Neverland

Chapter Sixteen

When I come to, I first see a whirl of colors. With a start, I realize that I am falling through the air. Wendy hangs in the air unconscious, her braid shooting straight up. We are both hurtling face-first.

"Wendy!" I shout. Her eyes open and grow wide. She starts screaming and flapping her arms frantically. Below, the ground is getting closer and closer. I try shifting over to Wendy, and I hold her arms down.

"Believe, Wendy," I say. "We need to believe!" Her vision clears, and she nods the best she can. We both close our eyes and test our faith. I believe. I believe. I believe. Why isn't it working? Then it hits me: my magic must have reset when we passed through different worlds.

Blue magic ejects from my hands, showering both of us. We slam to a stop. At first, I think we have hit the ground and are now dead, but when I open my eyes I see that it is a different story.

It is as if we are lying on a sheet of glass thousands of meters above the earth. (Description of 1911 London)

Slowly, we begin to descend down. My feet touch the ground, and I am dizzy for a few moments. The sensation passes and I straighten up.

"It has been about two hundred years since I have been here," I say. "So I think you know the way better than I."

"Depends on the year," Wendy says sadly. I know how she feels. Like me, she has been taken from everything she knew, and was given a whole new reality. The truth she discovers could be horribly depressing.

We begin our journey on foot, decided that using magic could be too risky. Those were Wendy's words, not mine. Preferably, I would like to just use magic and get this whole mess over with.

Pain is building inside of me. Some of the (pain) is small, like a whisper of unbelief, and some is more bold.

"I never did get to thank you," Wendy says suddenly.

"For what?" I say. I start to fiddle with the hilt of my sword nervously. Wendy gives me a small, playful shove. I have never known girls to do this kind of interaction, and Wendy seems a bit embarrassed.

"You traded your magic for me," she says. I don't want to answer. A small part of my brain tells me I should, but I decide to remain silent.

I stop walking. Why on earth would an evil spirit want to help me? The spirit said itself that it would be able to go to it's other realm in peace, if Neverland was destroyed. It's a trap.

"Peter?" Wendy says. I face her, recognition spreading on my face.

"We can't go to the library," I say.

"Why not?" Wendy is puzzled.

"It's a trick," I say. "The shadow is clever, but not clever enough. I am more vulnerable here than in Neverland, especially without my shadow." The truth dawns on me. "We need to get back to Neverland, now!"

I start to fly when Wendy seizes my arm.

"No, Peter!" she says. "You can't!" I touch the ground.

"And why not?" I ask.

"Do you see the stars?" she says patiently. I shake my head. Of course not, it's light. "Right. So how will we get to the second star to the right if we can't see the star?" I sit cross-legged on the (cobblestones). People rush past Wendy and I, though occasionally some stop and stare. I realize that our Neverland clothing probably does not blend in very well, but I don't care.

Whatever happens to my shadow, is that inflicted on me? I am already dying, so what could possibly be worse? There has to be another option, something I will find in Neverland.

"Where can we stay?" I ask Wendy. "To wait for night to fall, I mean," She nods.

"I might know a place." I run after Wendy. She must be running because she hopes to attract less attention. This girl is smart. There are rows and rows of houses that all look similar. We stop at the house on the corner. Wendy takes a deep breath.

"I hope they are still here," Wendy mutters.

"Wait, is there where you used to live?" Wendy doesn't answer my question. Her hand shakes as she lifts it to the heavy wooden door, but her knock is firm. I can hear it echo through the house.

The door opens after a few moments. In the doorway is an older woman, her hair tucked up and she wears a floor-length dress. The woman takes in the sight of two oddly dressed children near adult-age. Her eyes widen with shock.

"Mother?" Wendy asks hopefully. The woman's eyes roll back into her head as she slumps to the floor, leaving the door ajar. I carefully step over her, and gently pick her up. Wendy walks in a daze, muttering, "She's grown old."

I set Mrs. Darling in an empty velvet chair. Wendy and I take the seats across from Mrs. Darling as she comes to. The wrinkles around the woman's eyes seem to stretch as she sees us again.

"Wen... Wendy?" Mrs. Darling whispers. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, Mother. It's really me," Wendy promises.

"Oh my goodness," the old woman says. "We thought we had lost you forever. You look exactly as I remember you, how is that possible?" Wendy and I glance at each other.

"Where's Father?" Wendy asks, changing the subject. Wendy's mother looks at her with sadness.

"Wendy, my child," she says. "You have been gone too long. Your father has passed away just two years ago." Wendy nods and blinks back tears. I reach for her hand, and give her a comforting squeeze.

"Mother," Wendy says. "This is Peter Pan." She gestures to me. "He helped me return to London."

"Thank you." Mrs. Darling gives me a wary, but grateful smile. "And now you have come home." She stands and so does Wendy. The two embrace, and Wendy pulls away first. Wendy looks at her mother.

"But not to stay," she whispers. Mrs. Darling looks distraught.

"What do you mean, 'not to stay'?" Mrs. Darling cries. "You are home, you must stay." Wendy seats Mrs. Darling.

"Mother, the place where I was," Wendy explains. "It's in danger. Peter's in danger." Wendy's eyes glisten with tears.

"How?" Mrs. Darling demands. "How are you in danger, boy?" Her words are directed to me, but Wendy answers.

"We can't explain," she says. "But we need a place to stay, just until night falls." Mrs. Darling nods stiffly.

"Of course. Wendy, dear, you can take to your old room." After Wendy disappears upstairs, Mrs. Darling whirls on me.

"Now no funny business, young man," she says. "You may have taken Wendy's heart, but I will be watching you." She can only be watching during our stay, which won't be long.

"I know how boys are at your age," Mrs. Darling says. "Nothing but trouble."

"I am older than you think, Mrs. Darling," I say quietly. "So is Wendy." Mrs. Darling glares at me.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demands. I shrug, I have no way to answer her. She continues," I will prepare a room for you." Mrs. Darling turns and walks away, but not before saying, "I have seen how my daughter looks at you, Peter Pan. You had better not go and break her heart."

I am stunned. That was the most unusual conversation I have ever had, more unusual than talking to fairies, or pirates, or shadows.

Wendy has to be about my age, so maybe around sixteen. I feel so much older, though.

I find the room Mrs. Darling set up for me. Everything looks too neat and perfect. I flop on the bed, and instantly fall asleep.