Peter Pan and Me

CHAPTER 19-TIGERS WAITING TO BE TAMED

There was a really long peace and quiet. Peter didn't like it of course
but his new or rather old game was doing nothing. I couldn't help but
laugh as Peter sat on a bench or a stool just throwing a ball in the air
and/or just punching a boy in the arm and maybe even just playing a game
of chess, which he always won, doing everyday boy things. Sometimes he
did nothing at all. It was his game. I liked peace and quiet. I often
just went to the Marooner's Lagoon and basked in the sun. The croc
ticking often woke me up but for some reason, the thing never attacked
me. It did Peter. Sometimes. Sometimes it aided Peter against enemies.
Other times...it always chased the lost boys. But me, it just kinda
ignored. And walked past me. Don't know why.

I lay in the sun one day, not near the beaches or the Lagoon. I was so
tired. The boys refused to sleep in the same position for some reason the
night before. Now wild animals are not always like you see in movies.
Cute, cuddly, etc etc. Ever see a lion up close? I have. It's not so
cute. It's a nerve wracking experience. Of course, Peter and sometimes
the Lost Boys, killed wild animals. I don't think as often as they
bragged but they did, the clothes the Lost Boys wore were proof of that.
I of course never killed a wild animal and wouldn't unless I had to save
one of the boys or Peter, and fat chance of that, me saving Peter, he
never needed me before to save him and wouldn't in the future (or so I
thought).

Anyway I was laying on the grass. Now grass in NeverNeverNever Land was
not like other grass. I mean sometimes it is but sometimes it's deadly
death dealing. Other times it's just grass, smelling like it was just cut
or mowed. And other times it's unbelievably comforting, like a feather
bed and soft pillow. It was this way this day and I sank into a deep deep
sleep. And dreamed good dreams. Of Peter of course. Him in my arms, me
in his. Sleeping with him, not sleeping. And the day wore on but it was a
restful one. What I didn't know was that I was in imminent danger.

On the sandy area within the circular opening I was in, surrounded by
grass and weeds and bushes, all neatly cut (by whom I have no idea) by
Peter's imagination maybe, were a pride of tigers. Eleven or so. I
stirred and stretched on the grass, hitting some sand with my hand.
Something pawed at my knuckle on my left hand. I brought it back. I
looked up and saw a maw. A jaw. Teeth. Whiskers. I slowly moved my eyes
from side to side and carefully got up on my knees. I went wide eyed.
Could tigers see you go wide eyed? I mean did that register as movement
to them. They didn't look particularly friendly or well fed. They looked
hungry and lean. I swallowed and sweated. I saw my sword off a few feet
away. I reached for it. One of them, the largest, the daddy I imagine,
roared loudly. I grabbed the sword anyway and sat back to my former spot.

"Now how does Peter do this?" I stood up and another roar from another
tiger and the daddy. They moved closer. One looked ready to spring.
"Stare at them. Stare them down? Or look away?" Peter always stared them
down. "Draw a circle..." Peter would draw a circle in the sand and dare
them to cross. I etched the sword out in front of me, a tiger pawed at it
but withdrew as I stared at it. It roared. I jumped. I moved the sword
around me in the ground, the tip making a circle around me. I stood there
and thrust my bare chest out like Peter would have. Was this really going
to work for me? I mean Peter always believed he was better than they and
that they would back down and they usually did. I mean I did see him
wrestle one once and sent it packing. I would not be so lucky. I would be
eaten. I sweated profusely. My forehead was wet and I could hardly see
now. I wiped my eyes with my hands and watched them. The tigers made
their circle around me smaller and converged at me. Slowly. Massive
beautiful, careful, slow moving, patient. They were colorful monsters of
total beauty and honor...and yet they were going to tear me apart. I
looked at them and stared. Then something came over me. I felt like
Peter. I was Peter. Peter's heart was in me. I was he and he was me. I
smelled like him. I smelled of him. His smell was on me. The tigers
halted and dared not cross my circle. A paw came down near the line and
not very far from my own bare foot. I gulped. I looked up at it. It
stared at me. I stared at it.

I was doing it. I was doing what Peter always did. "It's not so hard, the
braggart!" I said to myself.

