Chapter 10
“Lay down, lay down, quiet your sleepy head.”
The music flowed out as Maggie danced around the expansive kitchen, made just for her.
A smell that rang slightly familiar but widely unique spread until it touched every corner of the mostly empty restaurant.
Though there wasn’t a soul alongside her, no one other than her dutiful guard Sunny, Maggie had the growing sense of a bustling business roaring all around her.
She simply needed to close her eyes, and the dream became a fast reality, from the shoes squeaking against the non-slip floors and down to the hissing of the stove.
Maggie breathed every bit of it in, even if none of it was truly happening.
Her song coursed through the kitchen another time. “Lay down, lay down, upon this softened bed.”
Light glimmered from the stovetop. A thick and heavy cast iron skillet sat upon one of the widest rings, a consistently bright fire rumbling directly beneath it.
Butter sizzled and grew a delicate brown as Maggie ladled the final trio of round pancakes from the wide brimmed bowl upon her hip.
Stray drops of batter fell against her apron, the pinkish hue from the berries they picked leaving a delicate stain against the pale blue cotton.
Maggie listened to the cakes pop with her song, the rhythm catching onto the magic and pulling it into the food itself.
Caught in the song, Maggie twirled and landed when she faced the opposite direction, swaying as the room still spun. Lined up in a neat row, the Lost Boys and their King leaned against a countertop and diligently watched their lunch unfold.
A memory flashed across Maggie’s thoughts and she stepped back with the brunt of déjà vu.
The southern ladies of Dunhollow presented themselves in a similar fashion as she prepared their cinnamon rolls, not wanting to even take their eyes off her for a single second.
The boys clung to her in the same sense, but there was something different about it.
Maggie caught the quick glimpse of wonderment in the Lost Boy’s expressions, and another thing within Peter’s, an emotion she wasn’t quite sure about.
“Lay down, lay down,” Maggie cooed, the music not stopping as the magic continued to endlessly flow from her poetic words, “and remember this for me.”
Maggie spun once more and was unable to hide her eagerness to lean further into the magic.
In the human world, the magic only came in darkened corners, in the late evenings beneath the moonlight, hidden deep within thick shadows.
She practiced beside a fading candle, not willfully and confidently in a well lit restaurant in front of a handful of gentlemen.
Though it was highly unusual and made Maggie feel like she was in the middle of committing a very heinous crime, not one member of her quiet audience gave the impression of uncomfort.
Hunger laced their eyes, their growling stomachs loud even from where she stood.
Curiosity was louder than it all, their attention entirely focused on the pancakes as they were flipped and seared on the bottom for a second or two more.
“Lay down, lay down,” Maggie continued the melody as she took the pan from the flame.
The smell of browning butter lingered throughout the kitchen and rested pleasantly against the tip of her tongue.
A platter stacked high with pancakes glowed as she grabbed a hold of it, the final whispers of her magical song sinking into the steaming food.
“For I have brought you something to eat!” The magic surged till it had been swallowed up by the cakes.
The tops were colored a delicate chestnut from the cast iron’s sear, while the edges and bottom were as bright as a ripened strawberry.
The food’s true color shone through as the magic dissipated, the spell having effectively done its job.
Maggie brought the platter through the kitchen and strode by the Lost Boys and their King, ignoring how quickly they followed at her heels.
Not that she was one to outrightly brag about her food, but Maggie couldn’t help but salivate by her own creation.
The berries they harvested before returning to the treehouse had been macerated into a delectably sweet syrup, mellowed out by a few squeezes of a tart fruit they had encountered earlier in the day.
Some of the berries themselves were simply quartered and folded into the pancake batter, speckling the fluffed cakes with bursts of a robust cherry flavor.
As for the magic, it was the final ingredient.
Maggie could never be entirely sure what it did, but she believed it to be something along the lines of love.
Whenever a cook revealed that their secret ingredient to their famous recipe was a hint of love, Maggie hardly believed it.
