Wendy smiled up at him. “Some may say dirt.”
Peter’s eyes grew serious. “You could never be as plain as dirt. Just look at your face.” He cradled her cheek, and Wendy turned away, a blush creeping over her face as she remembered their passionate kiss in the mist. It seemed now like a hundred years ago, though it had only been that morning. So much had happened since then. The irresponsible thrum in her heart fluttered away as she remembered the two boys who hadn’t returned home with them. Peter landed softly beside her and took her elbow gently with his hands.
“After the feast, I want to take you somewhere. Somewhere special.”
Wendy blushed at the thought, but at the same time, she felt a twinge of betrayal in her chest. But why? She couldn’t think of a single reason why this should make her feel anything but giddy. When she tried to pinpoint the feeling, all she could see were the rapidly turning pages of a book.
“Peter, it’s so odd but . . .” She was about to describe the strange image when the sound of the bell high atop of Pan Island began to ring loudly. Peter’s eyes twinkled, and he leapt into the air, floating backward away from her.
“It’s almost time!” He clapped his hands together, and for a moment, Wendy saw the boy he must have been when he was younger. Dirty, excitable, quick. The boy who looked down on her now was still that boy, only the look in his eyes when he gazed at her—no, there was nothing youthful about the fire in his adoring eyes, the way they swallowed her up in a consuming blaze. Wendy swallowed nervously. Peter pointed up to the alcove above the table, a wooden outcropping that she hadn’t noticed before.
“That’s where the Generals eat. And tonight, where we will drink! You’ll be welcome up there with us.”
“And Michael?” Wendy had finally spied her brother making his way across the Table, no interest whatsoever in the bottles before him as he chased a small mouse that was bolting for its life across the room. Peter’s mouth twitched.
“I’m sorry, Wendy, Michael can’t come. He’s not a General, so you can imagine how that would make the other boys feel. It would be unfair.” Peter waved his hand dismissively in Michael’s direction. “He’ll be fine.”
Michael narrowly missed the mouse, which had darted out of the open door and into the night. Michael collapsed into belly laughs after his breathless chase, resting his hands on his knees.
“Wendy, I think that Mr. Mouse likes me!”
Wendy grinned. “I can see that. He must!” It was then that John pushed rudely past her, on his merry way to the alcove. “John! Excuse you!”
John was snide. “Yes, excuse me, your royal highness.”
“John!”
Her brother spun on Michael. “And don’t be silly, Michael, that mouse doesn’t care about you one way or another.”
“John, why are you being so cruel?” Wendy demanded.
He ignored her reprimand and without another word, leapt into the air with Oxley, both Generals then settling smugly in the alcove overlooking the Table. Wendy pursed her lips in a tight line. Ah, so that’s how they got up there. John gave her a smug shrug from the alcove before turning away. Who was this boy? His change of behavior turned her stomach. Sodding git. She turned to Peter.
“I’ll stay down here with the other boys, I think. Thank you for inviting me.”
Peter gave her a hard smile, the corners of his mouth turning down a smidge, like a pout, which she found herself wanting to kiss off his face. Then she shook her head. The thoughts this boy made her think!
Wendy pulled out a chair from under the table and made herself comfortable, crossing her legs at the ankle as the chair creaked underneath her. Everything on Pan Island was like that: one hard movement away from collapse, an entire world made of breakables. She pulled Michael onto her lap, inhaling her younger brother’s golden hair, a mix of rich ferns, notes of citrus, and a heap of sweaty dirt. He snuggled happily with Wendy for a few blissful moments before scampering away with Thomas. The boys were flooding the room now, their bellies full, the whooping and calling growing ever louder, their jovial boyishness filling the room like a balloon. Shouts rang out as they tore into the bottles, each one feigning some liquor expertise as they ultimately chose the bottle they had laid eyes on when they entered. A fight quickly broke out over a particularly large bottle with black liquid inside of it and a puzzle of crossbones etched into its casing.