Panic

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

            “This is ridiculous,” Peter said, looking into the bags.  “Where did you get this all?”

            We were in my room, looking over the gold by the light of five candles that sat on the bedside table I’d moved from Nibs’ room into my own.

            “Since when have I had to share everything with you?” I asked.  “I found it.”

            “Where?” Peter asked.  I shrugged and smiled.

            “It’s none of your business,” I said, flipping my hair over my shoulder.  “Will it be enough?”

            “Will it be enough?” Hook asked, his eyes staring at the large pile of gold.  “Yes, it will be enough.”

            “But what about pixie dust?” Peter asked.  “Can Tink produce that much?”

            “Is there a ratio or something?” I asked.  “How do you know how much pixie dust is needed?”

            “Er,” Peter said.

            “Do you even know what you’re doing?” I asked.

            “Er,” Peter said again.  “Yes.  I read it in an ancient scroll-”

            “You’re taking the word of an ancient scroll?” I asked.

            “No,” Peter said defiantly.

            I placed a hand on my hip.  “Where’d you get the scroll?” I asked.

            Peter shrugged.  “I don’t know!” he exclaimed, suddenly frustrated.  “I just knew I had to trust it.”

            “How did you know?” I asked.

            “Give it a rest,” Hook said.  “It’s not going to do us any harm if we do melt the gold.  And the fact that gold has been disappearing pretty much proves that Peter’s scroll is telling the truth.  Why else would Fonce be taking the gold?”

            “Oh, I don’t know,” I said, rather sarcastically.  “Maybe so that we could waste our time melting gold and infusing it with pixie dust instead of going after him.”

            “But we have no way of killing him,” Peter protested.  “This is better than doing nothing at all.”

            “Peter, we could always just leave,” I said.  “Nothing’s stopping us.”

            Peter straightened up, and there was a power in his stance.  “Let Fonce have Neverland?” he said, and he sounded dangerous.  “I will die before that happens.”

            “Peter!” I exclaimed.  “Don’t say things like that.”

            “What, you think I won’t keep the promise?” he asked.

            “I have no doubt that you will keep the promise,” I assured him, “but I’d rather it not come to that.  And I’d rather we not speak of such a thing happening.”

            Peter scoffed, but remained silent.  Hook looked at him, and then at me.  Finally, the pirate cleared his throat. “Well, we ought to get a fire going, if neither of you objects?” he said.

            “I’m perfectly fine with the idea,” Peter said.  “It’s Wendy who seems to have a problem with it.”

            “I do not-” I began angrily.  “Alright, fine, I do have a problem trusting an ancient scroll.  We shouldn’t waste our time doing something like this if we don’t know what’s going on!  We need a plan that will move us in a forward direction.”