Lost in the Never Woods

by Aiden Thomas

  Wendy’s heart pounded in her chest, but she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t make herself get up or move. She had no control over her body. The sound of an owl drew her attention. That was when her head turned and she saw a young boy sitting next to her, his hands cupped around his mouth. He had a shock of wild auburn hair and dazzling eyes, all the more radiant in the sunshine.

  A giggle escaped her own lips. The boy dropped his hands to his side and grinned at her. He had that same small chip in his front tooth.

  Wendy’s throat felt tight, but she heard herself say, “You’re so good at that, Peter! Will you teach me how to do it?”

  Of course it was Peter. This was the Peter she always pictured in her head. Much younger than he had been last night, but unquestionably him. Undoubtedly the same.

  “Sure!” His voice was higher and it squeaked with his enthusiasm, but the self-assured tone was still there. “I can do this, too.” Peter pursed his lips and made a medley of cricket chirps. The same sounds he had made last night in the woods.

  The sense that she had lived this scene before was painfully strong. It was more than déjà vu, it was a memory .

  “Oh, I love crickets!” said her much younger voice again.

  Peter grinned and scooted a bit closer, dangling his skinny legs over the log next to hers. “I know,” he said, knocking his bare foot into hers.

  “Wendy! Peter!”

  The breath she sucked in ripped her chest open.

  “Wendy, where are you!”

  She would have recognized those voices anywhere.

  Peter scrambled away from Wendy. She heard herself giggle again, but she strained to hear the voices of John and Michael calling for her.

  “We’re over here!” Peter called back.

  She could hear both sets of their feet thumping through sand. The slap of lush undergrowth as they ran through it. She could hear John laugh while Michael whined, “Wait for me!”

  They were right there, just behind that set of trees. At any moment, they would come into view and she would see her brothers again.

  “Wendy?”

  She woke with a jolt. Cold sweat covered her body and her hair stuck to her damp forehead.

  Wendy was alone in her room again. She opened her hand. She’d fallen asleep holding the acorn. Maybe it was nerves, but Wendy swore she could almost feel the acorn thrum with some kind of energy. Her hand shook so hard that the acorn rolled off and onto the bed. She hugged her legs and pressed her forehead into her knees as she took deep, shuddering breaths.

  It was real, it had to be. It wasn’t a dream, it was a memory. She didn’t know when or where, but her brothers and Peter had been there.

  Peter.

  A delirious laugh bubbled in her throat. Her Peter. Peter Pan. He was real.

  And she needed to find him.

  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 h
eap 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 wa
ved 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.