Panic

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

            I lay on my bed, not knowing how much time had passed.

            “Wendy?”

            I looked at the ceiling.  “Ed, we shouldn’t be talking right now.”

            “I don’t care.  I need to know you’re still alive,” he said.

            “Ed,” I said.

            “Wendy, it’s not what you think,” he said.  “I believe every boy on the island has always had a little crush on you.  But you’re my friend, and if you died, I would always blame myself.”

            “Edward, we’re going to be alright,” I said.

            “You don’t know that,” he said, his voice cracking.

            I sat up.  “Edward, Peter will come for us,” I said.

            “You don’t know that,” he repeated.

            “Good always wins,” I said.  “He will come for us.  He values his friends more than anything on the earth.  He will come for us, make no mistake about it.”

            Edward sighed loudly.  “I’m not disputing that he’ll come,” he said, his voice completely devoid of hope.  “I just don’t know what shape we’ll be in when he comes.”

            “Edward,” I said.

            “Don’t deny that you feel the same way,” Edward said.

            I felt the sinking in my heart.  I knew what he was feeling, and the thoughts had crossed my mind as well.  “We can’t lose hope.”

            “Too late,” Ed said.

            “Ed,” I said.  “Please, we can’t.  He’ll come for us.”

            “Wendy, you don’t even know if I still have my shadow,” Edward responded dully.  “And I don’t know if you have yours.  We could all be dead and just not know it.”

            “Don’t talk like that!” I exclaimed.  “He’s coming.  I know he is.”

            “You really believe that?”

            “Yes,” I said firmly.  “He loves you, and Percy, and Thomas, and James.  He loves us all, and love conquers all.”

            “That’s only in the fairy tales, Wendy,” Ed said.

            “That’s where we got lucky,” I said.  “We’re practically living a fairy tale.  I expect someday, someone will write a fairy tale based on us.”

            Ed laughed.  “Yes, and they’ll mess up all the details,” he said.  “That’s what always seems to happen.”

            “Ed, he’ll come,” I said.

            “Your undying faith is touching,” Edward said.  “I wish I could believe I’d still be alive when he came.”

            “SHUT UP!” Fonce yelled from somewhere.  “All this chatter is boring me to death.  Good, love, blah, blah, blah.  It’s sickening.”

            “Well we wouldn’t want you to die, would we?” I asked sarcastically. 

            “Watch your mouth Wendy Darling, or I’ll come in there again,” Fonce yelled.