Free Always Neverland by Zoe Barton Page B

who?’” Kyle added excitedly.
    â€œHow do you know? You weren’t there,” Dibs said.
    â€œI’ve heard the story.”
    â€œThen Peter scooped up handfuls of crumbs from the food fight, dug holes all around, and planted the crumbs like seeds,” said Button. “After he covered the crumbs with dirt and watered them, he Pretended with all his might.”
    â€œThe next day, the clearing where we’d eaten the picnic had become a grove of food trees,” said Prank.
    â€œCan Peter do that?” I said, surprised.
    â€œHe’s Peter Pan ,” Dibs said, scoffingly. “He can do anything.”
    â€œI don’t know if the Pretending would’ve worked anywhere else, though,” Button said with a thoughtful frown. “It’s part of Neverland’s magic.”
    â€œDoes that mean that Spot’s stone eggs will hatch?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” said Button.
    â€œDoubt it,” Prank said. “It takes a strong imagination to Pretend that well.”
    â€œLike Peter’s,” said Dibs, very proudly.
    â€œAnyway, the grove has a bunch of different food trees,” said Kyle.
    â€œBut the trees all bloom at different times,” Button explained. “If we find one ready to eat, we tell Tiger Lily and her braves what it is, and they do the same for us. Tiger Lily actually came by today to tell us that the cheeseburger tree is almost ripe.”
    At the word cheeseburger , my stomach growled again. I groaned. “Can we not talk about food for a little while? Please?”
    Peter came back with dinner at sunset—an armful of huge roast beef sandwiches, wrapped in brown paper. I didn’t realize that food trees grew stuff like that, but since the Lost Boys didn’t say anything, I figured it was normal.
    We ate silently and enthusiastically. The feather on Hook’s hat kept falling into Peter’s face until he finally lost patience and dropped the hat onto Dibs’s head. Dibs looked absolutely delighted.
    We sat among the highest branches of the Tree Home. From the next tree over, the relocated Never birds watched us. It actually made me a little nervous. Like they were planning to reconquer the Tree Home or something.
    Spot clucked nervously. It was a warning. Peter stood up, a hand on his golden sword, listening intently, and the Lost Boys and I craned our necks toward the ground.
    We heard the pirates complaining before we saw them.
    â€œI’m so hungry,” moaned one.
    â€œI can’t go on,” replied a second. “I see them little black spots, dancing in front of me eyes.”
    â€œWe’ll find supper when we find Peter Pan,” said someone else cheerfully.
    Button recognized that third voice and whispered, “It’s Smee.”
    â€œCook says Pan’s nicked it,” Smee continued.
    In the tree, we all turned to look at Peter. He smiled mysteriously and took another enormous bite out of his dinner.
    â€œIt were my favorite,” said the second voice sadly. “Roast beef sandwiches.”
    â€œNot sure if I believe Cook,” the first voice grumbled. “Seems to me Cook might have taken them for his self and blamed Pan.”
    We could see them now. The pirates had wandered into the clearing below, just fifty feet from the trunk of our tree.
    â€œOh, it was Pan all right,” Smee said. He was a little thicker around the middle than the other two. With his glasses, white hair, and red nose, he looked a little bit like Santa Claus’s pirate brother. “I heard him crow with me own ears, I did.”
    â€œLook!” I whispered, pointing at the tallest pirate. “Are his hands on backward?”
    Button nodded solemnly. “That’s Noodler.”
    â€œThe other one looks like Black Patch Pat,” added Dibs.
    â€œThey’ll be sorry they came here,” Peter said in a low voice, drawing his weapon.
    It must’ve been