Lost in the Never Woods

by Aiden Thomas

  “Crap!” she hissed, immediately grabbing Peter’s arm and giving it a yank.

  “Ouch! What?!”

  “Shh! Someone’s home! My dad will freak out if he sees you!” Wendy pulled Peter to the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard.

  Oh, God, oh no, she needed to get Peter out of the house. If her dad found them, she wouldn’t be the only one in trouble. The lock clicked and the front door began to creak open. “You need to leave, now, out the back door!” She pushed against him, but Peter didn’t budge.

  “Wendy?” Her mother’s tired voice drifted in from the living room. “Is that you?”

  “Go!” Wendy pleaded as quietly as she could, but Peter wasn’t even looking at her anymore.

  All of his focus had turned to the sound of her mother’s voice, his face suddenly very alert. Wendy squeezed his arm in a silent plea, but it was no use. He balanced on the balls of his feet, peering in the direction of the living room like a fox trying to spot a bird. There was something in his eyes, an intensity in his face, but Wendy couldn’t place it. What was he doing? If he didn’t move, she—

  Mrs. Darling rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen.

  “Uh, hey, Mom!” Wendy chirped, trying to sound casual, but the truth was that she never had company over, except for Jordan.

  Peter retreated a few quick steps back to Wendy’s side. He clasped his hands behind his back.

  Wendy looked up at him, surprised by his sudden strange behavior.

  Mrs. Darling was in her usual blue scrubs, her hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head. She was wearing her glasses, but Wendy could still see the dark circles under her eyes.

  “Oh, you have company,” she said, a pleasant but tired smile on her face as she turned to Peter. However, when she saw him, she faltered.

  Mrs. Darling’s brown eyes were suddenly wider and more alert than Wendy had seen them in ages. Her hand moved to the base of her throat. Her mouth formed a small O in silent—what was it? Surprise?

  Peter stood still, his head cocked to the side curiously.

  “Er, Mom?” Wendy asked quietly. Had her mom seen Peter in the hospital? Was that why she was looking at him like that? Why was Peter acting so weird all of a sudden? The quiet intensity of the situation made her feel as if she were interrupting a private moment. “Are you okay?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yes—I’m fine,” Mrs. Darling said. That seemed to break her out of her trance, but she still continued to stare at Peter. Wendy could feel an odd energy hanging in the air between them. Mrs. Darling squinted, delicate wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes as she peered at him through her glasses. “I’m sorry, have we met before?” Mrs. Darling asked Peter.

  Before he could open his mouth, Wendy cut in. “No!” she practically shouted. She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “I mean, no. This is—uh—Barry,” she lied.

  “Do you go to school with Wendy?” Mrs. Darling pressed. “You look so familiar—”

  “Nope!” Wendy answered again. “He’s new—from out of town—visiting family—just for the summer!” She was talking way too fast. And way too loud. “We just kinda ran into each other downtown, so I thought I’d show him around,” Wendy finished, twisting her hands in the air as she tried to come up with a logical explanation.

  Wendy wasn’t very good at making up lies on the spot, but she hoped it was convincing enough. Either way, her mom didn’t seem to be paying enough attention to notice.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Darling,” Peter finally said. He leaned forward in a strange little half bow, one hand pressed to his chest, before straightening back up again. He smiled at her, deep dimples cutting into his cheeks. That smile of his was dazzling. It made you feel like it was meant only for you, and he gave it to her mother.

  A laugh bubbled past Mrs. Darling’s lips. “It’s nice to meet you too, Barry,” she replied, patting at her messy hair.

  It was strange seeing her mother interact with Peter. It made something in her ache. She hadn’t seen her mom smile or laugh like that in ages. Five years ago, when Wendy was finally able to go home, she’d spent all day trying to come up with ways to cheer her mom up with drawings, beaded necklaces she made from magazine scraps, and jokes. Wendy kept a tally of how many times she could get her mother to smile. When Wendy had told her therapist about the tallies, coincidentally, Mrs. Darling started smiling more. But it was always a forced one that didn’t reach her eyes.

