Page 94 of Lost in the Never Woods

“No, I never had that feeling,” he told her. “I was Peter Pan, the boy who never had to grow up. I got to live in Neverland and anything I could think up, I could become. A pirate, an explorer, a scuba diver,” he listed, staring out the window. “Growing up meant responsibilities: school, jobs, getting old and eventually dying—”

“But you had all those lost kids to look after,” Wendy pointed out. “That’s a big responsibility, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but it’s still fun,” he countered. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking. “In Neverland, I could do whatever I wanted. I was free.”

“But were you, Peter?” Wendy heard herself ask.

He paused and then shook his head, not understanding.

“You could do whatever you wanted, play whatever make-believe games you could come up with, but lost kids were always coming and going—you said so yourself,” Wendy said. “And it was always just make-believe. Didn’t you ever want something…” She tried to find the right words. “Real? You never felt like you were missing … something?”

Peter’s celestial eyes locked on hers. “Not until I met you.”

There was a low rush in the pit of Wendy’s stomach. It was so sudden, so simply put, that she wasn’t sure she had heard him right.

He watched her carefully.

Wendy shook her head, trying to think clearly.

“You … what?” she asked.

Peter took a deep breath. “I was fine with what I was, what it was my job to do,” he told her, watching her intently. “Your mom was the first person I met who wasn’t a lost kid. She was the first person who became my friend, who didn’t live in Neverland with me. We would have pretend sword fights in her backyard, she would tell me stories, and I told her what it was like in Neverland. But, just like everyone else in your world, she had to grow up.”

This was the most Wendy had heard about Peter and her mom. “So you couldn’t visit her anymore?”

Peter nodded. “I had mostly forgotten about her after a while, too,” he said. “Your mom remembered me, but she forgot that I was real. When I decided to look for her again on a whim, I found you, sitting in this window.” He looked like he was struggling to find his words. The tips of his ears were tinged red, but he didn’t look away, so neither did Wendy. “When I heard you telling my stories, I felt like I had to meet you. I wanted you to see me, to see that I was real,” Peter said.

He spoke with a rushed urgency, like he was trying to explain himself.

“When my shadow first went missing, I thought it was punishment for letting myself get—get distracted by you, because I was trying to get close to you. I wanted to,” he added insistently. Wendy’s eyes momentarily snagged on his hand as it reached toward hers, then hesitated. “Then when you found me struggling with my shadow, you acted like it was completely normal, and you were the one who was able to reattach it, to sew it back on.”

“But how?” Wendy interjected.

Peter shook his head. “I don’t know. I thought maybe you had your own magic? There was something different about you. You felt different to me. Important.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “Special.”

Wendy’s hands gripped the teddy bear in her lap tightly. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

“Then you started telling my stories less,” Peter continued. He spoke faster, his words tumbling from his lips. “I could see that you were growing up, that you were going to move into your own room, become a teenager, and forget about me. When John and Michael were—” Peter let out a frustrated noise and started again. “When I found the three of you in the woods, you begged me to bring you along to Neverland, and I wanted to. I didn’t want you to grow up and forget about me, too. It—” He gave her an uncertain look. “It hurt to think about.”

Wendy could hardly understand him. She felt dizzy. “What are you saying?” She felt out of breath.

“You were the oldest kid ever to come to Neverland, Wendy,” Peter told her. His fingers finally pressed to the inside of her wrist, heavy and warm. “It’s meant for children. I think that’s why I started losing my magic and Neverland began falling apart. It’s my fault all of this happened…” His face was twisted.

“But you didn’t know that would happen,” Wendy said. Her body was acutely aware of him—where his hand was on hers, the way his body was angled toward her, how she was close enough to feel his body heat. The acorn pressed against the center of her chest. It felt hot.

“I went against the rules,” Peter told her. “My job is to look after lost kids. I’m not supposed to interact with the others. I could watch, I could listen in when you told stories, but I wasn’t supposed to approach.” He paused and wetted his lips. “And then everything went wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to hate me.” He spoke slowly, deliberately.

Wendy’s brows furrowed. She didn’t understand what he meant, but she couldn’t think through the heady fog. Wendy didn’t remember leaning in, or Peter moving closer. Their shoulders pressed against each other. Peter’s startling blue eyes were wide. His cheeks flushed. His fingers brushed against hers. Wendy’s heart fluttered in her chest.

At first, she thought she was trembling, but it was Peter.

“You’re shaking,” Wendy said.

Peter’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, giving a barely perceptible nod of his head.

“I thought you weren’t afraid of anything?” Wendy heard herself say. She was lightheaded and breathless.

“I’m terrified,” he said quietly. His starry eyes held hers and she couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to.