The Bird Child

“Mama - "

“Quiet, James!”

“But Mama - "

She sent me a look so angry I shut my mouth. Pursing my lips, I jiggled uncomfortably; my bladder needed to empty it’s contents. We had been here, at the Choosing, since early morning, and I hadn’t used the bathroom even once. I needed to go.

“When will you pick already, Mama?” I asked her, keeping my voice quiet so she didn't get mad. When I talked loudly she got a headache, and then she would become mean. I didn’t like when Mama was mean. She would always scream at me and also sometimes throw me on the walls of the ship.

“James…”

I pretended to do what Mary taught me that her kindergarten teacher taught her, that stopped people from talking, but only pretend. I brought my invisible key up to my lips and locked it like a treasure chest. Nobody was going to see my gold.

My gaze swept over the rows and rows of little children like me in the cages along the wall. The Bird Children, they were called; kids who were found in a park after living with the winged creatures and magically becoming part of them. They could fly. I wished I could fly. Sometimes I also wished that I was a Bird Child, just that I wouldn’t get caught, oh no. I would be quicker than lightning and none of The Catchers would never ever even take even a hair from my head.

I watched with Mama as The Catchers opened the next cage. They dragged out one of the Bird Children; he had hair yellow like the sun and all of his baby teeth. I had already lost seven, I was a big boy. Mama knocked them out when she was mad, but when I showed Mary she clapped and said I could put them under my pillow and the tooth fairy would give me treasures. In the morning, though, I found the tooth fairy nailed to the wall of the ship; Mama didn’t like intruders.

She looked at me, from her chair, and I really needed to go then. The key had already locked my mouth so I just looked at her with my puppy eyes. Mama sighed. She does that a lot when she’s not in her mean mood, sighing.

“We’ll take it!”

Mama stood up, and she was the tallest mother in the room so everybody looked at her. “Twenty pounds!”

“Anybody over twenty?” The Catcher looked around the room. He had really bushy eyebrows that made me laugh and a tiny bit of pee spritzed out. Oops.

Nobody made a sound. The Catcher nodded. “He’s yours, Ma’am.”

Mama walked to the front of the room. The Bird Child didn’t move as he was thrown over her shoulder, like prey she had hunted in the woods.

“Come, James.”

I followed her out, trying not to show my discomfort. The Bird Child was staring at me with tiny black eyes.

The way to Neverland was really complicated, a lot more than just taking the boat to the lagoon. We had to go in scary looking tubes that went super fast and were always filled with people, and through all these little metal gates that would hit you if you didn’t run through them fast enough. My Mama said I was a baby for being afraid of the subway, but in my opinion even playing with the crocodile in Neverland was funner; I hated going in the moving tube.

After that we would walk for a very long time, to Mary and her father. They lived on a street that was always filled with people. One time I lost Mama there because of the crowd and had to stay with Mary for a whole entire week, until Mama needed to visit England again. That was when we became best friends.

When we got to their building, Mama would press a button and a box would whisk into sight. We had to go in the box, and it was like going underwater; eventually you would run out of air to breath. It was even scarier than the tube. But the box was cooler. When it opened again, magic happened and we were in a different place.

Then me and Mama and this time also the Bird Child walked to one of the doors, and I knocked a special knock that Mary taught me: boom, boom, ba-boom, boom, ba-boom, boom. Her father opened the door. He had red hair and was missing an eye, because he used to be a pirate like my Mama but had retired to England. Now he wrote books and stories. Mary and I would look at all the pictures in his stories whenever Mama left me with them. It was really fun.

Mary’s father was looking at the Bird Child. His eyebrows were raised. “Small one.”

“James needed to go.” Mama looked mad. Uh-oh.

“You should have left him with us,” Mary’s father said, walking into the house. We followed him to the living room. The portal was there.

“It’s too late for that, innit?” Mama growled. I gulped. She would probably make me scrub the deck and yell at me when we got back to the ship.

I saw Mary. Like the Bird Child, she had yellow hair, but she was so much prettier than him. When I was alone in bed, and nobody could hear my thoughts, sometimes I remembered Mary and then I remembered my Mama. Nobody was allowed to know, but I thought Mary was a lot more beautiful. She was the prettiest girl in the whole wide world.

She waved at me. I grinned.

“Let’s go.” Mama grabbed my elbow and pushed me toward the portal, before I could even say goodbye to my friend. “Bye, Charlie.”

Mary’s father nodded his head. And we stepped into the portal.

When we were back on the deck, the Bird Child was thrown on the floor and then I was as well. Mama was livid. She taught me that word. It means very very very angry.

