“So it’s full of wonder,” I say, recalling our earlier conversation as he smiles up at me.

  “Indeed.” He takes another sip, and I sigh, weariness washing over me at having to accept another impossible and unexplainable thing.

  Magic. I guess, if it could be explained, then it wouldn’t be nearly as magical.

  “Would you like something to eat?” I slip the dish through the gap under the front edge of the grate.

  The prisoner sets his teacup on the ground and eagerly takes the food, tearing a hunk off the bread and popping it into his mouth. “Thank you,” he mumbles around a mouthful.

  There’s something not quite right about the dugout, apart from the strange man sitting inside it. A light streaks from his shoulder down to the ground. Two more lights move. Not lights, faeries! It’s how I can see anything in the hole that would otherwise be dark. There are three of them. One glows orange, another silvery white tinged with yellow, and the third a soft pink.

  “I thought Tinker Bell was the only faerie in Neverland,” I say.

  “She is,” Jessie adds. “Or at least, she was.” The girl leans closer, gripping the bars and pressing her face to a gap. “Where did you little things come from?”

  “Wonderland,” the orange faerie says.

  The pink faerie steps forward. “But we used to be flowers.”

  “Flowers?” I study the tiny creature whose skirt resembles the petals of a rose.

  “It’s a long, convoluted, confusing story,” the man says, chewing the bread. “One minute, they were flowers, and the next, they weren’t.” He picks through the food, eating the strip of meat but turning his nose up at the forest mushrooms.

  “What happened to Tinker Bell?” I peer down at their little faces. “How did she get so big?”

  “That mean faerie,” the silvery faerie says. “She said she wanted some friends. Then there was the weirdest sensation rippling through my leaves. It was even worse than eating a growing cake.”

  “A what?” I ask.

  The man stops chewing. “That’s how she got big, the thief. She stole my cake.”

  “Cake made her big?”

  “You’re a fast learner.” He grins.

  “Did Tinker Bell use the word ‘wish’ at all?” Jessie asks, before I can ask another question.

  The pink faerie flits into the air and comes closer to the grate, her wings humming. “I don’t recall her exact words.”

  “I think what she said was, ‘But I do wish I had some faerie friends’,” the man says, not looking up from his plate, “and then the flowers started squealing.”

  “We did not, Ronan.” The silvery white faerie sets her hands on her hips.

  “I think we did,” the pink faerie replies.

  “Ronan,” I say, turning the word over on my tongue. “Is that your name?”

  The man looks at me from under the brim of his top hat, the last piece of bread in his fingers. “Aye. I go by that, or Hatter.”

  “I’m Wendeline.” I hold his stare.

  “Wendie for short?” Ronan asks. “I heard Peter call you that.”

  The way he says my name makes my heart skip. “I suppose you may call me Wendie.”

  “I’m Jessie,” the Lost Girl beside me says.

  Ronan inclines his head. “Pleased to meet you both. This glittery lot are Tiger Lily, Daisy, and Rose.”

  I don’t need to ask which faerie is which. It’s obvious from their colours.

  “If Tinker Bell made a wish, then that explains it,” Jessie says. “She made a faerie wish.”

  “What’s that, then?” Ronan puts the plate on the ground and adjusts his hat, looking up at us.

  Now that he’s up and coherent, and not slumped on the floor of his prison, I can study Ronan more closely. An angry bruise has spread around his left eye, his lip is split, and dry blood cakes his temple and up into his hair. But under all the grime and grit are ruggedly handsome features, and green eyes that hold the promise of compassion rather than control.

  My stomach surges with anger at what Peter and his thugs have done. I must get Ronan out of here before they can hurt him again.

  “Faerie wishes always come true,” Jessie continues, breaking through my thoughts. “But only if the wish comes from the heart. At least, that’s how it has always worked with Tinker Bell.”

  “She must have really wanted some friends,” Daisy says.

  “She’s lonely,” I mumble.

  It seems the Lost Boys, and now Lost Girls, are not the only ones Peter has neglected.

