Chapter 9. Stories

CHAPTER 9

Stories

Unfortunately, responsibilities and volunteer shifts kept Wendy from immediately searching for Peter. She was already late for her shift, and rushing around to get dressed and out the door did little to ease her raw nerves.

Wendy was already halfway across the yard and digging her keys out of her bag when she saw the cop car. She froze, keys dangling from her finger. Her head whipped around, searching for someone in uniform. Right now was really not a good time for them to come poking around again! She needed to find Peter and—

“I don’t understand why I’m being questioned.” The frazzled voice came from next door. Mr. Davies stood on his front porch. He fidgeted with a rolled-up newspaper in his hands, the knuckles white. Next to him, his wife clutched the robe she wore. Detective Rowan was on the step. Detective James stood just behind her and to the right.

“We’re just talking to people in the area, Mr. Davies,” Rowan said in a mild, even tone. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her expression impassive. Her badge glinted on her hip.

Mr. Davies was still in his pajamas. His face was ghostly pale. Wendy imagined her face looked very similar when she had to talk to the police.

“We think one of the missing kids was taken from their home, so we want to remind people—especially those with children—to lock their doors and windows at night, and to make sure any weapons have been properly locked up.” Detective Rowan paused. “Do you have any firearms in the house, Mr. Davies?”

Mr. Davies quickly shook his head no.

“Donald used to hunt, but he hasn’t done that in years,” Mrs. Davies explained tersely, as if Detective Rowan was a huge inconvenience to her.

“I got rid of all my guns a long time ago,” Mr. Davies confirmed. He looked past Detectives James and Rowan, and his eyes snagged on Wendy standing in her yard. He quickly turned away, but Detective James followed his gaze and was now watching her.

Guilt made her cheeks burn red. She ducked her head, jogged the rest of the way to her truck, and quickly got inside. As she drove down the street, Wendy forced herself not to stare.

The police thought someone kidnapped Ben and Ashley? Mr. Davies was right to look so scared. All the parents in town would be terrified for their kids. And now they were going door to door to talk to people?

Wendy knew she hadn’t seen the last of Detectives James and Rowan. Not by a long shot.

Arriving at the hospital, Wendy fished around for her lanyard and badge as she headed for the elevator to the third floor. She crinkled her nose at the photo. Her smile looked painfully forced, her blue eyes were too wide from the shock of the flash, and her shirt was wrinkled.

A handmade quilt hung on the wall behind the information desk. Artwork the kids had made lined the walls between doorways. Nearly all the nurses wore brightly patterned scrubs. The sharp sting of chemicals hung in the air, but so did that light, sweet smell that seemed to follow little kids around wherever they went.

The last place she wanted to be right now was the hospital, but she would only draw more attention if she didn’t show up for her volunteer shifts. That, and she actually liked hanging out with the kids—even though, right now, every fiber of her being ached to go find Peter.

With a deep breath, Wendy tucked the loose strands of her hair behind her ears and headed to the recreation room. She did her best to avoid making eye contact with the two nurses watching her from behind the front desk, whispering to each other quietly. Her attempt to avoid their prying eyes meant she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going, which was why she ran right into someone wearing Snoopy scrubs.

“Whoa!” A pair of hands caught her shoulders. “Don’t trip, Skip!”

“I’m so sorry!” To her relief, it was Nurse Judy.

The head nurse chuckled and waved the apology aside as she picked up the stethoscope Wendy had knocked from her hands. “Not a big deal. Don’t worry about it!” Nurse Judy looked up and immediately frowned. “Wendy? What are you doing here?” she demanded. She had a way of talking that sounded like she was yelling at you, but Wendy had learned that scolding was her way of showing affection.

“I—I have volunteer hours today,” she stammered. If one more thing startled her this week, she was going to have a damn heart attack.

Nurse Judy’s frown deepened. “You didn’t have to come in today,” she said. “You can stay home, you must be—”

“I’m fine,” Wendy cut in. She really didn’t want to have this conversation, especially out in the open with everyone watching. “I want to be here, really. It’s a nice distraction.” Wendy tossed a nervous glance back over her shoulder.

Nurse Judy followed her gaze. Her lips set in a firm line. “Well, go on then. And you let me know if anyone gives you any trouble, okay?” Wendy nodded in reply. She slinked off to the recreation room as Nurse Judy barked at the other nurses, “You two must be bored if you’re just standing around! I’ve got some bedpans you can clean!”

