Always Neverland (3 page)

“Fairy dust?” I guessed. It felt like warm rain, making me smile. Happiness bubbled up inside me, a lot like soda on an empty stomach, tickling a little. I rose immediately into the air. “Whoa.”

Peter grinned. “I was
going
to say that all you need to fly is a happy thought, but you must've already found one. Maybe you do have some potential as a Wendy girl. You learned to fly pretty fast.”

“I'm good at flying?” That must've been an even
happier
thought, because I rose higher and started bobbing up near the ceiling.

Tink let out a furious, defeated wail.

“Stop it, Tink!” Peter said, giving her a little shake. “You do this every time you meet a Wendy girl. I don't know what your problem is.”

Neither did I, at first, but then I glimpsed the book on the table.

Then I was pretty sure that I knew
exactly
what Tinker Bell was so upset about. It was right there in the same scene I'd just read in
Peter Pan
. Tink had attacked the original Wendy when the girl had given Peter a kiss. Tink was probably jealous of me for the same reason. But she was being silly. I wasn't like Wendy. I wouldn't ask Peter for a thimble or a kiss or anything. If Tink and I were ever going to be friends, she would have to know that.

“Tink, I just want to go to Neverland. I don't even
like
Peter,” I said in a rush.

“You don't
like
me?” Peter repeated. He sounded very confused, like it couldn't be possible.

I was so embarrassed that I lost a grip on my happy thought and started to sink. “Well, not like
that
.”

“Like what?” Peter said.

“I don't
like
you
like you,” I said.

“Like me like me? Now, you're starting to repeat
yourself
.” Obviously, he still didn't understand.

I think Tinker Bell did, though. She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head darkly. I didn't take that as a good sign.

Peter began to pace the room again. It was kind of funny to see him walking across the air above my window seat. “None of the Wendy girls has ever
not
liked me before. Maybe I
shouldn't
take you to Neverland.”

A weekend all by myself. No mermaids, fairies, Tiger Lily, or Lost Boys to befriend. That was a terrible thought, and I fell to the carpet with a muffled thud.

Tinker Bell turned to Peter and started chattering excitedly again. I didn't need a translation to know that Tink was agreeing with Peter.

“But then I heard the whistle. . . . And I did promise the Lost Boys before I left,” Peter continued, still pacing. “Kyle was really persistent. He's never had a Wendy girl.”

Seeing a glimmer of hope, I latched on to the idea. “And didn't you say that you needed a Wendy girl to help the Lost Boys with the spring cleaning?”

“That's true,” Peter said thoughtfully. Tink shot me an angry look.

I tried not to look smug. “I'll just pack some things, and we can go.”

Afraid that Peter would change his mind again, I raced around my room. I unzipped the big pocket of my backpack and scooped everything out. My textbooks, my folders, and binders fell to the carpet in a heap.

Peter Pan
was the first thing I packed. I figured I might need it. Maybe the book would tell me how the original Wendy won over Tinker Bell.

Then my toothbrush and toothpaste from the bathroom. And after hesitating for a second, Mom's iPod. Mom always said you needed good music to survive long flights.

If I was going to take Mom's iPod, I might as well risk taking Dad's camera, too.

Peter stood by the window, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Two more minutes,” I promised.

I crept outside my door and down the hall to the closet. The door creaked when I opened it. I froze, but the only thing I heard downstairs was the TV show Megan was watching.

Unfortunately, I had another problem. The camera was on the highest shelf, and I'd forgotten that Dad had hidden the stepladder. I stretched as much as possible, but I couldn't reach higher than the shelf just below it.

Maybe most kids would've left without it. But I was pretty sure Mom and Dad would
never
believe my story without evidence. I would need pictures to prove I'd really gone to Neverland.

Neverland
. The happy thought gave me that fizzy feeling in my stomach again, and I rose up almost three feet in the air.

“Cool,” I whispered, grabbing the camera. I didn't even stop to peek at the Christmas presents.

Then I soared back down the hall, kicking to make myself go faster, afraid that Peter might leave without me.

