Wendy finally looked directly at the faces of the two officers. She smiled, squinting her eyes. “Maybe he fell out of the sky?”

Smith’s lips pressed into a hard line, the muscle in his jaw clenching. It gave Wendy a small feeling of satisfaction. Cecco uselessly rubbed at the back of his neck. After cutting Smith a nervous glance, he pinned his attention back to Wendy. “How does he know your—?”

“What’s going on here?” The voice was quiet but stern.

“Mom,” Wendy breathed.

Her mother appeared, standing between the two officers.

Mary Darling was in a pair of faded blue scrubs, her light brown hair done up in a messy bun. Her hands were at her sides, fidgeting, as her sharp brown eyes looked back and forth between the officers. The stern authority she’d once had was belied by sagging shoulders and dark circles under her eyes.

Wendy stood up, pushing past Smith and Cecco to get to her mother’s side.

“Are you all right?” Mrs. Darling asked, giving Wendy a sidelong glance. “What happened? Your father—?”

“No, I’m fine,” Wendy said quickly. Her mom could sort this all out, she could make sense of all this. “There was this boy—”

“Mrs. Darling, we need to talk to your daughter,” Smith cut in.

“And why is that, Officer Smith?”

He took off his hat, clearly ready to launch into an explanation.

“Wendy!”

Everyone turned. The blue drapes around the boy’s bed rustled. Nurses ran behind the curtains.

“WENDY!”

She couldn’t make out what the doctors were saying over the frenzied shouts of her name. There were two loud bangs as metal trays were knocked to the floor.

Everyone was staring at her. The nurses, the doctors, the officers, her mom.

“WENDY!”

Her head spun. All other sound became muffled and garbled, except for his piercing yells.

This felt like a nightmare. Her chest heaved up and down and her hands curled into fists. She walked toward the curtained bed.

“Wendy.” This time it was her mother, lightly placing a hand on her shoulder, but Wendy shrugged it off. She passed nurses who openly stared at her and moved out of her way.

“WENDY!”

She was close enough now to reach out and grab the cotton drape. She hesitated, noticing how hard her hand was shaking. Wendy yanked it back.

Nurses darted around. Men in blue scrubs on either side of the boy tried to grab hold of his arms. His legs thrashed under the waffle-knit blanket. There was a doctor with a needle and a small glass bottle.

But then everything stopped and it was Wendy looking at him, and him looking back. She could see now that his hair was a dark auburn, glints of red showing even in the dull hospital light. The color of late-autumn leaves. He was dressed in a blue hospital gown. They’d apparently cut him out of what he had been wearing.