The Untold Stories of Neverland: The Complete Box Set

by K. R. Thompson

  She finally saw Peter peering in an upstairs window as he used to do when he was a guardian. Dread crept over her in a dark wave when she watched him reach for the latch that held it shut. Before, he never would have been able to open that window, but now that he was alive…now that he was real?

  Panic surged through her and she flew toward him as quickly as she could. He’d stopped, taking his hand from the latch, waiting…

  The transparent image of a child appeared through the glass and took his hand.

  “No! You have to put him back. You aren’t a guardian anymore. You can’t take Lost Ones to Neverland,” she chimed, pushing at Peter’s shoulder to make sure he was paying attention to her.

  “Why not? You did. Besides, it’s not like I’m stealing. I asked if he wanted to become a boy again and he said yes,” Peter said, then looked at the shadowy figure beside him. “Please tell her. You do want to come with us, don’t you?”

  The ghost gave a resolute nod.

  It’s too late to put him back, she thought desperately. With any luck, another death guardian will be here soon, looking for him. What if he finds Peter? I can’t lose him…

  “We should go now,” Peter said, as if he’d read her mind. He chewed his lip thoughtfully, and leaned his head to one side as if he had heard something. “Let’s go this way,” he announced, and while she was still trying to figure out how and what to do, Peter took the boy and flew down another street.

  His next action came just as much a surprise as the first when he landed in a dank, dark corner at the end of the street, and bent to examine a small form lying on the ground. He whispered something, and another small, shadowy figure took his free hand.

  “If one is good, two might be better,” Peter said, giving her a quick grin. “Let’s go home, Tink!” And once again, without waiting for her, he flew up and away.

  4

  My Lost Ones

  THE NEWEST INHABITANTS of Neverland stood on the sandy beach, doing the same strange leaping Peter had performed on his first day.

  “You must concentrate on happy thoughts,” Peter instructed the two boys, flying over their heads in demonstration. “Otherwise, you’ll never be able to fly.”

  “I don’t even know what a happy thought is,” the short, round one grumbled.

  “He means to think of something that makes you happy. In your case, I should think it would be food,” the taller one with the large front teeth replied.

  “No happy thoughts, then. Neverland doesn’t have anything good to eat,” the short one sighed. “We’ve yet to eat anything since we got here. I’m hungry.”

  Tink yawned, linked her hands behind her head, and leaned back against the stem of the flower she’d chosen to sit upon. These two were Peter’s fault and she had no intention of helping him with his new wards. He could figure it out on his own. Maybe next time he wouldn’t be so hasty to make decisions without her.

  The short one jumped as high as he could, only to land solidly on his backside in the sand. The pixie laughed, filling the air with the sound of chimes.

  “It’s not funny,” he glowered at her, his face going red.

  Peter watched him for a second, then his laughter matched hers. “Yes it is,” he said.

  Once the boy got off the ground and brushed off the sand, Peter landed in front of him. Clasping his hands behind his back, he said in a serious voice, “Maybe we are going about this all wrong. Perhaps, we should start at the beginning. Before you fly, there may be other things we need to do.”

  The boys shrugged in unison, as if the idea sounded as good as anything else.

  “First, what are your names?”

  Two blank stares and silence answered him.

  “Do you mean you don’t have names?” Peter asked, incredulous, temporarily losing the firm, authoritative voice he’d been using.

  “No.”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Well, then. That will be the beginning, for everyone should have a name,” Peter said, thoughtfully tapping his finger against his chin. “You,” he addressed the tall boy. “You are to be named Patch.”

  A fitting name, Tink agreed, looking at the large, square patch on the boy’s shirt.

  “And you,” Peter said to the short one. “You…what shall I name you?”

  The short one didn’t seem to care a bit as to Peter’s decision. He was concentrating on squishing a small bug as it passed by.

  “You are to be named Beetles.”

