VILLAIN

Chapter 7

 "So," Peter said after we had walked far enough away from the Lost Boys' tree that the awkwardness of being overheard was no longer a concern. "How has everything been at...school?"

His tone held no venom, just mild curiosity, and I released a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. "Good, I suppose. Or at least...as good as I had any right to expect. Turns out that being a Villain really isn't so bad when you're just surrounded by other kids in the exact same position as you."

"But?" Peter prompted.

I sighed, looking away and finally allowing myself to react to everything that had happened tonight. "But then I was just sitting in my tree, and Max scared me, because it turns out he's been spying on me. And when I fell, and he saw my eyes..." Said eyes burned, and I blinked furiously, refusing to cry over someone as arrogant as Maximus Quarterly. "There was a minute where I thought he really was going to let me fall. And even after he saved me, he kidnapped me and said all those things and threatened me and...All because I'm a Villain."

Peter's brows drew together in a crease, and after a second of hesitation, he grabbed hold of my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Moira, I'm so sorry," he said earnestly. "That day, when the High King said that, I...I've never felt more treasonous in my whole life."

I offered him a wistful smile, squeezing his hand back, warmth spreading up my arm as I did so. But even so, I had to ask, "Do you think Max is right? Am I a witch?"

Peter sighed. "Max is a pigheaded idiot," he said. "But don't judge him too harshly. He...isn't like the other Lost Boys."

"What exactly makes them 'lost' anyway?" I asked, my curiosity enough to pull me out of my self-doubt – temporarily, at least.

Peter shrugged. "A bad sense of direction, I'd wager," he teased.

I gave him a friendly shove, which sent him chuckling. "You know what I meant," I scolded, smiling in spite of myself.

After his laughter subsided, Peter straightened, swinging our hands back and forth gently between us as he answered my question. "Well, the truth is they've all lost their family. Or, I guess 'been lost' is a better way to put it. Take Thud: He used to live with his grandfather, when he was a baby. But the old man was dreadfully forgetful, and one day he accidentally left Thud on the beach, forgetting about the poor lad completely. Or me, for example. I was lost by my family in a storm, blown away in my carriage by the wind. Although, I suppose I can't complain too much, because then I found you." He turned to look at me thoughtfully, then did a double-take. "Wait, are you still wearing that same nightdress?"

I bit my lip, cheeks flushing. I hoped he couldn't see it in the haze of the wee hours of morning. I hadn't even thought about the fact that I was still wearing my old, faded, baby-blue nightdress, its tattered hem barely below my knees now. It felt like ages ago when I'd climbed into my tree to sleep. Had it really only been a couple of hours?

"What about Max, then?" I asked, changing the subject.

"What about him?" Peter replied.

"You said he wasn't like the other Lost Boys. What makes him different?" I clarified.

Peter nodded his understanding, his expression becoming solemn. "Oh. Well, I'm not sure how much he'd want me to tell you, but...it seems threatening your life is a good enough reason as any that you deserve to know the truth. You see, Max was never lost like the other Lost Boys were. He's really more of a Left Boy, actually. He was born out of wedlock – his mother was a Peasant, his father a Noble. When he was born, there were certain...complications, and his mother passed away. His father, angry and ashamed of the baby that never should've been born, refused to take him. So Max just sort of...survived on his own. That's why you shouldn't judge him on his actions. They were certainly wrong, and he will be dealt with, but he's a good person. Just a little bit..."