Lost Boi (6 page)

Pan later told me that he didn't know exactly why he had taken Wendi and John Michael to the Jolly Roger before bringing them to meet us and to see Neverland. He struggled too with how to explain what his relationship was to Hook. They had nasty, bloody battles that fed them both in
ways they couldn't talk about. Hook's normal protocols for scene negotiation didn't apply to his battles with Pan. They played hard, and they played for blood, and they played past breaking. Hook never forgave Pan for hooking him on the Crocodile, and Pan never forgot the morning he came to on Hook's dungeon floor, sore and wrecked and unwilling to admit he'd been had. That very day, he led the Crocodile right to Hook; the man never saw it coming. Hook might have been sunk, but Pan was attached to the anchor. He couldn't ever make himself want to walk away from that Pirate.

“It's only a matter of time before you are gobbled up by it.” John Michael was shocked by the sweetness of Smee's voice when she first heard it. Still quite attached to her lesbian identity and unable to gender the voice she now heard, John Michael wanted to know if it came from the sort of person that she would be allowed to find attractive. From under the table, all she could see was the cuffed denim ankle and the mirrored shine of Smee's boots.

Now, I'm going to leave Pan and John Michael at the Jolly Roger, since they are about to get tied up for a while, and tell you what happened at Neverland.

When Pan was away from Neverland, we were like a litter of puppies who got destructive when left alone and crawled all over each other the minute our master walked through the door. On the night that Wendi came, us bois were extra nervous and kept pacing and looking out the window, waiting for Erebos to bound in with Pan tumbling behind. It didn't
matter that we were all together. Without him, I felt unsteady, as though I could be blown away at any moment and no one would know I'd ever existed. Wendi was on the floor before me, and the bois had all circled around, waiting to see what I would do with this strange, clean, spy grrrl. What if Siren was right and she really could destroy everything? Wendi didn't want to kneel there, I know that now. She wanted to hose us down, and do the filthy dishes that filled the utility sink in the corner and were stacked along the floor. I know now that she just wanted to patch the holes in our knees, and that she wasn't so innocent that she didn't know just how they had gotten there. Wendi wanted to tell us stories, to tuck us in, to pull our smoke-and-mildew-smelling sleeping bags up to our chins. She wanted to shoplift teddy bears for us from the thrift shop. Pan had promised her a pack of obedient boys who wanted a Mommy, not an ambush. I didn't know any of this.

While staring at the pink edges of a scar on Wendi's plump thigh, I knew that Siren's eyes were on me. Finally, when I could think of nothing else to do, no other way out, I cleared my throat and looked down at Wendi, avoiding her eyes and resting on the smooth inner bend of her elbow. I heard Siren whisper, “Shoot Wendi. Pan would want you to protect Neverland.”

I grabbed the syringe from the table and pulled the black handkerchief from my back right pocket, using it to tie off the arm that Wendi held out to me. Her eyes were fixed on
Siren, her face screwed into an expression that was intended to appear fierce but looked like a pout. My ears filled with the bois' whispers and the rustling of pigeons above my head. I shot Wendi and she hit the filthy ground, cradling her arm. Wendi was drowning and could hear only the gnashing of crocodile fangs.

6

The Little Family

I
t was only after I'd done it that I realized my mistake. Siren was silent, and the bois' constant whispering had ceased. I'd wanted to protect Neverland, to make Pan proud of me, and there was no way I could have known that he wanted this grrrl, that he'd brought her here not only for himself but for us. My stomach somersaulted as I watched her puddle onto the floor. Wendi'd presented her right arm to me, but now, as she thrashed on the dirty floor amidst feathers and bird droppings, bottle caps and crumbs, the sleeve of her pink hoodie was pushed up on her left arm, and I saw the thin band of dark green leather. It was more delicate than the one I wore, but instantly I recognized the cuff. The other bois, who moments earlier had been egging me on, also saw and turned, teeth bared, circling me.

“How could you have done this?” Curly said, turning away from me and sitting on the floor next to Wendi. The Twins too were shaken, which translated to anger.

“I bet Pan was bringing us a Mommy!” said one Twin.

