Only in Neverland (under revision)

Battle of the Endeavors

I expected for the day after our fight to be as one after Angela or I get into an argument with the other, during which we would dodge each other's glances, while still maintaining a steady exchange of cross words. But, alas, Peter went about as usual—flying and shouting, having adventures.

And each day after that went by in a flurry. Angela and Tinker Bell typically went off on their own, though I made sure I knew where they would be, and Peter went to tease the animals in the woods or just let the fun find him as he went. Sometimes it would be asked of me to come along with one of the two groups, but other than that, I went on my own escapades. And once we all turned in for the evening, we would share the stories of our day. 

One time the largest tale was that Angela and Tink had begun a game of poker with the mermaids using sand dollars as a substitute for money. The mermaids lost Angela and Tinker Bell brought home dozens and dozens of the sand dollars. I would've scolded the two for participating in such sport, but I would never have been able to deny that the sand dollars were a spectacle. 

But most nights, Peter got most of the attention for his far more breathtaking adventures. He wrestled with bears, he shook hands with the devil when he was around the gnarliest of mermaids—the ones that stayed quite a distance from all the others of their species. He also found new places to rummage through, so he would find trinkets and machines from centuries ago. He sometimes told us that he would fly up to the sun and touch it for the briefest of seconds before speeding away. Told us that if you looked real close, you would still be able to see where it had scorched his hand or foot.

I never had many adventures worth anybody noting, because I only wandered about and looked at all the lovely trees and baby animals in their nests or other homes, or I would watch the fairies doing what any humans would do, and then I would relax under a tree. So I often wondered what it would be like to live in Neverland.

Any time I thought this, I made myself think more practically of the possibilities. Not everything could be wonderful all the time. I would have to spend everyday with a mood-swinging, childish boy, who can be fun for the most part, but is other times a handful. Another problem would be that Mother and Father would miss me more than just any parents and I would miss them just as much. I knew how it could end up, especially since I'd my share of valuable lessons from Grandma Wendy's situation.

Then one day my adventure was possibly the most adventurous any one of us would have in our lifetimes, as I came face to face with what could have been my demise.

No words were needed when we headed off in our own ways, just a smile from one person to the others. Peter was already off in his own world, flying in loops and zooming along. I started jogging lightly, pausing every so often, less to catch my breath, and more to eye fruits hanging from branches, thinking how magnificent a place the wilderness is. When I began jogging again, I gained speed, realizing that running feels nearly like flying. I closed my eyes and pretended I was flying higher than anyone had ever gone, soaring about the trees and oceans. Above dear ones and enemies alike, everything lost millions of miles below.  

I suddenly felt the bottoms of my feet leave solid ground and the pit of my stomach dropped down just as fast as I did. My eyes were now wide open and I knew I had to think quickly. Taking in my blurred surroundings, thousands of thoughts were splitting my mind into just as many parts as notions. My hands shot out around me feeling for something to hold on to. What they found was a branch and they clenched on. My palms stung and the flesh turned red and scratched. 

I felt the strain of the feeble branch that my fingers gripped and, over those next couple of minutes, I pictured it snapping and my body falling to the sea beneath me, where my lifeless body would float away. If I died right then and there, how would the lives around me continue? I thought, Mother and Father would most certainly feel some sort of remorse for having let me go off to this island, and I could only hope that Angela would miss me. Not that I would ever wish distraught feelings upon my sister, though it would give me comfort, in a distorted way, to know that after all our shared memories my death would give her sadness. 

So from that moment on I knew that I could not let myself die. I would hang on that branch long after my hands were blistered and the muscles in my arms began to quiver. And that I did. I held on, even as the sky began to look on fire with the setting sun. I screamed at the top of my lungs for help, but I was nearly sure that the ferociously thundering waves slapping beneath me had covered my calls for help.

I was near the end of my hoping when I saw  yellow-white lights clustered among the reddening sky. I squinted at the glare, unsure what, exactly, I was looking at. And then the realization came  to me that it was help. A group of fairies, glowing brighter and brighter, had come as respondents to my shouts. I had noticed in past days out, that the fairies seemed to think of me as a friend, as they always greeted me when I was around and would include me in anything from their dances and parties to the everyday work they had to do—which I think might have Peter Pan feeling a little envious. 

The cloud of the little beings with wings surrounded me. I felt a smile spread across my lips and warmth filled me, inside and out. I was being rescued. Soon they had gotten me safely back on the path to the underground home.

When I arrived back I was grimy from head to toe and this got Angela all riled up. She wasn't used to seeing me covered in dirt with my clothes torn in places. She was also quite excited to see this transition. I told Angela not to get her hopes up as I was going to be mending and washing my nightgown soon. They all asked me what had happened and I told them when we had all taken a seat on the ground. Peter's response to my story was, "I can easily beat that."

Angela's eyebrows furrowed. She was about to protest, when I figured that a simple and sarcastic remark from myself would be better than a snooty speech from my little sister. So I said, "Oh, is that so? You think you can out do a near death experience?"

"I said it before and I'll say it again—easily."

"Go on then," I urged. "Tell us."

He stood and paced slowly back and forth to add more drama, beginning at once.

"Out in the woods I was. I heard the treetops rustling in the breeze. So I called out, 'Who goes there?' No reply. I called out once more, 'Show yourself.' Still not a single word. I decided that if they wanted to play this game I could positively play it just as extraordinarily as anyone else could. So I hopped up into the trees, and was at the top when I heard more rustling..."

Angela was pretending to yawn and rolled her eyes. Peter glared at her and took a step in her direction. I cleared my throat, before they could get into a brawl, I smiled sweetly at him and said, "Continue please," and shot a glance at Angela that hopefully she understood meant that she should mind her manners, regardless—or especially because— of Peter's short temper.

"I heard the rustling and yelled, 'You'll be gutted the first chance I get!'" Peter smiled as his hand went to his dagger. He took it out and I winced at the thought of someone or something being murdered. And the term "gutted" was the one used to describe the act, which made my skin crawl. Before Peter could carry on, Tinker Bell was beside his ear saying something.

He threw his dagger to the floor and I sat straight up, startled. "Fine! If Moira's adventure is so much grander than mine, how about she comes with me tomorrow?" He sneered., turning to face me. "We'll see who's really the better of us two."

I raised my eyebrows inquisitively. I'd hardly said one word since he'd started with his story. But his sudden outburst had me going. He always did this, it had to be he who was the best, he couldn't stand to be second place.

I saw a smile creeping into his eyes. He probably thought I was going to say no to the very thought. He guessed that I was going to act cowardly and then he would laugh and be crowned number one.

"I'll do it." He looked taken aback. "That's right, I said I'll do it. And I'll keep up, I'll slaughter a bird, or I'll tackle a bear blind folded if I must. And you're right. We will see who's really the better of the two of us."

I had stood up while answering Peter's request and now I turned on my heel and walked over to my designated sleeping space. My stride was confident and long and Angela came hurrying after me looking slightly shaken up. "Are you really going to do this, Gwendy? Do you think it's wise?"

All I said was, "Yes." Throughout the corridors of my mind, though, I was mostly thinking that somebody was going to have to put this boy in his place and that somebody was me.