“Should I have told you before we jumped off the hospital roof”—he kicked some gravel toward the fountain—“or after you left me on the bus?”
Her defiant brown eyes narrowed. “How about you tell me now?”
He explained the complicated procedure for nominations. With each step, her frown deepened. It was possible to bring in outsiders, but not easy. “Once your case is cleared by External Affairs, you’ll be able to submit your nomination to Leadership.”
“Really?” Her eyes brightened for a split second before she frowned and started chewing on her lip. “Paul didn’t say anything about it when I met with him.”
She’d met Paul? Why the hell hadn’t he been told? “When did you meet with him?”
“After you left last night. He kept hinting that I knew something about the HOOK agents that I wasn’t telling him.” She adjusted her grip on her bag, exposing more marks on her raw arms. “It made me feel guilty, even though I didn’t do anything wrong. At least I don’t think I did.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Paul is an ass.”
That brought the smile back to her lips. “Well, he didn’t seem to want me here, that’s for sure. So I doubt he’d be into me bringing a friend.”
Lucky for her, it wasn’t up to Paul. The final decision was Peter’s. “I had no idea he would subject you to an interrogation before you had a chance to rest or settle in.”
Vivienne scratched at her wrists. “It’s fine.”
“No. It’s not.” He hid his fists in his pockets. “If you’ll excuse me, I just realized I forgot to give Julie something last night.” Deacon turned and stalked back to the Hall. He went directly to Paul’s office and knocked, but didn’t wait to be called inside.
Paul set the mug in his hand on the notepad in front of him and groaned. “Oh, great. You’re back.”
“Why did you interrogate Vivienne last night?”
Paul leaned back in his chair and returned Deacon’s glare. “You know my job is to—”
“I know very well what your job is. My mother gave it to you.”
Paul shot forward and smacked his palms against his desktop. “If you’re pissed that I’m making sure a new recruit isn’t going to damn us all to hell, then that’s your problem. But I’m not putting my family and friends in jeopardy.”
Deacon dragged on the ends of his hair. “I already told you she was clean!”
Paul’s mouth lifted at the corners even as his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Why did he look so smug? Deacon felt his bravado wane.
“Did Vivienne tell you that Lawrence Hooke was at her house before she left?”
“What?” The last time Lawrence Hooke left Virginia, Vivienne’s parents had ended up dead.
“Vivienne claims that she escaped before Lawrence searched the property, but we can’t corroborate her story.” Paul settled back into his chair. “For all we know, she was meeting with him to report on you and your failed attempt to bring her to Neverland.”
Paul thought this was his fault?
Deacon had done his bloody job.
Vivienne had been sitting beside him on the bus, safe from HOOK, willing to give up her life and come to Neverland.
Until she realized that she had been abandoned.
“I failed because Neverland allowed Vivienne to rot away in a system where she felt alone for over a decade.” His nails dug into his palms when he squeezed his hands into fists. “But I suppose that wouldn’t have been an issue if Neverland hadn’t failed her parents first.”
By the end of Vivienne’s second day in Neverland, she had gotten used to the youthful instructors looking like they belonged in a seat next to her. That night, she stayed up until 3 a.m. reading Peter Pan and Wendy from cover to cover.
When she allowed herself to sleep, her dreams were ravaged by pillaging pirates, mischievous mermaids, and fickle fairies.
Joseph, a young man of eighteen—fifty-five times over—opened their history class the following day by asking how many of them had read the book the night before.
Three hands lifted toward the ceiling.
“Every single time,” he murmured, a smile on his smooth face. “I usually begin our first class by discussing J.M. Barrie and his role in all of this.” Joseph grabbed a marker from the desk drawer to write the author’s name on the white board.
“Peter was a fan of Barrie’s earlier novel, Sentimental Tommy. The two were introduced in London in 1898 and became friends.” He snapped the lid back on the marker. “Remember, there were no smart phones back then, so literature was key to communication. Peter thought that if there were others like him who heard stories about a boy who could fly, they may be compelled to contact the author”—Joseph pointed back to Barrie’s name—“who would direct them to Peter.”
Emily paused her note taking to ask if it worked.
“Albert and Henry were found this way.” Joseph returned to the board to write their names. “Two may not seem like a lot, but there were only seven PAN at the time, and adding two more to the ranks was a huge success.”
Vivienne raised her hand. “I keep coming back to Peter. In the book, he’s a little kid who can fly, but our Nevergenes don’t activate until eighteen.”
Joseph sat on the corner of his desk and held his copy of Peter Pan in the air. “At its heart, this book is a fairy tale. But, as with most stories, there is a modicum of truth behind it. This fictional Peter Pan”—he pointed to the boy flying on the cover—“is an amalgamation of Barrie’s brother David, who died tragically on the eve of his thirteenth birthday, and our Peter, the first PAN on record who could fly and will forever look eighteen.”
“But how did Peter find out he could fly?” Max asked.
Joseph set the book down on the desk. “There was an accident and he fell off of something very high. Instead of landing and getting hurt, he flew.”
Vivienne lifted the pages then let them fall like a flip book. “What did Peter—?”
“Let’s move away from Peter for the minute and focus on…” Joseph stopped when Max’s hand shot into the air. “Yes, Max?”
“Are the lost boys real?”
“The lost boys were the first People with Active Nevergenes that Peter found. Most of us are descendants of the original members.”
Vivienne opened to the inscription in her book. “Will we ever get to meet Peter?”
“Of course you will.” Joseph stood and walked back to erase the whiteboard. “He’s based in Harrow, but he comes to Kensington a few times a year.”
Max leaned forward and asked what Peter did now.
“He serves as the head of Leadership.” Joseph drew a circle and wrote Peter in the middle. Then he drew seven lines from the center circle. “Leadership is a panel of seven PAN—eight if you count Peter—who act as the governing body for all the Neverlands.”
Vivienne studied the drawing and wondered where she fit into the fantastical world. “Are there records of us all somewhere?” Maybe she would be able to find information about her dad.