“Oh.” Mrs. Darling’s face fell. “Well, would you at least like a ride home? It’s dangerous to be out by yourself this time of night, what with everything that’s going on.”

Peter looked at Wendy—his eyebrows arched expectantly, waiting for her to provide him with his answer.

“That’s okay, Mom. He lives super close, don’t you, Barry?” Wendy said.

Peter nodded vigorously. “Yes, super close.”

Now, Wendy could see he was trying not to laugh at her. She wanted to shove him but refrained.

“Okay, well, if you’re sure,” Mrs. Darling said, but Wendy was already pushing Peter toward the front door.

“Just going to walk him to the porch!” Wendy called over her shoulder. She pulled open the front door. As Peter turned to wave good-bye to her mom, Wendy placed both of her hands against his back and pushed him out.

Outside, everything was quiet except for the sound of traffic filtering down from the main road.

Wendy shut the door behind her and let out a long sigh of relief. “That was close,” she said, pressing her palm against her forehead as she willed her heartbeat to slow down. They were lucky it hadn’t been her father, but still, running into her mother was bad enough. Peter needed to keep a low profile—the fewer people to see him, the better.

Peter didn’t say anything. He stared at the closed door, just above her shoulder. His eyebrows pinched together and his jaw moved like he was chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Wendy’s thoughts immediately went to Peter’s interaction with her mother. How curious Peter was, how lost in memory her mother seemed to be. It was like overhearing a private conversation. Wendy folded her arms and leaned back against the door. “Did you know my mom? When she was younger?” she asked quietly as she watched him.

Peter nodded. “Yeah, those stories she used to tell you weren’t just stories. Better sword fighter than you, in fact,” Peter added with a short laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I mean, she doesn’t remember it now, obviously.” He shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing, but there was a clear tone of hurt in his voice. “But that’s what happens when you grow up—you forget about the magic you’ve seen.”

Wendy idly wondered what it was like to be Peter, to meet people when they were young and could still believe in magic. To take them on adventures, to places they could never imagine in their wildest dreams, only to be forgotten with time and age. It must be a lonely existence …

Peter nodded at Wendy. “That’s probably why you forgot. When you turned thirteen, you weren’t a kid anymore, so when I rescued you and brought you back to the woods, you forgot about Neverland … and me.”