Page 22 of Never Never

I stare at him. Pan, charming devil incarnate. Bastard of a person, hell of a card cheat, and yet the best friend I’ve ever had.

The only friend, really.

“Help us, you mean,” I clarify. “Yes.”

Pan’s brow creases. “What d’you mean?”

And that’s just it. Surviving together, years on the streets and in the trenches, brotherhood, memories, nostalgia, whatever. I don’t care. I have principles and standards even if he doesn’t and maybe never will. And those, to me, are sacrosanct.

“I mean,” I say, “that Tink’s one of us. She’s still one of us. And if you do anything to hurt her, I will fucking end you. Is that clear?”

Alarm flicks over his face. But only briefly. Then it’s all smirk.

“Crystal, my friend.” He winks. “Absolutely fucking crystal.”

CHAPTER 6

KIT

I don’t know how I’m supposed to work in here like everything’s normal.

For one thing, there’s the giant gaping hole in the window, which, sorry not sorry to Pan’s shoddy patch-up job, does not really look much better with the plywood covering it. We at Neverland are not beating the seedy tattoo joint allegations, that’s for sure.

For another thing, my lip might not be actively bleeding anymore, but it has swollen, to the point where I look like I not only got filler, but got filler from a syringe full of commercial-grade window caulk.

“Fuckin’ A,” I mutter, tilting the hand mirror back and forth to examine the damage.

“What’s wrong?”

I almost fall off my stool. It’s Wendy—of course it is, and Nana not far behind. I compose myself and set down the mirror on my cart.

“I…uh…hi, Wendy. Nothing.” I shake my head. “Just, um, surveying the damage.”

Her gaze falls to my mouth, and her eyes widen. “Oh, wow.”

I touch my lips absently. “Yeah. I need some kind of, like, ice on a stick. Can someone invent that?”

Wendy blinks. “You mean like a popsicle?”

“I…” Goddammit. She’s right. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“So how are you feeling?” I say awkwardly. I don’t—don’t even know how to broach the subject, but it feels like something I have to ask. I mean, if we hadn’t gotten there in time or at all, those guys would have…

I force my brain to short-circuit. I can’t think about that. Jesus Christ. My stomach tightens.

“I’m fine,” Wendy says.

I raise an eyebrow. “Really fine, or just saying you’re fine so you don’t have to talk about it fine?”

“Um,” she hesitates a little, rocking back and forth on her heels. “I guess kind of both.”

I nod. “That’s fair. Well, I’m…” I stretch my arms down my legs, splaying my fingers. “I’m glad you’re back,” I say, and I mean it. “And I’m sorry that, you know…I’m just…” I’m not even certain what I’m apologizing for. “I’m just sorry.” I lift my shoulders and let them fall. “I don’t think we’re that great at, like…” I clench my teeth, tilt my head. “Taking care of a kid,” I try. “I mean, not that you’re really a kid or that you need taking care of, but like…”

“No,” Wendy interrupts, putting me out of my misery. “I know what you mean.”

“Cool. Yeah.” I pick up my sketchbook but don’t open it, just sort of drum my fingers on the front. “And you’re cool to stay here, then? I guess?” I ask.

“Well, where else am I supposed to go?” Wendy says, and there’s this adolescent edge of sarcasm to her voice that would almost make me laugh if I knew she weren’t totally serious and right.