Wendy ducked around a corner and pushed open the door to the recreation room. A wave of noise rushed over her as she walked in. Building blocks were stacked in a heap in one corner of the room. There were tables in the back with a flurry of construction paper and markers. Bean bags were piled up by the books and kids bounced around everywhere. In the far corner were two outdated desktop computers that the older kids sometimes ventured in to use. There was always at least one nurse there overseeing the chaos, but right now she was trying to wrestle a glue stick out of Cindy-Who-Puts-Everything-Up-Her-Nose’s hands.

Something crashed into Wendy’s knees. She let out a strangled yelp and stumbled back. Luckily, she was able to catch herself before toppling over.

“Miss Wendy!” the little girl squeaked as she attached herself to Wendy’s legs.

“Rachel.” Wendy breathed a sigh of relief. She did her best to give her a smile even though her skeleton had nearly leapt out of her skin. “You scared me!”

“Are you going to tell us a story?” Rachel asked, giving her a big smile. There was a large gap where her two front teeth should have been. Rachel had beautiful brown curls that her mother tried to force into ponytails, but they were always crooked and tufts fell out at the nape of her neck. Rachel liked to color and had a knack for getting rogue marker lines all over her cheeks. Her wild gesturing must have made her parents a nervous wreck, since Rachel had been in and out of the hospital getting procedures done to her eye.

“Of course I am,” Wendy said. She led the way to the corner of the room that housed a couple of short bookshelves. They were crammed with a rainbow of book spines.

Finding Peter would have to wait. Right now, she just needed to focus and get through her shift.

“Yes!” Rachel clapped her hands together before launching herself onto a beanbag chair.

Wendy sat down in the red plastic chair. “So,” Wendy began, “what do you—” She stopped. A boy was planted face-first in the beanbag next to Rachel, arms and legs splayed out around him. “Uh, Tristan, are you okay?” she asked. He was only seven but had a knack for dramatics.

“I’m a starfish,” was his muffled grumble of a response.

Yup, there it was. “Starfish?” Wendy repeated, only somewhat hiding her amusement.

Rachel crossed her arms and huffed. “We were playing Under the Sea and Tristan wanted to be the shark, but we decided to let Alex be the shark because he’s new and all, but then Tristan got mad when we told him he had to be the starfish, and now he won’t talk to nobody.”

Tristan gave a hmph in reply.

Wendy nodded solemnly. “Oh, I see,” she said in the most serious tone she could muster.

Rachel wasn’t satisfied. “Tristan, if you keep being mean like that, we won’t play with you no more!”

“I don’t care.”

Rachel glared and turned away with a flourish. “Alex! Come sit next to me,” she said, waving her hand—which was smudged with blue ink—at a little boy Wendy hadn’t noticed before who was standing away from the others. He had a mop of dark hair and big, brown, very concerned-looking eyes. He was small, but the fact that his blue hoodie was about two sizes too big exaggerated that fact.

“Hi, Alex. I’m Wendy,” she greeted him with a smile. A few other kids came to join them.

Alex’s cheeks turned bright red and he scurried over to a chair. He propped his chin on the table and peered at Wendy from between the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Alex is shy,” said Lucy, who took the seat next to Rachel instead. Lucy had been born with fused bones in her wrist and was going through a series of corrective surgeries. Wendy had discovered early on that Lucy was one of those kids who had constantly sticky hands for no apparent reason. Lucy whispered loudly, “He’s not a very good shark.”

Rachel shoved Lucy and Alex hid his entire face.

“That’s why I shoulda been the shark!” Tristan declared as he flopped over onto his back. They all—except for Alex—started talking at once.

“Okay, okay!” Wendy piped up. Sharks were clearly a touchy subject. “What book did you want me to read today?” she asked, running a finger along the books on the shelf.

“Peter!” Lucy shouted. The name made Wendy stop. “Tell us a story about Peter Pan!” Lucy continued. The other kids enthusiastically agreed.

Wendy bit down on her lip. Seriously? This shift was supposed to help take her mind off things, but apparently she wouldn’t be able to escape thoughts of Peter.

She almost wanted to laugh, but not a funny ha-ha laugh, more of an I’m-losing-my-mind laugh.

“But, Miss Wendy, Alex don’t know who Peter Pan is!” Rachel said, very concerned.

“So what?” mumbled Tristan.

Wendy tried to push her thoughts aside. “Well, that’s okay. I’ll just have to fill Alex in,” she said. Even though Alex was currently rubbing a piece of blue construction paper between his thumb and finger, he kept stealing glances at her. Wendy leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees, and her small audience grew quiet. Even Tristan the Forlorn Starfish sat up.

