Chapter Two
All Peter could think about on his way back to The Hideout was Charlie. The only Darling girl he'd met since Wendy that had made his heart beat faster.
Yeah, okay, he'd aged a few years since he'd been thirteen that first time he met Wendy and that last night with Molly, so he had more hormones than he'd ever really had before. But dammit all, what was it about Charlie that made him go so crazy that he could barely think? Surely the Lost Boys were going to give him hell when they found out about Charlie (he had to tell them something or they wouldn't let him leave again tonight) but it didn't mean he liked her . . . Did it?
Peter shook his head. No, that couldn't possibly be it. All of a sudden, something cold hit his nose, startling him out of his thoughts, and he looked around to find it snowing. In all his time in Never Never, he had never once seen it snow, so this little weather anomaly never ceased to amaze him. One of his favourite things about this world was that it snowed. And sure, yeah, the seasons didn't change in Never Never, but since the Fairies lived there as well, they saw no point in doing twice the work on their homeland when they'd already changed the seasons on the Mainland. The Fairies would be twice as busy over the year than they usually were, so no one really minded the never-changing weather.
He finally pulled up outside The Hideout and cut the engine. Checking to make sure no one saw him, he wheeled the bike onto the secret ramp he'd made and brought it inside the abandoned shack they all called home. Well, home for now, at least.
"Hey, blockheads," he shouted, "I'm back!"
Thundering footsteps sounded above his head and various different voices shouted out.
"Peter's back!"
"He's here!"
"Peter's home!"
Of course, thirteen-year-old Slightly was the first one down the wooden stairs, holding onto his fox flapper hat with one hand as he took the steps two at a time, his skater-boyish blond hair bouncing, his bright blue eyes shining at the sight of his leader.
"Peter!" he cried happily. "Where ya been, man? We've been waitin' ages!"
"Yeah," nine-year-old Nibs said as he came barreling into the room, his rabbit-eared cap bouncing. "Curly ate all the lunch while we were, too."
"I did not!" chubby and bear-like, eleven-year-old Curly retorted as he came slowly down the stairs, six-year-old Tootles and the eight-year-old Twins behind him.
"Good thing I'm taking all a' ya blockheads out for lunch, then, huh?" Peter laughed. "I've got some money so come'on, let's get outta here!"
"Yeah!" the Boys cheered happily, grinning.
Peter grabbed Tootles and swung the little boy up onto his shoulders. "Hang on tight, Tootles!"
He laughed happily and grabbed onto Peter's hair, making the older boy wince. It stung Peter's heart that his littlest Lost Boy hadn't spoken since they'd lost Wendy and Jane, but he understood. They'd all had their own ways of coping when they'd learned of Jane and Wendy's deaths, and not speaking had been Tootles' way.
"Where d'ya boys wanna eat, anyways?" he asked.
"McDonald's!" a chorus of shouts sounded, and Peter laughed, shaking his head.
It was always McDonald's with them.
"So, who exactly was that guy you met at the library?" one of Charlie's best friends, Donovan Chen, asked curiously.
"Yeah, who was he?" his little sister Julie asked, still trying to get the red face paint from her Tiger Lily costume off.
"Well, uh-" she began.
"He was really kinda familiar," her fourteen-year-old cousin, Susan Darling, said, the octopus head from her costume tucked under her arm, causing quite a few stares in her direction.
"Oh, oh, oh!" James Carter, suddenly exclaimed, his Smee cap slipping off his head as he jumped ahead ahead and walked backward. "You know who he reminded me of?"
"Who?" they all asked.
"Peter Pan! From the stories! He reminds me of Peter Pan!"
Her friends started talking all at once.
"Ohmigosh, yes!" Susan cried. "I can totally see that!"
"He's even got the same name!" Julia said in amazement.
Donovan shrugged, hands in his pockets. "I guess he does kinda remind me of Peter Pan . . ." he admitted.
"We didn't even see his hair, guys, so how can you think he looks like Peter?" Charlie said with a laugh. "He was wearing a cap the whole time he was there!"
