Chapter Four
We marched as one big group through the woods until the boys started disappearing into a huge twisted oak by rope or by tunnel or by ladder into a hollowed out window. I looked at Mell and shrugged and crawled into a tunnel big enough for a grown man to slip into. The tunnel, made of soft cool earth, dipped downwards a little bit until it dropped and I went screaming and sliding down to a dirt floor. The Lost Boys turned and looked at me strangely.
"S-sorry," I stammered and stood up brushing myself off. The ceiling was rather low, I could reach up and touch it without straightening my arm. Mell, sensing the drop I had, slid carefully down after me. There was a while before we had any notice that Mike and Sara were coming down.
There was a gasp and then a yelp and much shuffling around as if they were trying to get past one another. Mell and I watched the tunnel door with bated breath, expecting to Mike's head to pop out.
Sara crawled out herself and we jumped on her, embracing her. Mike pushed himself out after.
"Get time to come around Sara," Mike snapped, as he stood up banging his head on the ceiling.
Sara rolled her eyes, then groaned and clutched her side, dropping to the floor. Mell and I exchanged exasperated looks and scrambled to the floor to kneel beside her. We stared breathless and anxious into her face.
Sara twitched and started laughing.
"What?" I asked.
"You guys actually believed that!" she burst out laughing until her side hurt too much and she stopped, panting. Mell punched her on the arm.
"Don't do that! Almost gave me a heart attack!"
All through this scene, the Lost Boys were standing watching us with interest. I sat back and stretched out my legs finally getting a chance to look around the inside. It looked like a two-room apartment with a woven carpet by a tiny blackened pit, where it looked as if they had had many fires. There was one wooden rocking chair in the corner and a blanket hung over a doorway to the other room, which I'm sure was where they slept. Other than a small table with some stray pieces of silverware, the room was rather bare.
We found a long piece of cloth that one of the boys went out and dampened in a stream and then helped wrap around Sara's waist, serving better than the leaves we had patched on before.
After that, Peter told the Lost Boys to stand in one line as he introduced them all to us.
He pointed to a pudgy boy with a bright smile on his face.
"This is Tootles." Tootles waved his fingers at us, shyly. We waved back, awing.
"This is Nibs," Peter continued going down the line. Nibs was the smaller boy with the dark hair who suggested killing us for Peter's benefit, but right now, he looked like an innocent maybe eight-year-old boy.
"Slightly," Peter nodded to a boy who was whistling under his breath. Slightly was the handsomest of the young boys and probably the most conceited as he nodded sharply with his nose in the air.
Curly was even smaller than Nibs with, true to his name, curly red hair. He looked no more than five or six, but yet he had a dagger strapped to his belt and his tiny hands were held behind his back.
Last were the Twins. They were completely identical, even more so than Mell and her sister, so Peter simply called them by one name, for fear of mixing them up. Peter also didn't really know what exactly twins were, and, being the leader of the pack, the boys were not allowed to know anything he didn't know. Mell almost launched into an explanation but Peter kept talking.
"Well, these are all of them. Now it is dinnertime. Nibs go out and fetch us some food."
Nibs climbed up the tunnel without a word or motion except to grab his bow and arrow.
"You just sent him out like that?" I asked, astonished.
"Of course. They do whatever I tell them to," Peter responded as if there was no harm in this.
"But that isn't right. You shouldn't be ordering them around when you are not even the parent," Sara pointed out.
"That's why I brought you here."
"So we can boss you around?" Mike asked excitedly.
"No," Peter said rather hard, "To be our mothers and to tell us stories."
Sara sprang on his comment, "So that means you must be in bed as soon as supper is over, you hear me?"
Peter stammered and narrowed his eyes at Sara, who smirked back.
Things were a little tight until Nibs came back with a chicken hanging over his shoulder. Peter sat grimly at the table while the chicken was being cooked. It was amazing how the boys chipped in and pulled the feathers off and started the fire and even gutted it. I had the feeling they were trying to impress us. Even so, they were better cooks than I was.
We all sat down to dinner I guessed about seven o'clock. The chicken was actually really good, but as the Lost Boys didn't have salt or any seasoning, it was pretty bland. Mike had to sit on the floor because the chairs were too small and the table too low.
After dinner, we ushered them to the other room where there were blankets spread all around and little hammocks in the corners. There were bits of clothes on the floor everywhere.
"It's worse than my room," Mell whispered in my ear. I giggled. We told them to get in their beds and before they went to sleep we would tell them a story.
"It all started when Ann here hit her head on a tree branch and was blasted into another world, another time, her own fantasy." Mell began.
