Belief Extraordinary

Girl

Sarah woke late the next morning. She stretched carefully, mindful of the dull ache in her left arm. She looked around her tent to see that thankfully, she was alone. The last thing she remembered was Pan re-bandaging her cut, so he must have left after she'd fallen asleep. Her stomach twisted. It had happened before, she supposed, with the sleeping spell, but being in the same space as Pan when he was awake and she was not made her uncomfortable. She wasn't sure if that discomfort was better, or worse now that they were something other than enemies.

She groaned, trying to shake thoughts of the boy from her mind. She had never wanted to be one of those people who got caught up in crying, "What are we?" about their relationships. She had always thought her friends silly for doing so, when a simple conversation would straighten things out. She sent them a silent apology now, wherever they were.

What she needed was a distraction, something to focus on other than her frustrating feelings towards a frustrating target. She hadn't really practiced her Belief since coming back to camp, other than eating. It was something that required focus, and that sounded like exactly what she needed. The only question was, where to start?

No, wait. No question. She looked down at her shirt with its missing sleeve, smears of dirt and blood, tears, and holes. She hadn't been on the island that long, but she'd certainly put this shirt through the ringer. It was high time to let it rest. She could have easily imagined another just the same, but since she had started changing things on the island her need to create what was new and unique had grown. Mushroom houses and purple earth had been just the beginning, and there were now several types of flowers growing on the island that had never been grown before, on the island or off of it. To imagine a copy of something seemed a shame.

Instead, she closed her eyes and let herself daydream. She couldn't do anything too fantastical – even now, with fewer day-to-day threats from Pan and the other Lost Boys, the island was a place of rough living. Diaphanous fabrics would last for all of thirty seconds before being caught and torn on something, as would the long skirts she loved so much in her own world. Perhaps later she might imagine such a skirt, just for wearing every now and again. She missed the swirl of soft fabrics.

For now, however, she needed something practical. It might be nice, too, to have something that wouldn't tear quite so easily. She wouldn't go so far as imagining armour – she could just imagine how the boys might laugh at that – but something sturdier than cotton or wool would be nice. With a smile, an idea came to her. She imagined first a dark green shirt with one long sleeve – she liked the protection sleeves offered, but she didn't want this shirt to go the way of the last. Once Pan stopped insisting on medical attention, she'd imagine one with two. Then, she concentrated hard on a memory of a warrior woman from the front of some YA-novel she'd read many years ago. Many panels knotted together to make a fitted but flexible leather vest of brown chestnut, tied in the front in a queen-anne neckline before tapering to a v along the hem.

When she felt the heavy weight settling into her hand, she opened her eyes with a smile. Then, checking to be sure her tent flaps were closed, she gingerly removed the bedraggled shirt Pan had given her on her first night in camp. She set it carefully with her poor pajamas in their quiet corner, and hoped that her next shirt might last a little longer. Then, she slipped her new clothing over her head. She wasn't sure how they looked – she didn't really want to imagine a mirror and confirm what a fright she must look after so long on the island – but she was sure how they felt, and they felt pretty good. She ran her hand over the leather bodice, and counted it a very good thing that her stomach could barely register the touch. Let's try and tear through that, she thought with great satisfaction.

She was so pleased with it that she added leather bracers along her lower arms, closed with metal busks rather than cord so that she could take them on and off herself. Feeling quite pleased with herself, she left her tent at last.