In the bushes behind me, unknown to me, Peter was staring down the
tigers. He laughed and then covered his mouth, thinking he gave himself
away. I didn't hear him laugh and in fact, I never knew he was there
until later, Jennie told me quite innocently.

Still, I can't credit it all to Peter. I mean Peter was part of me now
and I him. That was true and there's that and the fact that one of the
tigers came close to me, so close I recognized it. It was the first day I
came to NeverLand. I was chasing after Peter, afraid he was going to
leave me in the woods or someplace equally nasty, for NeverLand changes
at night and becomes even more dangerous. I was running after the green
leafy boy who happened to be on the ground at the moment when I stumbled
across an old broken up log and fell. My face was at a tiger's face. It
was a cub. I pushed my hands to the ground to get up and stood on knees,
then on feet. I looked at the tiger. "Oh you're hurt, my friend." I came
to it and looked. A never thorn was in its paw and I saw it. I moved over
to it. "Where's your momma? Don't you have a momma too? Either?" I pet
its head and it shut its eyes. It purred but then moaned at the pain it
was feeling. "Now don't take this the wrong way, I have to do this and
you might not like it." I plucked the thorn out and the tiger hardly
stirred. It felt it. It moved its head at me and I winced. It licked me.
Wet tongue on face. No stubble on my face, it felt good.

"Where? Oh there you are," Peter came to me, hands on hips. Indignant.
"Can't you keep up? I have to train you, you'll not last two seconds in
this land."

"Oh please, just help me," I said and put a hand out, the thorn in it.

"Get rid of that," Peter said, "One prick can be fatal and if you get
stuck I'l lhave to go off and get the antidote..."

"You mean...my tiger here is going to die?" I grew upset.

"If it was stuck by that," Peter nodded, "Yes. I remember one time Robert
Mullins, whom I slayed anyway later on was stuck by this thorn and
Slightly and Billy Jukes, whom I slew anyway later, got some antidote...a
berry..."

"Peter, you must help it. Get the antidote."

"What? Now? I'm tired. We just flew from.."

"Peter it's a cub without a mother..."

Peter's heart melted and he stared at it, and became teasing but I wasn't
sure of him at this point in our uhm, relationship, "Well, the lost boys
need a new coat so..." Was he teasing? Or would he kill it to put it
out of its misery or just for his own fun!?

"Peter please!" I cried and came up to him and touched him.

He backed off and away, "Don't touch..."

I ignored his not wanting to be touched. "Peter can you do it?" I
became sly, "It'll be an adventure or is the mighty Peter Pan afraid of
having an adventure too close to one he already had?"

"Antidote on the way!" Peter flew off.

I petted my tiger friend and told him, "He won't let me down." At
least this time he didn't.

Well Peter went off and had numerous adventures gathering the antidote.

Now this tiger was here, a grown up. In fact, it was the daddy of the
entire group. He came to me and I let him cross the circle. Peter later
told me he was surprised and ready to slay it if it made any move at me.
I was angry when Jennie and Peter told me of Peter's presense there. I
was so sure this was my bravery, my moment of truth and proving myself.
That I ruled the tigers. This tiger was my friend. Gee, he was a cub when
I came here. Just how long was I here? He's almost a grandpa now. I
hugged him and he and his family moved off after that. I waved. He was my
friend and he and his family would always be.

Back at the Underground House, I wrote a letter to my family, one of
many. "Dear family, I know you know where I am, writing again from
Neverland. Just know that although I miss you all, I am happy here. Even
if I stay 11 for another million years, I am happy. I've found someone
and you know that but I can't say much more than I already have. Some day
I'll come home for a visit. Well, I've already been home and my own age
but I didn't know it, didn't know I had ever been gone and well my memory
was affected, some kind of time change thing but I'll come home proper
this time. I love you all and please accept my being gone, it's my
destiny. Love Chase." I gave it to the messenger bird and let it fly.

Some time later, when we were all asleep, Peter's pan pipes rose up on
their own and silently floated up to the holes to the outside surface.
Something moving them, made them fly off...and land in the forest, not
far from the swamp...where a cave awaited us. And evil. Yes, that's
right, evil...


The play Peter Pan and its characters are trademarks of and copyright
J.M. Barrie