She’d tried to explain, but it had sounded like a fairy tale, which is just what her mother and father had thought it was. They’d thought her confused, delirious with her fever. When the fever had faded and the story persisted, they’d grown frustrated, even angry. She remembers the way John and Michael had looked between her and their parents, doubtful and a little afraid, wanting her assurances but not knowing what to believe.

In the time she’d been sick in bed, their parents had already half convinced John and Michael that Neverland couldn’t be real. Wherever they believed their children had actually been Wendy never did discover, only that in their minds, there was no doubt that the stories she told could not possibly be true. They had accused her of filling her brothers’ heads with nonsense, confusing them. Already, Wendy could see the seeds of doubt taking root in Michael and John, and she’d been desperate to convince them, win them back to her side.

She’d been afraid, heartbroken, and still sick in ways she couldn’t explain even though her fever had faded. How much easier it would be to hold onto Neverland if her brothers continued to believe in it too.

Wendy had climbed to the top of the tall wardrobe in the nursery, not even hesitating a moment before she jumped. She had been so certain she would fly around the ceiling, just like they did that first night with Peter, that she hadn’t felt a moment of doubt or fear until she’d crashed to the floor and broken her arm.

Wendy rubs at her arm, as though she might feel the ghost of the old fracture there beneath her skin. She’d been a child then. If she tries the same thing again now, as a grown woman, how will she explain herself to Ned and her brothers if she fails? Hysterical —the ghost of the word rings in her ears. John trusts her now, and even Michael. Would she undo all that? For a chance to save Jane, yes.

She could sneak down the back staircase, but what if her father-in-law left someone watching, one of the men from Scotland Yard lurking in the shadows?

No. The first time she traveled to Neverland, she left by the window. And Peter took Jane via the window, so she will go that way too. All her belief, held onto through the years—she must focus on that now, banish every single shred of doubt. Her mind and her truth are her own. No part of her belongs to Dr. Harrington or her brothers. She is alone, and she alone can save Jane.

Wendy fixes her gaze on the stars, pushing away thoughts of the hard, bruising, breaking stones below. Jane. She must think of Jane. Happy thoughts. She edges her foot forward. Happy.