by Susan Adrian
I’m not sure I want to go back to the real world, where people stare if I even tap my fingers.
Shoe and Clover are still down on the shore, talking with their heads close together, and then hugging. Then they run back too, and everybody congratulates Clover and Shoe. All of us dance for a while, arms raised, spinning. Two of the pixies circle around me, their warmth like more friends.
“The travelers are back from our adventure, victorious!” Peter shouts. “Huzzah!”
“Huzzah!” we all echo. The word feels buzzy on my tongue, and I say it again, quieter. “Huzzah! Huzzah!”
“Now,” Peter says, and we all stop, and quiet down. “We must tell you the story.”
Everyone drops down into a circle on the sand. Peter looks at me and nods.
Me?
Yes, I will tell it.
The words come. I tell from when Scylla took us underwater, with Clover filling in the details for her part. When we tell about Clover being turned into a sheep, they all ooh. Shoe puts an arm around Clover’s shoulders, and Clover leans into her.
When I’m done, there’s a silence. A good silence, like the hushed moment after a play. Then they all cheer.
“It was a good adventure,” Peter says. He seems like his normal self again, now that he’s back in Neverland. Cheerful, relaxed, and confident. “We must Feast tonight! And tomorrow, perhaps we will ride the stream. Even though it is dragon season. You have faced a sea monster and a witch; surely you can face a dragon!”
They all cheer again, and I cheer too.
Except Clover, who raises her hand. “Isn’t it…,” she says softly. She looks around at all of us, at me. “Isn’t it time for us to go home?”
This kind of silence is not good. It’s uncomfortable. Friendly looks out at the ocean, and Jumper and George start playing with the sand. Peter clears his throat.
“We thought perhaps you might like to stay,” he says. He lifts his chin. “At least Fergus. If you want to go home, Clover, I will take you.”
Clover’s eyes fill with tears. I look down at the sand, at the circle of bare, dirty, happy feet. I don’t want to see her cry. I don’t want to make her cry.
“Fergus?” she says, her voice quivering. “Do you want to stay here?”
I stare harder at the sand, at the flecks of quartz that sparkle, and turn the question over in my mind.
Part of me does want to stay. I love being here. I can do whatever I want, be who I am, and no one questions it. They accept it, celebrate my flying hands and my spins and even my pauses. The pixie helped me through a meltdown, and I know it would again, if I wanted it. I think all of them would help.
Clover and Mom accept me too, but in a different way. They still worry a little what other people think. They still assume I can’t do as much as I can, and Clover hovers over me too much. Way too much. And other people…There are good ones, like my friends at the Autism Center, and Grandmother. But lots of people just stare. Laugh. Don’t even try to understand or be patient. The real world is harsh sometimes.
I could stay here and be free from all that, forever. Just dance and sing and shout and adventure and feast and be.
But I would never see Mom again—or Clover. I wouldn’t go back to school. I’d never learn anything else about the gods and goddesses, find any more books at the library, or see the British Museum. I want to go to college someday. I want to teach, maybe, about the myths. Or work with the artifacts, at a museum. Eventually I want to grow up and be a man. A husband. A dad.
If I stayed here, it would be like hiding instead of facing the world.
“I think we should Feast,” I say, and look up. Clover has tears dripping down her cheeks. “And then we should both go home, together.”
We fly all night, Peter and Fergus and the pixies and me…and Shoe. When we were on the beach at Neverland, she said she realized after meeting us that she was ready to grow up. If we could do it, she could too. She wanted to see London for real. She wanted to have a real family…maybe even a mother. She wanted to learn more than she could in Neverland.
She even picked out a new name for herself while we were flying. She decided she would be Wendy.
I don’t know what will happen to her in our world, but I know Grandmother will be pleased.
We fly and fly. When we finally get to Grandmother and Grandfather’s house, the sky is still mostly dark, the sun just starting to rise. The window of the nursery is open, waiting. We fly in, one at a time, and land lightly on the wooden floor. Fergus and I drop our backpacks. We didn’t really need them after all.