“Sorry!” I flew into the room. Peter was still waiting by the window, arms crossed, with Tink on his shoulder. They both watched me, frowning.

I pushed the camera into my backpack and zipped it up. Landing, I shoved my feet into my sneakers without stopping to tie the laces, and I grabbed my jacket and shrugged it on.

Last, I scribbled a note and left it on my bedside table, where someone would definitely find it.

Chapter 3.
We Play Catch over the Milky Way

I
t was one thing to start floating around inside my house with a carpet to cushion me if I fell. It was a completely different story to jump out my bedroom window and trust that a little fairy dust would keep me from breaking my leg.

With my backpack on my shoulders, I sat on my windowsill for a minute, working up my courage. Peter gestured for me to get on with it, his eyebrows raised high. (I got the impression that I wasn't the
only
Wendy girl who got stuck on her window ledge.) I couldn't stop staring at the thorny bush that grew right below me and imagining how much it would hurt to land on it.

Peter got tired of waiting. “Happy thoughts,” he reminded me with a wicked smile, flying forward like he was going to pull me off.

“No, wait! I'll jump!”
Mermaids
, I told myself firmly, and with a deep breath, I placed both hands on the windowsill and shoved myself off.

I floated. Seeing that I wasn't going to fall made me so happy that I started to rise—past my window, above the roof.

“Wow.” Everything looked different from this height. All the trees seemed so much shorter, and in the dark, our driveway looked like just a gray stripe that cut our grassy front lawn in half.

“Let's go then,” Peter said, flying ahead. I followed eagerly, scissoring my legs so I could catch up.

“You don't need to kick,” Peter said, laughing, as we flew over my driveway. “You're not
swimming
.”

My face grew hot, and I stopped kicking. I wobbled slowly through the air while Peter zoomed down the street. Afraid of being left behind, I started kicking again, but I still didn't go fast enough. Peter was already several houses ahead of me before he noticed I wasn't right behind him.

“None of the other Wendy girls were this slow,” he said, perching on the top of a street lamp to wait.

“That's why I keep kicking,” I explained. “I don't know any other way to go faster.”

“Why are you wobbling around so much?”

“I think it's my backpack,” I said, embarrassed. “It keeps throwing me off balance.”

Tink zigzagged around Peter's head, chittering impatiently.

Peter translated. “Tink says, at this rate, spring will be over by the time we get to Neverland. Look. Use your arms like this.”

I spread my arms wide, like Peter had done. I flew straight and much,
much
faster, zipping past the Neverlanders easily.

The wind in my hair felt cold and delicious. “Awesome!”

Peter flew up beside me. “You have small strings streaming from your feet,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, right—my shoelaces.” I had
really
been hurrying.

Afraid of losing my sneakers somewhere in the clouds, I landed on a roof with clay tiles and moonlight reflecting off the TV satellite dish. “This will just take a minute,” I said, tying my shoes and double-knotting them as fast as I could.

“What are these funny things?”

I looked up from my feet.

Peter was walking a power line like a tightrope.

I gasped. “Be careful! Electricity can kill you.”

That was a mistake. Telling Peter something is dangerous only makes him want to do it
more
.

“A new foe!” Peter cried, jumping up and drawing his golden sword eagerly.

I zoomed off the roof and flew between Peter and the power lines before he could take a swing at them.

“You can't fight it, Peter!” I said. Even Tink started chirping nervously, tugging at the leaves on Peter's shirt to hold him back.

“Don't worry, Wendy girl. I'll protect you.” Peter pointed his sword at the power lines. “Have at thee, villain!”

I thought quickly. “I mean, it wouldn't be
right
for you to attack. You see, the electricity is already imprisoned.”

That made Peter pause. “Imprisoned?”

I nodded solemnly, secretly very relieved. “Kept captive in those wires. It would be beneath your honor to attack it.”

Peter liked this idea. He raised his chin and sheathed his sword with a flourish, looking very noble. “Come on, then.”

He zoomed straight up, the little fairy flying in front of him. With a sigh of relief, I spread my arms and rushed after them.

