Gwen resented the question. She resented everything about it: the directness, the cleverness, the insightfulness… and in response, she got defensive. “I'm not in love with Peter,” she announced. “He's a good friend, but he's immature and impatient and inconsiderate and a million other things that aren't attractive in the least.” Gwen closed her hands around the stem of the wine glass in front of her, gripping it in frustration.
“That describes every child that ever set foot on this island,” Starkey observed. “So the question becomes, why are you running around with all of them?”
“I love my little sister,” Gwen told him. “I don't want to lose her. And the reality of being sixteen doesn't have much to recommend it.”
“No, I'll grant you that,” Starkey agreed. “But why stay stuck at sixteen then, Gwen? All your current troubles are rooted in this age you've gotten stuck in. There's no going back—not even Neverland can do that for you—but with just a little time you could resolve the worst of your condition.”
She shook her head and scoffed at the idea. “If I age an inch, so many more problems will crop up for me. If I went back to growing up, I'd be right back to worrying about my GPA. I'd have to take the SAT, and do my college applications… and then actually go to college, declare a major, earn a degree, and before you know it I'll be stuck in some career. The fun ones don't pay well, the lucrative ones aren't exciting, and the only thing they all have in common is they go on for forty years.” Gwen had held a low opinion of adulthood before she left for Neverland; it had only diminished since then.
Starkey gave her a thoughtful look. “That's only if you go back to the mainland.”
“What else would I do? There's Neverland and there's reality. Alternatives aren't exactly abounding.”
He nodded, but Gwen could tell he disagreed. She waited for the thought that seemed lurking just beyond his dark eyes.
“You know, Gwendolyn,” he told her, “I think you would make a wonderful pirate.”
Such a sentiment was the last thing Gwen had expected, and she did not have a response.
“There are too few women pirates,” Starkey lamented. “Of course the history books have Anne Bonny and Mary Read, and literature has Fanny Campbell… but really, women are worse represented in piracy than the sciences.”
“I can't imagine why.”
Starkey ignored her sarcastic tone, and addressed her with continued candor. “Nor can I. There's nothing so liberating, and the sea has a beautiful romance to it. There's a certain freedom in being able to sail in and out of the myths woven around your profession. In all seriousness, Gwen, you've peaked behind the green curtain and seen the wizard running the show. How can you go back to the drudgery of an ordinary life? At the same time, you can't expect that lolling about a tropic island with only children for company could satisfy you. I suspect you've already run into your fair share of conundrums of that nature.”
An endless series of memories could confirm what Starkey asserted. Gwen remembered all her conversations with Lasiandra, looking for someone with a mature mind. She still felt twinges of social discomfort whenever they visited the redskins, whom the children fondly referred to as savages. All the time she spent wandering the forest on her own, doing chores simply for the peace of it… Gwen never had such introverted tendencies around peers her age.
“What role have the children relegated you to for when the do-gooders invade?”
Gwen had to admit, “I don't know that I have one.”
Starkey smiled at this news, and lost no time in suggesting, “Then you should be here, fighting with us. We could always use another able-bodied crew member. Have you ever loaded a cannon before? It's easier than you might expect.”
She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but it would break Peter's heart.” She couldn't even imagine telling Peter. The last thing he needed was Gwen defecting to piracy. He had taken Twill's departure hard enough.
Sad and amused, Starkey warned, “Anyone who worries about breaking Peter Pan's heart is liable to get her heart broken by him, sooner or later.”
“I said he is a friend—I didn't say I don't care about him.”
“Fair enough,” Starkey acknowledged. Picking up his wine glass once more, Starkey proposed, “To good friends, and the adventures they bring with them.”
Gwen lifted the glass she had in her fidgeting hands, clinking it against Starkey's. The crystal rang with a single, angelic note that faded away to the same place the gramophone's dreamy chamber music had gone. With only a slight hesitation, Gwen drank the sip of wine Starkey had poured her.
“The offer stands,” Starkey told her, “if you ever decide there's more to life than playing Swiss Family Robinson with the children.”
“There's much more to life than that, Mr. Starkey,” Gwen told him. “And I suspect I'll enjoy most of it, someday, without ever resorting to piracy.”
“Time will tell,” Starkey answered. “Even in Neverland—time always tells.”
“I think I should get going,” she announced, standing up. “Thank you for the conversation, Mr. Starkey.”
“Anytime, Gwendolyn,” Starkey said. “If you ever want to talk, you'll know where to find me.”
Twill rolled over in his sleep. Locked in his dreams, he didn't seem to notice his own motion. Gwen said goodnight to her former teacher, and showed herself out. She avoided running into any of the Grammarian's crew and took to the air. She flew back to the grove so she could crawl into the underground home and into bed. By the time she did, her exhaustion felt so absolute that she fell asleep within a minute. Her bed seemed to bob, and even in her dreams she felt the comforting, lullaby-like rocking of a boat in tranquil waters.
Chapter 13
Considering how little time she spent in bed, Gwen woke up the following morning surprisingly ready for the day. Not long into
