Shadow (Wendy Darling #3)(28)
Without warning, he grasped a young boy from the crowd and pulled him into the air with him, the boy granted the power to fly, just as the Darlings had been.
“Do you all know who this is?”
The boys cheered.
“This is Thomas. Even though he is just a Pip, I have decided that Thomas will be a companion to Michael, but if he does his job well, he will be joining the Lost Boys and the Generals when we borrow from Hooky!”
The crowd erupted with cheers of encouragement that concealed a simmering jealousy at Peter’s attention. Thomas, who looked to be about seven, was beside himself with happiness, the blush rising from his sallow cheeks a complement to the curly blond hair that cascaded down his back in a ponytail. Aside from the occasional street urchin, Wendy had never seen a boy with curls quite like that. Peter flew back up to the platform, taking Thomas with him and placing him down beside Wendy.
“Hallo,” Thomas whispered to Wendy, the joy in his voice touching something deep within her. She placed her hand on the back of his head and smiled, and the mass of dirty boys seemed to relax a bit. Without warning, Thomas took her hand and squeezed it. Michael narrowed his eyes before Wendy giggled and poked him. Peter flew up to rest upon the dilapidated wooden banister that separated the Darlings from the rest of the boys below, his hands upon his hips.
“Now, the Darlings have had a very long night of flying, and they are probably tired. Tomorrow night we will celebrate their arrival with a grand feast, but today . . .” His eyes rested on Wendy. “We’ll let them sleep.”
Wendy found herself beyond thankful, for nothing sounded more terrible at the moment than feasting with hundreds of loud and curious boys. Her eyes were barely staying open as it was, and she found that moving her head too quickly resulted in a lingering light-headedness. Peter waved his arms out over the boys, their eyes rapt on his figure.
“Now, go about your day and do whatever you please! That’s the freedom of Pan Island! Generals, stay—we have an adventure to talk about!” He turned his head to the three older boys who were still staring at John. “Abbott, Oxley, and Kitoko—join me in a one clock turn? John will be joining us as well—unless he’s too tired.” He gave John a tempting grin, one eyebrow cocked.
John shook his head. “No—no, sir. I’m not tired at all.”
“Sir?” All the Generals laughed. John did look raggedly tired—the bags under his eyes spoke to his lie, but Wendy was secretly pleased to see him included. Michael gave a huge yawn, throwing his arms up.
“Peter, I’m very tired.”
Peter laughed and rubbed his towhead. “Indeed you are!” The boys had begun to disperse silently into the gentle folds of the tree that cradled the buildings around them.
Peter turned to Wendy. “Shall I show you to your private hut?”
Wendy nodded. “That would be lovely, Peter, thank you,” she said, taking Michael’s hand.
“First I’ll show you the basics of Pan Island so that when you wake, you’ll know where to find everything you need!” Alternating between flying, leaping, and walking, Peter led the Darlings down several descending levels of branches until they reached a very wide and large rope walkway that linked two large structures together at the very heart of the tree. Peter gestured to the space.
“We call this the Centermost. It’s the heart of Pan Island.”
Wendy nodded, taking in the shower of petite yellow flowers that dotted the canopy overhead and the elaborate nautilus carved into the trunks that arched above their heads. Peter touched her arm with a tender brush of his fingers before pointing.
“These are the two main gathering rooms: the Table and the Teepee. One is for eating, and the other is for storytelling. Ox will show you those tomorrow.” Peter’s tone implied that the purpose of these rooms was obvious.
Wendy nodded. She felt swallowed by the tree, by its branchy folds and twisty corners. They walked down several more walkways, Peter leading Wendy by the hand, his skin warm and soft against her own. This little adventure so far had been nothing if not improper, through and through, but strangely enough, Wendy found herself not caring.
“I think,” he said, running his hands though his thick red hair, “that we will head down to where the Pips sleep at the base of the tree. Michael can sleep there. John will take his rest here.” He pointed to a group of hammocks that swayed just underneath the Teepee, each strung with red and purple nets, the beds swaying ever so slightly of their own accord, strung between two smaller branches. Michael looked at Peter and then back again at Wendy before shaking his head no and clinging to Wendy’s leg. Wendy laughed and looked back at Peter.
“I would much prefer Michael to sleep with me, if that is all right. He’s had a long night and is in a strange place. You understand.”
Peter’s quizzical look told her that he didn’t, and for just a moment, he looked almost disappointed, but then the look disappeared, and Wendy wasn’t sure if she was hallucinating in her exhaustion.
“Of course. You’re . . .” He looked at Michael and searched for the words. “Little.”
Michael stuck out his bottom lip. “I’m not little.” He paused. “But I’m maybe a little little.”
Peter laughed. “That’s fine, Michael. I have a very special place in mind for Wendy. Hold on tight to her!”