Written by me:
"Last one to the clubhouse is a rotten crocodile egg!" Peter shouted, running to the front of the group.
We all follow him without much thought about why Peter wanted to stop playing tag every time he was 'it' more than twice. The twins fell in line behind Peter, but I was close behind twin one.
All of us had nicknames depending on what we did before Peter found us, but not the twins. They were not allowed to know anything about themselves because Peter didn't know what exactly twins were. We couldn't know something Peter didn't.
"Hurry up, Nibs!" I shouted when I see Nibs trailing behind. He was our bad luck charm, when he got out of our sight nasty things happened.
"Yeah, Nibs! The Wolves might catch you!" Slightly yelled as he appeared beside me. Slightly was the only one to know his last name because it was on his name tag when Peter found him. It's spoiled.
Peter and Twin two disappear into the hole in the ground that leads to our clubhouse. Nibs is going to be a rotten crocodile egg.
"You're last, Nibs!" Peter shouted, laughing and jumping on his bed. Peter was always moving, until he fell asleep, he also always smiled. I think he even smiled in his sleep. "What should Nibs, the egg, do for being slow, boys?" Peter lands indian style on the bed, rocking back and forth.
"He should be the first in bed!" Curly said while the rest of us snickered behind our hands. Curly had the largest heart out of all of us and followed Peter like he was a God, but sometimes his extreme kindness was hilarious to the rest of us.
"He should come up with a new story to tell tonight!" Tootles yelled from his place on the table. He was sitting on it eating berries from our bowl. He was always eating.
"No!" I shouted, pushing him to the ground and plopping two berries in my mouth. "Peter tells the stories." Tootles rolled his eyes but Peter jumped up at the mention of him, already having become bored with the bickering.
"That's what we'll do now, boys. Gather around while I tell my newest story." We all sat at the end of the bed while Peter stacks up pillows to sit on so he is above us. "It's a scary story tonight, as Nib's punishment," He said the last part like an after thought.
"Is it really scary, Peter?" Curly asked. Twin two pushed for being a wuss.
"Of course," Peter said, his voice in a deep sing-song tone. "It's about... Parents," He said and all of us gasped. Whether any of the other boys faked the gasp like I did, I didn't know. We wouldn't be able to talk about it even if I had.
Everyone got really quiet as Peter begins his scary story. It was new, with new characters but still the bases of all of his other stories. The children want to play, but the parents are mean and yell a lot. The children want free and Peter Pan comes to save them. Essentially , it was all of the Lost Boy's stories, and in the end we all unanimously agree parents are mean and we are happier with Peter.
The thing was, Peter found me after my first yelling match with my father. I was upset and mad, and gladly went when Peter offered. For a while, when I thought of my parents I saw the monsters Peter talked about, but they started to fade away to where I didn't. I thought about how my mum use to smile as much as Peter and that my father would be really good at the lost boys' games. Sometimes I even missed them.
"Alright boys, I'm going to bed," Peter announced, meaning everyone else is suppose to sleep too.
Peter got under the covers while the lost boys went to their respective beds. I moved towards Peter and laid a hand on his shoulder so he would look at me. He popped one eye open and grinned at me. I had hoped he wouldn't get mad, he had just forgave me for beating him at sword fighting.
"What's up, James?" Peter asked, sitting up a little.
"Do you know how long I've been here, Peter?" I asked, swallowing and hoping he didn't think I wanted to leave, because I didn't. "Because I lost track of time with all of the fun we have."
"Two years," Peter replied, lifting an eyebrow.
"I wonder if my parents miss me," I said and I didn't realize I said it aloud until Peter replied.
"James," he said. "Parents don't miss their kids when they yell or shout at them. Your parents, like everyone's parents, don't care about kids. Don't care about us! Life is better in Neverland, James." Peter continued to smile at me and laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. "We would miss you if you left, James. Your parents might not, but we would." I nodded and told him goodnight.
I walked to the side of the room I shared with Curly. Might not. Even Peter Pan couldn't give me a completely positive answer about whether my parents miss me or not. Which was good because I missed them.
