Long grass gently slapped Wendy’s legs as they moved deeper into the forest. She could feel the prickle of sunburn on her shoulders as the hot summer sun streamed through the trees. The air smelled of sweet cedar and tangy sap beading on bark. Black beetles bumbled over logs and the sharp cry of hunting birds sounded overhead. The sound of Peter and Wendy traversing the landscape joined the chorus.

Wendy frowned. She watched Peter navigate the fallen logs and underbrush and it occurred to her that he wasn’t moving with the same ease as he had last time they were in the woods. Peter kept his eyes trained on the ground, his footfalls as heavy as hers. He used to be so at home in nature, but now he was as unbalanced as she was.

Maybe it was because of his drastic growth spurts? He was almost a head taller than her now. His arms and legs were noticeably longer, and his movements made it seem like he was still getting used to them. The way he walked reminded her of a newborn deer trying to find its balance.

Following him closely, Wendy watched as he moved through the woods. Tendons stretched up his forearms, swelling at his biceps before disappearing under the sleeves of his T-shirt. She could see the muscles of his back shift and flex under the material. The sunlight filtering through the trees caught the red streaks in his auburn hair. A small trickle of sweat ran down the nape of his neck and disappeared into the collar of his shirt. His full lips were parted, his breaths a steady rhythm.

Wendy’s face grew unbearably hot and she cut her eyes away. She frowned at the ground. These changes Peter was going through were … distracting. And frustrating. Wendy was used to seeing guys in Speedos at swim practice. She was no stranger to the human anatomy of a teenage boy. Wendy was largely unaffected by it, and barely batted an eye when her teammates tried to flex and show off. Peter shouldn’t be any different. She just needed to get a grip. She was irritated with herself for being so flustered. There were important matters at hand, things she needed to focus on.

It was while she was staring determinedly at the ground that she realized Peter wasn’t wearing shoes.

“Peter, where are your shoes?” she asked.

“My feet got too big. They don’t fit anymore,” he told her with a shrug, as if walking through the woods barefoot was a perfectly reasonable solution.

“How does that not hurt?” she asked, face screwing up in confusion. She could hardly stand walking across the cement of her backyard to throw out the trash without flip-flops on.