"Oh come on, Char," Susan said with a grin, bumping their shoulders. "You've got a thing for the guy. Admit it. You've never met a guy like him who knows anything and everything about the Peter stories like you do-without being born into our family, at least."
"He wants ta meet my grandmother," she blurted stupidly.
Donovan stared at his best friend. "Really? Why?"
Charlie shrugged. "Says they're old friends. How do I know?"
"We'll ask 'er when we get back ta the house, then, yeah?" Susan said. "I'm kinda curious wether Grandmother knows him now or not."
"Me too. An' I planned on doing tha', Suzie, don' worry."
There was suddenly a gaggle of shouting up ahead and Donovan groaned. "Don't you hate it when people just let their kids go crazy out in public?" he grumbled. They stared at him. "What?"
Charlie laughed and wrapped an arm around his neck. "You're growing up too fast, Donny, slow down now."
"Well I do!" he exclaimed, making everyone laugh.
"Quit it, ya blockheads!" a voice suddenly shouted, causing Charlie to stop in her tracks.
"Char, what's up?" Donovan asked instantly.
Charlie couldn't respond, all she could see was the guy from the library, Peter, surrounded by a group of boys and one little boy on his shoulders. They were all heading for the McDonald's up ahead, big smiles on their faces.
"Come'on, Timmy, you're pulling my hair," Peter laughed, swatting playfully at the little boy on his shoulders, making the other boys around him laugh too.
"Peter?" Charlie gasped, and Susan got a knowing look on her face as they all looked over in that direction.
"Go on, Char, go an' get 'im," Julie said encouragingly, and both she and Susan gave her a slight push forward.
Shooting her friends a dark look, she took a deep breath and, gathering all her courage, waved her hand and shouted, "Hey, Peter!"
All of the boys froze and, when Peter's eyes found hers, they widened in surprise. "H-Hey, Charlie, what-what's up?" he stammered with a wave.
The boys around him clammered to tackle Peter to the ground, shooting questions at the older boy like rapid fire.
"Who is she, Peter?" a boy with a bear hat said, grinning wildly.
"Yeah, where'd ya meet her?" a blond boy with blue eyes and fox flapper hat crooned.
"She's pretty!" two twin boys wearing raccoon caps chorused.
"She reminds me of Wen-" a boy with rabbit ears began.
"Shut it," Peter hissed, cutting the boy off, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "Or I'll make ya sleep outside in the snow tonight."
"Aww, you wouldn't do that-" one twin began.
"-you love us, Peter," the other finished.
Peter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure I do."
Charlie jogged forward a bit until she was in front of him. "Care to introduce me, Peter?" she asked with a grin.
"These are my brothers." Charlie's eyebrows shot up as Peter ruffled the head of the boy with the fox cap. "This is Sam-"
"Hey! Watch the hair!"
"-and he's thirteen." He clapped a hand on bear boy's shoulder. "This is Al."
"I'm eleven," the boy said proudly.
"Over here is Robby." Peter gave a tug on one of rabbit boy's ears. "He's-what're you, nine?"
"Of course I am, numbskull! Do I look eight or ten to you?" Robby exclaimed, looking offended.
Peter shook his head with a laugh. "And over there are The Twins, Carl and Eddie."
"Hiya!" they both chimed.
"An' wha's your name?" Charlie asked with a soft smile, wiggling the foot of the little boy on Peter's shoulders. He giggled but didn't reply.
"Oh him?" Sam said with a crook of his thumb. "That's Timmy. He don't speak much. Not since two of our friends died."
"Tha's alrigh'. People cope with death in lot's of different ways," she said. "I know when my cousin, John Michael, died in a car crash a year ago, I didn't talk to anyone for days. He was my best friend an' the closest in the family ta my age. He knew everythin' abou' the Peter Pan stories jus' like I did an' we actually started doing the Peter plays an' stuff for the kids at the library together. So when he died . . . I didn't wan' his memory ta die with our storytelling, so I continued an' became Peter like he'd been."
