Lost Boi (17 page)

Pan. I was suddenly very aware of his presence and of the unfinished business that remained. He stood behind us, straddling a splintered wooden chair and slowly cracking each of his tattooed knuckles, eyes tracing the “LOST BOIS” letters. I regretted my decision then, in part because I feared the unknown that awaited me, but mostly out of honour and duty to Pan, who'd taken me in when no one else wanted me.

It wasn't just Wendi's story or the dreams we'd hatched together that led to my decision to leave. I wasn't alone in wanting to give up, in knowing that what we had wasn't working. Pan had grown more and more distant as his world with Hook intensified, and as he pulled away from us bois, Mommy had become all the more important. We needed Mommy. Us six bois sank to our knees before Pan, eyes pleading.

You can be lonely even when surrounded by those who know you best, those who love you most. My wrist burned, and I looked down at Pan's cuff, where it always was, at the scuffed green leather, padlock, and the metal plaque engraved with the words “L
OST
B
OI
.” Who was I if not Pan's? How long would it be before he forgot me?

The room was silent. Wendi and us bois looked at Pan, but I couldn't meet his gaze, knowing that if he looked at me, I would come undone. All the bois seemed enchanted with the growing-up world that Wendi promised, the world we had all left and despised. I stared at our boots, at the way Curly's had separated from their soles, Slightly's had duct-tape-wrapped toes, and the Twins, who didn't have boots, wore black skater shoes. It was only John Michael who had nice boots, smartly blacked. They were castoffs from Pirate Jukes, which she'd made some kind of trade for. My eyes travelled over each pair of feet until I reached the ones I knew best, better than my own, the gouged and worn leather that adorned Pan's. While his voice was measured as he spoke, I could see the leather of his boots ripple as he clenched his toes again and again. His boots were tight; I knew it must hurt to strain his feet against the leather and laces. It was the pain that must have kept his voice so calm. The pain must have given him the resolve to say quietly, “You are free to go, if you wish. I won't force a boi to stay.”

There was a collective sigh of relief from all the bois, who began whispering quickly about what they must pack, what they would need to begin their new lives. I was ashamed of the bois and of myself. How quickly our whims and allegiances could change! How quickly we could forget that it was Pan who had saved us, Pan we had sworn ourselves to in blood. “Take care of yourselves, and your Mommy,” he added without a trace of the anger I expected.

I felt my neck redden, and I knew Pan had finally turned toward me, his best and most loyal boi. “I thought you were different. I thought you were like me and understood exactly what we had built here.” Then he turned away.

Wendi grabbed his arm, her red nails wrapping around his wrist. “You can come with us. That's the way I wanted it, the way I imagined it would be. I'll read you stories. We'll have a house together, a life.”

Of course, just a few hours earlier Pan had finally broken her heart with his inability to grow up and be the boifriend, Daddy, and egalitarian partner whom Wendi wanted, to fulfill the fantasy she had fallen deeply in love with.

Pan laughed, a scary and hollow laugh. “No, Wendi,” he finally said. “Neverland is my home. It always has been and always will be.”

Outsiders saw Neverland as a broken-down warehouse filled with furniture that was not worth being pulled from a dumpster, spray-painted walls, and a floor caked with pigeon shit, but Pan saw magic and possibility. This was his world, and there would be no domesticating him. Wendi turned and dried her eyes with the hem of her dress. She loved Pan, that much I knew for certain. We all loved him. I loved Pan deeper than I'd ever loved anyone.

Pan stood next to me, but he had never felt farther away. He hated goodbyes, felt they were undesirable and unnecessary. If you were going away, there was nothing to say. That kind of abandonment was unforgivable, and soon you would
be forgotten. Pan looked at each of us bois in turn and calmly said: “I hope you like growing up.”

12

“Why Are You Really Here without Pan?”