“As most of you know, Peter Pan is a magical boy,” Wendy began. “He never grows up and has been a boy for as long as the stars have existed. With help from his fairy friends, Peter uses pixie dust to fly to Earth and finds Lost Ones—boys and girls who join him in Neverland, where they get to stay and go on adventures with him. You can reach Neverland by following—”

“The second star to the right!” the group cheered.

Wendy smiled. The familiarity of the story was a comfort. “That’s right. The second star to the right, and straight on till morning.” The line was well rehearsed—the same one her mother had told her, the same one she told her brothers, and now told the children at the hospital. “Peter and the Lost Ones go on treasure hunts, build tree houses, fly with fairies, fight pirates—”

“And meet mermaids!” Rachel added.

Wendy nodded. “Yes, and meet mermaids! One day, Peter Pan was exploring rocks in the mermaid lagoon and collecting shells from tide pools when he heard someone calling for help.” Wendy lowered her voice to an ominous tone. “The voice was coming from the mouth of a deep, dark cave surrounded by jagged rocks. But, since Peter Pan is very brave, he went into the cave to help whoever was in danger. Inside, he saw a mermaid trapped on a rock, held captive by a—”

“A pirate!”

“No, a bear!”

“Bears can’t swim, dummy. How could it—”

“Yes they can. I saw one swim on TV once—”

“A shark!” Wendy continued. The kids all gasped. “The mermaid was crying, and she told Peter the shark wouldn’t let her go until she gave him her pearl necklace. But the mermaid had spent years finding all the perfect pearls on the shores of Neverland to make the necklace, and it would break her heart to give it up.

“So Peter chucked a seashell at the shark and hit him square in the nose!” The kids laughed. “Peter yelled at the shark, ‘Hey, leave that mermaid alone! Just because you’re big and scary doesn’t mean you can boss other people around!’ But the shark swished his big pointy tail and splashed Peter with seawater.

“‘I want those pearls to give my wife!’ the shark said. ‘I forgot it was her birthday, so I need to get her an extra special gift so she won’t be mad at me anymore, and I want those pearls!’ Peter could tell the shark wouldn’t listen, and while Peter was an excellent fighter, he knew he couldn’t take on a shark. And even though he knew how to fly, the mermaid would be too heavy to carry. But Peter Pan was a very clever boy.

“‘Hey, shark!’ Peter said. ‘If I can find you a pearl necklace, will you leave her alone?’ The shark thought about it and swam back and forth for a moment. ‘If you can find me another pearl necklace, I’ll take it and let her go. But you need to get me one soon! It’s almost dinnertime and I need to get back to my wife!’ So Peter promised the mermaid that he would be right back and took off to the beach.

“He found the whitest sand and used his spit to roll it into teeny tiny balls the size of pearls and strung them together with a thin piece of seaweed. Peter quickly flew back to the cave and waved the fake pearls in the air. ‘Hey, Mr. Shark! I found you a necklace of pearls!’

“The shark swished his tail in excitement. ‘Good! Give it to me now!’ Peter Pan knew that sharks have terrible eyesight, so before he gave the shark the fake pearl necklace, Peter said, ‘First let her go, then I’ll give you the necklace and you can take it to your wife!’

“The shark was irritated but agreed. The mermaid leapt into the water and escaped the cave. ‘Now give me those pearls!’ the shark said.

“Peter tossed the necklace into the air and it splashed into the water. The shark grabbed it in his teeth, but the fake pearls made of sand dissolved as soon as they hit the water. When he brought them to his wife, there was nothing left but a string of seaweed. Mrs. Shark, now only having a piece of seaweed for a birthday present instead of a beautiful pearl necklace, was so mad at Mr. Shark that she chased him around the ocean, nipping at his tail!

“Peter and the mermaid watched from the shore and laughed at how silly the shark looked. Even now, there’s still a shark that wades through the waters of Neverland with a big bite missing from his tail fin.”

The end of the story threw the kids into fits of laughter.

“Stupid shark!” said Tristan.

“Don’t say ‘stupid,’ it’s a bad word!” Lucy said. “’Sides, you’re the one who wanted to be a shark!”

“Not anymore!”

Wendy laughed and shook her head while an intense debate began about whether Joel should be a shark or a starfish. The kids at the hospital all loved her Peter Pan stories. Whether they had already heard a dozen of them before or it was their very first time, they all seemed to love the character of Peter Pan. And who wouldn’t? He was magical and amazing. He never had to grow up and he could do whatever he wanted. Wendy envied him.