She blinked rapidly and her breath caught at the vision of Peter holding the handkerchief out to her; she hadn't realized she'd been crying.
"Don't cry," he said softly.
"Yeah," Sam said sadly, tugging absently on his hat. "We hate to see girls cry."
"Yeah," the other boys said, and she was surprised when the boys crowded around to hug her. "Don't cry."
"Boys, boys, lay off will ya?" Peter mumbled, trying to pry them off of her. "Don't wanna freak her out do ya?"
Charlie laughed. "Not freaked out," she said. "Not at all. Slightly flattered, yes, but not at all freaked out."
Peter smiled, making her heart skip a beat.
"Hey, ya know wha' you boys remind me of? With your animal caps an' all?" she said, and they stared at her curiously. "The Lost Boys!"
"Slightly, at your service, madame," Sam said with a grin and a bow.
"Curly here!" Al said.
"Nibs!" Robby exclaimed happily, his rabbit ears bouncing.
Carl and Eddie each wrapped an arm around the other's shoulder and grinned broadly. "The Twins!"
"An' Timmy there is Tootles," Sam told her, pulling the hat off Timmy's head. "See? He's even got the hair for it, too!"
Charlie gasped, staring in shock at the little boy's hair. His hair was black, yes, but his little Mohawk was a white stripe, making him look just like Tootles from the stories had dressed as: a skunk.
"You really are like the Lost Boys," she breathed, eyes wide.
"They like to take their dressing up seriously," Peter said with a awkward laugh.
"Peter Pan and The Adventures In Neverland is our favorite story!" Robby told her with a smile.
"Wendy and Jane's stories are our favorites!" Carl and Eddie exclaimed.
"Peter reads it to us whenever we get homesick. It reminds us of the home we've got waiting for us," Sam said.
"Second star to the right-" Carl began.
"-And straight on 'til morning!" Eddie finished, pumping a fist in the air.
"Yeah!" Peter's brothers shouted.
Robby took off toward the park across the street, arms outstretched to imitate an airplane. "Come'on boys, off to Neverland!"
"Here we go!" the others cried; Al, the Twins, and Timmy following after him.
"Wait, boys, I thought we were getting ice cream!" Peter called after them as they raced.
"They'll be back, Pete, don't worry," Sam chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "They still want ice cream."
Peter rolled his eyes, a small smile quirking his lips as he fondly watched the boys across the street.
"Watch this, Peter!" Sam exclaimed, and raced out onto the suddenly busy street.
Peter's eyes went wide. "Sam, what the hell are you doing!"
"Lookit me, Pete! I'm walkin' on the line!" he shouted, arms outstretched above his head as he walked the white line dividing the cars. Several cars whooshed past him and he almost lost his balance.
"Sam, get off the road!" Peter cried. He stood on the curb, waiting for the cars to stop but the busy street didn't look like it was going to let up. His brown eyes were wild-looking as he watched his brother. The other boys were across the street, waving at Sam, trying to get him to come back.
"Quit bein' such a Grown-Up and chill, Pete!"
"Sam!" Charlie shouted. "Just stay where you are! We're gonna have to wait until the cars stop to get you!"
"What?" the boy said with a smile. "I can't hear you!"
Charlie turned to Peter to see him running his hands through his hair, hat in hand. Were those points on his ears? She rubbed her eyes. No . . . it couldn't be.
There was a blaring honk of a horn and Charlie turned slightly to a see a semi-truck barreling down the road. She grabbed Peter's arm and pointed. "Peter!" she cried. "The truck! It's heading right for Sam!"
Peter grabbed fistfulls of his hair. "Shit, shit, shit," he mumbled. "Slightly, come'on, get outta there."
The horn blared again, the driver leaned out the window: "Oi, kid! Move outta the way!"
Suddenly Peter was racing into the street, the big semi hurtling toward him, and Charlie squeezed her eyes shut. The horn blared, there was a screech of tires, and Peter screamed: "Slightly!"