Chapter Eight: The Lost Boys
The room started to shake a little and there was a great tumble as a bunch of boys fell out of other tunnels, landing on different cushions. It was not until then that I began to observe the room. It had the objects that were in the movie and book. Peter's huge chair, a large bed, a large table, and a curtain, which presumably led to Peter's room, made up the surroundings. There was also a stone fireplace off to the side, that looked to lead into a small tunnel through the wall, probably to Hangman's Tree...that is, the chimney.
"In case you're wondering, we're sort of next to Hangman's Tree, which can be used as a chimney and an entrance. But now there are many other entrances and each boy has his own way of getting in, kind of like a password. I'm the only one who knows all the…passwords; let's call them passwords. It's easier. Anyway, there's a very secret entrance into Hangman's Tree. All the holes are just different places for smoke to go out. To get in…well, I'll just show ya later." Peter was obviously bored with explaining the dynamics of the hideout. "The good thing is that Hook thinks this is all bombed out, so it's still a secret that we live here. And even if he were to try to get in through Hangman's Tree, the only entrance is too hidden, and it's all rubble directly underneath the tree. Just the entrance leads around the rubble."
That answered a question I'd had. I nodded, and turned my head to observe the Lost Boys. They weren't the boys I knew from the story; those boys had gone with the Darling children. Now, I saw six boys. No, seven. With Peter they made a band of eight. The boys were lined up, tallest to shortest, and introduced themselves. The tallest stepped out, saluted Peter, and began to talk.
"I'm Lasher," he announced. He looked to be about twelve or thirteen and had tanned skin and dark brown, almost black hair that was shaggy and messily cut and striking blue eyes, much more salient my own blue eyes. He wore a vest and shorts made of animal skin, perhaps bear skin, and a vine with a small dagger, smaller than Peter's, circled his waist. His bare feet were almost completely brown and black with mud. Lasher didn't look like the friendliest of boys; his face was smudged with dirt and he refused to smile.
"My name is Braith," the next boy said, stepping out as Lasher stepped back. This boy had long dirty blonde hair that came down to his chest with a gray feather woven in and, again, striking blue eyes, and looked to be the same age as Lasher. The two of them were also of similar size, about 5'2", tall for their ages and not that much shorter than me; I stood at just under 5'4". Peter was by far the tallest in the room, at around 5'6".
Braith wore a dirty shirt that was once white, but was now brown and yellow with filth, and looked to be of the pirate style, loose with ruffles around the sleeves and a low-cut v-neck collar. It occurred to me that he might have stolen it from them. He wore black shorts that were probably originally pants because one short leg was ripped off above the knee and the other was ripped off just under the knee. Braith's feet were adorned in worn-out moccasins and a dirty navy-blue sash served as a belt, tied 'round his waist with a small dagger. He startled me out of my observations. "Just to get it out there now, I'm a girl, not a boy."
I nearly jumped in surprise as the other girl looked at me with cold eyes. She was obviously accustomed to being mistaken for a boy and hated it. "Lasher is my twin brother. Don't even try to make fun of me, 'cause I don't care if I'm not a proper young lady. I'll kick your sorry butt if you make fun of me. I might be a girl, but I can still fight just as well as any boy-"
"Ahem!" Peter cleared his throat, a warning tone in the noise and Braith rolled her eyes.
"Any boy except Peter Pan." She looked at Peter and he nodded, satisfied. "But that goes without saying!" she added. "So when it comes to fighting, don't think I'm an easy opponent-"
"Zafen, go ahead," Peter interrupted, wanting to move on. Braith snapped her mouth shut and stepped back, glaring at me like it was my fault she had been cut off. She already had one incorrect stereotype about me, thinking that I was the type of girl who scoffed at a tomboy. Heh, she couldn't have been more wrong about me! I, personally, was partly tomboy and partly…well, a girl could be a little girly sometimes, right? But I certainly respected and even admired girls who were completely tomboys, so Braith's stereotypical assumptions annoyed me. Then again, it was clear that she was used to being teased, maybe even cast out, by other girls from her past because of her being a tomboy. So, I did have some understanding. The next boy, an African-American of about ten years, stepped out, smiling pleasantly.
"Well, Peter just said my name, but I'll say it anyway. I'm Zafen, but you can call me Zafe if you want. I think you're pretty!" I blushed at the compliment. He spoke in a perfect British accent, which I found to be adorable. I knew right away I was going to get along with this boy! He was dressed in animal-skin pants. He didn't have a shirt, shoes, or dagger, but he wore a necklace with a large pointed tooth as a pendant. His hair was scraggly and fell in a dome-shape around his head.
"Zafen!" Braith hissed at him.
"What? She is pretty!" he insisted.
"Thank you," I responded, giggling. I caught Braith imitating me in a mocking manner, but the next boy, an Asian youth of maybe eight or nine, stepped out. His hair was hanging just above his ears, splattered with mud, a gorgeous shade of ebony. He wore a vine around his torso and had pants and moccasins fashioned by the Indians.
"I am Dreeplyr," he said softly while playing with his bellybutton. He had a strong Japanese accent, and I assumed that English was his second language. He hastily stepped back, looking at the ground.
