Page 44 of Lost in the Never Woods

Apparently he hadn’t put much thought into it, either.

He tried again. “It’s like—it’s like it’s already in my veins, you know?”

Wendy nodded slightly when he turned to her for confirmation. “And the sword?”

“I can conjure it up with pixie dust,” Peter said. “It’s a way to focus my magic and defend myself and the lost kids.”

Wendy frowned. “From what?”

Peter shrugged and snatched a red apple from the bowl on the counter. “I don’t know … stuff.”

“Stuff?” Wendy repeated, annoyed.

Seeing that she wasn’t going to let it go without some kind of answer, Peter huffed. “Like keeping bad stuff away—like bad thoughts,” he said, eyes following the apple as he tossed it between his hands. “Lost kids’ bad thoughts can manifest as dark things on the island, like huge spiders, or killer hippos, or—”

“Pirates?” She said the word without even thinking.

Peter caught the apple out of the air and stared at Wendy. The intense look in his eyes made Wendy shift uncomfortably.

After being found in the woods, Wendy remembered, she’d had nightmares for months about being chased by a pirate captain, cloaked in bright red with a black beard, who always wielded a silver pistol. She would wake up in the middle of the night sobbing until her mother could coax her down.

Had that pirate been the bad thought that had chased her in Neverland?

Finally, Peter cleared his throat. “Yeah, like pirates.” He slowly turned the apple over and over in his hands as he spoke. “The sword is how I protect the lost kids and keep those manifestations of their bad thoughts at bay.”

“Can you turn it into something else?” Wendy wondered, picturing the glowing sword again. “Like a net?”

“I mean, I could.” Peter’s lips curled into a grin. “But a sword is just so much cooler.”

A surprised laugh bubbled in Wendy’s throat.

“And way more fun,” he added.

Wendy rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, okay.”

“Pixie dust is my magic,” Peter continued, getting back on point. “It’s how I fly, how I take care of the lost kids, how I stay young—” Peter looked down at himself. “Or used to, anyway.” His shoulders slumped. “I can feel myself getting weaker, like my magic is just draining out of me, you know?” Peter set down the apple and approached Wendy. “Getting rid of that stuff that was trying to take you used up a lot. If we don’t get my shadow back soon, I have no idea what will happen, but it won’t be good.”

Wendy exhaled a deep sigh. She knew this was a problem, but she had no idea how to fix it.

Peter stared at her with his big eyes, as if waiting for her to come up with a solution to fix all their problems, but how could she do that? She could barely understand what he was telling her to begin with and she could barely take care of herself. She couldn’t help her brothers, so how was she supposed to help him?

Wendy stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “Here, let me clean that,” she said, holding up the damp cloth. At least the cut was something she could fix.

Peter squinted at her and leaned away.

“It’s not going to hurt, you big baby,” she said with mild exasperation.

“I’m not a baby,” Peter grumbled petulantly, but he remained still.

Wendy did her best to ignore the flutter of nerves through her entire body, being this close to him. Was there anyone else in the world who’d found out their imaginary friend was real?

Wendy pressed the cloth to his temple and Peter winced. He sucked in a sharp breath. “That stings!” he hissed, his jaw muscles flexing.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she grumbled. Peter’s face scrunched up, but he let her gently pat the cut until the blood was gone, only leaving a small red line. “There,” Wendy said before retreating back to the other side of the kitchen. She yanked open the junk drawer and sifted through old scissors, expired coupons, and chip clips before she found a small red sewing kit.

“What’s that for?” Peter balked as if she were brandishing some sort of weapon.

“For the hole in your jeans,” Wendy said, gesturing to his torn knee.