“I’m sorry. I thought…” But she can’t get farther. The words lodge in her throat like broken glass. What was she thinking? Mary holds her steady, and once Wendy climbs down, she folds Wendy in her arms.

“I thought if I could fly—”

“Fool,” Mary whispers, and Wendy stiffens in her arms, but Mary doesn’t let go. After a moment, her body softens against Wendy’s, and Wendy finds herself relaxing too.

“Shh.” Mary runs a hand over Wendy’s bare scalp. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You can fly, but if you let them see, they’ll only try to tie you down and break your wings.”

Wendy pulls back, staring at her friend. Mary’s eyes remain hard, defiant, but glittering with an edge of mischief.

“Do you think I don’t know I’m better than this place? Every time the nurses speak more slowly, assuming I’m dull because I wasn’t born on English soil, or with white skin, don’t you think I want to scream at them and slap their terrible faces? I know better, and so should you.”

Wendy catches her breath. Mary is right. The harder she fights, the tighter the bindings will grow. But that doesn’t mean she can’t resist—their small thefts, the temporary pockets sewn into their clothes, picking locks and slipping beyond sight, those are the ways they will fight back.

Wendy uses her sleeve to wipe her cheeks and nose. Mary knows her better than anyone, and she’s right. Neverland is hers, it is precious; she will not give it to anyone to use as a weapon against her. It’s enough that Wendy knows, deep in her heart, that if she’d jumped, the sky would never let her fall. And one day, she and Mary together will fly.

* * *

Wendy scans the canopy of trees for a glimpse of the brightly colored birds she remembers from when she was a child, the ones she heard chattering as she stood on the beach. They’re eerily silent now, and she sees no sign of them, as if when she stepped beneath the trees they all fled. Wind sways in the treetops, a rippling hush. She catches a flicker of motion, but it isn’t red or blue. It’s a brownish-gray, vanishing through the branches too fast for her to track. By the time she focuses on the spot where it was, it’s already gone.