"You can just call him Dreep," Peter told me. "He's a bit shy." The fifth boy stepped forward and introduced himself as Macted. He had golden-chestnut wavy hair that fell just under his chin. His eyes were a soft brown. I envied him for that hair of his; it was the kind of hair I had always wanted, being wavy. My own hair was straight and a regular brown, with very faded auburn dye on the bottom half. Honestly, I had always wanted Peter's auburn hair color and a bit of a wave. Ah well. The hair just made Dreep and Peter more pleasant to look at. Dreep wore a ragged navy-blue t-shirt and jeans. On his feet were brown-strapped sandals.
"I might be small, but I'm just as tough as Braith and Lasher. If you use a nickname for me, use Mact. Don't call me Mac. I won't respond to that," he added before stepping back into line. His accent revealed that he was from Ireland. He looked to be about eight years old, but I could tell from something about his attitude that he was more like twelve. Tiny kid for that age.
"Mact is our newest Lost Boy," Peter informed me, which explained his modern clothes. For all I new, the other boys and girl were also from recent times, but they didn't have their original clothes on like Mact did.
"I'm Lymay," came a high-pitched voice that belonged to a child of around seven. "I don't have a nickname, but you can make one for me if you wish." He was so adorable! A small mulatto child with very short, fuzzy, curly brown hair, he wore nothing but shorts probably made by the Indians. He was incredibly filthy, but all the cuter for it!
"Well, I think I'm gonna end up calling you Lyme," I said affectionately, bending over to be eye-level with him. He giggled and stepped back.
"I like her, Peter!" he exclaimed and Peter laughed. Braith snorted. And at last the seventh Lost Boy had his chance.
"And my name is Catch," he squeaked. He was no more than five years old with almost white-blonde curls that hung in his light blue eyes. He wore an animal vest and shorts much like Lasher's, who had likely made them for him. He was barefoot, but had an anklet made from a vine with small claws hanging from it. His cheeks were dusted with freckles and he wore glasses that were scratched.
"Catch?" I asked, a tad bit amused.
"Yes," he said. "I like that name."
"Okay, Catch," I smiled.
"Are you our new mother? Braith won't be our mother," he sulked, poking out a fat bottom lip. Braith blew air through her teeth and rolled her eyes again.
"There's no way I'll ever play mother." She said the word 'mother' with such disgust!
"See?" Catch asked, pointing at Braith. "Please be our mother." I thought about it…I hadn't really intended to be a mother…come to think of it, the thought had hardly occurred to me before now, but how could I say no to this cute kid?
"I…" I looked at Peter for help, but he just raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner. He was wondering the same thing, apparently. I turned back to the Lost Boys…and Lost Girl. "I don't have any real experience…" I didn't want to say that I wasn't going to do it. I mean, the idea of being a mother did not exactly deter me; I knew quite well that these boys were in need of a mother. But on the other hand, I wanted my stay here to be filled with adventures, not mothering duties. My conflicting thoughts were interrupted.
"Do you know any stories?" Zafen inquired excitedly. 'Hah, the inevitable question!' I thought to myself.
"And can you sew? Braith can't sew our clothes," Macted commented and again Braith scoffed.
"Just because I'm a girl-" she was cut off.
"And can you tuck us in at night?" Lymay wanted to know. I started to laugh. All of these questions were to be expected.
"Lost Boys, I-"
"Ahem!" Now Braith cleared her throat in anger and I faltered.
"…and Lost Girl…I can do all that. I happen to know lots of stories, and I can sew, if you like! I do love to tell stories," I added, and took a breath to say more, but a cheer erupted and I had to wait for them to quiet down. "But as for sewing, Braith is right. Just because she's a girl doesn't mean she should have to do the sewing." Braith snapped her head around to look at me in utter astonishment. I hoped that I had made it clear to her now that I was not one to accept all "girl's roles" jobs either. "Boys can sew too, you know," I went on. The boys looked at each other in confusion, never having thought of this option.
"But we don't know how. Girls always know how to do it naturally," Lasher said. Braith punched him in the arm (he ignored her) and I rolled my eyes.
"Actually, Lasher, girls have to learn to sew too. And I can teach you to sew. It's easy enough." Lasher shrugged his shoulders. The boys were muttering amongst themselves with Braith watching them, one eyebrow raised. A voice broke out.
"What about tucking us in?" Lymay asked. I cocked my mouth into a half-smile, figuring why not?
"Yes, I can tuck you in, too." He gave me a toothy grin, showing off two missing front teeth.
"Just don't expect to be getting any help from me with that mother stuff," Braith said firmly. She was still not warming up to me, and I just nodded at her. I hadn't been planning on asking anyway. Lasher spoke up.
"What's your name, anyway?"
"Oh, right!" I smacked my forehead, chuckling. "I'm Rebecca."
"Any nicknames?" Lasher asked.
"Well, yea, my friends tend to call me Bec, so if you want to use that, you can."
"Rebecca. That's a pretty name for a pretty face," Zafen said.
"Psh," Braith huffed. "You think everything's pretty, Zafe."
"I don't think you're pretty," he shot back. Braith didn't know how to react to this; she was obviously questioning whether she wanted to be pretty or if that would be too girly, but Peter made up her mind with an, "Ooo! He got you, Braith." Braith scowled and raised an arm to hit Zafen, but I caught her arm as it came down. Like Peter, I hated seeing the stronger pick on the weaker, and Braith had a good few inches on Zafen.
"Are you really such a coward that you need to pick on someone smaller than you?" I asked her coldly.
"You're my size," she responded and pounced on me. My first physical fight in Neverland had begun.