The flight back home was a quiet one, although sailing a ship in the clouds was an astounding sensation. Even the Lost Boys were quiet, sitting in a circle on the main deck, staring at the wooden floor. I understood how they felt; leaving Neverland was difficult.
Peter and Tink steered the ship gloomily, not saying a word to each other. I sighed.
Our descent was fast, and soon we were hovering right outside the window. Mother was sleeping in her chair, heavy bags under her eyes from endless nights of worry.
Peter cleared his throat, motioning John, Michael, and me to enter the room. I peered at him sadly, but he refused to meet my eyes.
"Let's break it to her gently," I said to my brothers as we stepped into the nursery. They grinned and sneaked into bed, taking their hats off in the process. I slipped my sword into a toy chest and nestled under my covers.
Tinkerbelle blew a puff of fairy dust onto Mother in the corner of my eye. She woke with a start. Nana whimpered.
"Oh, Nana," she said forlornly. I felt her loving gaze on my shoulder. "I dreamt my little ones were back."
Mother walked to the foot of my bed. "I dreamt they were sleeping, safe in their beds. But they will never be back."
And she walked out of the nursery, leaving my brothers and me mystified at her behavior. Could she not see us?
John and Michael got out of bed. "Did she see us, Wendy?" asked Michael. I stepped out of bed, perplexed.
Suddenly, Mother's rapid footsteps came to our room, and she looked at us incredulously.
"It really is us, Mother," said John. "Michael, John, Wendy – we're back."
And Mother ran up to us with the brightest smile on her face, hugging and kissing us, sobbing with relief. It was an amazing sight.
"George!" she cried. "George, come quickly!"
Father's footsteps rang up the stairs. "Mary, Mary! What's wrong? Are the children back?"
He ran into the room and looked through the window, then turned around slowly, realizing who was behind him.
"We're back, Father," said Michael timidly. "Did you miss us?"
Father looked dazed, and then gradually extended his hand to John. John took it keenly, and pulled Father into a hug on the floor, where everyone began crying with ecstasy.
"Of course I've missed you," choked out Father to Michael. He gave me a long look, as if just realizing my presence, and then pulled me into the embrace. I never felt more comfortable in my life in my father's arms.
More footsteps thundered up the stairs, this time sounding like an elephant stampede. A minute later, Aunt Millicent was ushering a group of grimy young boys into the nursery.
"See, I told you," she said in her pompous tone. "Mary, George, these boys think that the children are –"
She paused, seeing the five of us huddled in one huge squeeze on the floor. "You're – you're – YOU'RE BACK!"
And she shrieked so unlike a lady and joined the huddle on the nursery floor.
I got up, walking over to stand by the Lost Boys. "Mother, Father," I began, "These are the Lost Boys. May I keep them?"
Father looked troubled. "Wendy, I – the expense..."
"Think of the neighbors," Aunt Millicent shot at him.
Father thought for a long time. "Oh, dash the neighbors!" he said with glee. "And dash the expense!" The Lost Boys cheered in delight and tackled Father to the ground at once.
Suddenly, Michael spilled out the jewels that we brought back from the ship. "Will this cover the expense?" he asked innocently, picking through the shining rubies and pearls.
Father's eyes widened to the size of cup saucers. "Anyone for a pony ride?" he asked excitedly, making the Lost Boys rowdier than ever.
A faint shadow caught my eye in the middle of all the commotion. I walked towards the window, looking for Peter. Suddenly, I heard a sniffle and the tinkle of bells.
"Peter?" I asked, and the quiet sobs stopped at once. "I know you're there." Taking one last look at the perfect sight in the nursery, I flew on the roof of the house. Peter was sitting on the shingles, Tinkerbelle sitting next to him, dabbing her eyes with a microscopic handkerchief. I sat next to him and took his hand.
"Why are you crying, Peter?" I asked.
He sniffed again. "I'm not crying."
I scoffed. "Stop pretending. You're crying because you don't want us to leave."
He nodded, refusing to meet my eyes.
I rubbed the back of his hand. "You do not have to leave, Peter. You can stay with us."
"And grow up?" he answered stubbornly. "Never."
I sighed. "Peter, in some ways, you and Hook are exactly the same. You're both cowards, afraid of the future. But I know you can change. I know you can face your fears and grow up, Peter."
He ascended, hovering three feet above me. "I can't, Wendy. I have to go," he whispered.
There was an inept silence between us. "Promise to come back?" I asked finally.
He grinned impishly. "To hear stories... about me."
And he tossed something in the air, and I caught it. With one last half-hearted wave, he and Tink flew off into the sunrise. I watched them until I couldn't see anymore, and then looked at the thing in my hand.
It was a kiss.