  Tink shook her head. There were much better names for that one. If she had her way of it, she would have named him Round…or perhaps even Disagreeable.

  It doesn’t matter, she reminded herself. They aren’t mine to worry over.

  “All right, then. Now that’s taken care of, I suppose I need to show you the way to find food. Since you can’t fly, it will be a bit different, I suppose…”

  “But what is your name?” the one named Patch asked, cutting him off.

  Round elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Don’t interrupt. He’s taking us to find food.”

  “My name,” Peter said with a low, flourishing bow, “is Peter. I am your leader.”

  “You were saying about food,” Round reminded him.

  “Yes, follow me and we’ll see what can be found,” she heard Peter say as the three headed into the forest, leaving her on her flower alone.

  “So, is it worth it?” a voice asked the instant they disappeared.

  Tink looked up to see a water sprite hovering over the edge of the surf. “Is it worth it to bring them here?” she repeated. “Are they enough to save us? Do they believe in magic?”

  Tink held back a sigh. She should have known Peter’s actions wouldn’t go unnoticed for long. As he couldn’t swim; the water sprites were the only inhabitants of Neverland he hadn’t chased. Though they weren’t afraid of him, they still kept their distance. Still, she’d spotted a few of them here and there as they kept a close eye on him, but until now, none of them had said anything.

  But now that he’d brought two more boys to Neverland, he’d managed to attract the attention of the sprites’ ruler herself. The queen’s blue dress curled around her body in liquid waves, as if it was made of the sea.

  Thespa gave the appearance of waiting patiently, though Tink could tell it was a façade. Water sprites weren’t trustworthy.

  “Yes, the Lost Ones are worth it,” she said, carelessly leaning back on the flower again. She gave an inward sigh. So much for not claiming the Lost Ones as her own. They were as much her problem as Peter’s now. Still, she decided to have a bit of fun, so she added, “They believe in pixies.”

  She’d expected some kind of rebuke from the frosty water queen. After all, together the pixies and sprites had come to Neverland in an effort to escape humans and here she was bringing them to the island—and here she was not offering to help the sprites at all.

  But Thespa hadn’t reacted to her insult, and seemed lost in thought. “I haven’t noticed any change. Our magic is waning and the sea is becoming colder. It freezes more every day.”

  “That’s because the Lost Ones don’t go into the Never Sea,” Tink replied, waving her hand in the air as if the plight of the sprite queen was no concern of hers. “My Lost Ones know nothing of water sprites. Why should they believe in you?”

  “Why, indeed,” Thespa murmured. She hovered there for another long moment, before thinking aloud. “Perhaps the solution is to bring our own Lost Ones to Neverland.” Then, without so much as a goodbye, she disappeared under the foamy surf.

  Tink let out a sigh of relief. Whatever the frosty queen chose to do made no difference to her, so long as she didn’t come back and pull her into the Never Sea to drown.

  As if the sprite had read her mind, Thespa popped back up only long enough to give her a warning. “Bring who you wish to the island, but those who live under it will only ever believe in the water sprites.”

  Tink watched as she disappeared back below the surface, and
waited just long enough to make sure she wasn’t going to reappear before rolling her eyes. She didn’t have any intention of placing any of her Lost Ones in the Never Sea. She stood up, brushed the pollen from the flower off the back of her legs, and flew toward the forest to find Peter.

  After all, the Lost Ones were hers now and Peter needed to know he’d given Round the wrong name.

  5

  Bedtime Stories

  PETER SAT ON the windowsill, leaning toward the glass, his expression one of fascination and wonder.

  Sitting beside him, Tink crossed her arms, and idly swung her legs over the side. She was bored. What had started as occasional trips in search of more Lost Ones had now changed into nightly excursions spent perched on windowsills listening to stories.

  “I think this one is about me!” Peter exclaimed in a hushed whisper.

