The Way to Believe

He stopped smiling, “Oh.”

I stared inquisitively at him, “What’s that supposed to mean.”

“You’re Pan’s new girl.”

I groaned, “Why does everyone think that?”

He looked hopeful, “You’re not?”

“No. I’m not.” I grimaced, “Well in a way I am, but…”

“But what?”

“I don’t want to be grouped with them.”

“Oh.” He looked at me trough lowered eyelashes, “So, d’you have a name?”

“Yeah, it’s Iris. Iris Prewett.”

He gulped, “Really?”

“Yeah, um, why?”

“Oh nothing. It’s just funny your, um, mother would, uh, name you after your, uh, eye colour.” He stuttered. My eyes, my eyes. Is that the only thing people see?

“She didn’t. My full name’s Tamora Iris Prewett.” I looked at him; he was acting very different. “And besides it’s not all that funny. People name their kids after worse things.”

He laughed and the weird look on his face disappeared. “Like Gemini.”

I giggled, “Yeah, I suppose.”

…

Gem was showing me the ship. Every once in a while, he would point out something that had some sort of funny, or emotional baggage attached to it. Like, “That was the canon that almost hit Peter” or, “Here’s where Hook used to store all his poisons.” Most were thoroughly disgusting, some I occasionally recognized, and others were, in fact, quite amusing.

He pointed at a dark mark on the wood, “That there is Hook’s own blood.”

I gasped playing along, “No! Not the terrible Captain Hook!”

“Yes, and” He pointed at another spot on the floor, “Right there is Wendy Darling’s blood. Reckon you’ve heard of her.”

“Oh, yeah, her I’ve heard of.”

“Just so you know, you look an awful lot like her.” He winked, “You sure, you ain’t her great-granddaughter or something?”

I grinned, “If my grandma’s mum was Wendy Darling, I think I would know. ‘Sides most people don’t think she’s real.”

“Oh, she was real.”

“Well I know that too.”

“And she had kids. D’you know that Pan always brings ‘em ‘ere. They’re the only ones he ever lets go back.”

“Oh, so that part is true. And Wendy’s daughter was Jane, and then Jane’s daughter was Margaret. And my grandma’s name is Margaret.” I blinked. It is. My grandmother’s name is Margaret. And I look an awful lot like Wendy herself. That’s odd.

“What are you saying?”

I grabbed my knife and knelt on the floor. “What are you doing?”

I stuck the knife in and traced in a circle. I used the knife to pry the piece of wood from the ground. “Stop putting holes in my ship!”

I put the piece of wood in my pocket and took off. “You can fly?” And I flew off to London.