Twill shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with all the attention he had garnered. His wide eyes, like crisp, brown leaves caught in an unfavorable wind, darted everywhere. His hand stayed clamped on Rosemary's.
“What do you think, Twill?” Gwen asked him. “Do you think it might be time to go home with your Dad?”
“No!” Twill cried.
“Theodore William Starkey,” his father reprimanded him, “haven't you any love for me?”
“I don't want to go home.” Twill sniffled, starting to cry at the very thought of it.
“Oh, Twill,” Starkey coaxed, “we won't go home.”
The boy smudged his eyes dry on the sleeve of his shirt. “We… we won't?”
“No, of course not. We'll sail the whole world over, all seven seas, and back to Neverland whensoever your heart desires. We have a ship, and will never have to return home again.”
“No more school?”
“None. I'll teach you to know directions by the stars, rig sails, and steer a ship in storm.”
“No more math homework?”
“All the math you'll ever need to know you'll learn, in time, with coastal navigation and naval trigonometry.”
“No more chores?”
“That's what our swabbie, Grouse, is for. A pirate captain's son doesn't do chores.”
Twill's motivations made a sudden and visible shift. He looked again at his friends and saw some of them even looked envious of the offer. Smiling and excited, he looked like he might bolt to his father… until he remembered his hand.
His smile faltered; his grip did not. “What about Rosemary?” he asked.
Starkey gave a sad nod. “You'd have to leave her behind. Pirates and lost children don't get along.”
“Rosemary could be a pirate, too!” one of the boys suggested.
“She can't be a pirate,” another boy objected, “she's a girl! Girls aren't mean enough to be pirates.”
In response, Jam walloped him upside the head and Blink gave his arm the meanest, prickliest pinch he'd ever had in his life. He quietly redacted his statement.
“I don't want to be a pirate,” Rosemary said, morosely leaning into him. “You're my best friend, Twill.”
“Rosemary's my best friend!” he cried.
Starkey's confidence started to fold, Peter looked vindicated, and Gwen realized this plan and Neverland's defenses needed quick thinking and fast saving.
“Well, you know,” Gwen began, “if Twill were a pirate, he could be your nemesis. Everyone has a best friend. It takes something special to have a nemesis.”
Twill and Rosemary looked disarmed by this idea, but curious all the same. Hushed chatter moved between the other lost children. None of them had a nemesis.
“Is that as good?” Twill asked.
Gwen shrugged, feigning indifference before giving an excited elaboration, “Maybe even better, just in the opposite direction. You'll never have to worry about picking teams again, you can plot against each other, and whenever you see each other you'll get to exchange antagonistic banter.”
The lost children buzzed with this idea.
“What's antagonistic banter?” Oat asked in awe.
“I don't know,” Goose answered. “It sounds important.”
“Could we be arch-enemies?” Rosemary asked her sister, now that Gwen had established herself as an expert on adversarial relationships.
“Of course,” Gwen answered. “Or even mortal enemies, if you wanted.”
Rosemary began bouncing with joy at the prospect. “I've never had a nemesis before!”
Twill seemed overwhelmed. “Um, well, neither have I…”
She let go of his hand in order to grab his arm and shake him. “Will you be my nemesis, Twill?”
“Well… okay, Rosemary!” he decided.
He shoved her.
She seemed taken aback, but only for a moment. She smiled and pushed him back. They pushed back and forth—poking, tickling, and pinching as well—until they had worked themselves into a fit of laughter.
“I wish I had a nemesis,” Jam mooned, glum and disappointed.
“Come here, Twill!” Starkey called. His son's happy feet pattered across the rocky shore and sent him running into his arms. Starkey picked him up and swung him around, to the boy's utter glee.
The pirate captain set him back down as the boy's laughter subsided. “It seems we have a truce then, Pan.” Approaching the boy, he extended his hand. “Allies until the last of the do-gooders have left Neverland and her waters. Let's shake on it and seal the deal.”
Peter did not uncross his moody arms. He nodded to Gwen with an impetuous jerk of his head. “I appoint Gwenny my emissary. She can shake for me,” he replied, immature to the end.
“What's wrong, are you afraid of making a level deal?”
“I won't shake a pirate's hand,” Peter insisted.
“What's wrong with my hand?”
“What's wrong with Gwenny's?” he countered. “Her hand is my word. You can ask Piper.”
“That's an awful lot of trust to put in another,” Starkey remarked, eying Gwen, “but very well.”
Gwen did not appreciate having this ceremonial gesture hoisted onto her. She remembered a similar sense of discomfort when she'd cut their deal with Piper. Why did Peter always thrust these mature responsibilities onto her? But of course, the question answered itself. Sheepishly, she accepted her speech and debate teacher's hand, and shook it with a healthy strength.
“It's a smart and dangerous girl that's willing to make such deals,” he remarked.
“It's a stupid man who needs to remark on the obvious,” she retorted.
Starkey smiled at her.
“You scabby scalawag!” Rosemary interrupted, yelling at Twill. “You won't get away with this!”
In response to such a vicious insult from his nemesis, Twill squinted his eyes, wrinkled his nose and hollered the loudest “Arrrrrrrr!” he could muster.
Starkey leaned over and swept his son into his arms again. “You're going to be great at this, Twill.”
Chapter 9
Twill boarded the red dinghy with his father, the snake-necked pirate, and the kidnapped janitor. He looked doubtful as the boat pushed off, but then Rosemary shouted more insults at him. He shook his fist menacingly at her, his confidence returned. A few lost boys ran down and started chucking rocks at the nefarious traitor, but the dinghy had already escaped their range, and the show of hostility was all in good fun.
The children returned to their preparations, except for Rosemary who felt adamant that she needed to plot against