  Tink yawned, not bothering to get up and press her ear to the glass to see if he was correct. So far, he’d believed every story was about him. Personally, she didn’t care for listening to them and more than once she’d found herself drifting off to sleep, only to be shaken awake by Peter’s excitement or Peter himself at the story’s end.

  It wasn’t all bad, though. There was a reason she continued to follow Peter each time he came—one in addition to the fact that he needed her to fly. Once the story was finished, they returned to Neverland. There, Peter would tell the story to the others, and this time she would listen because once the story was finished, the Lost Ones (there were five of them now), Peter, and she would reenact the stories and a grand adventure would ensue.

  The window behind them darkened as candles were blown out. This story had ended.

  “Let’s find another,” Peter suggested, flying across the street to another window.

  Tink stood up and stretched before following him, yawning as she flew.

  This next house wasn’t nearly as well-kept as the previous one. The whole thing sagged as if it were tired of the world around it. Not paying attention to the house, but rather to the people inside, Peter sat on the windowsill, which, being rotten, immediately gave way. Chunks of wood fell to the ground below. That hadn’t bothered Peter, though. Instead of sitting, he hovered near the glass and listened intently as a woman tucked three boys into bed.

  “I’ll be back,” Tink chimed. She wasn’t going to be able to stay awake for another story and she didn’t dare trust the narrow, rotten ledge to take a nap on.

  Peter nodded, though she didn’t think he’d really heard her. She turned and flew off, looking for a safe place to curl up and sleep.

  On one inviting balcony, she found a nice green plant with wide, soft leaves. She’d just sat down on it only to be immediately swatted at by an enormous gray housecat. Now fully awake—and angry—she zipped farther down the lane, away from the fat, inhospitable feline to a building on the corner.

  Still scowling, she plopped down on a yellow knob near the roof. Instantly, the knob swayed under her weight, and a loud chime that sounded like a dozen angry pixies filled the air.

  Covering her ears, she flew up and hid behind the wide sign that hung over the door.

  The noise hadn’t gone unnoticed. She heard the sound of footsteps and a door being opened. Her heart beating madly, she looked down to see a man come out and stand directly beneath her. He looked first one way, and then the other, then shrugged and looked up at the yellow knob.

  In the dim light from inside the door, his eyes shone, reminding Tink of the bright blue water of the Never Sea.

  “Hmm, I wonder who rang the bell?” he murmured softly, looking at the knob as if it would be able to tell him what he wished to know. He stood there a second more, before returning back inside.

  Something pricked Tink’s memory as the door closed. Once she was sure he wasn’t coming back out to inspect the bell again, she flew down to the window by the door and looked inside.

  He was sitting at a desk in the far corner of the room, stacks of white paper sitting all around him. His head was bent forward as he studied something in front of him. His long, black hair swung forward as he tapped a finger absently on his desk.

  Something was familiar about this one, she thought. As he leaned back and stretched, she remembered. He was the one she had wanted to follow the night Peter had chosen the Lost Ones.

  She smiled, happy she remembered him, for once you’re in Neverland, some things become forever lost.

  The man shook his head and sighed, as if he’d given up on whatever task was before him. He stood and pulled on his long coat, then took a hat from a peg on the wall and set to blowing out candles.

  As the room darkened, Tink sighed. It would have been nice to watch a big longer, but she thought she might need to get back to Peter. With much luck, the story would have finished by now. She hoped two stories would be enough for him and he’d be ready to go.

  She turned, and gave a quick wave to the man in the dark room, then flew back to the old house with the rotten windowsill.

  Adrenaline pumped through her as she saw the window had gone dark and Peter was nowhere in sight. She tried to take a deep breath and convince herself maybe he’d flown to a different window for another story

  But there weren’t any other lit windows to be seen.

  As fear clutched at her, she frantically flew from one house to the next, hoping Peter had decided to search for another Lost One. After all, she reminded herself, he’d told her earlier he wanted more Neverlings in his troupe. That’s what he called them…Neverlings…

  Though it was possible, something in her gut told her that wasn’t what he was doing. The atmosphere around her was foreboding, as if something terrible had happened—and was still happening even now.