  Wendy couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous at how Peter had so easily gotten something she coveted. At the same time, Peter also felt like her secret, her own piece of magic, but there was obviously something shared between the two of them.

  “Do you want to stay for dinner?” Mrs. Darling asked as she pushed some stray hair out of her face. “I’m not sure what we have in the house, but I could order some takeout—”

  “Nooo, no, that’s okay,” Wendy interrupted, waving a hand and laughing nervously. “Barry has to go home, don’t you, Barry?”

  “Uh,” Peter replied unintelligibly.

  Wendy took hold of his bicep and gave it a squeeze.

  “Yeah, I guess I do,” he finished. He looked disappointed, but Wendy didn’t care. She needed to get him out of there. She didn’t have enough of her wits about her to keep up the charade, and Peter was proving to be entirely useless.

  “Oh.” Mrs. Darling’s face fell. “Well, would you at least like a ride home? It’s dangerous to be out by yourself this time of night, what with everything that’s going on.”

  Peter looked at Wendy—his eyebrows arched expectantly, waiting for her to provide him with his answer.

  “That’s okay, Mom. He lives super close, don’t you, Barry?” Wendy said.

  Peter nodded vigorously. “Yes, super close.”

  Now, Wendy could see he was trying not to laugh at her. She wanted to shove him but refrained.

  “Okay, well, if you’re sure,” Mrs. Darling said, but Wendy was already pushing Peter toward the front door.

  “Just going to walk him to the porch!” Wendy called over her shoulder. She pulled open the front door. As Peter turned to wave good-bye to her mom, Wendy placed both of her hands against his back and pushed him out.

  Outside, everything was quiet except for the sound of traffic filtering down from the main road.

  Wendy shut the door behind her and let out a long sigh of relief. “That was close,” she said, pressing her palm against her forehead as she willed her heartbeat to slow down. They were lucky it hadn’t been her father, but still, running into her mother was bad enough. Peter needed to keep a low profile—the fewer people to see him, the better.

  Peter didn’t say anything. He stared at the closed door, just above her shoulder. His eyebrows pinched together and his jaw moved like he was chewing on the inside of his cheek.

  Wendy’s thoughts immediately went to Peter’s interaction with her mother. How curious Peter was, how lost in memory her mother seemed to be. It was like overhearing a private conversation. Wendy folded her arms and leaned back against the door. “Did you know my mom? When she was younger?” she asked quietly as she watched him.

  Peter nodded. “Yeah, those stories she used to tell you weren’t just stories. Better sword fighter than you, in fact,” Peter added with a short laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I mean, she doesn’t remember it now, obviously.” He shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing, but there was a clear tone of hurt in his voice. “But that’s what happens when you grow up—you forget about the magic you’ve seen.”

  Wendy idly wondered what it was like to be Peter, to meet people when they were young and could still believe in magic. To take them on adventures, to places they could never imagine in their wildest dreams, only to be forgotten with time and age. It must be a lonely existence …

  Peter nodded at Wendy. “That’s probably why you forgot. When you turned thirteen, you weren’t a kid anymore, so when I rescued you and brought you back to the wo
ods, you forgot about Neverland … and me.”

  Wendy bit her lip. Did that explain why she couldn’t remember what had happened to her during those six months?

  “Do you think that’s why things started going wrong in Neverland?” Wendy asked.

  Peter frowned and shook his head slightly, not understanding the question.

  “I turned thirteen the day you brought me back, right? What if all the weird things that started to happen on the island were because I was too old? If getting older means losing magic, maybe me being there was what started all the problems?”

  “It might have,” Peter considered hesitantly. “But that still doesn’t explain me and my shadow. You being too old and defying the rules of Neverland could’ve caused the animals and the fairies to start acting strangely, sure, but why would I start getting older and losing my magic?” he asked.

  Wendy sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know,” she told him. “But it’s a start.” She shivered. A breeze was starting to pick up. “Are you okay to get back to the hunting shack?” she asked.

