Grim (A Peter Pan Fanfic)

Chapter 4: Little Brother and Little Sister

"One of the luckiest things that can happen to you in life is, I think, to have a happy childhood." –Agatha Christie

***

            Elly couldn't have asked for a better group of girls. All four of them have pre-training, at least one weapon of choice, and pleasant auras that offer something new to the group. Another great thing about Neverland is that its magic doesn't permit language barriers. Even if someone is speaking their native tongue, it's translated in a way that makes sense to each individual, which is a great relief.

            There's Sandra, codenamed Sahara, hailing from Nigeria. Her weapons of choice are alpine swords. With ten brothers and sisters, Sandra felt like she was constantly forgotten. She knew she was destined for more—her success with spy work proved that. She came to prove herself.

Ming, codenamed Menthol, is from Yokohama, Japan. She prefers traditional Samurai swords. Her parents are constantly working, traveling, and most of the time, she feels like she's only an obstacle. They've told her this. She's nothing but a nuisance to their progress. She came to find a sense of belonging.

Anna is indigenous to Missoula, Montana, where her Native American tribe resides. Her codename is Cyanide, and she works with a crossbow and whip. Although she loves her culture dearly, they're constantly feeling the overbearing power of American influence. She cherishes her culture too much to let it go. She came to keep her true self alive.

Lastly, there's Jamila, who chose the name Joro. She's from Raipur, India, and she has great handling with daggers and ninja stars. Joro's family has been broken since she was born. She's constantly sent back and forth between relatives and friends—anyone who can take care of her. She came to take care of herself.

            With Bubbles and Elly (whose codename is Deadshot) added to the team, Elly is sure that their group will make Neverland history.

            Their first night together is the most normal night Elly has experienced in a while. It's kind of like a sleepover that lasts more than one night. They all talk about their families—the good and the bad—and the reason they chose to come.

            "Elly, why didn't you try to leave Neverland?" Joro asks once everyone has had a turn to speak up.

            "I didn't know how," she admits. "I didn't find out how to cut off my shadow until I was already settled and comfortable here."

            "Don't you miss Romania?" Bubbles asks.

            "Yes, but..." Elly tries to form the right words. "Like all of you guys, I never truly belonged there. I was adopted, and I could always tell that my parents didn't truly love me; most of the time it felt like they regretted adopting me. But they couldn't just ditch me—well, I guess they could've—but they wouldn't. They ignored me. Mostly."

            "We understand," Joro says.

            "That's why our group is going to work out," Sahara points out. "We'll help each other. We'll be our own family."

            "I hope so," Elly says with a smile.

            "So who are these Lost Boys?" Menthol asks. "I'm not sure I understand the concept."

            Elly sighs. "They're a group led by Peter Pan. They're not kind; they banished me over to this side of the island thinking I would die."

            Cyanide shakes her head. "I hate it when boys automatically label girls as weak. We can survive. We can fight."

            Everyone cheers. Elly says, "And listen, I didn't make this group to get revenge or anything. I'm actually kind of glad that they banished me. They woke up a side of me that I didn't know was there. I just want to show them that they shouldn't underestimate anybody."

            "Damn right," Sahara adds.

            "Do you think they'll try to kill us?" Cyanide asks.

            "I'd love to see them try," Elly snaps. "Any risk they portray to any of us will be drowned. Don't worry."

            Bubbles takes out her fiddle. "How about a tune before bed for good dreams?" 

***

            Peter is constantly fighting away memories from his childhood. He's been on this island for years now—he lost count after he never started counting at all—and yet he can still vividly remember each memory he tries to choke. The only way he can forget, the only way he can block them, is to make someone else feel his pain for him. He supposes that's why he fancies sharp objects.

            "D'you think Griffin really saw a shelter?" Felix asks. It's just him and Peter at the fire; everyone else is in bed or night hunting.

            "No," Peter says with a scoff. "Who the hell would be able to build a shelter like the one he described? It's completely ridiculous."

            Felix grimaces. "It's not, though."

            Peter stops playing his flute lowly and puts it away. "What makes you say that?"

            "The way the tree was designed would've made it insanely easy to transport materials to that height. A pulley system could've easily been created," Felix elaborates. "And the fire pit near the tree wasn't one of ours. It's too far over, and we don't border ours with rocks. Also, the shelter Griffin described had a lot of planks. Only merchants sell planks. They couldn't've come from trees."

            "What are you saying?" Peter snaps.

            "I'm saying that Griffin described that shelter in way too much detail."

            "Then where the hell did it go?"

            Felix shakes his head. "Glamor spell?"

            "No one knows magic but me."

            Felix frowns. "I think we both know who that shelter belongs to."

            Peter throws kindling into the fire. "Bullshit. There's no one on this island but us."

            "She's not dead, Peter, I'm telling you—"

            "She is," Peter insists. "She's dead. Elly Ender is dead. And I won't have you spreading false facts around this camp. She's dead. I don't want to hear another word about any of it."

            Felix leaves for the beach. He likes it because it's easy to see up and down the perimeter of the island from one spot. You don't have to climb a tree or take a boat out. You can look right or left and see sand for miles, especially with keen eyes like his.

Why won't Peter even entertain the possibility that Ender lived? Because that would mean he was wrong. And Peter Pan is "never wrong". Felix has a hunch that she's alive, and his hunches are always right.