Below us, the streets glinted silver in the moonlight. The leafless trees swayed a little in the wind, and Christmas lights glittered on every block. Most of the houses were as small as my palm. As we rose higher in the dark blue sky, I noticed a bigger building with a familiar playground. “Hey, there's my school!”

“Look!” Peter said, pointing at a flock of geese flying just beside us. I don't think the birds were used to sharing the skies with kids and fairies. Hearing Peter, they scattered, honking in distress, and Tink let out a bell-like trill, a lot like a giggle.

Even higher, the streets started to look like a web of dark lines. I could only tell where the cars were by the white ovals their headlights made on the road. Peter led us higher still.

Soon, we were flying over the town. It was only a cluster of little lights below us. “That's exactly how it looks from a plane,” I called to Peter, but then I remembered that my parents were somewhere down there, probably still at the party at Mom's firm. It occurred to me that Mom might not like me leaving without permission, but since that wasn't a very happy thought, I pushed it out of my mind.

If Mom and Dad could stay out late at parties, then I could definitely go to Neverland to have a few adventures. They were going to be busy anyway. They probably wouldn't even miss me, as long as I came back by Christmas.

With the thought of Neverland steady in my mind, the fizzy feeling in my stomach became a hurricane of bubbles, tickling me so much that I giggled out loud. I flew so fast that the wind chilled me inside my jacket.

We passed through the clouds, and then we flew higher again, where the sky was blacker and dotted with little stars. They seemed a lot closer than they looked from the ground, and even though I couldn't prove it, I think they moved when I wasn't watching, rearranging themselves into different patterns.

“Wanna race?” I called to Peter as I zoomed past him. Technically, since I was already ahead of him when I asked, I kind of cheated. But I don't think Peter minded. He thrust his face against the wind with a wide grin, and the next time I looked, he was gaining on me steadily.

As soon as he was close enough, Peter shouted something. I didn't understand what he said, but he sounded half exasperated and half amused. (It's easy for me to recognize that tone. That's usually how Mom talks to me.)

I slowed and waited for him. “What?”

“Where are you going, Wendy girl? You don't even know the way,” he said with a stern look.

“Oh.” I looked at the big open sky. “How
do
you get to Neverland?”

Peter pointed ahead. “Second star on the right, and straight on to morning.”

Those didn't sound like the most
exact
directions in the world. I wondered if I should have gone to the computer before we left and printed out a map, like Mom does before we go on a road trip. But then again, I had the feeling that the internet didn't know the way to Neverland.

“I guess I'll let you lead the way then,” I said with a grin. When Peter sped off ahead of me, Tink zipped past too, right behind Peter.

Then we flew, all in a line. And flew some more.

After about the millionth star, it felt a lot like flying in a plane—a little bit boring if you don't have anything to do. I pulled my book out of my backpack and started doing a little research on Neverland.

The stars on that part of the Milky Way weren't very close, not close enough to give off enough light to read. But Tink did. And luckily, I was flying right behind her, my book open and tilted to catch her glow.

Personally, I thought this was pretty smart. It worked out great . . . at least until Peter glanced over his shoulder to check if I was still following.

He saw what I was doing and laughed. “Well, no Wendy girl has done
that
before.
Or
any of the Lost Boys.”

Then Tink noticed me using her as a lamp. She
didn't
think it was funny. She chattered at me angrily.

“Sorry, Tink!” I cried, stuffing my book in my bag next to Mom's iPod. “I didn't think that you would mind.”

She just hissed. Then, she began zigzagging around Peter, so her light threw strange shadows everywhere.

If I worked harder to win Tink over, maybe she wouldn't get mad at me all the time, which would definitely make traveling more pleasant. In my reading, I'd learned that the fairy was a little vain, so I started with compliments.

“That's a very nice dress,” I told her, pointing at the rose petals she wore.

Tink didn't chime, or turn toward me, or even stop zigzagging. I wasn't sure if she'd heard me.

“Did you make it yourself?” I asked, a little louder. “The dress, I mean?”

Instead of answering, or even acknowledging me, the little fairy zoomed straight ahead, way out of earshot.

