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before nightfal . It must be at night, do you understand?” Nerezza, too shaken to speak, nodded.
    “At night,” the voice repeated.
    And despite the heat of the day, Slank’s teeth began to chatter.

CHAPTER 5
THE AGREEMENT
    P ETER, WITH TINKER BELL CLOSE BEHIND, swooped low, his bely just brushing the jungle treetops as he zoomed toward the pirate camp. He cradled the mango in his left hand and changed direction quickly, in case Hook shot at him again.
    At first the shooting had scared him, but he’d quickly learned that he could evade it easily enough if he changed direction when he saw Hook’s trigger finger twitch. Peter’s eyesight was very, very sharp—far sharper than that of the other boys, or for that matter, anybody else on the island. It was one of the changes—like the ability to fly—that had come over him since he’d been exposed to the mysterious material cal ed “starstuff.” As he discovered his new abilities, he’d become increasingly convinced of his superiority to others, and his invulnerability. He no longer feared Hook’s pistol. In fact, he almost enjoyed being shot at.
    With the clearing just ahead, Peter shifted the mango into his right hand, his throwing hand.
    Now over the clearing, he looked down and found himself staring straight into the eyes of Captain Hook, who stood out in the open.
    He was expecting me.
    Peter raised the mango, anticipating Hook might flinch, or even run toward the fort. But Hook didn’t move, didn’t so much as blink. He just stood there staring right back at Peter. In place of the pirate’s usual hate-fil ed look, Peter saw an expression of disconcerting calm—almost amusement. Surprised by this change in the man, Peter forgot to throw the mango.
    Instead, he flew across the clearing, banked into a rising turn, and settled into a high, slow-spinning hover, like a hummingbird, from which to assess the situation. He searched for signs of an ambush—pirates in the trees, perhaps, armed with pistols or spears—but saw nothing. A few pirates lounged against the wal of the fort; a few others rested by the spring at the side of the clearing, where the pirates got their drinking water. But there was no apparent threat; only Hook and his bumbling first mate, Smee, with Hook stil watching Peter calmly, as though Peter were a mildly interesting bird, instead of his blood enemy.
    Odd .
    Peter decided to try to goad the pirate into reacting.
    “Greetings, Dark Whiskers!” he shouted. “No, sorry, that’s not your name, is it? Mister Stache? No, no, my apologies. It’s Captain Hook , isn’t it?” This outburst brought muffled giggles from some of the pirates. Peter was certain this nickname must be infuriating to Hook, but the pirate’s expression remained irritatingly calm.
    “Greetings, boy,” the pirate responded. “How are you and your little… insect?’
    Enraged, discordant bel s arose from Tink. The pirates laughed out loud this time.
    Frustrated, Peter descended toward the clearing, displaying the mango.
    “I brought you some lunch, Captain Hook,” he said. “You didn’t seem to enjoy the coconut yesterday. So how about a nice juicy mango?” He raised the mango. Smee stepped away from Hook. Hook stood statue-stil .
    Not like him at all.
    Bel s chimed in his ear.
    “Trap?” said Peter. “He can’t trap us, Tink, not as long as we stay up here and he’s stuck down there.” More bel s.
    “You worry too much,” said Peter. “Watch this.” He raised the mango over his head. “Enjoy!” he shouted, letting it fly.
    His aim was perfect; right at Hook’s head. Smee raised his hands defensively, but Hook held motionless, watching the fruit sphere hurtling toward him until…
    WHOOSH!
    A lightning movement. A flash of steel. And there stood Hook, his left arm held high, the mango impaled on his hook. A bit of its juice dribbled down the blade. Hook brought it down to his mouth, licked it daintily, then looked back at Peter and