She stood up from her storytelling chair and stretched. Wendy wondered if Alex had liked the story. He seemed so shy. She hoped Rachel and Tristan hadn’t scared him off from the recreation room.

As she turned to the table where Alex was sitting, Wendy saw that he wasn’t alone anymore.

Peter sat next to Alex, who was perched on the edge of his seat, peering into Peter’s cupped hands. He was in a pair of nurse scrubs and had a satisfied grin plastered across his face. Alex’s jaw was slack, those big brown eyes of his wide.

Wendy stumbled over beanbags and dodged running kids.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped, jerking her head back and forth to see if anyone had noticed him. There were a couple of parents and a nurse in the room, but, for some reason, no one even glanced in their direction. Which was odd, considering all the stares Wendy had been earning. Her pulse thudded with panic. If someone recognized him, she was going to be in so much trouble. How the hell would she even begin explaining herself? And Peter?

Alex jumped, but Peter looked up at her with a smile, as if all of this were completely normal and he broke into hospitals regularly. Cupped in Peter’s hands was a simple but delicate shark folded out of blue construction paper. “Hi,” he greeted cheerily.

“Where did you get those?” she asked, gesturing at the blue scrubs.

“I found them,” he replied, vaguely waving his hand.

“What are you doing here?” Wendy repeated, annoyed at how calm and nonchalant he was. She had thought it was going to be impossible to find him again, but here he was, sitting and making origami.

“I came to listen to you tell stories,” he said simply before turning back to Alex. The small boy was now staring intently at the paper shark as he poked it with a finger. “That was a pretty good one, but mermaids are usually the ones bugging the sharks,” Peter continued.

Wendy scoffed. Now was not the time for him to critique her storytelling.

“They can be really mean. Don’t you remember the mermaid who tried to drown you?” Peter asked, finally sparing her a glance.

“What?” Wendy asked, incredulous. “No—”

“Hmm, well, that’s probably for the best,” he agreed, nodding.

She wanted to shove him out of his chair. “Alex, why don’t you go play with the others for a bit?” Wendy suggested. She needed to get Peter out of here unseen. Or, unseen by anyone else.

“It was swimming!” Alex exclaimed, pointing at the paper shark.

Wendy frowned. “Swimming?”

“Yeah, he made it swim!” Alex insisted.

Peter smirked, looking quite pleased with himself as he leaned back in his chair. “You can keep it if you’d like,” he told Alex. He placed his creation into the little boy’s hand.

Alex put it on the table and stared at it so intently, Wendy thought the strain might damage his eyes.

“What does he mean, you ‘made it swim’? Wait, no.” Wendy held up her palm, cutting off Peter before he could answer. She would not let him distract her from the matter at hand. “How did you get in here? Where did you get those?” Wendy demanded through gritted teeth, pointing at the blue scrubs he wore.

Peter shrugged. “I found a stack of them in the hallway,” he said, tugging at the collar of the shirt.

Wendy rubbed her palm against her forehead, letting out a small growl. She had spent all morning wondering how she was going to track down Peter. Now that he’d just apparently waltzed into the hospital, she had no idea what to do with him. What she did know, however, was that if someone recognized him, and saw her with him, they were screwed.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, casting a nervous look around the room. “We need to get out of here before someone notices you.” It seemed wrong to hide him from the people at the hospital, or the police who were looking for him, but she had her own questions that needed answers before anyone else got hold of him.

Rachel collided into Wendy again and tugged on the hem of her shirt. “Miss Wendy!” she whined. “Tell us another story!”

“Not right now, Rachel,” Wendy said. She tried to get herself free of the little girl’s vicelike grip. “Me and my friend here need to go talk.” She gave Peter a pointed look and jerked her head toward the door.

Rachel whirled around to look at Peter, apparently just having noticed him. “Hello,” he said to her with a smile.

Wendy had never witnessed Rachel being as quiet as she was in the following moments.

Rachel studied Peter carefully, her eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Peter seemed completely unfazed. Wendy just stood there as the silence stretched out, long and awkward.

Wendy was about to ask Rachel if she was feeling all right when a big, gap-toothed smile broke across her face. “PETER!” she all but squealed, launching herself onto him.

“Rachel, no!” Wendy tried to pull her off, but Rachel kept wiggling free and grabbing hold of Peter’s shirt in her little hands.

Peter laughed, loud and bright.

“Wendy, it’s Peter Pan! You’re friends with Peter Pan?” She looked back and forth between the two of them. “Ooh, I knew you were real!” she told him as she yanked on his arm.