  Now, more than ever, she was completely terrified by the prospect of being in the woods, especially alone at night. She didn’t like the idea of Peter being in them, either. What if something happened and the shadow tried to go after him next? She wanted to ask him to stay, but the words caught in her throat.

  Peter laughed and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Mom, but I can take care of myself.”

  Wendy scowled and nudged her elbow into his side. “Oh, shut up. When can I see you tomorrow? We need to come up with a game plan. Should we meet up somewhere?” she asked. This would be a lot easier if he were a normal teenager and had a cell phone.

  “Don’t worry,” Peter replied. He wiggled his eyebrows and dropped his voice to an ominous tone. “I’ll find you when the time comes.”

  Wendy narrowed her eyes at him. “Wait, seriously?”

  Peter laughed, a large grin cracking across his face, showing off the small chip in his tooth. It was the first genuine smile she’d seen on him today that wasn’t edged with worry or apprehension. It was a welcome relief.

  “Uh, no, actually,” he said, rocking on the balls of his feet, satisfied with himself for being so clever. “You should probably tell me when and where to meet you.”

  Wendy rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “Just meet me at the corner of my street by the orange house at noon tomorrow, okay?”

  “Aye aye, captain,” Peter replied with a sweeping salute. He jumped off the porch and started walking across the yard.

  As she watched his retreating back, Wendy couldn’t help herself. “Be careful going into the woods, okay?” she called after him as quietly as possible.

  Peter turned around and gave her an amused smirk. “You know, if you keep worrying like that you’re going to give yourself wrinkles,” he said, walking backward as he reached the driveway. “Just there.” He tapped his finger on the middle of his forehead.

  Wendy shook her head, conjuring up her best look of disdain. “Good night, Peter,” she told him.

  “Sweet dreams, Wendy.”

  She watched as he turned back around and walked down the street. The sound of crickets drifted in his wake.

  * * *

  When she went back inside, Mrs. Darling was standing in front of the fridge. “How do leftovers sound?” her mother asked. Mrs. Darling pulled out a Tupperware full of cheesy chicken and rice Wendy had made for dinner a couple of nights before.

  “Sounds good to me,” Wendy said as she took a seat at the table. Her shins already ached from running through the woods. She felt like she was still covered in dirt and ashes. She really needed to get into the shower and scrub herself clean, but at the moment, walking up the stairs seemed daunting and the promise of melted cheese made her stomach growl.

  She realized her mother was watching her, but Mrs. Darling’s eyes flitted away when Wendy looked up and she busied herself with pulling out a pair of forks.

  Wendy thought about what Peter had said. How, once upon a time, her mother had known Peter, had even been a swordfighter. The idea seemed preposterous now, with her messy hair, medical scrubs, and perpetually tired smile.

  Even before Wendy and her brothers had gone missing, her mother had always seemed like the perfect lady to Wendy. Her hair had always been long and fell down her back in waves. Wendy had been in love with those silky locks and used to run her fingers through them over and over when she was upset and being held. She used to have such a graceful walk, too, like a ballerina. And when she had told them stories, her mother’s voice was a gentle tune, like she was singing.

  Those were the only two versions of her mother Wendy knew. The idea of her being a little girl, running around with Peter Pan and brandishing a sword, seemed impossible.

  But a lot of things that seemed impossible were turning out to be very real lately.

  “So, Barry seems nice?” Her mother’s question brought Wendy out of her thoughts.

  “Hmm? Oh, yeah, he’s nice,” Wendy said, caught off guard.

  “You’ve never brought a boy over before. Are you two…” Mrs. Darling started slowly, casting Wendy a furtive glance, “dating?”

  “What?” Wendy almost shouted. “No—we—NO, definitely not,” she stammered, completely flustered. “I only just met him the other day!” She could feel her cheeks turn red.

  Oh, God, they weren’t going to have that conversation, were they?

