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Peter stretched across his bed like a lazy cat, hair roused and caked forever with dirt. While the Lost Boys and George and Michael raced about the tree house to collect their things, Wendy stood in the middle of the room. She knew Peter wasn’t happy with her or the others. She knew he didn’t want them to leave but was just too proud to say it. The battle with Hook was over, Wendy’s kiss now belonged to Peter, and they were about to go home—Wendy should have been happy, but a deep sadness settled in her chest, over her heart. Slowly, almost cautiously, Wendy walked forward and sat down beside Peter.
“You could still come with us, you know.” She said. “You wouldn’t be alone.” Peter stared up at her, the stars still lingering in his blue eyes, though the lights were fading.
“I refuse to grow up.” He said. There was that bitterness in his tone again. That same sourness that dripped from his tongue when he yelled at Wendy about never feeling love. She sighed softly, anticipating a response like that. She looked around the tree house. Neverland was wonderful—far more exciting than any story Wendy could conjure up herself, but she missed her bed, and baths, and her parents. She missed Nana. The fear of growing up and having to move out of the nursery still lingered in the back of Wendy’s mind, but she had learned something during her time with the pirates. Wendy could still tell Michael and John exciting stories; she’d just be in a new room where she could dream up new stories and new adventures.
“I’ve discovered tonight that getting older doesn’t quite mean growing up.” Wendy said. She wanted to reach out and run her fingers through his hair, even if she knew her fingers would get caught in infinite snarls. She wondered if he would stretch and arch his back like a cat. “The pirates are older, but they have the same wonder as you, Peter.” He stared up at her doubtfully. “It’s true.” She laughed. “They liked the stories and even cried at some parts.” When he finally turned away from her, Wendy settled a soft touch atop his head. He jumped at first, then laid his head down and let her smooth her hand over his wild curls.
“Getting older doesn’t mean growing up, Peter, not if you don’t want it to.”
“What about your parents?” Peter asked. “And everyone else’s parents? Aren’t they all grown up?”
“I refuse to believe that my father was ever a little boy.” Wendy laughed. Peter cracked a smile. “And my mother has always been a lady.”
“Like you?” Peter asked. Wendy’s cheeks felt hot but she just smoothed her hands over her night gown as if it would get rid of the dirt and wrinkles.
“Does fighting pirates and meeting mermaids sound like a lady to you?” She asked primly, chin tilted up high.
“Yes!” Peter said jumping up, fists at his hips. His face looked almost as bright as when Wendy gave him her kiss, but that could’ve just been the candle light.
“Then, to me,” Wendy said, “being a gentleman is fighting pirates and saving the day with fairies and the Lost Boys.” She smiled up at him and he dropped down into a crouch next to her. Their noses almost touched. Wendy’s mother had once told her that Eskimo kisses were when two people wiggled their noses against each other. She fought the urge to do it now.
“I would like you get older with you, Wendy.” Peter said. His smile was gone, mouth pressed into a thin line of insecurity. His eyes were hopeful though, the stars glowing bright for just a moment. Wendy almost thought she’d imagined it. It was a serious confession, but no more serious than Wendy asking him to leave his home of however many years he’d stayed in Neverland.
“You’d have to take a bath every now and then.” Wendy giggled. Peter wrinkled his nose, then sat down all the way on the bed.
“Are bath’s nice?” He asked. Wendy tried to contain her excitement.
“They’re quite relaxing.” She said. “Mother always has to remind me not to fall asleep.” Peter looked away from her, turning the idea around in his mind. Wendy followed him with her eyes as he jumped up from the bed and marched across the room for his sword. He drew it from its holder and thrust it at Wendy.
“It’s decided then!” He announced. “I will get older.” Bursting at the seams with joy, Wendy jumped up beside him, the smile pushing away any efforts to smother it.
“Marvelous!” She said. Then a thought wormed its way into her mind and her smile fell. Nothing could make Peter like school; she was sure his wild nature would only get him in trouble, same as the Lost Boys. Selfishly, she kept this thought to herself and watched at Peter marched about the tree house making sure all the Lost Boys had their things before calling for Wendy to head toward Hook’s ship. She hoped that he wouldn’t want to come back after his first day of school.