T
here was a party that night at the Jolly Roger. Despite the hurried plans and packing and arrangements that Mommy was making to take us bois away, it was decided that we should go. Normally, everyone was excited to go to the Jolly Roger parties, especially Pan, but he was still sleeping as we all went out into the night. I didn't want to go without Pan; in fact, I didn't really want to go at all, but there was no disobeying Mommy. It felt strange to walk up to the heavy, red wooden door and pick up the massive, skull-shaped brass knocker, cold and weighty in my hand. The Captain's first mate Smee met us at the door. If he was surprised to see us arrive without Pan, he was well-trained enough to keep it off his face.

Smee led us through the formal entryway with its dark mahogany panelling. We could see into the lush living room filled with red velvet couches and expensive art from the
downtown galleries that Hook was connected to. I'd never spent much time in the living areas of the Jolly Roger and wasn't surprised when Smee led us away from that part of the home, down the stairs, and to the dungeon. I could hear a deep thumping beat from surround-sound speakers mixed with the laughter of partygoers and punctuated by the occasional scream. My stomach lurched. I knew I wasn't in the mood for any of this tonight. My thoughts were with Pan, who was probably still sleeping in Neverland instead of here with us. I don't think that the bois really believed that we were leaving. Maybe they thought this was just another one of Mommy's stories. We would battle the Pirates tonight, and tomorrow would be a normal day at Neverland, but I knew it was over between Pan and Wendi, and we were going. I knew too that I should make the most of this night—not that I thought we would be vanilla and simple when we left; I knew we could still have play and live lives of Leather, but we would never again battle Pirates at the Jolly Roger. I hadn't thought it through very well. Leaving Pan still felt unknown, unreal, and yet it was happening.

The Mermaids arrived not long after us, dressed in their finest. I hid in the bathroom, shit-sick with nerves. It's not that I couldn't stay; I knew I could choose to never leave and be like Pan. Perhaps that was the hardest part, knowing that I was choosing to grow up. This was something I wanted, and yet I was fiercely disappointed in myself that my decision hadn't been a more difficult one, that it was so easy to leave
my Sir. Of course, it wasn't that I wanted to leave Pan, but I wanted to keep my earlier promise to myself, and saving bois based on Pan's whims and attractions wasn't feeling big enough for me anymore.

I avoided Siren as she entered the party. I wasn't ready to tell her, to say goodbye. It's not like I was physically going far away—just down the tracks, across the Interstate, and up from the river—and it's not that we couldn't still see each other, but even then I knew that we wouldn't. I knew the choice to leave Pan was a choice to leave everything about the life I knew. Siren eventually found me, though; I couldn't hide from her forever. She looked beautiful, her blue hair knotted into a bun with a plastic shark tangled into the centre. I stared at its cheap plastic jaws instead of meeting her eyes. I think Siren knew what was going to happen even before I told her. My voice cracked as I whispered that, if she had time, I needed to talk. She left Kelpie and followed me to a quiet corner where I lost my nerve and leaned in to kiss her. Siren made a move that looked like she was about to step away from me when suddenly I found myself pinned against the wall, her hand wrapped around my jaw, forcing me to meet her eyes.

“What was it you needed to tell me, boi?” she hissed mockingly. I was red and near tears.

I hesitated a moment too long, and then said, “Mommy and I and all the bois are leaving. We're going home with her. I might go to college and get a job and figure out how to save all the lost kids everywhere.”

Siren slapped me. She wasn't playing, she was angry. The worst part was that, after the slap, she walked away. I knew better than to follow her, but my eyes couldn't pull away from the seam of her tattered stockings. Leaving hurts. I had never before been the one to abandon someone. It's not as easy as you think.

There was nothing to say to anyone. I felt high—everything was far away and blurry, as though my body was separate from me. I remember walking away, my face stinging. I think I was having a panic attack, so not my style, especially in the middle of a goddamn play party. Hook found me clinging to a banister, sweating and shivering. At first he thought I was being chased by the Crocodile, and I think he was preparing to throw me out of the Jolly Roger. Hook had no patience for the Crocodile. He was terrified of it, knowing all too well how strong it bites, the way it can rip everything from you.