Mom is lying across one of the beds, asleep, the blowing curtains almost touching her face.
I squeak, and she sits up, blinking. “Mom!” I yell, and launch myself at her. She opens her arms wide and I lose myself in a hug for a little while. I feel Fergus next to me too, leaning against Mom. Her tears drip on my head.
“You’re okay,” she says. “Both of you. You’re okay.”
“I always bring them back safe,” Peter says, a bit sharply. I sit up, though I stay with Mom’s arm around my waist, and Fergus stands only a step away. I’d almost forgotten for a second that Peter was still here. That Shoe was here. “Hello, Wendy,” he says.
Mom tucks her hair behind her ears. “Gwen,” she corrects. “Hello, Peter.”
“You can see me,” he says. “You always pretended not to when I came.”
She looks down, smoothing the blanket that’s already smooth. “I am very angry with you for taking them, Peter. When you knew I wouldn’t approve.”
“Are you?” Great-Aunt Tilly stands in the doorway. “Or are you glad they had their adventure? You should be. Look at them. They’re happy.”
“Great-Aunt Tilly!” I smile at her from Mom’s arms.
“Tilly!” Peter shouts. “Good to see you again.”
Great-Aunt Tilly grins at him, and for a moment she looks young. “You look exactly the same.”
Peter tilts his head in acknowledgment, and I suddenly get it. Tilly must have been a Lost Boy too. Like Shoe. She decided to come here and grow up, with Grandmother.
“Gwen, Tilly,” Peter says, “this is Wendy. She has chosen to live here now.” He touches Shoe—Wendy—on the shoulder. “You will be happy as a grown-up?”
She smiles, her eyes shining. “I will be happy. Thank you, Peter. Thank you for everything.”
He nods. “And you will take care of her?” he asks Mom.
“I will,” Grandmother says from the doorway. She and Tilly stand close to each other, arms linked together. She beams at Wendy, at all of us. “I’d love to.”
“And me,” Tilly says. “We shall raise her the rest of the way together.”
Peter smiles at them both with his small-toothed grin. “Hello, Margaret. I’d bring you both back with me again in a flash if I could.”
Grandmother sighs. I think she’d go back, too.
Peter reaches out his hands, palms up, and Fergus and I go over and each take one.
“I will return,” he says. He looks at each of us, solemn. “So you must visit this place from time to time. I will watch for you. And we can go to Neverland and have more adventures. Yes?” The pixies zip around us.
“Yes!” Fergus smiles so wide it fills his face. “Yes yes yes!”
“Yes,” I say. I’d like to see Jasmina and Allora and the other mermaids again. And maybe ride the stream when it’s not dragon season.
I look at Mom, and she looks at Great-Aunt Tilly and Grandmother. She nods once.
No one tells Mom that Peter wanted us to stay. That Fergus almost stayed. But we came back, so maybe it doesn’t matter.
“I’m sorry we interrupted your studying,” I whisper to Mom.
She smiles, shaky. “It’s okay now. I’ll pass. You can help me finish studying here.”
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Peter lets go of our hands. He hops to the windowsill and stands framed in it for a moment, facing us all. “Till next time, then. To Neverland!” he says, and he and the pixies launch into the air, and away.
Fergus, Wendy, and I run to the window and watch him go, a small shape flying out over the city, as the sun peeks above the horizon. Mom stands behind us, her hand warm on my shoulder. I’m glad to be home, safe with my family.
But I’m awfully glad we went.
“To Neverland,” Fergus says.
“To Neverland,” I whisper. “And back home again.”
This book and these characters mean so very much to me.
Fergus and Clover came to me whole in an entirely different setting, and I knew I needed to tell their story. When I realized they were descendants of Wendy, it all clicked into place and became this joyful book about a boy who is autistic and his anxious, bossy sister—but also about Peter Pan and mythology and sea monsters and mermaids and pixies and goddesses and Lost Boys, some of whom are girls. (Shoe is one of my new favorite people.) I hope you love them all as much as I do.