  “Okay, okay.” Mrs. Darling held her hands up in surrender. “I was only asking,” she said, an amused look on her face. As she started the microwave, Wendy tried to melt into her chair. “You just seemed nervous when I walked in on you two—”

  Wendy slapped her hand on her forehead. “You didn’t walk in on us. We weren’t doing anything—”

  “And you kept touching his arm and giving him this look,” Mrs. Darling continued. She was nearly smiling—it was almost there, hiding in the right-hand corner of her mouth.

  Wendy groaned and buried her face in her hands. She had only been touching him because she had been trying to get him out of the house! And what look on her face was her mother even talking about? The only look she could have possibly been making was of a girl on the brink of panic! Wendy dropped her hands to the table. “Trust me, there is nothing going on with me and P—between the two of us.”

  Mrs. Darling walked over and set a paper plate of chicken and rice in front of Wendy, along with a glass of water. “Well, he seems very nice either way,” Mrs. Darling said as she walked back to the kitchen.

  Wendy made a huffing noise as she stabbed her fork into a piece of chicken and popped it into her mouth. She wasn’t the best cook—nothing compared to what her mother used to make when she was little—but the chicken was seasoned with just enough spice, and the rice was gooey with cheese.

  “He just seems so familiar, though,” Mrs. Darling continued. She frowned at her plate as she scooped up a portion. “Maybe I used to go to school with his father? Do they look very much alike?”

  Wendy took another bite and shook her head. “No, like I said, they just moved here,” she said through a mouthful of food, “from Florida.” Wendy hated lying, mostly because she was terrible at it. “He just has one of those faces, I guess…”

  Mrs. Darling nodded slowly, lost in thought.

  It was then that Wendy noticed the TV was still on. “I guess you heard about Alex?” she ventured, staring down at her plate as she picked at her rice.

  This refocused Mrs. Darling’s attention. Her delicate brows furrowed and a heavy sigh pulled down on her shoulders. “Yes,” she said. “The police were at the hospital all night, checking sign-in sheets and getting security camera footage.”

  Wendy coughed. It felt like a piece of chicken had lodged itself in her throat. “Security cameras?” she repeated.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Darling went on, not noticing Wendy’s sudden change in mood. “But they’re only positioned at
the entrances, so I’m not sure what good they’ll do for the search.” She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. “I guess they want to look for anyone suspicious, maybe anyone who might’ve followed him and his parents out of the hospital this afternoon.”

  That probably should’ve relieved Wendy—at least there would be no footage of Peter interacting with her or Alex—but would the security cameras have caught him coming in or leaving? She’d never asked him how, exactly, he got in and out without anyone noticing. Would someone recognize him?

  Mrs. Darling put the empty Tupperware into the sink but paused instead of joining Wendy at the table. “They’re looking for the boy from the hospital, too, who you found in the road,” she started hesitantly.

  Oh no …

  “They seem to think that this is all related somehow,” Mrs. Darling continued. “You haven’t seen him, have you?”

  Wendy shook her head.

  “Well, just keep an eye out. If you do, you call the police straightaway, okay?” Mrs. Darling twisted her wedding ring around her finger, something she did when she was anxious.

  Wendy nodded. “Have they—the police, I mean—have they … told you and Dad anything new?”

  Wendy watched as her mother’s eyes slid across the room to the door of her father’s study. “I’m not sure…” she said.

  “Where is Dad?” Wendy asked.

  Mrs. Darling sighed again. “After I was questioned at the hospital, they asked me about the night you went missing, too.” Wendy cringed at her mom’s avoidance of mentioning her brothers. “Then they called your father down to the station, too. He’s there now.” Maybe she could see the alarm in Wendy’s face because she quickly added, “But there shouldn’t be anything to worry about, they’re just trying to get as many details of that night as possible.”

  She picked up her plate and sat down next to Wendy. “They’ll probably want to talk to you again,” she said, gently placing her hand on Wendy’s arm. “Who knows.” She stared down into her bowl of soup. “Maybe we’ll finally find out what happened…”

  Wendy pushed her food away. “I think I’m going to head to bed now,” she said quietly as she stood up from her seat.