Somewhere between pulling me off the mahogany banister and nearly throwing me out the front door, Hook realized I wasn't swimming with the Crocodile. He steered me into his formal living room and slid the wooden pocket door closed. The red curtains were pulled tightly over the windows, and the room was lit with softly glowing lamps. If I hadn't been panicked, if I hadn't been running away, I would have thought it romantic. Hook laid me down on the plush red velvet couch, propping my boots onto a black pillow before sitting down in a wingback chair. He studied me as I lay in
the throes of a huge panic attack. It was embarrassing. Only Pan had seen me in this state before. When I get this far, when the panic winds through me, there's nothing I can do but tremble and cry and let it run its course. I used to think I was going to die when my breathing quickened and my eyes rolled back. It feels like all the lost bois have piled onto my chest and are sitting there, beating on my ribcage.

I'd never been alone with Hook, and I shivered harder. It was obvious what Pan saw in him. I wondered how many evenings they had spent together in this very room, or perhaps they went somewhere more private? How rude and insubordinate I had become to flatter myself so, to think that Hook might look at me with the same starving hunger that crossed his face whenever he was close to Pan.

We sat for a long time as my breathing steadied. Hook said nothing, just watched me, and after a while, I wasn't panicked anymore. Well, I was freaking out, but in a totally different way. I thought of everything Pan had ever told me about Hook, who was the closest thing he had to a Sir, but not really, because they were so evenly matched, because Hook could never own Pan, no one could. I didn't know what Hook had planned for me tonight. I was so tired. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, Hook was coiling a beautiful purple rope. He looped it around his hands. My mind was still foggy, and I struggled to piece together his words as he uttered a barrage of questions.

“I think you should fly with me tonight, don't you?
Where's Pan? Little boi, what's this crying about? Where's that Mommy of yours?”

These questions weren't really meant to be answered. It was a cruel, seductive interrogation, where we both knew that I would lose and that I didn't want it to go any other way.

Hook stood and walked a couple of steps across the plush carpeting. He took me into his rope, and I let him. I wanted to lose. I wanted to lose control more than I wanted Hook. It wasn't about hurting Pan. I know how stupid that sounds, given the circumstances. I trusted Hook because he was Pan's best fight, because Pan had lost to him, because Pan wasn't here to take me down, because I knew then that I'd never again find myself under Pan's boots. Hook, true to his reputation for good form, was fast and skilled. I don't entirely remember how it happened, but soon the purple rope was around my chest and hips, and he had me suspended from a point in the ceiling. I laughed at the thought of myself flying over this formal living room. Hook didn't like laughter and punched me hard in the chest. No words, just a look that meant I needed to behave, that I shouldn't anger him. Pan was all about fun; Hook took it all seriously. I was caught in his riptide, and I wasn't fighting against the pull.

I flew that night under the hands of Hook. I knew he was an expert rigger; it's why all the conferences wanted him, why Pan flew under him too. I thought we were going to fuck. Hook had me suspended wearing nothing but my boots and briefs—so different from Pan, who prefers bois to be clothed.
I wasn't sure how I felt about being fucked by Hook and what it would be like for him to slip into one of my holes. I'd never thought about it before, and in that moment, I realized that I wasn't even sure of Hook's preferences, though I was certain I would soon find out.

I felt his palm run the length of my back but stop before he reached the curve of my ass. He left his hand on the small of my back, leaned toward me, and whispered in my ear.

“Why are you really here without Pan?”

I gasped and pulled against Hook's ropes. This wasn't any of Hook's business, and certainly wasn't my place to tell him, but I didn't know how to stop myself.

“I'm leaving Neverland. I'm going home with my Mommy, we all are,” I whispered, and then I broke, my tears falling silently to the carpet.

13

Saved by a Fairy

H
ook untied me and brought me down to the carpet without speaking a word. What could he have said? I wasn't his boi to praise for answering a hard question or to scold for making the selfish choice to leave. I was a tool, and not a particularly valuable one. I had given Hook what he needed, and he was through with me. He left me on the carpet, crumpled next to my clothes.