“Eat, before it gets any worse. They need to see you are like them. Hurry.” He gulped his wine down. Wendy reached for her turkey leg and hesitated for a moment, taking in its sinews and bloody stump. She closed her eyes and reached for her hunger, that need that was gnawing at the inside of her stomach. Then she ripped into the turkey leg, mashing the meat in between her teeth as Abbott had done. It was so delicious that she sighed with her mouth full, something she would have never done at home. Home, wherever that was—she couldn’t be bothered to remember because there was just her and the turkey leg. The meat was spicy, seasoned with flavors that she had never even dreamed of—it was somehow buttery and tart, with a hint of bitterness and . . . onion? And yet, not onion. Whatever they had done to the meat, it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. The roll would not come apart easily, and so she banged it on the edge of the table until it broke open, showering her in crumbs. She tore the plum apart and spread some of the juices on the roll to soften it. The cheese went into her mouth whole, and she had no regrets.
The sounds of the boys eating rose around her: grunting, tearing, slurping . . . and after a few moments of watching Wendy eat, their gratified laughter rose back up through the Table, the giggling guffaws bursting from the mouths of the boys with abandon. The sound was wonderful, and Wendy quietly smiled to herself as she ate, trying very hard not to think about what she looked like at the moment. With ravenous bites, she tore into her turkey leg until it was nothing but the bone. Eating it that way was intoxicating, either that or her hunger had driven her a bit mad. She shoved the roll into her mouth, and then the remainder of the plum, until nothing was left except for her full glass of berry wine. Every few minutes, large jade leaves floated down from the mossy branches that curled their way under the roof of the Table. The ones that made it past the spitballs of the boys settled gently, as if the wind had loved them, on the glossy surface of the circular table.
Wendy took a final bite of her roll, and when she was finished, she pushed up from the table and grabbed one of the leaves. Abbott watched her with amused eyes as she folded it in half, and then half again, before raising the corner of the leaf to her mouth and wiping it daintily. After she was done, she set it down next to the abolished bone that had been her dinner. Abbott burst out laughing. She looked at him with a half smile.
“Just because I ate like a Lost Boy doesn’t mean I’m not a lady.”
“I can see that.” He leaned over. “Well, just because your brother is smart doesn’t mean he’s a General.”
The moment was broken. Wendy fell silent, not wanting to betray John again.
Abbott stood up. “I’ll be skipping Peter’s story in the Teepee tonight. Some of us have to actually prepare for the raid.”
Wendy felt a panic rise in her chest as Abbott walked away, leaving her unguarded with all these boys, but she was relieved to notice that suddenly no one seemed to care. Their curiosity satiated, they were just gouging themselves on food, not even looking her way.
“I think they just realized that you eat just like the rest of these hungry wretches.” Oxley slapped her hard on the back as he walked by her. “Peter’s waiting for you in the Teepee.”
Wendy had never heard such glad words and quickly brushed the crumbs off her lap before leaving the Table, happy to be away from prying eyes and the noises of hundreds of boys eating. She could feel John’s jealous eyes burning into her back as she ducked her head under a string of glass bottles, each rocking in the warm air as she left the Table behind.