“HOW DARE YOU?” Mama screamed at me, and my head hit the wall, thump. It hurt. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I wasn’t a baby, I didn’t cry. “HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME PICK THIS - THIS ARSE?!” she gestured towards the Bird Child who was thrown on the floor, his eyes shut. Maybe he was unconscious. Mama was very strong.

Mama screamed into the sky. She had a big nose, so she looked a lot like a hawk. She was scary when she was mean.

“Scrub the deck!” eventually she yelled at me, and stormed away. I was left alone with the Bird Child. The rest of Mama’s crew were on vacation, so it was only me and him and her.

I glanced at the planks of wood that were littered all over the place. I had scrubbed them yesterday too.

“Hello,” the Bird Child said. The sun was setting, and I had finished cleaning almost half of the deck. My back was hurting and my hands were all dry from the soap.

I looked at the Bird Child. His little black eyes were wide and intelligent, cocky and filled with laughter, even though he was captured and would never be able to leave the boat. There was magic restricting him from running away, by a tiny little necklace that Mama had placed on the base of his neck. The Child couldn’t take it off himself, only Mama could, and as long as it was there he was stuck. There was of course the other way; if he managed to overpower his captain, which was Mama, he would be free, but I doubted that would happen. He was tiny and harmless. Maybe he could fly, but Mama… Mama was the strongest pirate to ever sail the seven seas.

“Hi.”

He seemed delighted that I'd answered. The Bird Child smiled with his pearly white teeth.

“I’m Peter Pan,” he declared, and stood up. “Who are you?”

I licked my lips. Mama said I couldn’t talk to the Bird Child, but I was mad at her; I didn’t want to clean the deck. And my head had a swollen part in it, because she threw me. If she caught me, she would get very angry. I looked around. Mama was nowhere to be found.

“My name is James. James Hook. My Mama is a pirate.”

“I don’t have a Mama,” Peter Pan the Bird Child said, and his grin widened. “I don’t need one, either.”

And suddenly he was laughing. His laughter was like the tinkling of tiny little bells, as if a fairy lived in his mouth. I stared at him. How could he laugh about not having a Mama? Without Mama I would be nothing. I owed her everything.

“Want to play a game?”

His giggles died in an instant, startling me. I glanced at him. He was floating an inch above the air. Flying. I had always wanted to fly.

“I don’t think I’m - "

But suddenly Peter Pan swooped over to me and touched my shoulder. He was laughing again. “You’re it!”

He was as high as the mast, flying up into the cotton candy in the sky. I stared after him in wonder, as Peter brought his hands to his mouth, calling down to me.

“Come on, Hooknose! Catch me if you can!”

The sponge fell from my hands. The Bird Child was like magic, real magic. I wanted to be magic too. I sprinted faster than lightning over to one of the ropes, climbing like Mama had taught me. I was almost as high as him while he laughed, crowing with delight. I felt a tiny spark of happiness alight inside my chest. If I just reached over, I would touch the sole of his shoe -

“Oh, not so fast!” Peter swooped down to the ground again. “You’ll never catch me!”

“I - "

But then my heart stopped. Because she was there. Mama.

She locked me in my room, she was so mad. She only did that once before; I was in there for two whole days. In the end I grew so thirsty I pounded on the door and begged for forgiveness, promising to scrub the whole ship and sharpen all the weapons and clean her room if only she gave me a cup of water. Mama let me out and slapped me. She said that I was weak and I would never survive captivity.

She put the Bird Child in the place made especially for him, in the engine room. It sucked away the energy he used in order to fly and powered the entire ship. If the Bird Child was strong enough, sometimes the boat would even be able to rise into the air. But it hurt them, very much. I remember hearing the old Bird Child scream into the night as his magic was sucked out of him. I wondered how Peter would deal with the pain; all of his laughter would wither away. Poor Peter.

Mama opened the door after only one day, this time, in the evening. She was drunk. I knew because she was holding rum in her hand and because she was grinning. Mama never smiles. Never ever. One time I asked her why and she said that real pirates never smile. She said that one day, when I would be a captain myself, if I smiled all my crew would throw me to the water. She taught me how to make a mean face that day. I was very good at it. When I showed it to Mary, she screamed.

“Get out, James.” She grabbed my elbow and threw me to the deck, locking my bedroom behind me.

“Mama - "

“We have a problem,” Mama slurred. She was still grinning. “And you’re going to solve it.”

A tiny sliver of fear started to creep into my heart. A problem?

“The Bird Child escaped,” Mama said, and pushed me towards the weaponry room. “You’re going to catch him.”

“But, Mama - "

“Hush, James. Choose your sword.”

I gulped. This couldn’t be happening. Mama said my first pirate mission would come only when I was twelve. I still have five and a half years for that.

