Sometimes she'd cry.
Recently it had been less and less, but there were nights when sadness would well up inside her chest and choke her. She'd bury her face in her pillow and shake with the silent sobs.
During the day she was fine, same as the other boys. But when the sun set and they wandered off to bed, the quiet would send her thoughts back to the lilac shaded room. The fluffy pink comforter. The smell of spices wafting up from the kitchen. And the familiar footsteps that tip-toed round the rooms, lulling her to sleep.
She tired not to cry. It made the boys suspicious. They'd call her cry baby. What was she, a girl?
During the day, she fit in just fine. She could fart with the best of them, belch her ABC's loud and clear, and spit farther than all the lot of them.
At night, when the fun and competition wore off, when the spell started to fade, she'd realize they were trapped there. They were all caged, fooled by the illusion the island spun around them. At night, the trickery became porous – she could see right through to the horrifying skeletal truth. Another meandering day went by and there was no way home.
Endless adventure? Pfft.
They weren't allowed off the island without Pan. Any adventure they did come up with wasn't allowed. Pan had to discover the adventure. And he hadn't done that in – well that was just it, wasn't it? There was no distinguishable time. Just the passing of day to night, back to day.
Perhaps the thrill had died when the Man named Hook had been defeated. Some of the elder boys said he was good an' dead. Without even the shadow of the man, who would antagonize them into action? Emily had never known of the real pirate, she'd been brought to Pan's island long after the man named Hook was.
Tonight Emily was fighting off the rising panic – lay looking up at the ceiling and sighed. Some nights she just couldn't sleep at all – tears or no. She was drowning in the stranglehold of dread. It felt like there was a half ton brick strapped to her chest. Emily wandered out of her bunk – tip –toed pas the other snoring boys, and slipped out the door.
The night air was chill and heavy with a thin fog. Emily slowly ambled her way across the rope bridges – down the shadowed halls – and out towards the deck.
It was there she found the boy named Pan, swinging his legs over the edge, staring absent into the distance. He seemed to be in one of his better moods – his most mellow. What a rarity. Emily hardly ever saw him sitting. Always pacing, or tearing things, or running frantic. She carefully padded towards him.
The floorboard creaked.
Emily froze in her place.
Pan half-turned, but didn't look at her. She was well aware how quick Pan's anger was – how volatile his mood swings. Unlike the other boys, Emily had been taking note of what particular things set him off. Some days it was everything. Most days, actually. Some days it was as simple as Timmy interrupting Pan's Great Big Plan for Adventure with a fart.
When Pan didn't lash out, Emily crept closer. Her mother had told her tales of The Boy Named Pan. The real boy named Pan. How great his adventures. How exciting his call. How wonderful his visits. Not that her mother had ever been visited. Oh but what tales.
The boy in front her now, was not that boy.
He was a boy who didn't exist.
"Its all wrong, innit?" the sound of Pan's voice made Emily's heart leap to her throat.
She nodded before she realized he wasn't looking. She couldn't find her voice.
"I – I'm not – I'm," Pan gargled, struggling, "Somethin' jus' innint right."
Emily mustered up her courage and sat beside Pan – not brave enough to peer into his face and see madness reflect in his eyes.
"You wanna leave me too, don't you. Everyone – Everyone leaves, in the end. Leaves me."
Emily stared at her fingers. If she didn't respond he'd fly into a rage. She'd seen him do it before – and he was a boy of consistent inconsistency.
"No – I don't want to leave you – I" She stopped herself. He only wanted to hear the good. Not the bad. Not the truth. She just wanted to go home. She didn't want to leave him – no one wanted to leave him. They wanted to take him with them, if he'd just
But then he wouldn't be the boy named Pan – now would he?
"I dunno where the color went. Where the warmth or the fun… its all gone… I'm…"
Emily shivered as the wind picked up. She didn't think he was talking about the wind though. Pan frequently didn't make any sense. Emily frowned. But she could feel the sentiment behind the statement.
She looked over, finally, and saw a melancholy, lonely, frightened boy. A boy who hunched his shoulders and stared miserably into the foggy night. Not the monster. Not the maniac. Not the brave bold daring boy Named Pan.
Just an ordinary boy.
Emily threw her arms around Pan, and pulled him into a tight hug. He froze under her grasp and for a second she didn't dare breath – would he snap and throw her off the roof?
She'd never seen him be touched to know if he even liked it. No boy on the Island was going to find out, not that it was a boy thing anyway. They'd rather wrestle and punch and push.
Maybe the boy named Pan had never been hugged before.
He didn't punch or push or fight her off. Instead, he deflated into her arms. Emily's heart was pounding. She didn't like touching boys – so she fit in fine with the lost and lonely boys. She'd never hugged a non-family member either. She'd just never seen someone look so lost before.
With awkward uncertainty, Emily patted Pan's head, gently. What, was he a cat? She wondered. A cat who at any moment would lash around and sink his claws into her hands.
He didn't seem to mind, though. He just stared into the distance; where the evening star was melting into the hazy horizon. Emily followed his gaze and watched as the fog took over the sky and ate the shimmering light.
Emily started humming the lullaby her mother hummed when she was upset. Tears stung at her eyes and gripped her throat, but she wouldn't cry. No, tonight was a new night. No more tears. She was going to find a way home.
By finding the boy named Pan.