Never: Chapter 6 - The Lost Ones

“I didn’t imagine it so big.” Flying above the island of Neverland, Lola could wrap her arms around it. The close she got the larger the island became.

“Neverland grows,” Pan said. “Look away. Blink. It’ll be twice the size.”

“A growing island,” Jenson echoed in awe of it. “Are there a lot of people?”

Pan circled them with his hands supporting his head. He treated the sky like his personal hammock. “There aren’t a lot of people. There are mermaids and fairies and gremlins and ghouls and folk of every kind.”

“Which should we see first?” Lola faced her brothers.

“We both know mermaids is at the top of your list—”

“Mason, I may be a girl but that doesn’t mean—”

“You can go see the mermaids.” Mason ignored her protest. “Jenson and I can hunt some gremlins and ghouls.”

“We should stay together,” Jenson said. His cheeks were pink. He would never admit aloud he was curious to see mermaids too.

“You need to meet the lost boys,” Pan decided. “I gave them your sketches and they wanted to hear all about them.”

“Next time ask before you borrow someone’s drawings,” Lola warned. She wanted to be angrier—she was careful about who she chose to share those images with—but Pan had provided payment. A tour of Neverland was worth a handful of unfinished sketches.

“I’ll remember that.” Pan winked. He arched his back, rolled, and fell.

The Dashers called out at the sudden drop—but then they heard Pan laughing. They exchanged glances—Lola terrified, Mason excited, and Jenson resigned—and then they too let go. They thought about falling. They fell. Mason cheered, his voice carried with the air rushing over him. Lola concentrated on keeping her stomach inside. She forgot to breathe several times and gasped. Jenson blinked to keep his eyes wet. The speed was drying his eyes—but he didn’t dare close them. None of them wanted the ground to reach them before they were ready.

“AAAAAAAAANNND STOP!” Pan yelled.

Lola, Mason, and Jenson stretched out their arms and legs wide. Lola flapped her arms like a bird. Jenson tried to be flat and catch as much resistance as he could to slow down. The fairy dust Pan had blown over them responded to their wishes and they stopped mid-air. Then they opened their eyes.

Pan’s drop had brought them to a southern point of the island. Someone had built a town of tree houses. Bridges made of spider-webs and wood linked from tree to tree. The trees were wider than townhouses and tall like skyscrapers. Doors were hinged onto the trunks at varying levels. Sticks and leaves were sewn together to make roofs and awnings. Wood was nailed around the trunks to make balconies. Most of it was uneven and rough, but it was there. It was the greatest collection of tree houses in this or any world.

The Dashers followed Pan to where he landed on a balcony. He cupped his hands around his mouth and crowed. Far off a high-pitched whistle sounded. Then another. Bridges rattled on from the other side of the tree house town. The clomping of feet neared. Children were cheering. They were chanting, “Pan.”

Fifteen children stomped onto the balcony (which creaked under the new weight). Like Pan they wore leaves than clothing. Some had bright-coloured paint on their faces and arms. Half of them had shoes and that half had holes and shredded sides and soles. They wore clothes from different eras. There were four with modern dress—a baseball cap, jeans, a t-shirt with a familiar music group—that were in better shape. There were boys with long, unkempt hair. More had old-fashioned clothes. Blazers and suspenders and bow-ties, oh my.

“The lost boys,” Pan introduced. “Curly, Red-tail, Hiccup, Ball-boy, Mad, Giggles, Shark and Horace.”

The first row nodded their heads when Pan named them. Red-tail spun to show that he wore red bird feathers from his belt in the back. Giggles was a cherub of a boy—round pink-kissed cheeks with dark blonde curly hair. He was the shortest and missing the most teeth. Horace was the only one not smiling. He was similar to Pan in age. He wore a red bandana with his dark hair cut short. Ball-boy was clearly named after his shape. Even his limbs were more round than long. Shark had a collection of sharp stones and knifes in brown leather belts crisscrossing his torso and legs. It was unclear how Mad how earned his nickname, but his clothes were shredded and in his eyes was a threat—they probably wouldn’t like him when he was angry.