“Mama - "

“JAMES!”

Suddenly I remembered that Mama wasn’t always smiley drunk. Sometimes she would be angry drunk. Then she was super-scary.

I glanced at the rows of sharp blades hanging on the wall. I hadn’t actually fought with one, ever. My heart was beating quickly. I didn’t want to -

“James,” Mama growled, and I grabbed the first sword I could reach. It’s weight made me stagger. I let out a tiny gasp.

“Now go and find the prick,” Mama said, clearly enjoying herself. “Go and find the flying… prick - "

She started laughing. Mama never laughed. That scared me even more than the sword.

“Find him and capture him and lock him in the engine room - "

The ship at night was like a haunted house. I needed to pee again, but Mama would get mad. I also needed to cry. But then Mama would get madder. My sword dragged behind me, too heavy to pick up. Tears prickled at my eyes. Where was Peter?

I didn’t want to do this. I really, really, really didn’t want to do this.

But what choice did I have? Mama would -

And then it crashed into me. What would Mama do, if I didn’t manage to capture Peter? She would - she would - maybe she would -

No. I would succeed. I would find Peter Pan the Bird Child. I would find him and I would catch him. I would.

I checked the engine room again, but he wasn’t there. Then I went to Mama’s office and Mama’s room too, and then through all the crew’s empty rooms. He wasn’t anywhere to be found. Eventually I stumbled back to the deck.

I saw his silhouette, against the wall, before I saw him. He was crying.

“Peter?” I asked, because I couldn’t imagine the little magic boy crying, ever.

He turned to face me. He was standing right next to the tooth fairy who was nailed to the wall. Uh-oh.

“How could you?” Peter whimpered, his voice barely a whisper. “How could you kill her - "

His gaze fell to my sword, then up to my face. His tears disappeared, replaced by… mockery?

“Oh, you think you can kill me like you killed that little fairy?” he rose up into the air, the moon setting his eyes ablaze. “YOU THINK?!”

And he pounced on me, knocking me to the ground. My sword clattered to the side as Peter screamed at me, pulling my hair and punching me in the eye. Everything hurt. Now I was crying, but Mama said that boys don’t cry, not ever, especially not future captains. I was letting Mama down. I couldn’t -

I yanked Peter off of me, gasping. Blood sprinkled like fairy dust from my cheek to the floor as anger rose within me. How dare he attack me? He was our prisoner. Mine and Mama’s. How dare he disobey orders?!

Yes, come, little kitten, I told the anger, caressing it within me. Make me strong. Make me catch this Bird Child who dared to -

In a flash, I grabbed the sword that was way too heavy and swung it at him. It crashed to the deck but I still held on to it. I was super-strong, like Mama. One sword wouldn’t knock me down.

Peter was laughing at me. The anger grew.

“Hi-yah!” I attacked him. He dodged, left and right and up up up to the moon and the sky, crowing the whole time. His sadness from before had disappeared in an instant. Peter was enjoying this. He enjoyed laughing at me.

“I will kill you!” I screamed at the night air, and decided that, yes, I was going to kill him.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Peter called back, and flew away, towards the weaponry room and Mama. She had zonked out, the bottle rolling away into the ocean. Mama. He would hurt -

Peter picked up a dagger from the table. He looked at me. I ran to him, my weapon dragging on the floor. Peter grinned.

And he stuck the knife in Mama’s heart.

A million pounds of sand landed on my head, my feet, my own heart. I froze. No. He didn't. He didn’t just -

“Free! I’m free!” Peter exclaimed, and he rose into the air, throwing his necklace to the ground. I was breathing so hard I couldn’t breath. No. No. Mama -

“I WILL KILL YOU!” I screamed at him with all my soul, because suddenly I hated him so much it hurt, it hurt that he murdered my Mama and now I would murder him, he would never fly again, never never never -

But Peter could fly and I had never used a sword in my life. So when he swooped down again, at me, crying with joy, I knew what would come before it actually came.

He cut my hand off.

The pain seared through my body as I collapsed. No. No no no no no no no -

I watched through dazed eyes as Peter grabbed my severed palm, throwing it off the deck, to the ocean. Tears were streaming down my eyes. I couldn’t stop them. I was shaking, from terror or from the hurt or from losing my Mama, I didn’t even know anymore.

“Goodbye, Hooknose!” Peter crowed at me, flying into the distance.

Only when I woke up and Ezra from the crew had returned for vacation and put me in sickbay and secured the hook to my stump, did I realize what I was meant to do in this life.

I was made in order to kill the Bird Child.

I was born to kill Peter Pan.

And I would. I would.