twenty-nine
Hudson’s Journal
For two days, we’ve waited. For Juneau, Paris, and Seoul. For Ava to recover.
Ava has forgotten the events from both days.
Without her shadow, Neverland is robbing her of time, of perspective, and of peace. Despite the crew’s efforts to cheer her up while we wait on our evening meal, Ava’s unsettled.
I see it in the crease at the edge of her eye, the way her brows and shoulders slant.
Is she worried about Tinkerbell coming back, or has she forgotten her sister, too? Her brain claws at the memory, trying to keep hold of something it was never meant to handle. Sometimes, there’s a feeling clawing at you from within, insisting that you’ve forgotten something important, something so vital you wonder how it was possible, and sometimes you manage to recall what that thing was. Other times, the feeling dies along with the memory.
The crew’s on the deck. Sydney has left the top of the steps and commandeers a close crate for a seat. Ava sits with him as Surat and Kingston try to pressure them both into a game of cards – a game in which the loser sheds a piece of clothing each time they’re bested.
She refuses, thankfully.
I’d hate to gouge the eyes out of every man on board. They’ve been my loyal friends for years.
thirty
My breath saws in and out of my chest. My arms hurt where they hauled me here. I try to stop them by dropping like a stone, hoping it will make it hard for them to drag me and throw me in this hole. But it doesn’t even slow them down.
My knees are skinned and bleeding. They sting. I hiss when I poke around at the scrapes.
The eyelets on my brand-new white shirt are torn and the pretty fabric is ruined, stained with grass and dirt and blood. You can’t even see the little flowers printed on it.
Mama’s gonna kill me if I ever get home.
Mama…
There are so many other kids on Neverland. Mostly boys. I don’t know how long they’ve been here, but I know they’ve forgotten their lives back home. They don’t even know their own names! They go by whatever Peter decides to call them.
I can’t remember my name, either. Peter said I look like a Mary, but that’s not my real name. I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t Mary.
I squeeze my eyes closed, like I have a thousand times in the last day, and try to remember it and anything else. Like Mama’s voice calling for me. I know she did when I went out to play and it was time to come inside, but I don’t know what she sounds like now. And I can’t remember my friends’ names or faces either. Just that they are real.
Wraith is nicest to me. Or he was before Peter made him lock me in here.
I sniffle. Tears slip down my cheeks.
Peter told them to toss me into this cage and they just did it. Wraith didn’t even try to argue with him. I’m pretty sure he would kill me if Peter told him to.
Before he and Lock walk away, Wraith looks at me. He’s just as guilty as Peter and I want him to know it. So, I grab the bars and reach for him. Then I yell at him. Tell him he’s a traitor. A liar. He told me he was my friend.
Lock just laughs and pokes at me with a sharpened bamboo stalk, stabbing me in the shoulder. I try to look at the spot but can’t see it. I can tell it’s not bleeding, but it’s sore.
Wraith hits him for me after that poke. Balls up his fist and sends it into Lock’s big mouth. Then he crouches down and whispers, “You won’t be in here long at all, Lost Girl. I’ll find you after. Peter says if you spend enough time alone, you’ll forget. That’s all he wants.”
“That’s not what I want,” I tell him before sinking into the darkness so he can’t see me.
I don’t remember what Mama looks like. How her lips look when she says my name. Even her face is a blur. I think she wore a ponytail that the wind would always pull little strands out of, but I remember thinking how pretty she was. She has brown hair, like mine. I always liked that we matched.
She always hummed songs and would tell fantastical stories before tucking me into bed. I remember making sugar cookies with her. She measured everything out and I dumped the ingredients in when she said. The whole house smelled sweet when we baked together.
I remember her holding me.
I remember her loving me.