giving myself up, Tink. I’m going to trade myself for Peter.”
While she walked out on the hot sand Wendy imagined herself strolling primly down the avenue with a parasol on her shoulder and a smug little Wendy smile on her face. As if she were going out to market or the bookstore when the demonic Shesbow twins were known to be about, thus requiring her to be extra prim and have an extra-smug smile as first lines of defense.
In reality, of course, it was not an ancient cobbled street she trod, and her pinafore had long since disappeared. Instead, she wore a tunic made of rags bleached white from the sun and salt water, her arms and legs and face darkened by the same powers.
And maybe—just maybe—her smile was less smug and a trifle more sardonic now.
Her shadow behaved like any well-behaved shadow would, copying her precisely. Although, of course, her smile was hidden.
The pirate ship lay on the water as pretty and perfect as a ship in a bottle. For a dizzying moment Wendy played with the idea that it was a ship in a bottle, that she was standing in her father’s study, mouthing words to imaginary heroes and villains as the toll of too much time alone and lack of outside voices finally grew too great.
But her father didn’t have a ship in a bottle.
And Wendy had scratches all over that itched terribly—boring, annoying little details that she would never normally imagine or narrate in a story.
External proof aside, internally she had changed as well. Permanently and deeply. She didn’t need to see her scars to know that they were real.
She kept walking, right into the water, until it was up to her calves.
“Captain Hook,” she called out, waving politely. “Captain Hook? May I have a word?”
Whatever was happening on the ship paused; all attention was directed to her by the antlike pirates and villains.
Hook, ever dramatic and unable to resist a cue, complied.
“WENDY DARLING!” he shouted, his voice a trifle less unctuous than usual because he had to shout. “I WONDERED WHERE YOU RAN OFF TO.”
She curtsied.
“I’M AFRAID WE’RE RATHER BUSY AT THE MOMENT, BUT I WOULD LOVE TO CATCH UP FOR A CHAT JUST AFTER I’VE REVIVED YOUR GOOD FRIEND PAN HERE LONG ENOUGH FOR HIM TO WATCH THE NEXT PHASE OF THE PLAN. IF THERE’S TIME BEFORE YOU’RE ALL WIPED OUT, OF COURSE.”
“I’ve come to give myself up,” Wendy shouted.
“WHAT?”
“I’ve come to give myself up. To offer myself in trade for Peter Pan.”
The red-coated, black-wigged effigy stood stock-still on the ship for a moment. Then Hook threw back his shoulders and bent double, guffawing heartily.
“AND WHAT DO I CARE ABOUT YOU, WENDY DARLING? I HAVE PETER PAN. I DON’T WANT YOU.”
“But do you want Peter Pan? Really?”
“WANT? PETER PAN? MISS DARLING, HAVE YOU BEEN PAYING ATTENTION TO ANYTHING OUTSIDE YOUR OWN LOVELY HEAD WHILE YOU’VE BEEN HERE?”
“Of course I have, and I come with a warning.…” And here she lowered her voice, just a little, letting the wind take it where it would. She recounted the various stories of her time in Never Land, occasionally raising her voice just up to the level it was before, only letting key and cryptic phrases be carried across to the ship. “METAPHORICALLY SPEAKING, OF COURSE…NO LESS THAN AN ARMY…SURPRISED TO FIND…”
The red pirate-ant in the distance grew frustrated. She could imagine exactly what he was saying: What the deuce? Can anyone hear? What is that dashed girl going on about?
“…INEVITABLE,” she finished.
“YOU STAY RIGHT THERE, MISS DARLING,” Hook ordered, face red with impatience. “I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE BLAZES YOU’RE UP TO, BUT YOU WILL COME ABOARD MY SHIP AND WE WILL RESOLVE THIS—DISTRACTION—IMMEDIATELY!”
Wendy curtsied again.
Tinker Bell hadn’t understood this part of the plan—why Wendy couldn’t just fly up to the ship and proceed from there. But Thorn did. It was all about playing a part, and gaining trust, and making Hook feel like he was the one making the decisions. The warrior fairy didn’t put it quite that way, of course; he didn’t think that way. He spoke in terms of subverting the enemy’s expectations and letting the trap draw itself closed.
Wendy waited there as serenely as she could while the pirates lowered down one dinghy and two men—only two! She was insulted. Neither of them was Zane. They were nothing but tertiary characters, thugs whose names she hadn’t bothered to learn when she was on board. They looked dangerous and unimaginative.
(Though one gave a kind