“I— How—” Wendy struggled to find words. Under the panic and confusion, she couldn’t help feeling a flicker of hope about John and Michael. “You know about John and Michael?” she asked urgently.

Peter winced and looked at the ground.

She stepped toward him, pressing him for further explanation. “Have you seen them? Do you know where they are?” Peter’s few words sparked hope, a fleeting, dangerous thing.

Just a moment ago Peter’s words had been coming out in a rush, but now he paused. “It’s a long story … It’s complicated. It would be easier if you could just remember—”

“You have to tell me,” Wendy ordered, grabbing hold of his hand. She needed answers, and she needed them now.

Peter’s ears tinged red. He took a deep breath. “Like I told you, I used to come by your house to listen to you tell stories about me. I would travel from Neverland looking for lost kids who needed my help,” he explained. “And I heard you telling my stories to your brothers once, so I listened in from outside the window—”

“Right, the super-creepy window thing,” Wendy interrupted, dropping his hand.

“I mean, yeah, but—” Peter scratched the back of his head, red blooming in his cheeks. “It was just to hear you tell stories about me! I would go back and retell them to the lost ones back at Neverland—it sounds a lot creepier than it was, I promise.”

Wendy narrowed her eyes at him.

“Anyway, we actually talked one night, when my shadow went missing for the first time.” He said it so casually. “And then, well … when you guys got lost in the woods.”

Wendy’s heart hammered, demanding to be felt. For the past five years she had been wondering what had happened to her and her brothers. For years she’d had nothing and now the answers she had been looking for had fallen out of the sky. She didn’t know if it was out of desperation, but right now she wasn’t even questioning whether or not he was telling the truth. “Do you know what happened to us?” she choked out.

Peter gave her that look. That same look everyone always gave her whenever her brothers were brought up: tipped eyebrows and a frown. The universal look of pity. She hated that look.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else and talk about this,” he said quietly.

“No, you have to tell me now!” Wendy said, grabbing hold of his hand once again. She didn’t know if she could go another second without losing her mind, let alone wait long enough to relocate.