“Is she always like that?” I asked Peter, feeling a little hurt.

“She is to the Wendy girls,” Peter explained. “She hated the original Wendy, and I think she decided to hate the rest of you on principle.”

“Oh,” I said, disappointed. Then I straightened my shoulders and said, mostly to myself, “I'll just have to work extra hard to win her over.”

“Right,” Peter said, his mouth quirking at the corners. He didn't think it was possible, but he was humoring me—I get that a lot, too.

I couldn't wait to prove him wrong.

It turned out that I didn't really
need
Mom's iPod to keep me entertained during the trip. After the book incident, Peter and Tink came up with plenty of stuff to do while we were traveling.

Soaring ahead of us, Tink plucked something from the air above her head and threw it to Peter.

“Here!” Peter said, and tossed it to me.

I caught it and took a good look—it was a glowing sphere, smaller than the fairy but much, much brighter. It warmed my palm, and when I opened my hand a little wider, it twinkled merrily. “What is it?”

“A baby star,” Peter said, like this was obvious.

I wondered if it was a good idea to use a star as a landmark if they moved around like that, but I didn't say so. “It's not as big as they tell us in school.”

“
Grown-ups.
They don't know
anything
,” Peter said scornfully. He zipped forward. “I'm ready!”

I threw the star to Tink, who passed it to Peter. He let it drop, almost all the way to the clouds, before he swooped down and snatched it up.

He was definitely showing off, but I was still pretty impressed.

The next time he threw it to me, I let it fall for a few seconds before I rushed down and caught it—but I stubbed my toe on the moon, which was soccer ball sized and half hidden in the clouds.

Tink made a high-pitched ring, kind of like a really annoying telephone, her arms wrapped around her middle. I was pretty sure she was laughing.

Tossing the star back to Peter, I hung my head, my face so hot that I was surprised that it didn't glow as brightly as the fairy's.

Peter watched me, frowning a little. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but I was afraid he would tell me that it served me right for being such a copycat.

But all he said was “Pretty good for a first try. Next time, dive with your hands first. You'll be able to see where you're going.”

That made me feel better.

I kept throwing the star to Tink, hoping she might get friendlier, but she never threw it to me. We had to stop when we reached a second star, a bigger one who turned snobbishly away when it saw us. As we went, the baby star bobbed a little in the air, like it was waving good-bye, before shooting home.

Then Peter demonstrated some midflight acrobatics. I'd been taking gymnastics for years, and being able to fly made everything
so
much easier. When he did three somersaults, I did three too.

“Not bad, Wendy girl,” Peter said with a small smirk. “But can you do this?”

He did four cartwheels in a row in a circle around me, even while I was flying.

Then I tried. I definitely counted four cartwheels, but unfortunately, I didn't pay attention to where my feet were going. My ankle smacked into the little fairy, almost knocking her out of the sky.

“Oops!” I straightened up quickly as she chattered angrily at me, shaking one fist and smoothing her hair down with her other hand. “Sorry, Tink! I didn't see you there.”

Peter didn't seem to be bothered. “Bet you can't do
this
.”

He did a cartwheel, a round-off, and a backflip, all in a row.

I grinned. I knew I could do it. Once, I'd even done it when I
wasn't
flying. So, I did a cartwheel, a round-off, and
two
backflips.

That might have been a mistake too. Either Peter didn't like me outdoing him, or he got sick of practicing acrobatics for some other reason.

Lying with his hands behind his head, like he was floating backward, Peter started telling me about his adventures—about feeding Captain Hook's hand to the crocodile, and rescuing Princess Tiger Lily from the pirates, and bringing the Lost Boys a mother. . . .

Maybe it was the time of day, or the fact that I had reread some of his stories an hour or so before, but my eyelids began to droop. Before long, I fell asleep. This was a problem, because apparently, when you aren't awake, you might stop flying. Peter had to fly down and catch me. I woke up dangling from his hands, my toes brushing the Milky Way below.

Tink pulled my hair. “Oww!” I said, swatting at her sleepily.