines that seem to offer fruit at every level of the great tree.
“Wow.” I try to compare the bottom of the trunk to something, anything. But it’s so huge—bigger than photos of any redwood I’ve seen in books, that I’d have to say it’s base is like that of the pyramids. Daunting, to say the least. “How is that even real?”
“Why does it matter so much to you what is real and what isn’t?” His mouth is close to my ear, his warm breath sending tickles along my skin.
“Because then I know if I’m headed for a padded room or simply passed out in my dorm.”
