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him like sweet little bells, not like the gnashing teeth of the Crocodile., and that’s how he knew it was safe.
    The bois and I rolled out of our hammocks to look for Pan, dragging John Michael with us. We found Pan hunched against the wall under the main window. At first, I worried he’d flown in, but then, when I saw Wendi asleep in her nest, I realized that he was watching over her. Pan would rather die than be a gentleman, but he cared for this grrrl. I’d only ever see Pan save bois, a ritual that’s exacting and intense, but not especially tender. He expects those under him to be strong, to be a pack, to hold rank and honour, and to uphold his (messy) protocol. All the jealousy and frustration I’d been holding all night was gone when I saw his sleeping face, its expression both playful and determined. All I wanted was to kneel before him, to make sure that things were right between us. Wendi awoke and asked for more blankets. She must have sobered up but probably felt like shit. Did she act more fucked-up than she actually was? We brought blankets to her because she was to be our Mommy, and I wanted to make her happy. Wendi snuggled back down in the blankets and I made coffee for us all.
    When Wendi’s eyes opened again later that day, all of us bois dropped to our knees before her. I didn’t say anything, but secretly I worried that she wouldn’t want us. All us lost bois looked nervous, except for Nibs and John Michael. Nibs couldn’t meet Wendi’s eyes; he looked instead at the dark, angry line of dried blood on her ankle and scowled. I was afraid that she would get up and climb out the window and leave us before we even had a chance of getting a Mommy. Orworse, that she would remember what I had done and would banish me, deciding to Mommy only the other bois.
    What happened next felt like a desperate yet irresistible flirtation between us bois and our new Mommy. Wendi sat up on her makeshift bed and ran her hands through her hair, taming it, as she looked over each of us in turn. There was not a boi who could prevent a deep blush from crawling across their cheeks and down into their shirts. It’s not polite to say, but I knew that each of us grew incredibly hard and/or wet, depending on our orientation, under her gaze. We had presented ourselves to her as best we could. I turned to look at Pan and saw that not only was he looking at us approvingly, but he’d also made attempts to comb back his hair and tuck his paint-splattered T-shirt into his sagging pants. Watching him present himself made me queasy. Please don’t misunderstand; it’s not that I have a problem with switches. My own role in Pan’s world is too complicated for that. But to watch Sir present himself to this grrrl was a lot to ask of any of us bois. In fact, it was too much to ask of Nibs, who pulled away from the pack and walked right out the door. Wendi tried to act humble and surprised by the attention we lavished on her. She turned to us bois and Pan, all on our knees. In unison we said, “Oh, Miss Wendi, please be our Mommy, please stay!”
    She twirled her hair in the most seductive way, her eyes big and wet. “Oh, I’m just not sure! You bois are so sweet, but being a Mommy is such a lot of work, and I’m only a little grrrl!”
    It was only Pan who dared answer; the rest of us held ourbreath. “Please Wendi, we’ll be good to you. Please stay and tell us stories!”
    I didn’t want to care, to admit it mattered to me. Us bois had managed just fine without a Mommy for a long time. I wanted to rise and say, “We don’t need this pretty grrrl, this wannabe Lady, wannabe grownup,” and yet, I’d caught Pan’s Mommy fever. Despite myself, I needed this Wendi Lady to be my Mommy, to patch my pockets, to tuck me in. I hated myself for it, but I wanted nothing more than to bring her trinkets, rusted and tarnished bits of jewellery,