“See? Rachel here knows who I am,” Peter said with a smug look.

Wendy had to fight the urge to drag him out of there by his ear. She pointed a finger at him. “Not helping!” They were going to draw someone’s attention. “Rachel, that’s not Peter Pan. Peter Pan isn’t real—he’s just make-believe.” Though, she wasn’t convinced of that anymore.

The wounded look on his face almost made her regret saying it, but they really didn’t have time for this right now!

Regardless, Rachel wasn’t buying it. “Of course he’s real!” she said. She jerked her arm free from Wendy and squished Peter’s cheeks between her small hands. “See?”

Yes, she did see it. It was hard to not laugh at his smooshed face, but she did see it. The eyes, the chipped tooth, and the auburn hair. It was all there, whether she would openly admit it or not.

“He’s a bit old,” Rachel went on, as if this were a count against him. “But it’s still him. You can see it right there in his eyes!” she said, pointing. “And his mouth.” She poked his bottom lip. “And see, that’s the scar he got from fighting Captain Crash McCreevy!” She pointed to a V-shaped scar on his upper arm. The mention of Captain Crash McCreevy reminded Wendy of the Peter Pan story she’d told at least a dozen times. It was about a crazy old pirate captain who wanted to steal all the tiger cubs to make a blanket, until Peter challenged him to a harrowing duel. In the story, Captain Crash McCreevy fought Peter Pan with the nose of a swordfish that left a V-shaped cut in Peter’s arm.

The evidence sent Rachel into another bout of wiggly excitement. “It’s Peter Pan!”

“She makes valid points,” Peter confirmed, nodding his head.

“But, Peter, why are you so old?” Rachel asked, the smile on her face dimming with concern.

“Well, that’s something I’ve been trying to talk to Wendy about, but she seems to be having trouble believing me,” he told her.

Rachel gave Wendy an accusatory look.

Wendy scowled. The last thing she needed was Rachel telling everyone she’d met Peter Pan. But, apparently, Peter was already two steps ahead of her.

“Can you do me a favor, Rachel?” Peter asked as he leaned closer to her. Rachel nodded vigorously. “You can’t tell any adults I’m here, or I might get in trouble, okay? It needs to be a secret between the three of us—oh, and Alex here,” he added, nodding to Alex, who was still staring unblinkingly at the paper shark.

Rachel nodded solemnly. “I won’t. I promise. Will you come back and visit us again soon?”

“Yes—”

“No!” Wendy cut in, finally pulling Rachel away from Peter. “We need to talk now, Rachel. Go play with Alex.”

Peter stood up and mussed the top of Rachel’s already frizzy hair.

“Bye, Peter!” Rachel said, throwing her arms around him and giving him a hug before sliding into the seat next to Alex.

Wendy glared at Peter. “Let’s go,” she growled.

As she led Peter to the door, she overheard Alex tell Rachel, “He made it float!”

“Well, yeah, he’s Peter Pan!” Rachel replied.

Wendy walked as fast as she could down the hallway, dragging Peter along behind her, her hand clasped around his wrist. She kept looking around, paranoid that someone would spot them and Wendy would somehow get in trouble. She pulled him down the stairway and crossed the lobby to a glass door that opened up into an empty courtyard.

When she spun to face him, he had a very amused look on his face. Both of his eyebrows were raised and the right side of his lips twitched as he suppressed a grin.

It did nothing to improve her mood.

“How the hell did you even get in here without anyone stopping you?” she asked. There was a front desk on every floor of the hospital and every visitor was required to check in and wear a visitor’s pass, even if he was in scrubs. “How come no one noticed you?” He didn’t exactly blend in. There was something about Peter that was decidedly … otherworldly, for lack of a better term. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but it was a sort of aura he gave off.

Aura? Wendy pinched the bridge of her nose. What was she even thinking?

“Because I didn’t want them to notice me,” Peter said, as if this were a very obvious answer to a very dumb question. “I can get past adults easy—they don’t pay much attention to begin with, anyway. But I can get by anyone without them seeing me, you know that,” Peter added with a laugh.

“No I don’t. I don’t even know you!” Wendy shot back, her eyes darting back to the door. She said it, but she could hear her own doubt in her words.

Peter groaned and threw his head back. “Are we really still playing this game?” he asked. He stepped closer, his brow furrowed. “It’s me, Peter—you know me, Wendy! I’m real, Neverland is real. You just forgot about me—that’s what happens when you grow up!”

