Utterly confused, I can only stare at him. If I didn’t already think I was nuts, this would be the last straw.
“I think you broke her, Nibs.” Curly takes a bite of nothing.
“I think you brokeme.” Coy scratches his neck.
Nibs sighs. “Think of Tink and Quenith like they’re lit candles. Easy to see, easy to believe. But the waffles are an unlit candle. Nothing to light them up except the spark of your own belief.”
“But I believe! I totally, one hundred percent believe that delicious waffles are sitting in front of me waiting to be eaten, even if they aren’t real.”
“There it is.” Peter stands and comes around the table, then puts his hands over my eyes.
“There what is? Hey!” His touch is light, his scent hitting my nose and making me think of forest floors with trees soaring high above.
“Close your eyes. Imagine the waffles,” he orders. “But don’t imagine Slightly is over there pretending to make waffles.Realwaffles, all right? In your mind, just accept that all of this is real,includingthe waffles.”
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly going tight. If I accept all of this is real—likerealreal—then where does that leave me? In a mental hospital like my mother? I was fourteen the first time she went away. I still remember the smell of the hallways, the disinfectant mixed with something even harsher. My visits were always the same one-sided agony. She’d sit at the barred window and stare, only lifting her hand every now and again to yank at her light brown hair, the same shade as mine. All because she believed in a world that wasn’t real, because she locked herself inside her head and refused to come out. Not even for me.
I can’t let that happen. No matter how much this feels like it’s happening, like I’m here at a table surrounded by Lost Boys and lurking pirates, I can’t go all in. If I do, I’m risking the same fate as my mother’s. I won’t become her. I promised myself that my fantasies would never consume me the way hers did. I’d write them. I’d send them outside of myself instead of letting them devour me. In the last days, it was as if my mother had cannibalized herself, allowing whatever was playing out in her mind to take precedence over the hell she wrought on her body. My memories try to take me back to my last visit with her before she died, but I push them down deep, locking them back up in the filigreed case where I keep them. Pretty on the outside, deadly on the inside.
No, I can’t go all in on Neverland. I won’t, because if I do, I’ll lose myself.
Taking Peter’s wrists, I pull his hands away from my eyes. “I’m good with neverberries.”
“Oh, come on.” Slightly grumbles at the stove. “Ijustmade you a fresh waffle.”
Peter leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. “It’s okay to let it be real, Moira. You don’t have to be scared.” Then he rises and returns to his side of the table as goosebumps flow out from where he touched me.
He gets back into hushed conversation with Curly.
“Now that we’ve all heard about me being ‘stunted.’” I shoot Nibs a reproachful look. “Maybe we can talk about whatever secrets you’re keeping over there—hang on, what’s that smell?” I stand so fast I get dizzy.
“Hey.” Coy takes my elbow.
“I smell it. It’s real! Is it real?” I don’t care if I sound insane.
“This?” Tootles backs away from the stove, and that’s when I see it. Not waffles. Something far, far better.
I dash to him and stare down at the dark liquid. “Oh my god.”
“The stuff got all wet, but I dried it out as much as I could. Tootles remembered seeing someone pour hot water over it to make the coffee?” Coy speaks over my shoulder as I watch the last of the dark nectar drip down through a strainer made of some sort of reeds.
“This is it. This …” I gently take the small cup from beneath the strainer, careful not to spill it, and bring it to my lips. When I take a sip, I finally have an idea of what heaven is like—bitter, a little stale, and absolutely perfect.
I hold the cup tightly and return to the table. It’s like a wakeup call straight from the universe. I take another drink and moan. So good.
When I look up, seven sets of eyes are on me.
“What?” I can’t seem to put the cup down. It’s barely bigger than an espresso cup, and I would kill for more, but this will have to be enough.
“Nothing.” They all go back to their breakfasts as I enjoy each sip. It doesn’t take long for me to finish it, and I have no shame about licking the bottom of the cup to make sure I get every last bit. Closing my eyes, I let it hit my stomach and wait for it to give me god-like powers. Well, the powers don’t come, but my headache does lessen a bit.
“Now that I’m human again.” I smile and cradle my tiny, now-empty cup against my chest. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s not anything for you to worry about.” Peter gives Curly a look and starts cutting up his invisi-waffles.
“It’s something.” I down a few more neverberries. “Spill.”
The men remain mum, Peter chewing slowly.
