Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
If you shut your eyes and are a lucky one, you may see at times a shapeless pool of lovely pale colors suspended in the darkness; then if you squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool begins to take shape, and the colors become so vivid that with another squeeze they must go on fire.
We land at the edge of a lagoon, the forest close at our backs. I’m almost getting used to this flying thing. “How big is the island, exactly?”
“As big as it needs to be, but smaller if it takes a notion.” Peter winks.
“That doesn’t even make sens—Ah!” I see a very naked ass surface, then disappear as Curly rises above the low waves. “You’re here already? Was the tree boring?”
“It was really, um, high.” I glance at it over my shoulder, its branches shadowy in the night.
“Come for a swim.” Curly moves closer, his dark skin smooth on the surface of the water.
I look down at my dirty clothes then back at the lagoon. It’s rounded, a perfect bite out of the island with white rocks along the far edge that fan out toward the sea, dotting the water until they disappear.
A swim sounds great, but Curly’s already in the water naked. I can’t get in wearing a sweatshirt, but I can’t get in naked, either. I’m stuck on shore.
“Go do your thing.” I plop down. “I’m going to sit here and think about how I got myself into this mess and how I’m going to get myself out.”
Peter strips his shirt off, then reaches for the laces of his pants.
I turn my head away so quickly I think I pull something in my neck.
Peter laughs low in his throat, then tosses his clothes in a pile at my feet. I hear his splashes as he runs out into the waves.
Curly swipes his arm across the water, soaking Peter who dives right for him.
Curly laughs, then yells as he gets pulled under the waves by an unseen Peter Pan. Doesn’t matter what age they are, boys always have to horse around in water.
I sit for a while and watch the stars as they watch me.
The moon is wider than a sliver and ringed by high clouds.
I wonder if it ever shines brightly or if it stays stuck in half light.
What else has gone wrong here because of Captain Hook’s thirst for power?
The thought sends a shiver through me. He’s slaughtered his way through the peoples of the island, but Peter’s little band has managed to survive.
It makes me wonder how many they’ve lost, and how many more will die if Captain Hook gets his way.
Wendy always made exceedingly clear that Hook was the enemy of everyone in Neverland.
Some allegiances could change between the fairies, the Lost Boys, the Neverians, and even the mermaids. But Hook was the one constant.
Staring out at the ocean, I look for the black sails, but they’re thankfully absent.
I lie back on the sand and sort through all the things that happened since I first met Peter on the quad.
How did he even find me? I crane my neck to ask him, but he and Curly are deeper now, still dunking each other as they laugh and sputter.
Time passes, the moon rising higher as I ponder how to somehow repair the island and then return home.
I let my thoughts go to even darker places—am I having a total break from reality?
Is this how it started with my mother? She hid it so well that her own husband didn’t even realize she was dissociating until the time she went into a fugue state and nearly drowned in the bathtub.
Is that me right now? Lying on my dorm floor, my eyes seeing nothing as my mind holds me captive?
A big blue crab skitters a little too close to my head for comfort, so I sit up and glare at it. It moseys back the way it came, though one of its eyes remains locked on me.
“I’ve always liked crab legs, buddy, and those neverberries won’t fill me up forever.”
It takes the hint and dives into a hole along the line where the shore meets the jungle.
“That’s what I thought.” I turn back to the sea, then yell when Curly bursts from the water right in front of me with Peter behind him.
“Come on, Moira!” Curly swipes at the water, splashing Peter. “Nothing better than a swim.”
I have to admit, I could use a wash. Then again, there are two naked men in the water, both of them looking at me. Nerves ball in my gut.
“Is it cold?” I stall.
“No.” Curly splashes around. “The water is perfect. Just don’t drink it.”
I get to my feet. “Why, what’s wrong with it? Magic or poison or something?”
“It’s saltwater, Moira.” Peter chuckles, his hair slicked back from the water, giving him a 1920s gangster vibe. It’s not a bad look on him at all.
“Hey!” I turn around, my back to the beautiful lagoon. “I’m not just going to strip down out here.”
“Why not?” Peter sounds genuinely curious.
“Because I’m not, that’s why.” I’ve always been shy about my body.
Maybe because my mother never gave me much direction on boundaries.
I came to the realization when I got to high school gym class that I was modest to the point of being a weirdo.
Maybe that wouldn’t have been the case if my mother ever talked to me about important things—like my body, my clothes, how to not seem like a total loser in school.
But none of those things ever concerned her.
She lived in her own head more than on the actual earth.
So, when I hit puberty (also with no heads-up from my mom on the whole period thing) and was looking for a sense of style, I was on my own.
As I survey my dirty college sweatshirt and ripped jeans, I realize I dress the same way now as I did when I was a teenager.
But it’s not as if how I look really matters.
I can say without hesitation that no man has ever shown a real interest in me—frat boys looking to get laid clearly don’t count.
And though some part of me used to wonder why no man looked at me twice, I’ve learned to live with it.
I’m no stellar beauty, but I don’t have to be.
All I want is a cozy little house filled with books where I can read, write, and have as many adventures as I want on the page.
The characters living in my head will give me companionship.
Love isn’t necessary in this fantasy of mine.
Besides, I’ve gone my whole life without it, so what’s the use now?
A splash pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to see Peter and Curly swimming away, their muscles positively glowing under the moonlight.
What must they think of plain old me, I wonder?