His tone surprised her—it was nearly pleading.

“You’ve got to remember something,” he pressed, catching hold of her elbow.

“I can’t remember!” Wendy shot back, wrenching her arm free. She was sick of people saying that to her over and over again. “I can’t remember anything!”

Peter’s shoulders slumped.

Though, that wasn’t entirely true, was it?

“I mean…” Wendy swallowed hard. “I had a dream last night. Maybe—maybe a memory.” Lord help her, was she really admitting this?

Peter perked up. “You did?”

Wendy nodded. “About you.” She felt breathless. “And me. And Neverland.”

A smile broke across Peter’s face, bright and immediate and all-consuming. It hit her in the chest. “Then you do remember!”

But Wendy wasn’t so ready to accept it. “If you’re really Peter Pan, you should be able to fly, and you’re supposed to be a child,” she added. “The whole point of Peter Pan’s existence is that he never grows up, right?” Wendy couldn’t believe that she was actually arguing the logistics.

“Yeah, well.” Peter scuffed his foot against the ground. “Those things are sort of part of the problem. For some reason I’m getting older—and fast.” He looked genuinely worried. Ever since Wendy had first met him the other night, she had only seen him as grinning and cocky, if a bit delusional. But now he couldn’t stand still and kept fidgeting with his hands. “My flying has gotten all messed up since my shadow left,” Peter added, gesturing to his feet.

Sure enough, while Wendy’s shadow pooled on the cement below her, there was still nothing beneath Peter, just like last night. Wendy exhaled a laugh. “This is ridiculous.”

“If we don’t find my shadow, more kids are going to go missing,” Peter blurted out impatiently.

“What?” she asked incredulously. “What are you talking about?” The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. “Wait—do you know what happened to those missing kids?” Her hand pointed in the general direction of the rec room where, presumably, the news coverage was still rolling.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Peter said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I’m the one who is supposed to find and help lost kids, like in the stories, right?” Wendy nodded. “But ever since I found you and your brothers in the woods—”

Wendy felt like she had just been slapped across her face. The casual mention of her brothers was violent and jarring. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her heart leapt into her throat.

Apparently Peter didn’t notice, because he continued on.

“Everything has been so messed up.”

Wendy felt like she was drowning in his words. It was too much, too fast. She didn’t feel very brave anymore, and she couldn’t maintain her look of skepticism. The wave of nausea washing over her was the same one she felt every time someone mentioned her brothers. “What?” she breathed.

Peter’s face became very serious. “That day, you, John, and Michael came with me to Neverland. When everyone thought you went missing, you were with me.”

“I— How—” Wendy struggled to find words. Under the panic and confusion, she couldn’t help feeling a flicker of hope about John and Michael. “You know about John and Michael?” she asked urgently.

Peter winced and looked at the ground.

She stepped toward him, pressing him for further explanation. “Have you seen them? Do you know where they are?” Peter’s few words sparked hope, a fleeting, dangerous thing.

Just a moment ago Peter’s words had been coming out in a rush, but now he paused. “It’s a long story … It’s complicated. It would be easier if you could just remember—”

“You have to tell me,” Wendy ordered, grabbing hold of his hand. She needed answers, and she needed them now.

Peter’s ears tinged red. He took a deep breath. “Like I told you, I used to come by your house to listen to you tell stories about me. I would travel from Neverland looking for lost kids who needed my help,” he explained. “And I heard you telling my stories to your brothers once, so I listened in from outside the window—”

“Right, the super-creepy window thing,” Wendy interrupted, dropping his hand.

“I mean, yeah, but—” Peter scratched the back of his head, red blooming in his cheeks. “It was just to hear you tell stories about me! I would go back and retell them to the lost ones back at Neverland—it sounds a lot creepier than it was, I promise.”

Wendy narrowed her eyes at him.

“Anyway, we actually talked one night, when my shadow went missing for the first time.” He said it so casually. “And then, well … when you guys got lost in the woods.”

Wendy’s heart hammered, demanding to be felt. For the past five years she had been wondering what had happened to her and her brothers. For years she’d had nothing and now the answers she had been looking for had fallen out of the sky. She didn’t know if it was out of desperation, but right now she wasn’t even questioning whether or not he was telling the truth. “Do you know what happened to us?” she choked out.

Peter gave her that look. That same look everyone always gave her whenever her brothers were brought up: tipped eyebrows and a frown. The universal look of pity. She hated that look.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else and talk about this,” he said quietly.

