“It’s just, she’s getting butter all over her hand.” He elbows his brother, who matches his twin’s amusement.
“Sorry.” I place the ‘bread’ on the table beside my bowl. “I, um, I ...” Stupidly, I wipe my palm on my pants, though I’m certain there’s no butter greasing my skin.
Peter frowns.
They all stare at me, some eyes hopeful, others curious—none of them giving any hint that this is some big prank on me. In that moment, I realize how well and truly screwed I am. I’m at a table with several grown men, all of them playing pretend and expecting me to play along.
I force a smile. “Well, I suppose I could try the soup.” I take my spoon and gingerly dip along the top of my bowl, then put it in my mouth.
Everyone seems to breathe a silent sigh of relief.
“Good, right?” The man to my left gestures toward my bowl. “We grow the carrots in the Glowing Glade. A Neverian showed us how the mushrooms glow just enough to make the carrots grow.” His face falls. “Before the pirates killed her.”
“The pirates killed people?” I ask, not sure what he’s even talking about, but not liking it all the same.
“Let her eat.” Peter shakes his head.
“Yeah, Slightly, no one cares about your garden.” One of the twins rolls his eyes.
The men eat as I slowly dip my spoon again and again, all the while pretending to savor the taste of the absolutenothingin my bowl.
“You, um, haven’t touched your bread.” Curly seems deflated as he stands and takes his bowl to the sink.
“Sorry, it’s just the soup is so good.” I grab the ‘bread’ from the plate and mime taking a big bite, then chewing with gusto. “Absolutely delicious. Thank you, Curly.” I adopt the same tone as I would with a child playing pretend.
It works.
He beams at me, pride in his eyes. “Iknewyou’d like it.”
I continue my chewing as I try to push aside my disbelief at all of this. Me trying to escape almost got me discovered by pirates,and from what Slightly says, they aren’t the kinds of people I want to run into.
If this is a dream, then I’m probably safe either way, though. Wait, I try to remember what happened in “Inception” if Leo DiCaprio died in his dream. Did he wake? Or did he die in the real world? Or was that those old Freddy Krueger movies where you die in the dream and then die in real life? I can’t remember which movie is which.
“We’d sure love a story.” Peter hands his bowl to one of the twins and stands.
There’s that eerie pause again—the men hesitating like they’re afraid of their next breath—but then the clatter continues as they load up the stone sink.
I stop pretending to eat. “A story?”
“Sure.” Slightly leans over and grabs something from the floor. “You dropped this,” he says apologetically and puts something into my bowl. Must’ve been the ‘bread.’ Then he clears it away for me. Thank god. I’m more than ready for this mad tea party to end.
The men file out of the kitchen, some of them jostling each other or pushing with laughs and snorts. They’re all wearing similar clothes to Peter’s—forest green tunics with linen pants, all the seams done roughly with what looks like twine. Some of them wear big boots and others are barefoot. They all have that earthy smell, as if they’ve been digging the soil all day before coming underground to get nuts with their make-believe dinner.
Though it makes me uneasy, I follow them through the craggy passage, the walls rubbed smooth where my hands touch but still rough above. It keeps going, sometimes flaring out into wideopen space with moonlight filtering down, then coming in close again.
I wonder if I can find a weapon, something to defend myself. Where are they taking me? They haven’t hurt me, but that doesn’t mean they won’t.
“This is very ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarves’, and I can tell you right now I’m not much of a Disney princess.” My voice sounds small and scared.
“Oh, is that a story?” Slightly turns and asks, his eyes wide.
“What?” I gawk at him. “Yes, of course it is. You’ve never heard of Snow White?”
“No. Is he a pirate?” His mouth turns into a tight line. “If he’s a pirate, I’ll cut him down before he gets anywhere near you, Moira. I promise.”
For the first time since this whole mess started, I’m speechless. Who hasn’t heard of Snow White?
“You can tell us about Snow White. That can be your story.” Peter walks behind me, his sure steps following mine as we wind through the caverns.