My mother, when she was lucid or perhaps when she wasn’t, used to say that Wendy was a beauty, which was why Peter chose to take her to the island with him.
Was Peter expecting another one of her? Perfect manners and effortless beauty?
I snort a laugh. That’s never been me.
“Come on, Moira!” Peter yells.
I can’t help but smile as Curly splashes him, the two of them still playing like little boys. Which, I suppose, at their hearts, is what they’re meant to be.
“I’ll swim, but just don’t look, okay?” I cross my arms over my chest, which sends the smell from my underarms wafting to my nose. Yeah, I definitely need to get into the water.
“How do we not look?” Peter calls from where he’s now treading water. “What if you’re drowning?”
“Just don’t look as I undress! Once I’m in the water, you won’t be able to see anything anyway.” I let that thought sink in as I stare at the dark water. There’s no telling what could be in there. “Where are the mermaids?”
Peter turns around in the water and finds the moon in the sky. “They should be here, but they may have dived into the deep to avoid Hook.”
“Do they bite?” I call.
“Not us. No. But they’re no fan of pirates, so I’m certain they’d be more than happy to take a chunk out of Hook and his minions.”
“If they don’t like pirates, why were the pirates here earlier?”
Peter shrugs as Curly splashes him again. “No idea.”
“Fine, well turn around!” I motion at both of them. “No peeking.”
“The mermaids don’t care if we look,” Curly protests.
“Do I look like a frickin’ mermaid?”
“Take off your clothes, and I can tell you for certain,” Peter returns.
“Shut up and turn around!”
“Fine.” They both spin away from me and begin a race to the opposite shore.
Once they’re far enough away, I pull off my sweatshirt then peel off my jeans.
The hems are crusted with dirt, and I figure I may as well try to wash them in the ocean while I’m here.
Once I’m in my bra and panties, I walk to where the water meets the sand and dip my toe in.
It’s not particularly warm, but it’s not freezing either.
It’s like when the city pool first opens in the spring, the water bearable if not entirely enjoyable.
I make up my mind and stomp out through the water until I can bend my knees and float a little.
“How am I going to get this clean?” I ask my clothes, which don’t bother to answer, so I swish them around in the water and rub the fabrics against each other in the hopes it’s actually doing something.
Once I’ve done that for a while, I scamper back up to the beach and lay them out on the sand, then hurry back into the water.
“Be brave,” I tell myself and glance over my shoulder.
Curly and Peter are wrestling on the opposite shore, their yells louder than the sound of the surf crashing on the other side of the stone wall that keeps this inlet relatively serene.
Once I’m in deep enough, I strip off my panties and bra and give them the same half-assed washing, then throw them as hard as I can onto the beach.
They land askance on my jeans, but that’s good enough for me.
Hopefully they’ll be somewhat dry when I get back to them.
If not, it’ll be a wet slog back to the cave.
I sink below the water, my eyes shut tight, and run my fingers through my hair, freeing the strands and letting them float around me. Then I surface and smooth it all back from my face.
“I think you already smell better.” A twin swims past me so fast I yelp.
“Don’t be an ass, Foy.” Coy splashes toward me from the shore, and I spin quickly when I see he is utterly, completely naked. Nothing left to my imagination whatsoever.
“You okay?” Coy slides through the water until he’s in front of me, his bottom half now thankfully obscured by the dark water.
“Yeah, it’s just that … It’s just I saw …”
His brows lower as he scans the beach behind me. “What? What did you see? A pirate?”
I burst out laughing, and his gaze snaps back to me.
“Not a pirate. No.”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “Good.”
“Never mind. Doesn’t matter what I saw.” Even if it was giant.
“Okay. Hey, want to race to the other side?” He cups some water in his hand and runs it through his hair, slicking it back.
“I’m not much of a swimmer. You’d beat me easy.”
“What if I do it with one hand behind my back?” He dutifully places his right hand behind him. “How about that?”
I look at the opposite shore and try to gauge the distance. I’m not a strong swimmer, but I can definitely make it that far.
I move past him, pretending to think about his offer. “Hmmmm. I don’t know.” I keep going, getting farther from where he’s treading water. “I’m not much of a racer, to be honest.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Well, I guess if you really want to …” Now I’m a decent head start away.
“Yeah.” He bobs up and down in the water, the moon glinting off his wet hair. “Let’s do it.”
“Okay then. ReadySetGo!” I say the words so quickly that they mush together, and them I’m off, kicking hard and using my arms to propel myself through the water.
“Cheater!” Coy laughs, but then I hear his splash behind me. He’s coming.
I kick hard then start throwing my arms over my head, free-styling on top of the water. Peter and the other boys stop goofing on the shore and turn to watch us.
“Faster, Moira!” Curly yells and waves me toward him.
I pump harder, kicking for all I’m worth. I don’t think about how black the water is or how bizarre this whole thing has been or even the naked men waiting for me ahead. I only swim. Letting go of all my tension and worry as my muscles start to burn and I get closer and closer to victory.
“Almost got you!” Coy calls from too close behind me.
Burning the last of my energy, I propel myself forward, slicing through the water. Close to shore, I keep thinking I’m going to touch bottom and be able to use my feet to get me the rest of the way. But I never do.
Instead, my foot touches something squishy, but then it clamps around my ankle. I gasp, my gaze meeting Peter’s right as I realize what’s happening.
His eyes widen with realization, and I start to scream, but the sound is lost as I’m dragged beneath the sparkling dark water.