“How much money?” Wendy asks from the one barstool behind the island.
“Oh, uh.” Pan thinks. “A dollar?”
“Done.” Wendy jumps up and runs out to the front door.
“Do you evenhavea dollar right now?” Tink asks, but Pan brushes him off.
“Look at my man Fox here, being all domestic.” Pan puts his elbows on the island and his chin in his hands. “Whatcha making us?”
“What’s it look like?” I pick up the bowl a little to show him. “And who said they were for you, anyway?”
Tink snorts. “Oh, so you’re gonna eat a whole box of pancakes yourself?”
“What, you think I couldn’t?”
Tink does his little smile. “No. Iknowyoucould.”
“Shut up,” I tell him, not that I’m actually mad. “No, they’re notjustfor me. Kids like pancakes, right?”
“Everyone likes pancakes,” Tink says.
“Are you saying you want some?”
“I’msaying that,” Pan interrupts, scratching his ribs. “Hey, they’ve literally got my name on them.”
“Back!” Wendy stomp-runs back in with a stack of papers in her hand: grocery store coupons, mostly, and a few actual envelopes, all rubber-banded together.
“Thank you kindly,” Pan says. He takes the pile and chucks it in the trash can.
“Hey!” Wendy says, laughing a little. “Why’d you ask me to get it if you were just gonna throw it out?”
“So it doesn’t clog up the mailbox,” Pan says, and makes a face at Wendy. “Duh. Leave too much in there and someone might actually notice this place is…whatever the word is. Abandoned and falling into disrepair. Gotta hide in plain sight, you know?”
Wendy giggles as Pan winks, stretching his arms overhead and yawning the world’s loudest yawn. I fork-whisk the egg into the batter.
“Working late?” Tink asks.
Pan ends his yawn on a laugh. “You could say that.” His eyes flick to the door to the shop, and I can just see a figure tiptoeingout. Afemalefigure. The blonde Mermaid, with the big…eyes. Emerald, that’s it. Caught in the walk of shame.
Unfortunately, Wendy sees her too. She turns back around to us, eyes narrow.
“What’sshedoing here?”
Pan says nothing. AndIcertainly don’t wanna answer that one, so I decide to duck under the counter and see if we own a spatula.
“Huh?” I hear Tink’s voice after a moment. “Oh, uh…”
There. Spatula, a little melted on the edge but probably will work. I grab it, and when I come back up, Tink looks…
It’s weird. Like he’s legit lost for words. Not something I usually see in Tink.
I hold the spatula kind of stupidly as behind Wendy’s head, Pan does a little “who, me?” shrug. Then holds up a hand for me to high-five. Which I do, with my hand not holding the spatula, because sure, GG and all.
“Don’t worry about it,” Pan says, grabbing Wendy’s shoulder. “She knows her way home.” He flashes a grin at all of us. “Now, how about those pancakes?”
“Can I ride your bike?”
“Um, do you have a license?”
