Never, Never by Brianna Shrum Read Free Book Online Page B

at nothing and brought it to his mouth over and over, teeth clacking hard, almost painfully, against one another. He did this until the motion was repetitive and almost frantic, as though if he consumed enough nothing, it would eventually sate the gnawing hunger in his gut.
    At the end of this ritual, Peter lay back on the earth, his hands clasped behind his head, looking utterly satisfied. He stared up at the twinkling stars, which were swirling and swarming and chasing each other across the sky. James had only just now noticed this, having had no real time to focus on the celestial backdrop until now, and the sky held him in awe for a moment.
    The others mimicked Peter, though the looks on their faces were significantly less convincing. He wagered they were all starved, like him, and that made him feel a bit better, for some wicked reason. James managed to pull himself toward the group, and lay beside Peter, clothes still slightly damp, moistening the mossy ground below him with seawater.
    As the boys began to get drowsy, a thousand thoughts hit James at once, as though they’d all been waiting for days and were finally let out of the gate to overwhelm him at this exact moment. His mind was a whir of questions and misery and guilt and happiness and all sorts of strange mixtures thereof.
    â€œPeter,” he whispered, low enough that none of the boys woke, and Peter hadn’t been asleep anyway.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œWhere does everyone sleep?” James asked, pulled in once again by the stars, which seemed all the brighter and more playful in the silence.
    â€œWherever we fall asleep. I’ve been scouting for a tree or something we could live in, but none’s turned up yet, so we sleep wherever we are.”
    This was a bit disconcerting, as he’d pictured Neverland to have the most luxurious bedrooms, full of the forest and fairy magic. He wished Peter had taken that dream from him. The trees seemed large and disagreeable, and he swore the shadows on him were darker than on anyone else.
    â€œYou just sleep outside?” James said, trying very hard to swallow.
    â€œIf that’s where we fall asleep.” Peter’s voice was flattening. James couldn’t quite tell if it was from sleepiness or irritation, but something told him it was the latter.
    â€œYou don’t worry about creatures and such chomping at you in the middle of the night?”
    As he said this, a lonesome sort of whistle-howl rang out through the wilderness, and James shivered, even more concerned, if that were possible.
    â€œNo creatures wish to eat Pan. And very few would try to eat a Lost Boy under my watch.”
    â€œVery few” was not as comforting a statistic as he wagered Pan thought it was.
    â€œWhat if you get cold?” James asked as a cool breeze ghosted over his skin.
    â€œJust make-believe you aren’t,” said Peter with a sigh, which confirmed James’s earlier assumption.
    Make-believe he wasn’t. Like he’d make-believed with the food. That was a colossal failure, or so his stomach thought. Thus, he did not have high hopes for make-believing he was comfortable. Nevertheless, he tried very hard to pretend that he wasn’t chilly and that he wasn’t frightened, but just when his eyelids would start to leaden, another crackle or jingle would wake him, or the leaves would start changing colors again. At one point, he swore he could feel a rumble in the earth—a low, hollow beating like a massive drum, as if Neverland itself had a heartbeat. He fidgeted and turned over and over, trying to unimagine that and to unhear the wind, which he knew could not have been softly whispering, “Peter” as it crept through the forest. But that worked about as well as the food debacle. He turned his head slightly to see if Peter was still awake. He was.
    â€œPeter?” He felt a sharp elbow in his side and recoiled, shooting Bibble, who was beside him, a dirty