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Paperback
First published April 29, 2014










“I can’t,” he says simply.
“Why do guys keep saying that?” I demand, furious now.“You can. I want you to. But for some reasons that only you seem to know, you won’t. And you’ll tell yourself its okay because I don’t know what I want, because I was angry and hysterical, but the truth of the matter is, it’s creeper behavior and it’s not okay. And I’m over it.”
I wave a dismissive hand.
"He's such a charming rake. And unapologetic about it. And he's drunk all the time. How is that NOT a pirate?
Belle smiles. “Do you remember now, Gwendy bird? We’ll tear you from the clouds and rip you to pieces. You can’t have our Thief.”
“It’s not real,” I mumble, my lips numb. “It can’t be real.”
I’ve spent seven years hearing that. Learning to believe that.
She smiles, a bloody rictus, and I shake my head, nausea swimming through me.
“Belle, who is Peter?” I demand.
“Peter? He’s a thief. The best and worst of all of us. He’s ours, and you stole him.”
He’s backlit by the sun, a fey, smiling boy dressed all in green. There is a shock of red hair poking out of his strange hat, and a mischievous smile brightens his slanted, exotic eyes. The Boy stares at me and grins, a crooked little smile.
“Hello, pixie girl. What are you doing out here?”
“I’m lost,” I say.
His smile grows a little, and he shakes his head. “Can’t be. I found you. And I’m a bit of an expert on lost things.”
“Where did you come from?” I ask.
“My island. Would you like to see it?”
I hesitate. “I’m not supposed to go with strangers.”
“Would you rather stay here? It seems dangerous.”
There’s a certain unassailable logic to his words. I shrug, though, trying to seem very above it all and distant. “I don’t know you. You could be dangerous.”
He laughs. “Oh, I am. But I would never hurt you, Gwendy.” He takes a step closer and extends a hand in a childlike caricature of an adult gesture. His eyes sparkle, and it feels, for a moment, like the whole world is holding its breath. “I’m Peter.”