Thank you to my editor, Jenna Lettice, for her unwavering enthusiasm and support, thoughtful notes, and inspiring emails with Peter Pan GIFs. Thank you to Michelle Nagler for just the right suggestion. Huge thanks to the Random House team, including George Ermos, who created the amazing cover; designer Bob Bianchini; interior designer Trish Parcell; copyeditors Barbara Bakowski and Alison Kolani; and publicist Emily Bamford (who did such a tremendous job with Nutcracked!). Thank you to Lyn Miller-Lachmann for valuable feedback.
Thank you to Kate Schafer Testerman, who always has my back, no matter what. Also for hugs over the phone and in person when they’re most needed.
All my love to Michael and Sophie, who make it possible and make it worthwhile.
I did my very best to make sure that both Fergus and Clover were real, true kids, not stereotypes of any kind. I read books, blogs, websites, and posts and watched videos posted by autistic people themselves. I wanted their inside perspective, not an outside view from parents, therapists, or “experts” on what autistic kids are like. I listened to members of the ActuallyAutistic community on how they want to be represented, and that awareness was always in my mind. I’d like to recommend the Useful Resources section for further information, real talk, and wonderful stories. Please read more, and read widely! Any errors are my own.
To the readers of this book: you really are perfect as you are.
Nonfiction
Bascom, Julia, and others. Loud Hands: Autistic People, Speaking. Washington, DC: The Autistic Press, 2012.
Grandin, Temple. Thinking in Pictures. New York: Doubleday, 1995.
Higashida, Naoki. The Reason I Jump: The Inner Voice of a Thirteen-Year-Old Boy with Autism. New York: Random House, 2013.
Robinson, John Elder. Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger’s. New York: Crown, 2007.
Silberman, Steve. Neurotribes: The Legacy of Autism and the Future of Neurodiversity. New York: Avery, 2015.
Fiction
Baskin, Nora Raleigh. Anything but Typical. New York: Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2009.
Lucas, Rachael. The State of Grace. New York: Feiwel and Friends, 2018.
Pla, Sally J. The Someday Birds. New York: Harper, 2017.
Ursu, Anne. The Real Boy. New York: Walden Pond Press, 2013.
Websites and Social Media
#ActuallyAutistic community
Aspergers Girl: youtube.com/user/EvieMayB/videos
Autism Mythbusters: autismmythbusters.com
Autistic Self Advocacy Network: autisticadvocacy.org
Ballastexistenz: ballastexistenz.wordpress.com
Dear Neurotypicals: dearneurotypicals.tumblr.com
Disability in Kidlit (articles and reviews): disabilityinkidlit.com
Just a Skinny Boy, Autism and Me playlist (videos may contain adult language): youtube.com/user/justaskinnyboy/playlists
Just Stimming: juststimming.wordpress.com
Little Hux Tales: huxtales.wordpress.com/category/autism, @littlehux)
Musings of an Aspie: musingsofanaspie.com
Neurowonderful: neurowonderful.tumblr.com (blog) and youtube.com/user/neurowonderful/featured (Ask an Autistic)
Non-Speaking Autistic Speaking: nonspeakingautisticspeaking.blogspot.com
The Stimming Checklist, “So what IS stimming?”: what-is-stimming.org/so-what-is-stimming
Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism: www.thinkingautismguide.com
Susan Adrian is a fourth-generation Californian who now lives in the beautiful Big Sky country of Montana. During college she spent a year abroad at the University of Sussex in England—which started a lifelong fascination with all things British, particularly British stories for kids. These days she splits her time as a writer, scientific editor, and mom. Susan is the author of the holiday fantasy Nutcracked and two thrilling books for teens. She also keeps busy researching fun stuff, traveling, and writing more books. She’s been to London many times but hasn’t yet been invited to Neverland.
susanadrian.net
@susan_adrian
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