Ace rushed to the forefront of the pack, notched an arrow in place on his bowstring, aimed, and fired. The arrow fastened onto Peter's rear, bobbing as he ran.
"Poop Shoot-five thousand!" Ace cried jubilantly, cocking back his top hat.
Don't Ask propelled Thud Butt and the point chart up beside him. "Nope. Butt Tick-two hundred."
Ace whirled about angrily. "I complain of you!"
"I double complain of you!" Don't Ask snapped back.
Tink darted between them and sent the point chart spinning. "I complain of all of you! Pan's your captain! He needs you!"
Up ahead, Rufio was aiming a slingshot at a fleeing Peter. Tink flew to stop him, grabbing his red v-tipped black hair and pulling him to the ground. "Rufio, you're the best with a sword! Teach him! We have to make him remember who he is!"
But her efforts were for naught. The Lost Boys continued in pursuit, harrying Peter through a bamboo gate that led to the Nevertree's inner sanctuary. Bursting through the graffiti-covered gate, his strength almost gone, his breath so short he was certain he was on the verge of a major heart attack, he found himself trapped and encircled by Lost Boys. Many of the Boys were on makeshift skateboards and roller skates now, darting and dodging about him, zipping up and down banked walls, yelling and whooping and jumping about. Someone with a basketball dribbled past. Someone leaped on a trampoline, vaulting over his head. Vines swung down with Lost Boys attached. Peter ran this way and that, but there was no escape.
Finally, he turned back to the entrance he had come through-only to find Rufio standing atop the bamboo gate, waiting. Down the leader of the Lost Boys leaped, his sword drawn and held high. Peter faltered, stumbled and gave it up.
Rufio came to a skidding halt before him and tapped the sword playfully on his shoulder. "You're dead, jollymon."
Peter blinked. "What the heck?
Now Ace swung down as well, clutching a vine. He released his grip as he landed, brought up his war club, and tapped Peter a second time.
"Bangerang!" he yelled.
Rufio grabbed an astonished Peter and shoved him into the fence. Peter tried to climb, completely confused now, beginning to think he was in a madhouse. He grappled unsuccessfully with the bamboo and ended up sliding down again,/trapped as the Lost Boys closed about, war clubs thumping, feet stamping, voices taunting and howling in victory.
Rufio jerked Peter back to his feet contemptuously. "Look, if you're the Pan, prove it. Let's see you fly!"
There was a whisper of "fly, fly," which grew quickly to a shout. "Fly! Fly! Fly!" they all cried, and waited expectantly.
Peter stared back helplessly.
"Can you fight, then?" demanded Rufio.
The Lost Boys drew their swords and knives and pointed them at Peter. Ace shoved a broadsword into Peter's hands. Peter stood holding it, a blank look on his face, until Rufio knocked it away.
"Last question, Pops," declared Rufio. "Can you crow?"
Peter took a deep breath and let out a sound that closely resembled a chicken's cluck. Rufio plugged his ears in disgust. Lost Boys groaned and jeered.
Tink reappeared, confronting them all. "Silly asses! I could have told you he can't do any of those things! He can't even play simple games! He's forgotten how! What matters is that Hook's got his kids, and I've got three days to get him ready to fight the captain! He needs everyone's help!"
From somewhere among the sea of Lost Boy faces came a low, astonished voice. "Peter Pan's got kids?"
"A family, responsibilities, and a few extra pounds," Tink advised solemnly. "But he's still our Pan."
Rufio growled something unintelligible, backed the Lost Boys away from the fence, and drew a line in the earth with his sword. He crossed the line to stand alone and pointed at Peter.
"He can't fly, fight, or crow-so any of you says this ain't the Pan, cross over to me!"
Peter immediately started across the line, but Tink grabbed him by his suspenders and yanked him back. "You're embarrassing me!" she snapped.
The Lost Boys looked from Rufio to Peter and back again and then crossed the line one by one until only Pockets was left, peering out at Peter from under his floppy hat. He approached hesitantly, reached up to tug on Peter's shirt, and kept doing so until Peter bent down so that they were face-to-face. Solemnly, Pockets stared into Peter's crumpled, worn visage, then methodically began to smooth out the wrinkles and lines, to push back the sagging cheeks and chin, to knead and prod the flesh of Peter's face. Suddenly he stopped, hands held carefully in place, and a huge smile appeared.
"Oh, there you are, Peder," he announced.
Several of the Lost Boys pushed forward, peering at the rearranged features intently.
"Is it him?" they whispered to one another. "Is it the Pan? Peter, is it you?"
"Mfftt, mmrrwft," said Peter, his mouth distorted.
"But Peter, you've grown up!" complained Latchboy. "You promised never to grow old!"
"His nose got real big, didn't it?" observed Don't Ask.
"Welcome back to Neverland, Pan the Man," said Too Small.
There was hope in each face, and it spread quickly to the faces of those still standing with Rufio on the other side of the line. They began to edge forward.
Rufio alone refused to be swayed, anger flaring in his dark eyes. "Don't listen to that gnat-brained faerie and that sag-bellied grown-up. I got Pan's sword. I'm the Pan now. You think this guy's gonna take it away from me?"
Ace, No Nap, Thud Butt, and Latchboy crossed back to Rufio.
"Wait," said Pockets. "If Tink bleeves, mebbe he iz."
The four Lost Boys crossed back to Peter.
"You gonna follow this drooler against Capytan Hook?"
Everyone crossed back to Rufio this time, save for Pockets, Thud Butt, and Too Small.
"Whads he doin' here if he's nod Peder Pan, huh?" asked Pockets solemnly. "He don't look habby here. Who are dose kidz Hook's got? Gib him a chancz."
Peter straightened, alone with his three supporters. "Those are my children, and Hook is going to kill them unless I do something to stop it. Help me, please!"
Pockets stared up at him. "You said the p-word," he whispered with a frown.
Shadows were closing fast about the courtyard now, laying down their nighttime patterns through the branches of the Nevertree. The sun was almost gone, sunk so far into the ocean's waters that it was little more than a glaze of orange frosting melting rapidly away. Tink flew overhead in the silence, lighting lanterns to chase the dark. The Lost Boys and Peter watched wordlessly.
When she was finished, she settled comfortably on Peter's shoulder. "When Peter Pan's away," she said solemnly, "don't you always ask the same question: What would Peter do?"
The eyes of the Lost Boys went wide. "Yeah, what would Peter do?" they repeated the words. "Let's do what Peter would do!" Frowns and chin rubbing. "What would Peter do?"
"I know, I know!" Ace exclaimed excitedly. "He'd get the Lost Boys back!"
"But aren't you the Lost Boys?" Peter asked.
"Oh, yeah," agreed Don't Ask, frowning. Then he brightened. "But not all. Hook's got lots of us. He snags us when we're not looking. Then he shoots us out of cannons.''
"And chains us to rocks and lets the tide roll over our heads," Latchboy added.
"Or makes us walk the plank!" declared Ace.
"The little ones have to crawl!" whispered Too Small. He glanced cautiously at Rufio. "We're afraid to rescue them without the Pan." His voice got very quiet. "Even Rufio."
Rufio spat. "Survival of the fittest. Hook gets the slow ones. Slow legs, slow minds. We're better off without em.
Peter glanced around, seeing for the first time since they had begun chasing him the children hidden beneath the garish outfits and dirt, seeing the uncertainty mirrored in their eyes, doubts of who they were and of how to stay that way. Whispers passed from mouth to mouth in the darkness.
They're all I've got, he realized helplessly. Kids. But like it or not, I need them if I want to save Jack and Maggie.