Wendy sticks out her tongue, then grasps one of the thick vines wound about the tree. She’s in Neverland again, scrambling barefoot up a trunk, Peter darting through the air above her like a nagging fly, half delighted, half enraged. She remembers how the branches shaped themselves to her hand, knots rising for her to grip with her toes. She didn’t hesitate a moment, not even the first time. It never even occurred to her to doubt the tree would hold her. It held Peter after all, and the only thing in her mind had been showing him girls could so climb trees, every bit as well as boys.

Wendy sizes up a knot near the base of the tree. It bulges outward like melted candle wax, almost as good as the trees in Neverland. She plants her foot on it, meaning to haul herself upward until a meaty hand lands on her shoulder, yanking her back down. Her foot slips, and she bangs her knee painfully against the rough bark.

Jamieson. Wendy twists in his grip. She’d been so intent on climbing, on Peter, she hadn’t even heard the attendant come up behind them. Evans is there too, holding Mary, one hand over her mouth to keep her from shouting a warning.

Jamieson hauls Wendy upright just as Mary bites down on Evans’ hand. Evans shouts, shaking the hand, then raising it to strike Mary, but she doesn’t even flinch. He’s nowhere near as tall as Jamieson, but taller than Mary certainly, though that doesn’t stop her from glaring up at him.

Wendy’s heart surges toward Mary, and a cry—so much like Peter’s cock-crow of victory—is almost at her lips before she tamps it down. Evans hesitates, glancing at Jamieson. Wendy takes satisfaction in seeing the skin of his raised hand turn red, looking painful where Mary bit it.

Before either attendant can act, Wendy throws herself against Jamieson’s grip. He tightens it, keeping her from getting between Evans and Mary.

“It was all my idea.” Wendy ignores Jamieson, his pull on her arm, and addresses Evans. “I forced her to come along.”

Mary turns her glare on Wendy now, and Wendy glares right back, willing Mary to stay silent. Even with their escapades, Mary has earned the trust of many of the attendants and nurses. She’s allowed to work in the gardens and in the kitchen, harvesting vegetables and learning to bake, while Wendy is banished to scrubbing and laundry duties. She’d scrub till her knuckles bleed raw though if it means Mary keeping her privileges. She’s seen the joy Mary takes in baking, even simple things. If she could, Wendy imagines Mary would even improve on the dull recipes given to her to prepare.

Jamieson snorts, a sound that isn’t quite a laugh.