  Leaves rustle and crunch as something moves in the forest.

  “Someone’s coming,” Jessie whispers.

  “We have to go.” I stare down at Ronan. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

  “When you do, could you bring my bag?” he asks. “The one made of carpet with the little hearts around the top.”

  “I’ll try,” I whisper.

  Although, I don’t know how I’ll prise it out of Tinker Bell’s hands.

  Jessie tugs at my arm, and we disappear into the shadows. I follow her, stepping where she steps, keeping as low as I can and avoiding the frequent patches of moonlight that shine through the forest canopy.

  We arrive at the edge of the clearing just as Peter, Slightly, and Slingshot emerge from the trees. Peter has a wicked smile on his lips which widens when Slightly dumps a hessian sack at his feet.

  “What are the spoils tonight, boys?” Peter rubs his hands together.

  Jessie and I crouch behind a tree. “What’s going on?” I whisper.

  “Loot from the raid,” Jessie says. “Probably more rope, some tools, weapons. That sort of thing.”

  “Where do they get it from?”

  Jessie stares at me, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “The pirates.”

  “There are pirates?” I ask. “Where?”

  “Peter really hasn’t told you anything, has he?”

  “No,” I grumble. “I’m beginning to realise he only brought me here so I could look after everyone.”

  Metal clangs on metal and I jump. Something else thumps on the ground as Slingshot shakes out the last items in the sack. Slightly crouches beside the pile and sifts through it, moving the objects around with the hook he has clutched in his hand. Peter bends and grabs something from the ground. He raises his arm and light glints off the blade of a sword. His face is alight with happiness, his smile even wider than before.

  “Our first real pirate sword,” Peter says. “It’s about time we acquired ourselves a decent weapon.” Peter grabs something else from the pile, then wraps it around his waist. He slips the sword into the belt and stands tall, his hands on his hips. “Captain Pan on board,” he yells, and I jump again.

  “Come on.” I touch Jessie’s arm. “We should get back inside before he sees us.”

  Jessie nods, and we make our way quietly around the edge of the clearing until we find the path leading into the Hideout. I can still glimpse Peter and the other two boys through the trees. Peter and Slightly spar, sword to hook, as Shooter sifts through the pile of treasures.

  Jessie and I slip into the Hideout, where everyone else is sleeping under the soft glow of the firefly lights. As I emerge from the mouth of the tunnel, I run straight into Tinker Bell. She scowls and clenches her fists.

  What is her problem?

  “Peter’s back,” Jessie whispers.

  Tinker Bell’s eyes go wide, and a flush creeps into her cheeks. Then she races off down the passageway. Jessie grins, then beckons me to follow her along the adjacent tunnel.

  “Where are we going?” I keep my voice low so I don’t wake anyone.

  “Tinker Bell’s quarters. Now is the perfect time to look for Ronan’s bag. She’ll be too preoccupied with trying to get Peter’s attention.”

  Jessie steps lightly and I follow her along the tunnel. We pass several openings that lead off from both sides, but I’ve not had time to explore the Hideout, so I’m unsure where they lead. After a couple of twists and turns, we reach another underground room. This one is much smaller than the main room, and we have to duck to fit through the entrance.

  “Ouch!” I cry when I stand up on the other side.

  “I should have warned you,” Jessie says. “The ceiling is low in here.”

  “I guess a faerie doesn’t need much head room.” I rub the top of my head.

  The room is small and round, with a recess at eye level that’s dug into the dirt and runs along the circumference of the wall. I peer into it, the firefly lights inside glowing softly. One section is furnished with a miniature bed, table, and chair, all made from sticks and leaves. A woven grass mat covers the floor. Farther along, there’s a place for what looks like Tinker Bell’s treasures. A coin, some nuts, a button, some pressed flowers.

  And a thimble.

  Is that my thimble?

  If it is, Peter obviously didn’t think my gift was very important. I reach in and grab it, sliding the little metal object into my pocket.

  Jessie stands in the centre of the small space, slowly turning in a circle, her lips pursed.