“She would have taken care of us, mended the holes in our knees, tucked us in!” said the second.

“Now you've ruined her!” the first one cried. A Mommy was something Pan had talked of, but always in abstract ways. I thought this Mommy business was just a story he and I would jerk off to. He'd told us that the Mommy he would find for us would be strict. She'd make us scrub behind our ears and wash our mouths out with soap when we were disrespectful. Domestic discipline wasn't something I'd ever given much thought to, but Pan had, and he sold us all on the magic of a Mommy's touch. Still, I never thought he'd send us one as a surprise.

Seeing the cuff changed everything. I was dizzy with the idea of how stupid I'd been not to look at her wrist before things got so out of control. Another boi in my position might have blamed Siren, but I just couldn't bring myself to hate her. It was my choice. Pan teaches us to be responsible for our actions. I started to cry and was too upset to care that everyone could see. Finally, I wiped my snotty face on my sleeve and whispered, “I used to dream of pretty femmes, that someday one would come to be our Mommy. In my dreams, I would fall to my knees and say, ‘Mommy, please, please have this boi.' It was always such a beautiful dream, and she would take my face in her hands and smile. But now, when my Mommy finally came to Neverland, I shot her.”

I couldn't believe I'd let the bois see me act so weak. I
rushed into our sleeping quarters. When Pan was away, I'd always been unofficially second-in-command. How could I have let him down like this? I found my messenger bag and threw some clothes into it. Siren came to check on me. As much as I wanted to be alone, there was something about Siren; she didn't want me to top her, and she didn't especially want to top me. I could be weak in front of Siren in a way I couldn't with the other bois, but it still scared me to let her see me like that. Siren started to kiss me, and I kissed her back because I didn't know what else to do. My tongue was coated with her sticky cherry lip gloss, and she tasted like cigarettes. I didn't want to kiss her, not now, not like this, but I didn't want to stop either. What I really wanted was for Pan to take me down, to make it all right, to punish and absolve me, to change what I'd done. Siren knew I was lost, and not just in a lost boi sort of way.

She told me that I could come back to the Lagoon for the night. I was shocked. It's against the Mermaids' house rules to bring someone home without consulting each other. “Sometimes, rules are made to be broken.” Siren's words hung in the air around us.

I left Siren there and walked back into Neverland's main room, where Wendi still lay on the floor, surrounded by the bois. I started toward the windows when the bois tried to stop me, saying how much they didn't want me to go. Curly stood there looking like he might start to cry, and my first instinct was to comfort him, to make a plan, but I couldn't
do anything but run. It wasn't just that I was terrified of Pan. Greater than my fear of Pan was this new fear of myself. What I've always cherished about being a lost boi, other than belonging to Pan, of course, was the chance to find and save the other broken and forgotten runaways, throwaways. It's all I've ever wanted, to help them not be alone. I never thought I'd be capable of hurting someone the way I'd just hurt Wendi. Then came the sound I'd been dreading. Pan was home, and there was no time to escape.

“Bois, I've returned!” His bellowing announcement echoed through Neverland. All the pigeons flew from their roosts and circled us, making Erebos leap into the air after them. Pan was distracted for a moment, which gave me time to signal to the bois that we needed to hide Wendi. We stood in a line before Pan, as he liked us to present ourselves, waiting. Siren had gone out the back through the high window, onto the dumpster, and out onto the tracks. I didn't blame her for wanting to get out of my mess. Pan looked confused; we're always so lonely without him that, when he comes in, we normally throw ourselves at him, knocking him down, forgetting protocol in a way that he loves. On the night that Wendi came, none of us bois moved.

“Bois! I have something exciting to share! I've brought us a Mommy! She's smart and beautiful the way a Mommy should be!” Pan always talked about Mommy play like other people talk about living full-time D/s, the way we do. It was like a fantasy, not something I thought would ever actually
happen. I almost let myself get excited until I realized that I'd ruined everything. Neverland was silent; Pan looked at me.

I knew that most of the other bois would have continued to hide her, but I had to do right by my Sir. I waved my hand and the bois moved out of formation. When Pan first saw Wendi, she was lying so still that she looked dead. He looked at her, confused. I wanted to run to him, to assure him that she wasn't dead, but I wasn't sure, and he had knelt at her side.

