Chapter
Ten
Foolish Tootles was standing like a conqueror over Wendy’s body when the other boys sprang, armed, from their trees.
“That’s way too many.” I stare at the pile of neverberries Coy sits on the bed beside me. Rubbing my forehead, I have the same dull ache from yesterday morning, as if a kid is bouncing a tennis ball against the inside of my skull over and over again.
“You all right?”
“I think adjusting to this whole new world is taking a toll on me.” I sigh. “Or maybe I’m just dehydrated.”
“Eat what you can. Here, drink this.” He hands me a cup, and I down it greedily, the water somehow sweet.
“Thanks.”
“How’s your chest?” He glances down, then looks away quickly. “I imagine you’re sore.”
My tunic is gaping at the top, but I have the blanket wrapped under my arms, holding it tight as I pluck one of the berries and chew on it. It’s delicious, sweet and cool, and I down a few more. “It’s a little achy, I’d say. Remind me to never drown again. So, what’s on the agenda today? Anything going to try to kill me?”
“Other than Tink? No.” He grins and meets my eyes again. “Not that I know of.”
I cock my head to the side, which only makes the kid with the tennis ball start bouncing it against my temple. “Did you do something to your hair?”
“Did I?” He reaches up and fluffs the red strands. “I mean, it got washed in the ocean pretty well yesterday. Maybe that’s it?”
“Maybe.” I lean back and let the food settle. “Just seems, I don’t know, fuller. Anyway, what did Slightly make for breakfast this morning?”
“Porridge. My least favorite meal of his, but it’s the only goods we had in the larder. We’re going out to do some trading on the other side of the island once the moon is up a bit higher.”
I snap my gaze to him. “There are other people on the island?”
“Yeah.” He lies back and looks up at the stone ceiling. “Just some pirates who decided they didn’t want to sail any longer—the ones who avoided Hook’s sword on their way over the side of the Jolly Roger. Some are people from shipwrecks. Others are Hook’s victims that washed up onshore. They made a little town for themselves. Peter’s been talking about wiping them out for ages, but we never do it.”
That sounds pretty awful. “Why would you want to wipe them out?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. For fun I guess?”
My stomach churns. “How is that fun?”
“It’s just the way of the island, of the Lost Boys. We fight, we look for adventure. Sometimes we fight on the same side as say the Neverians or the townspeople or the wolf pack, but sometimes we fight against them. Just depends on how Peter’s feeling that day.”
“Don’t you find that odd?”
“No.” He smiles. “I think … I think when I first came here, that’s all I wanted to do—fight. To make my mark on this island one way or another. What better way than to kill pirates or fight off the Neverians? It’s hard for me to remember everything that happened. It’s hard for all of us, really. Something about our memories here are off. I don’t remember how I got here, or when. But I remember when Foy and I first met Peter. Not a memory so much as a feeling. A feeling of making a choice to fight forever, to adventure forever, to be young forever.”
“Doesn’t seem to be working out.” I toe his ribs from beneath the blanket. “Just look at you.”
He holds up his hands and stares at them like they’re someone else’s. “When we get rid of Hook, it’ll go back to the way it was.”
“You want to be a boy again?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t hesitate. “To never have to worry about anything except what Slightly’s making for supper or which battle we want to fight next.”
I can see the appeal of it, even if I can’t see choosing it for myself. “Don’t you miss your family?”
“I have Foy. Anyone else—I don’t remember them. Or maybe I do, but only in pieces that don’t fit together. Snippets of this and that. Like a square of cloth and a set of dice—nothing that turns into a real memory.” He shrugs.
Even though Coy doesn’t seem upset by losing his family, I can’t help but feel sad for him. What if his mother loved him but he decided to fly off with Peter and never return to her? I’ve never given much thought to having children, but I know in my gut that losing one must be the greatest pain a person can suffer.