“No, you have to tell me now!” Wendy said, grabbing hold of his hand once again. She didn’t know if she could go another second without losing her mind, let alone wait long enough to relocate.

“Okay, okay,” Peter said, motioning with his free hand for her to keep her voice down. “When I found you, you were in the middle of the woods. I—I don’t know what happened before that.” He hesitated for a moment. “But it was almost dark and you were scared, so I took you back with me to Neverland.”

“Neverland, as in the magical island in the sky, from the stories?” Wendy asked. She was still struggling to accept all of this, but, more importantly, she wanted him to tell her the rest.

Peter squinted. “I guess that’s the easiest way to describe it, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you take us home?”

Another long pause. “I … You didn’t want to go home, you wanted to go with me,” Peter said with a small shrug.

If it weren’t so impossible, it would almost make sense. One of the last things Wendy remembered before the gaping hole in her memory was how, right before she and her brothers went missing, she had gotten into a fight with her father. He’d wanted her to move out of her shared room with her brothers and into her own room. He had told her that it was time for her to grow up and that she couldn’t keep playing make-believe with her brothers all the time.

Wendy remembered being so mad at her father. She knew he thought that was why they’d gone missing, that they had run away because he was splitting them up.

But what about Nana? She had run off into the woods and they had chased her. Wendy remembered that part.

“Having you come to Neverland was great,” Peter continued, quieter. Wendy was very aware of how close he was, the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers. “We went on adventures, you guys got to meet the other Lost Ones, and I got to listen to you tell stories all the time.” He gave her a weak smile, but it quickly faded. “But then a bunch of weird stuff started happening. First, it was just little things. The fairies started getting spooked—they wouldn’t come out and play with us at night anymore. They all hid in the trees. I tried to talk to them, but they wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, like they were too scared to or something.”

Wendy found herself nodding along.

“After you guys came to the island, all of a sudden it started to get harder for me to fly, which had never happened before. The longer you were there, the worse it got. It was like I couldn’t control it anymore. Then, one night, I woke up and my shadow was gone.”

He stopped. Clearly he was expecting some sort of big reaction from her, but Wendy didn’t say a word. She was too busy trying to comprehend it—the magic, the fairies, and Neverland.

When she didn’t respond, Peter sighed heavily. “There’s a reason shadows are supposed to be attached to people. They’re dark, wicked things,” he explained. “Not like fairies, who cause trouble because it’s fun. Shadows are made up of all the dark and bad parts of yourself. They feed off of bad thoughts—fear, worry, sadness, and guilt.” Peter dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “When you start getting consumed by those feelings, it gives the shadow power over you. If it gets strong enough, it can run off and do terrible things. Especially my shadow,” he said. “And when mine got away, it started stealing lost kids.”

“But how can a shadow steal someone?” Wendy asked. “It’s just an absence of light!” Or something. Now that she thought about it, Wendy didn’t think she could concisely define what a shadow was. She’d never given it real thought.

“Well, yeah, your shadow couldn’t,” Peter told her. “All of you who live here, in this world, are lucky. Magic left this place so long ago that your shadows are weak and can’t escape. They can take over a normal person, though. Those dark thoughts can devour a person and take all of their happiness away. They want you to feel isolated and alone. It’s like they suck the energy out of you and leave you with nothing.”

Wendy thought of the years she spent crying at night, riddled with guilt and missing her brothers so much it was a physical ache. She thought of her father falling asleep at his desk with a bottle in his hand. Of her mother talking in her sleep.

“But my shadow?” Peter shook his head. “My whole existence is filled with magic. Neverland has kept it awake.”

“But what happened to me and my brothers?”

“When lost kids started disappearing, I realized it wasn’t safe for you to be in Neverland anymore, so I brought you back to your world.” Peter shifted back and forth. “I left you in the woods.”

“Just me?” said Wendy. “But what about my brothers? What happened to them?”

Peter spoke slowly, clearly thinking carefully about what words he spoke. “They couldn’t come back…” He trailed off.

“What—why?” If all this was true, and Peter had taken her back to protect her, then why hadn’t he brought her brothers back, too? A thought hit her. “The shadow? Did it kidnap them, like the other lost kids?” she asked.

Peter nodded silently.

“Then we have to get them back!” It wasn’t good news, but at least it was something she could work with. “Where did it take them?”

