Peter and Me

Chapter Four: The Story Teller

I stared at the Story Teller. I took four deep breaths and aimed the dagger point at her. She staggered up and brushed off the dirt. My knuckles were still white by the way I held the handle so tightly in my hands. She saw me and did a small gasp.

 “Who are you?” I say firmly and point the dagger at her; a piece of my hair falls over my face. Covering my good eye to revel my white one. The girl gasps again and steps backwards.

 “Who are you?” I say again, firmer. She stares at me wide-eyed.

 “What happen to your eye?” she said. Her voice was familiar back when I visited her with Peter. I cock my head, it was hard to understand.

 “What langue are you speaking?” I say. She looks confused,

 “English. Do you speak another?” she says. I shake my head and narrow my eyes. I open my mouth to tell her to be quiet but I hear Indian calls. I lower my dagger and retreat it into my sheath. Tiger and Cuddles roll down their slides, I move just in time for them to collide like they always do. Then I hear Peter’s familiar call, like a raven. He appears from his secret tunnel and takes his sword.

 “Welcome, Mother. We must bank the children immediately before they get to us.” He says walking towards Wendy. I glare at her and sit in my hammock, brushing my hair. Peter turns and charges towards the lost boys. I didn’t get how comfortable he was around the stranger. She was very different and dressed like she owned everything. Peter stabbed his sword through his throne, the lost boys screamed. I widen my eyes, Peter never acts this way.

 “Peter!” I hear Wendy scream and block his path. Peter stops and looks at her.

 “…I know something, far more dreadful.” Wendy plucks the flower cups that grew on the vines in the corner and puts it under the roots that run down here, “Medicine.” Peter grins and sits in his throne.

 “Smells awful, the sticky, gooey kind.” She says darkly,  “Littlest first.” Slightly grabs Cuddles and puts his arm on his chest in a protective way.

 “Michael, John. My brothers!” she shouts suddenly.

 “Who?” Peters asks.

 “My brothers!” Wendy shouts again. Peter glances at me then to Wendy. He gets up and walks over to me.

 “Wendy, this is Pam.” Peter introduces me. I glare at her; Peter notices and shakes his hand around his neck, hand talk for shut up.

 “Peter, what happened to her eye?” Wendy asks. Peter opens his mouth but I interrupt him.

 “Hook, that’s what happened.” I reply, “The great battle at Skull rock shores. Hook raised his hand and just cut me like that. It used to be blue, now it’s gone.” I say through tears and wipe them away. Then anger bubbles inside me and the tears turn to steam on my cheeks, “But you main land folk wouldn’t understand.” I say angrily. Wendy’s face turned to concern.

 “That’s terrible.” Wendy says. I shrug,

  “You do what you gotta do to survive.” I say calmly and turn away from her. Peter shrugs, Wendy’s face fell and she walked away while the lost boys dragged her around.

“What’s wrong, Pam?” Peter says sitting next to me. I shake my head.

 “It’s that girl, she doesn’t belong here. She could bring trouble.” I say. Peter cocks his head,

 “She won’t bring trouble. I’ll handle it.” He says with a warm smile. I shake my head,

 “No not fighting trouble, but-“ I stop and just shake my head. “You’re just a boy; a boy like you can’t handle this kind of situation.” I stand up and take my bow, “I’m going for a walk.” Peter grabbed my arm, his skin felt rough. I stopped without turning to see his eyes. He pulled me close to him, I obeyed. Peter turned me so he could see my face. I looked into his hazel pupils.

 “Wendy is to tell us stories at night, and be a mother to you and the lost boys.” Peter said with…feeling. I shook my head,

 “I don’t need a mother.” I snapped quietly. He did a small quiet gasp I heard from his mouth. I see his face fall to sadness. His hand fell from my arm. Without thinking, I took it back. He stopped and turned towards me.

 “I’ll…suffice with her.” I say softly so she won’t hear. Peter smiles and runs back to Wendy. I roll my eyes and place my bows underneath my hammock. I crawl inside and take a bread roll from a basket near me. I rip off a piece and pop it into my mouth. It tasted bitter and had no taste.

Like her.

*          *          *

That night was odd, usually Peter would come say goodnight and sleep with me like always in my hammock. But this time he offered Wendy to sleep with him. I widen my eyes in the dark as they walked past the curtain. Something boiled inside me, but I dumped it down to my stomach and ignored it, like I promised Peter. I wrapped my blanket around my shoulders and slammed my eyes shut. My left eye pulsed with pain.

 “Ow.” I gasp, I touch my eye, I lifted my dirty fingertips to see. On my finger was a drop of blood, I widen my eyes and rush to the mirror. I flick a stick on the trunk, a flame was born. I shoved it into the lamp.

In the mirror I saw myself. I wore a short with sleeves on the sides; they covered my arm but not my shoulders. I looked into my white eye and see that instead of clear tears, they were red. I looked closer and to see that not only was my eyes bleeding, the pupil was slowly tearing to pieces. It pulsed with pain and I gasped again. I took my hand and covered my eye. I stood up and walked towards Peter’s “chamber”, but then I stopped. He was with Wendy, he doesn’t need to be disturbed. I glared-even though it hurt. I didn’t need him. I can look after myself…possibly. I grabbed a cloth and dipped it into the bucket of water we had, and then placed it onto my eye. The coldness spread through my skin and brought relief. I glared at Peter’s “chamber”. He’s changed ever since she came here. I crawled back into the hammock-ignoring the pain- and tried to let sleep win it’s battle.