Oh, the Cleverness of You

It wasn’t natural. The outsiders on the island led to drastic measures to be taken in Peter’s mind. Now... now there were even outsiders in the Clubhouse. No one untrustworthy, of course, but these adults did not belong. And yet even more so, the silence is what chilled Thistle most. It was never silent here; even in the dead of night, some Lost Boy would be snoring, the jungle would be humming with life, Peter would wake up to whisper to the girl about a new game he was planning. The New Pirates were disturbing the island more than they yet knew.

The Indian Chief, Peter, and Tink stood in front of all who gathered under the pond – warriors, Lost Boys, and pixies. These were the new leaders in a joined resistance against the New Pirates, though they had yet to say anything.

Peter took a deep breath. Ever since the hide and seek game was interrupted, the shadow has not passed from his face. His green eyes were narrowed as if he were looking into the sun. The seldom occasion that he’s looked at Thistle gave her chills. His shoulders are broader from here, looking up to him. But more than anything else, his twitchy, boyish mannerisms were gone. He was stoic. He stood like Fighting Prawn, the wrinkled chief to his left. She wished to ask someone if he used to be like this when Hook was here, but all the Lost Boys stand far behind her, the pixies lingering near Carling and between the children.

“We have had a long spell of peace here, but it has come to a close,” Peter said finally. He waited while Tiger Lily translated for the rest of the Indians. She stood a head shorter than Thistle and to her right, but with her chin high and the war paint decorating her, she felt so much older than Thistle. Though the princess would never age any more than the rest of them, she may have been the only child on that island who wished to grow up. And Thistle certainly didn’t miss the way Tiger Lily looked at Peter.

“There are New Pirates on our shores. We don’t know how they got here, but they have brought tools to destroy Neverland and rebuild it for themselves. Right now, they don’t know there’s any of the rest of us here. Some of my Boys have been sent to Mermaid Lagoon to tell them to keep low until we have decided how to best dispose of the New Pirates. Right now, we’ve got that advantage. The three of us have already talked,” Peter nodded to Tink and Chief Fighting Prawn.
“Thistle says that these adults have weapons that we can’t compete with. We have to drive them out as soon as possible, before they find us first. One swift, quick attack that will have them running back to the mainland.”

Tiger Lily translated, and Peter continued to give the details of the plan. The mermaids were already told their part in the attack, and the rest was divvied up between the Indians, pixies, and Lost Boys. Peter was the leader of it all, that much was obvious. And after a long morning of strategy, the pixies dissipated into the atmosphere and the Indians slunk out, slipping into the shadows of the jungle where they were currently hiding.

What was left was a hallow hideout, and a boy acting like a man standing before it all. Even with the meeting over and all the adults left, the Lost Boys still shuffled around nervously. This was not a Peter that they were accustomed to. His jaw was still working as he stepped down from the wooden throne and mechanically walked through the vines into their room.

With Peter no longer in sight, the Lost Boys seemed less anxious. Slowly, one by one, they slowed to a stop and looked to Thistle. She, however, hadn’t taken her eyes off the still-swinging vines leading to the room that only Peter occupied. Even Tink and Carling had flown off with the pixies. She pushes the vines aside once more and follows Peter in.

As soon as the vines swing shut, the Boys begin to whisper amongst themselves, inaudible to Thistle. On the far side of the dirt room, Peter sits hunched over on his hammock. With his head buried in his hands, he doesn’t see Thistle.

“You have them terrified, you know,” she whispers.

When Peter doesn’t respond, she sits down next to him. “I think it’s time to act like a Mother and Father for them. They don’t know what to do with themselves when you act like this.”

“You’re starting to sound like an adult,” Peter says finally, not looking up. His voice is too tired to sound like an accusation.

“You’re starting to act like one,” Thistle says, maybe a little too sharply. Peter flinches, but towards the girl instead of away. She moves closer to him so their legs touch.

“Why are you acting like this? What’s different this time? Different from Hook?”

“I’m worried,” Peter began haltingly, his jaw clenching, “that they aren’t any different from Hook. I’m worried they’ll cause just as much damage as he did. I was mistaken when I thought I could destroy Hook. He’ll always be here.”

And Thistle understood. It made her feel old to understand how those kinds of memories could control you, but she understood all the same. If anything, she felt closer to the boy. They shared a weakness.