Though the air was brisk and the wind pierced through Wendy’s thin nightgown, she buzzed with warmth. She stayed beside Peter, who seemed to radiate heat like a furnace, and he didn’t seem to mind that she insisted on standing shoulder-to-shoulder. John, Michael, and the Lost Boys raced about the ship, hooting and hollering like they were still with the Indians. Wendy also hoped that wouldn’t get them in trouble when they touched down in London.
They swiftly stopped their raucous to peer through the clouds at the bright lights of Central London. Perhaps Peter had never taken the Lost Boys with him whenever he visited.
“It’s the same.” Peter murmured to himself. “But it looks different.”
Wendy wanted to say it was because he was different, that he was looking at it with new eyes; she was worried that would upset him.
“Do you know why, Wendy?” Peter asked her. “Why does it look different?”
“I’m not sure.” She lied. He didn’t ask her again and steered around Big Ben, still hanging above the clouds. What would Mother say if she saw a giant pirate ship flying through the sky?
Even as the Lost Boys and Wendy’s brothers crowded around their parents and aunt, Peter hung back and Wendy stood with him. She could hear him swallow loudly and feel the tight squeeze on her hand. Wendy desperately wanted to run to her mother and throw her arms around her neck, but she also didn’t want to leave Peter. His hand shook against her’s and Wendy was certain she would never see him so scared.
Wendy’s father saw the two by the window. His eyes glinted knowingly behind his spectacles, but he didn’t separate them. Instead, he took two steps closer and looked down at Peter. He didn’t bend their level as George Darling didn’t bend. Peter’s eyes watched George Darling’s hand like a scared cat as it came to rest on Peter’s shoulder. The other’s had stopped to look when Wendy’s aunt stopped with a shrill cry. She wailed as if struck by the hand of God and no one could understand why. She scrambled to her feet and rushed over to Wendy. Wendy could feel the way Peter stiffened next to her as Aunt Millicent took Wendy’s chin in her bony fingers and turned it gently to the side.
“It’s gone!” She cried. Wendy felt her body go cold as Aunt Millicent shouted again. “It’s gone!”
“What’s gone?” Mary Darling asked. She rose to her feet. Peter looked just confused as everyone else, but Wendy knew what Aunt Millicent was crying about.
“The kiss!” Aunt Millicent finally shrieked. “Wendy’s kiss is gone!” Mary Darling looked stupefied while George Darling still held his look of understanding. Wendy suspected that maybe her father had been a young boy once.
Mary Darling knelt down to look at Wendy’s face as Aunt Millicent had finally released her razor grip. Peter let go of Wendy’s hand and slid away from the gathering noiselessly. Now she wished she had him to stand beside her.
Mary Darling followed Peter with her eyes but said nothing.
“I suppose Wendy’s a lady now.” Michael said with a teasing grin.
“Pardon yourself, Michael.” Wendy said with the raise of her chin. “I’ve always been a lady.”
“Excuse me, your majesty.” Michael said with a dramatic bow. John and the Lost Boys followed suit with loud M’lady’s. Behind then, Peter tucked his arm against his bare stomach and gave a much smaller, much more gentlemanly bow.
With all the previous excitement, the Darlings' were surprised when the Lost Boys were quick to begin yawning. Their dropping eyes were a telltale sign that it was time for bed. George and Mary Darling set up make-shift beds all over the nursery. Peter’s bed was next to Wendy’s, though not by the Darlings’ design. When the lights had gone out and the adults had shut the doors and everyone else was deep asleep, Peter pulled his blankets, sheets, and pillows away from the center of the room and next to Wendy. She looked down at him and he stared up at her.
“Are you all right on the floor, Peter?” She whispered.
“It’s not bad.” Peter shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes twinkled with stars. “These blankets are much softer than animal hide.” As if to prove his point, he patted the cushy blankets around him. Instead of falling flat like they did back at the tree house, his hands bounced up a little.
“I’m sure it’s not permanent.” Wendy said. “All of you deserve proper beds.” Peter just hummed as his eyelids dropped lower. Wendy bit her lip nervously and called his name before sleep could pull him in deeper.
“Hm?” He responded.
“You know you’re not trapped here, right? You can go back to Neverland at any time you decide you don’t like it here.” Peter opened his eyes groggily. He seemed to be half asleep already. He stared up at her, smiled dopily, then rolled over.
“But there’s a Wendy Bird here.” He said. Soon, he was fast asleep in the Darling nursery.