Chapter Ten
The cold water rushed around me as I plunged into the river. Feeling the impact of my fall pulling me down, I opened my eyes and looked up; I could see nothing but black, swirling water. I had survived, but my jump had caused me to dive down so deep that I couldn’t see the surface. Trying to stop myself from screaming and taking a breath, I swam as hard as I could, the ice-cold temperature numbing my legs. The more I swam, the more the shock from my fall wore off, but that might have been a bad thing—the clearer I could think, the more I realized I might have just jumped to my death.
Finally breaching the surface, my body burst into the cold night air. Gasping, kicking my legs, I tried to calm myself down, looking at the stars above me. But, even the few seconds I thought I had to catch my breath were taken away—the water erupted all around me, in rapid, bursting flashes; I was being fired on from above.
I looked up at the bridge—all of Hook’s pirates, including Smee, were pointing their pistols at me.
“Get her!” Hook shouted, from the edge of the bridge. He was the only one still standing in the forest. “Don’t let her get away! Any friend of Peter’s will meet the same fate as the rest!”
The pirates fired on me at once, their bullets hitting the water all around me. With no other escape, I took a deep breath and swam down, praying none of the bullets would hit their target.
I swam forward underneath the water, hearing the bullets break the surface above me and then slice down, and eventually the current picked up. It was going so fast now that I let it carry me, and thanks to its speed, I knew it wouldn’t be long until I was free from the pirates. Swimming to the top of the water, I broke the surface and looked back.
The bridge was far away now, and I was out of the pirates’ range. Giving up, they ran in a group down the bridge, back toward the train and into the forest. Somehow, someway, I had escaped. Now, I just needed to find a way out of this freezing cold, increasingly rapid river.
Luckily, considering my arms were about to fall off, I saw a small boat up ahead: a wooden canoe with a yellow stripe across it. A girl was sitting in it, manning the oars, and when I got closer, she held out an oar for me.
“Grab it!” she shouted.
I did, and she pulled me in, lifting me by my shoulders. I fell to the bottom of the boat, soaking wet and breathing harder than I ever had in my life. Rolling over, I looked up to see who it was that had rescued me.
It was a girl, younger than me, thirteen or fourteen years old. She had long, black hair, braided into a ponytail, and a vibrantly colored headband, in different shades of yellow, brown, and orange. She was pretty, with dark skin and dark eyes.
“How are you?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, though “okay” was as far away from what I was feeling as possible. However, I was alive, and I hadn’t been hit by any of the pirates’ fire, which is what I figured she was asking. I tried to talk to her, but I couldn’t through my gasps for air.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Rest and catch your breath. I know who you are. Here, lay there and take this.”
She handed me a blanket and helped me lay it across my body. I pulled it up under my chin and looked at it. It was homemade and beautiful, with images of buffaloes and running horses sewn into it. The way the blanket looked—along with the girl’s brown tunic, decorated with flowers and sunsets—made me wonder if she was somehow Native American.
“There,” she said. “The most important thing now is keeping you warm until we get to shore.” She smiled. “I thought I was going to be pulling Wes from the water, I didn’t expect to see you.”
I looked over the girl’s shoulder. Peter flew toward us, coming in for a landing. He was holding the green-skinned pirate by his armpits.
“How are you feeling, Em?” Peter asked, his feet hitting the boat.
“That was quite the dive,” the green pirate said. “I’d give it an 8.5. Not bad for a beginner. But what happened—I thought Peter said you could fly?”
The pirate smirked. I didn’t know how to answer him. He obviously couldn’t read my face, if he thought I would think this was the least bit funny.
“Just let her rest,” Peter said. “She’s not used to this kind of thing where she comes from.” He looked to me with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Emily. But remember, you can’t be mad at me—I promised you’d be safe if you stayed near me. You didn’t, so this is all your fault.”
Even in my freezing, close-to-hypothermia shock, I felt my face get red with anger. Earlier in the night, I thought I was starting to like Peter. Now, he had just given me a million reasons to dislike him even more.
“Are you really going to tease her right now?” the girl said. “You really will never stop being an idiot, will you? This is just proof.” She turned to me. “Sorry, just learn to ignore him. I have. It’s the only way you’ll stay sane.”
She held out her hand and smiled.
“I’m Tiger Lily, by the way. I’m a friend of Peter’s. Kind of.”
I shook her hand.
“Don’t worry about answering. We’ll be at my village in just a few seconds. Then we can talk more.”
I closed my eyes, feeling my body warm up underneath the blanket. Peter, Tiger Lily, and the green pirate talked at the front of the boat, but I couldn’t hear them. I was simply trying to calm myself down, going over everything that had happened. What had I done? What was I thinking, agreeing to come here with Peter? Why had I let him convince me to leave my room in the first place? Even worse, I had brought Tim with me, into this insanity. And, to complete the dumbest thing I had ever done, I had left him back at the village of the Lost Boys, just to go on a little adventure with Peter. Now, I didn’t even know where he was, or how far away I was from him. I had left my little brother, alone, in a village full of insane orphans. I was the worst person ever.
Just as I was coming to terms with how incredibly awful I was, the boat jutted forward and stopped. We had hit land.
“Here we are,” Tiger Lily said. “Wes, help Emily up while I tie the canoe.”
“I’ve got her,” Peter said. “After all, it’s my fault she’s in this mess.”
Peter held out his hand. I grabbed it and stood, my legs wobbly.
“There you go,” Peter said. “Just take it slow. And keep this around you.” He lifted the blanket and helped me wrap it around my shoulders. I was shivering so much I could barely keep my grip on it. “As soon as we get to the village, we’ll get you some warm clothes and let you rest.”
“Where are we going?” I asked, speaking for the first time since I had jumped off the bridge.
“Welcome to the Island of the Natives,” a voice said—it was a deep, booming voice that echoed in the night. I looked to the shore, and saw a tall man standing there, along with a dozen or so men and women on either side of him. He was dressed similarly to Tiger Lily, in a brown tunic and pants, and he wore a tremendous feather headdress. He stood over six feet tall.
“Make yourself at home, Emily,” he continued. “We’ve been waiting for you.”