  “There,” she says, stopping and pointing to the wall.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  Jessie steps forward. “That’s because you’re looking at it wrong. When you’ve been here as long as I have, you learn how to see things differently.”

  “Teach me,” I say.

  “Don’t look with your eyes.” The Lost Girl crouches in front of the wall. “Look with your belief.”

  Look with my belief?

  I open my mouth to ask how to do that, but then Jessie reaches out and the air shimmers, as though an invisible cloth has fallen away, revealing Ronan’s bag.

  She straightens and holds it at her side. “I’ll get this to Ronan. I know how to move through the forest quieter than you, and if Peter comes into the Hideout and finds you gone ... He won’t notice me missing if you’re here.”

  “I’d like to take it to him,” I reply, but I don’t offer her a reason.

  I feel as though I must return to Ronan, to work out a way to free him. I can’t leave him in that pit.

  Jessie is quiet, and for a moment, I think I’m going to have to take the bag from her, but she holds it out to me. “I’ll keep an ear out for Peter and warn you if I can.”

  “Thank you.” I take the bag, curling my fingers around the handle.

  We retrace our steps to the main room of the Hideout, moving quietly. I glance at my brothers sleeping soundly in the corner. Michael’s hammock sways when he rolls over, casting a shadow over Jonathan beneath him, and although my stomach is in knots, I’m glad they are safe for now.

  At the mouth of the exit passage, Jessie touches my arm. “I’ll watch over them.” Her gaze flicks to my brothers. “Be careful.”

  I purse my lips and nod, then slip along the hallway to the exit, gripping Ronan’s bag tightly. Once I’m outside, I suck in a lung full of fresh forest air, then move quickly but quietly along the darkened path, away from Peter and the clang of weapons in the clearing.

  As I make my way towards Ronan’s prison, I sift through possible ways to set him free. Dig him out. Cut the wooden bars of the grate. Tie a rope to it and pull it away somehow. But I have a feeling nothing like that will work, and without understanding Neverland magic, I’m not sure what will.

  The only thing I am sure of is that once Ronan is free, we’re going to get as far away from Peter Pan as possible.

  The Promise of Escape

  RONAN

  Something taps on the wooden bars above my head, making me jump from the doze I must have fallen into after Wendie and Jessie left. I look up into Wendie’s wide eyes. She glances over her shoulder, presses a finger to her lips, then holds up my bag.

  My mood changes as a burst of hope rushes through me, along with the elation of seeing Wendie again.

  “Roll it,” I whisper, shifting to my knees so I can reach up. “It should seem empty. You can push it through the grate.”

  She frowns, and looks at the bag as though it’s the Mock Turtle, but does as I say and rolls it as tight as she can before jamming it into one of the squares in the lattice and pushing it to the inside of my prison. I grab it and tug a few times to pull the bag the rest of the way through.

  “I’ve been trying to think of a way to set you free,” Wendie says quietly. “Any ideas?”

  “Fresh out,” I reply, and even though I’m still whispering, my voice sounds loud in the quiet forest.

  “You must have something in that bag of tricks.” She gestures to my carpet bag. Voices murmur in the shadows, followed by metallic sounds and laughter. Wendie looks over her shoulder. “I should go. If Peter catches me out here—”

  “I don’t like that boy.”

  She stares at me through the grate, a soft smile on her lips. “I’ll come back tomorrow. Maybe I can convince him to free you.”

  I snort. “I don’t like your chances.”

  More laughter floats through the forest, and Wendie’s knuckles whiten where she grips the bars of my cell.

  “I have to go,” Wendie says again.

  She reaches through to the inside of the dugout. I slip my hand into hers, relishing the warmth of her skin for a few heartbeats, then she’s gone and I’m left staring at the shifting shadows.

  With a weary sigh, I sit back on the dirt and study my hand, imprinting the feel of Wendie’s skin on mine to my memory. It was brave of her to bring my bag back. I don’t know what Peter has done to her, if he has done anything, if he’s hurt her, but the fear in her eyes suggests he might have.

