Shaking her head, that worry becomes an even heavier, uneasy feeling as I reach out and take her hand in mine. I pull her closer before she can shut herself off. Struggling with how to explain, I suddenly find it necessary to try before she’s not willing to listen to what I have to say. She stares down at our hands laced together, something about not having to look her in the eyes to justify my response, gives me the courage to say what I need to.

“They’re always trying to tell you what’s best for you,” I mumble. “How you should behave. How you should respond. What you should like and what you should hate. From the second you’re born, they have your life planned for you.” She still hasn’t looked up, still hasn’t cut me off like a part of me worried she would, so I go on. “Maybe that’s why I ran away the day I was born. I heard father telling mother he wanted me to be just like him.”

“And what was he?” she whispers so quietly I almost don’t hear her. “A good man? A bad man? Why didn’t you want to be just like him, Peter?”

Something about the way she asks, something about the tone of her voice, immediately gives me an unsettled feeling. Memories resurface. A knowledge that I’ve tried to suppress for years beckons me closer. There is a sort of hurt on her words, too. A frightened worry of what I’d say. What she’ll uncover. Before I can ask her why, she continues.

“If you didn’t want to be like him, what would you want to be when you grew up, Peter?”

Her eyes finally lift to meet mine and I study her as my mind becomes very perplexed. She never looks away, and I can’t force myself to either.

Doesn’t she know? This place, Neverland, it’s home because here - I never have to grow up. The lost boys, they don’t understand. That’s why they’re lost. That’s why they need me as their leader. Me? I’m not lost. I’m free. In Neverland, there are no rules. Anything can happen. But, for the first time in my life, the look she’s giving me makes me question that. It makes me realize there’s always been a small hole that needs filling in this make-believe land.

“I’m never going to grow up, Wendy.” Her eyes grow sad, only this time when I see her expression change it doesn’t make me feel anxious. It doesn’t make me worry. Suddenly it’s clear what’s been missing. “And Wendy, as long as you stay here with me, you never have to grow up, either.”

She smiles for the first time tonight. The unsettling feeling lifts as she scoots a little closer.