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“Well,” Hook said, grinning as Jane peered into the mirror. “There’s no little girl I see here in this room, but a strong young pirate. And what shall we call you, then?”
Jane fussed with the hat, and adjusted the buttons of the coat, watching the reflection in the mirror.
The captain was right– there was no little girl looking back, and Jane had never felt so at ease– had never felt quite so pleased to look in the mirror at all.
“When my mother told stories,” Jane said thoughtfully, “Her pirate was called Jill, wasn’t she? Red Handed Jill?”
Smee perked up from behind the Captain. “You know I remembered some of those stories. I think we almost got her on the crew, captain.”
"Almost.“ Hook smoothed his mustache and his forget–me-not blue eyes sparkled. "But go on, crewman, what will ye be called?”
“Jack,” the fresh young pirate answered. He touched the image in the reflection with surprisingly steady fingers. “If my mother would have been Jill, then I’ll be your man Jack.”
Hook laid his hand on one of Jack’s shoulders, and hook on the other. “Welcome aboard, Jack.”
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