  I pull my bag towards me with aching arms. My face hurts, my legs hurt, my heart hurts, and falling asleep right now seems like a fantastic idea, but I should check I haven’t lost anything. Wendie called it my bag of tricks, but what good is a chess set and a pack of cards to get me out of this mess? I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting fatigue, then open the carpet bag.

  The flower faeries—I’m not sure what else to call them—glow softly and give off enough light for me to see. They crowd around as I carefully sift through the bag’s contents. Everything seems to be here, so I put the other items, that fell out before, back inside.

  “Hang on.” I peer into the bag, holding my hand up to count on my fingers.

  “What’s wrong?” Rose asks.

  “Something is missing.” I dig through the bag again.

  “What?” Daisy sticks her head into the opening.

  “Cards, chess set, tea pot, ships.” I scratch my head. “Where did I put it?”

  “Put what?” Tiger Lily joins Daisy, their bodies sticking out of the bag from the waist down.

  “I need some tea,” I mumble. “Tea is always the key ... Key! Where did I put the key?”

  Rose settles on my shoulder. “You mean this one?” She pulls a chain from under my collar.

  “Aye.” I curl my fingers around it, my racing heart slowing its thump in my ears. “I forgot I put it on.”

  Forget.

  My mind slips and I squeeze one eye closed, sifting through thoughts and memories to figure out what else I may have forgotten.

  Probably a lot, but I’m too tired to think anymore.

  A deep fog settles over my thoughts. I wrap my arms around the bag, rest my head against the wall of the dugout, and close my eyes.

  “What are you doing?” Rose asks.

  “Sleeping.” I open one eye to look at her. “I’ve had a rather eventful day, and I’m tired.”

  “We should be figuring out how to get you out of here.” Daisy flies up through the grate and stares at me from the other side.

  “It’s dark out. We’ll get lost in the forest.” I close my eyes again and snuggle down farther. “You lot can make a plan while I sleep, then we can tell Wendie when she comes back tomorrow.”

  The flower faeries squabble over what to do, and I ignore them until their voices fade into the background. I can’t expect them to know how to get us out of here when I don’t even know. They’ve been faeries for less than a day, and I’m bound inside this prison by Neverland magic. How can I help them figure it out when I’m not sure how Wonderland magic works?

  It just does.

  Sometimes.

  Tick-tock.

  Why do I feel as though my time is always running out?

  I block out the faeries’ voices, and the deep-seated sound of Time, and picture Wendie’s face in my mind. She is the promise of escape. Of getting out of here. I haven’t known her long, but she seems like the industrious type. She’s also caring and thoughtful, and has helped me more than anyone else here.

  She will figure out what to do.

  She has to.

  I’m desperate to hold on to that thought. That she will get me out of this hole. That I’ll see her again, and we can both get away from this damn island. I wish we had met under less dire circumstances, because I would very much like to get to know her.

  Wendie’s face fills my vision, so real it’s as though I could reach out and touch her. My chest aches with the longing to do so, but my arms are heavy and my body is tired. Piercing blue eyes float in front of me, framed by glowing cheeks and golden hair.

  Magical. Ethereal.

  Does she know she glows like that?

  The glow intensifies, seeping into every corner of my mind, until I can’t see her anymore.

  “Ronan!”

  A sharp sting erupts across my cheek.

  “Ouch!” I open my eyes to Tiger Lily hovering in front of me, all glowing and orange. “What?” I peer around her at the muted sunlight filtering through the grate, searching for Wendie and any sign that she might actually be here. “Is it morning already?”

  “Yes. Time is funny here,” Daisy says.

  “Time is not a laughing matter,” I reply. “And he doesn’t have much of a sense of humour.”

  “I didn’t mean funny, ha ha. I meant ... funny.” She screws up her nose.

  “Forget Time for a minute.” Rose flutters over and lands on my arm that’s wrapped around the bag. “The answer has been right in front of us ... How to get you out.” She wriggles through the opening in the top of the bag, then reappears a moment later and drops a small bottle into my hand.

 

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