  She flew back to the old house and peered through the window, hoping to find some clue that would tell her why she felt this way. Through the shadows, she could see three beds lined against the wall, each holding a small form. The two farthest from the window were small bodies and were deep in sleep from what she could tell. The closest one held a boy near Peter’s size, with longish brown hair that fell around his eyes. He was asleep, but nothing in the slack, peaceful expression on his face told her anything had gone amiss in her absence.

  Where are you, Peter? He wouldn’t have gone back to Neverland without her, she was sure of that. He’d never be able to make it back without her pixie dust. It was too far to go without her.

  There was only place left for her to look—and every second it took to get there, she hoped it was the one place he wouldn’t be.

  RELIEF COURSED THROUGH her when she spotted Peter on the balcony of the house near the forest, but it was short-lived when she saw him reach up as if he planned to push the window open.

  Please, let it be locked. Even as she landed on the metal railing, she knew the house wasn’t vacant anymore. Someone was living here now. The window panes were clean, clear of dirt and cobwebs, and a single candle sent out a flickering glow.

  “You’re…real,” she managed between breathless gasps. “You can’t go inside. They’ll…see…you.”

  The look Peter gave her in that split second before he turned back to the window chilled her to the bone. Something most definitely had happened in the short time she’d been gone—something dreadful.

  “Let’s go back,” she said, trying again. “The Lost Ones will be waiting for us.”

  “I’ve always wondered what happened to my family,” he whispered, ignoring her as she tugged on his hair. “They could be waiting for me to come back.”

  He pushed against the window. It didn’t budge, though it made a terrible thump.

  Tink heard footsteps and jerked on his hair harder. “Someone is coming! Hide!”

  This much, Peter did do. He flew off the balcony to the side of the house. After she heard the window open and close back, Tink let out a sigh of relief and dropped to his shoulder. “Now, we can go home,” she suggested. “Round will be wanting to know where we’ve been and Patch will want to know
what new stories we’ve heard.”

  At the mention of stories, the edge of Peter’s lip turned down in a scowl. “I’m going back to the window,” he said. “I’m not finished here.”

  She watched as he left and flew back to the balcony. She knew she didn’t want to see what was going to happen next. In the scant second she’d been on the railing, she’d had just enough time to spot a little boy, tucked safely in his bed. There was no one telling a story here and no lost spirit to whisk away.

  The one who had come to check on the noise was still inside. Tink could hear her wishing the little boy sweet dreams. Deciding to try to convince Peter to leave one more time, she popped her head around the side of the house and found him standing on the balcony, his hands fisted at his sides.

  “She’s forgotten me,” he muttered as she landed on his shoulder. “My mother’s forgotten all about me. See her there? She doesn’t look sad that I’m not there, too. I’ve been forgotten, Tink. She doesn’t remember me at all.”

  Tink chewed her lip, watching a woman with long, dark hair bend over to give the little boy a kiss before tucking his covers around him again. From the words she could hear, he was asking her to stay close by. He was frightened of what he’d heard outside.

  I don’t think she is Peter’s mother, Tink thought, trying to get a better look at the woman as she brushed another kiss on the boy’s forehead, said a few reassuring words, and left. In Neverland, time had its own way of standing still so that you never truly knew how much time had passed. But here, she could tell a long time had went by from the time she’d rescued Peter from the balcony, and even longer than that was the time he’d spent as a guardian. The one he called mother could likely be in the Underworld by now, but she didn’t want to tell Peter that.

  “I don’t think she’s your mother,” Tink said, shaking her head, though she didn’t tell Peter why she thought so. To know the ones he loved were gone would surely break his heart. Then, he’d never be the same. It was bad enough she didn’t know what had caused this impromptu visit. It would be worse if she told him what she really thought.