We marched as one big group through the woods until the boys started disappearing into a huge twisted oak by rope or by tunnel or by ladder into a hollowed out window. I looked at Mell and shrugged and crawled into a tunnel big enough for a grown man to slip into. The tunnel, made of soft cool earth, dipped downwards a little bit until it dropped and I went screaming and sliding down to a dirt floor. The Lost Boys turned and looked at me strangely.
"S-sorry," I stammered and stood up brushing myself off. The ceiling was rather low, I could reach up and touch it without straightening my arm. Mell, sensing the drop I had, slid carefully down after me. There was a while before we had any notice that Mike and Sara were coming down.
There was a gasp and then a yelp and much shuffling around as if they were trying to get past one another. Mell and I watched the tunnel door with bated breath, expecting to Mike's head to pop out.
Sara crawled out herself and we jumped on her, embracing her. Mike pushed himself out after.
"Get time to come around Sara," Mike snapped, as he stood up banging his head on the ceiling.
Sara rolled her eyes, then groaned and clutched her side, dropping to the floor. Mell and I exchanged exasperated looks and scrambled to the floor to kneel beside her. We stared breathless and anxious into her face.
Sara twitched and started laughing.
"What?" I asked.
"You guys actually believed that!" she burst out laughing until her side hurt too much and she stopped, panting. Mell punched her on the arm.
"Don't do that! Almost gave me a heart attack!"
All through this scene, the Lost Boys were standing watching us with interest. I sat back and stretched out my legs finally getting a chance to look around the inside. It looked like a two-room apartment with a woven carpet by a tiny blackened pit, where it looked as if they had had many fires. There was one wooden rocking chair in the corner and a blanket hung over a doorway to the other room, which I'm sure was where they slept. Other than a small table with some stray pieces of silverware, the room was rather bare.
We found a long piece of cloth that one of the boys went out and dampened in a stream and then helped wrap around Sara's waist, serving better than the leaves we had patched on before.
After that, Peter told the Lost Boys to stand in one line as he introduced them all to us.
He pointed to a pudgy boy with a bright smile on his face.
"This is Tootles." Tootles waved his fingers at us, shyly. We waved back, awing.
"This is Nibs," Peter continued going down the line. Nibs was the smaller boy with the dark hair who suggested killing us for Peter's benefit, but right now, he looked like an innocent maybe eight-year-old boy.
"Slightly," Peter nodded to a boy who was whistling under his breath. Slightly was the handsomest of the young boys and probably the most conceited as he nodded sharply with his nose in the air.
Curly was even smaller than Nibs with, true to his name, curly red hair. He looked no more than five or six, but yet he had a dagger strapped to his belt and his tiny hands were held behind his back.
Last were the Twins. They were completely identical, even more so than Mell and her sister, so Peter simply called them by one name, for fear of mixing them up. Peter also didn't really know what exactly twins were, and, being the leader of the pack, the boys were not allowed to know anything he didn't know. Mell almost launched into an explanation but Peter kept talking.
"Well, these are all of them. Now it is dinnertime. Nibs go out and fetch us some food."
Nibs climbed up the tunnel without a word or motion except to grab his bow and arrow.
"You just sent him out like that?" I asked, astonished.
"Of course. They do whatever I tell them to," Peter responded as if there was no harm in this.
"But that isn't right. You shouldn't be ordering them around when you are not even the parent," Sara pointed out.
"That's why I brought you here."
"So we can boss you around?" Mike asked excitedly.
"No," Peter said rather hard, "To be our mothers and to tell us stories."
Sara sprang on his comment, "So that means you must be in bed as soon as supper is over, you hear me?"
Peter stammered and narrowed his eyes at Sara, who smirked back.
Things were a little tight until Nibs came back with a chicken hanging over his shoulder. Peter sat grimly at the table while the chicken was being cooked. It was amazing how the boys chipped in and pulled the feathers off and started the fire and even gutted it. I had the feeling they were trying to impress us. Even so, they were better cooks than I was.
We all sat down to dinner I guessed about seven o'clock. The chicken was actually really good, but as the Lost Boys didn't have salt or any seasoning, it was pretty bland. Mike had to sit on the floor because the chairs were too small and the table too low.
After dinner, we ushered them to the other room where there were blankets spread all around and little hammocks in the corners. There were bits of clothes on the floor everywhere.
"It's worse than my room," Mell whispered in my ear. I giggled. We told them to get in their beds and before they went to sleep we would tell them a story.
"It all started when Ann here hit her head on a tree branch and was blasted into another world, another time, her own fantasy." Mell began.