“I don’t know—I thought I would find them after I took you back,” Peter said, dismayed. “I thought if you returned to your world, maybe things would go back to normal, but it only got worse. I started growing up.” He visibly shivered. “I could feel the magic in me starting to drain away. I knew I needed to find my shadow—to stop it from taking kids and to get my magic back. I finally tracked it here. I think it was looking for you, since this all started happening when you came to Neverland.” Peter fixed her with a stare. “It’s the shadow that’s been kidnapping the kids in town,” Peter explained. “And I think it’s keeping them in the woods.”

The woods.

Even if it defied all logic—and physics, for that matter— it was still more of an answer to what had happened to her brothers than anyone else had given her.

“When you found me in the middle of the road, I had chased down my shadow. I almost caught it, but I couldn’t keep hold of it and I fell,” Peter told her.

Then he really had fallen out of the sky.

Wendy suddenly remembered what had made her veer off the road in the first place: the black mass. “I…” Wendy frowned, trying to make sense of everything. “Before I found you, something crashed onto the roof of my truck,” she explained slowly. “It was a black thing … It kind of looked like the shape of a person, but it was dark, and sort of … see-through.”

“You saw it?” Peter asked, suddenly lighting up. “You saw my shadow?”

“I don’t know what I saw,” Wendy said quickly. “It could’ve been a bunch of things, really. But … if it is your shadow—and if all of this is real—then it still has John and Michael?” she asked.

Peter said nothing for a moment, but then he nodded.

Wendy let out a strained laugh and finally pulled away from Peter’s grasp. She ran her fingers through her hair and squeezed her eyes shut. “This can’t be real!”

“Wendy.” Something caught his eye behind her and he spoke quickly. “You have to believe me,” he said, catching her wrists in his hands.

“But how can I believe anything you’re saying? Everything you’ve told me is impossible!” Wendy told him. Her head swam with overwhelming desperation. She wanted to believe him, to believe that all of this was possible and real, that he knew where her brothers were. That she could get them back.

Peter let out a frustrated growl. He leaned closer and looked into her eyes. Wendy held her breath. “You’ve gotta help me, or else kids are just going to keep going missing,” Peter said.

“Wendy?”

She whirled around as Jordan stepped through the door to the courtyard.

Jordan had a Dutch Bros coffee cup in her hand and she was chewing on the bright green straw. She gave Wendy a strange look. “You okay?” she asked as she crossed the pavement.

“What?” Wendy looked back to where Peter had been standing, but he was gone. She twisted to look around.

“I said,” Jordan repeated with an apprehensive laugh, “are you okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost or something.” She was dressed in scrubs and had her lanyard around her neck. Jordan always got coffee before volunteering and had the disgusting habit of drinking one cup over the entire day until it was cold. Her shift must’ve just ended.

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine,” Wendy stammered. Where had he gone? There was only one door in and out of the courtyard, and Jordan was blocking it.

“Who was that guy you were talking to?” Jordan asked.

Wendy had to stop herself from saying, You saw him? “Um … what guy? I wasn’t talking to anyone,” she said.

“I thought I saw a guy out here with you,” Jordan said as she looked around. “Wait—” Jordan sucked in a dramatic gasp. Her lips quirked into a devilish smile. “You weren’t having a secret rendezvous, were you?”

“I—uh…”

“Wendy Darling, you are turning RED!” She laughed.

“What!” Wendy squeaked. “No—I—no, I wasn’t talking to anyone. I just needed some fresh air.” Wendy tugged on the neck of her shirt, her skin quickly getting hot and sweaty.

“Uh-huh, suuuure.” Jordan slurped down the last of her coffee through the twisted straw. “Whatever, I’ll get it out of you eventually.” She gave Wendy a pointed look. “You’re a terrible liar.”

The best option was to distract. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

Jordan’s eyebrow arched. “Looking for you so we can go to dinner! Like we do every Wednesday after our volunteer hours.”

“Oh, right.” Wendy’s brain was completely jumbled. She could barely focus on anything other than what Peter had told her.

“Hey, are you sure you’re all right?” Jordan’s tone was serious now. She placed a hand on Wendy’s shoulder. “You don’t look so good. Maybe we should have one of the doctors check you out?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Wendy wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and stepped away from Jordan’s hand. “I just didn’t get enough sleep last night,” she said. “You know, after everything that happened…” Wendy trailed off.

Jordan gave her a little smile, the poor Wendy smile. Luckily, Jordan knew when to take a step back and not push. “Let’s get you out of here, then,” she said. “We can stop at Coffee Girl and grab some food.” She held the door open.

Before she walked through, Wendy looked up. She half expected to see Peter there, maybe hovering beneath the clouds. But all she saw was a white bird flying across the blue sky.