“Wendi? Wendi?” His voice was high and shrill. “Oh, Wendi, don't be afraid. Death is dark, but don't be afraid to be dead, it's an adventure. But if you're not dead, please don't die! Mommy, come back!”

Pan saw the syringe lying next to him. “Whose?” was all he needed to say to put me back on my knees.

“Mine, Sir.”

I hit the concrete floor without attempting to protect my knees. I wanted to hurt for him, for everything that I'd done to ruin our Mommy. The look on his face hurt me more than any punishment. It was a mixture of anger, betrayal, and something else I don't even know, maybe mourning for the dream he thought was finally going to come true.

Pan always carried with him, clipped to his belt, a little dagger shaped like an arrow, with a sharp point and a thin handle. He now raised the dagger above me. I didn't move, didn't cry. Instead, I laced my fingers behind my head, presented my chest to him, and prepared for the end. I felt proud of myself that I held true to everything he'd taught me, that
I didn't turn away. I faced what I had earned. Washington flew down from the rafters. Her feathers were fluffed and she perched herself on my shoulder, as if was going to peck Pan's eyes out if he moved any closer. The room was silent, except for Washington's distressed coos. As I knelt before Pan, I fought the urge to look away. I wanted to take my punishment honourably and with good form, so I kept my pitiful eyes locked on his. When Washington positioned herself on my shoulder, ready to attack, Pan made no motion toward her. He only raised one eyebrow. It was such a sexy, bemused look, and were the situation not so dire, I would have laughed and then thrown myself at his denim fly. Washington was such a loyal friend that she would've taken the blow for me, but I couldn't allow that. Only then did I break my eye contact with Pan. I took Washington from my shoulder and onto my hand. Meeting her small dark eyes, I hoped that my tears conveyed all the love I had for her. Then I lifted my arm and sent her away into the rafters. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and raised them to again meet Pan's.

Pan raised his knife and prepared to strike but then dropped his hand to his side. Again, the knife was raised, but he could not stab me. At this moment, Wendi stirred out of her daze. She stood up and placed her hand on Pan's arm. A Mommy's first act. It's impossible to know if she had any idea of the power of her tiny hand resting on Pan's thick, tattooed forearm. I don't think she could have known the way that moment shifted time, and allegiance, even just a little.
I'd never seen anyone stand up to Pan, except for Hook, and that was only in battle. None of us ever dared to cross him, and here was this … grrrl. She had no reason to want to save me—of all people—and yet she did.

A Mommy's love, she would later call it. Whatever it was, it did what I thought impossible. In that moment, a sliver of my allegiance shifted away from Pan and to Wendi. I knew that this was a heavy burden that I would carry until I could return that favour, maybe longer. It sounds so melodramatic when I say that now, but that's the world we signed up for. Everything and everyone was intense and loaded, ready to explode. Pan played for keeps; dominance and submission was not a game. It was the way of life for all of us.

Stopping Pan had taken all of Wendi's energy, and she crumpled back down onto the shit, trash, and feathers on the floor. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Pan placed his knife back into his belt holster and turned away from me.

I've seen Pan beaten in battle. It isn't pretty, but it only makes him more determined. He is most dangerous when he's under Hook's boot, when he is close to lost. In the days that follow, he will do more push-ups, command more of us bois to wrestle him, and then he will return to Hook to battle again. But now, Pan knelt before Wendi, begging her to live, to awaken. He was bargaining, begging I'm not sure who or what, that if the Wendi Lady were to live, he would be such a good boi for his Mommy. He pledged that we would all be obedient, but she did not wake. He promised that if she
woke, she could meet the Mermaids. (I didn't know yet that on their journey to Neverland, he'd promised Wendi femme sisterhood.) Wendi moaned and tossed on the floor, twitching and sweating. It was clear that she was at last beginning to come around, but it was a long way back to shore, and the Crocodile chased, snapping at her heels, as she raced toward Pan. She'd heard nothing of all his promises of servitude, or the love of a boi for his Mommy. All she could see was the shape of his lips, and the raspy, tender sound of his voice.