Up until the day she began to explore her own magic.
As Maggie reached across the table to place the platter down, the Lost Boys took their seats one by one.
A few of them gently played with the others, a few nudges here and there.
On one end of the squared table, Peter took his seat with a watchful eye.
His bright blue gaze held onto Maggie for longer than she anticipated, even after she began to serve the pancakes.
The intensity behind his stare caused her to stumble, almost knocking over the glass bottle of homemade syrup she concocted.
With a quivering laugh, she finished passing out the cakes before making her own plate.
“What is it?” Dusty asked into the silence with a small voice.
Maggie blinked a few times before she realized that Neverland’s inhabitants simply ate fruit from the Everything Plant to get by.
Even if the fruit tasted different for each and every one of them, the textures and shapes remained the same.
In the end, it was simply a magical fruit.
How would they know what pancakes were? Maggie gave them a smile to put their wary stares at ease.
“Pink Berry Pancakes,” she proclaimed.
Dusty eyed his companions. “Pancakes?”
“Sure, they’re normally a breakfast thing,” Maggie mumbled sheepishly, “but I figured a group of boys would rather be eating sweets than anything else.” Clearing her throat, Maggie reached for the glass bottle and popped the cork at the top, before tipping it and letting the amber syrup within gently trickle out of the curved spout.
“This is pancake syrup. It’s buttery and almost bitter. It’ll keep it from tasting too sweet.”
The bottle was passed around and the boys poured the syrup in the same fashion that Maggie once did.
They moved like children that never learned how to eat.
Biting back her amused laugh, Maggie simply watched with a growing sense of anticipation.
She never considered their lack of understanding of different foods.
Texture wasn’t at all similar to the taste.
They might believe cake to be the worst thing they could ever ingest. Panic quickly began to settle in the pit of Maggie’s stomach as they continued to poke and prod their food nervously.
Peter suddenly cleared his throat and sat up in his seat. “Where’s your sense of adventure gone, Lost Boys?”
The four raised their heads and eyed their King skeptically. Peter frowned but did not falter, his voice only growing louder and more confident.
“Where are the boys I raid pirate ships with?” He pointed his fork down the table like a long, twisted blade. “The boys who never go to bed, who never take no for an answer, who play all day and explore all night?”
The Lost Boys began to respond to him, nodding their heads and growing excited. It wasn’t until they eyed the mission ahead, the Pink Berry Pancakes, that their confidence withered like the very plant Maggie was tasked with saving.
Peter sighed and fell back in his seat. Some things, Maggie knew, needed to be solved without the idea of fun and games.
“Won’t you all trust me?” Peter finally spoke again.
“Of course it’s odd, all you’ve eaten are berries for so long!
It might look a little different and feel a little different, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad, does it?
” Peter set his sights on Dash, who was the only Lost Boy courageous enough to meet his King’s eye.
“How about you, Dash? Won’t you give it a try?
Show your fellow men that there isn’t anything to be nervous about! ”
As the spotlight fell onto Dash, the Lost Boy could hardly turn away.
He gulped, the loud sound striking a nerve in Maggie’s mind.
Not one of them will try it, she thought to herself.
Not one of them will even dare to try and like it.
Doubt surrounding Maggie’s cooking skills arose fast, like a tidal wave.
It washed over her effortlessly, stripping away whatever sense of confidence she might’ve been housing before.
Peter had even gone so far as to call her the best cook he could find - Maggie was beginning to suppose that he hadn’t looked far enough.
Dash stuck his fork messily into the pancake, sectioning off a mouthful before shoving it quickly between his lips.
His eyes squeezed shut, and Maggie fought against the urge to do the same, entirely under the belief that he’d be spitting it out next.
The silence stretched on and she watched him with a furrowed brow.
Dash began to slowly chew his food, swallowing every now and then.
The other Lost Boys leaned forward eagerly as they awaited his final jurisdiction, going so far as to stand and push their chairs away.