— 'Peter', she calls. 'Wake up'.
He blinks and sits up, answering without even thinking of it :
— 'I wasn't sleeping.'
It's true, to him at least, but she rolls her eyes and doesn't look like she believes him.
— 'Of course, Peter', she says, and stands up. 'Dinner is almost ready, come.'
He follows her, tells her about the adventure he's just had ; she says he was just sleeping. Her words are frank and harsh but they do not hurt, her brows and mouth frown but her eyes are laughing. They — her eyes — are a color he thinks he has seen before, and there's a thimble mockingly floating around the right-hand corner of her mouth. She looks familiar, and yet she doesn't.
He supposes he knows her, she seems to know him alright. But the way she moves, talks, tosses her head in annoyance and laughs at funny things he says, doesn't remind him of anything. He shrugs and doesn't care.
After dinner, they have really good make-believe cake, and make-believe tea. He doesn't like make-believe tea that much, so when he's done make-believe eating his make-believe piece of cake, he flies over to the bed and pretends not to see the make-believe cup she sets on the mushroom table. He blows in his pipes and enjoys the sound of her laugh, keeps playing and watches her dance merrily, a couple of fairies immediately joining in.
— 'Oh', she cries suddenly, and the music stops along with her dance.
The fairies try to keep dancing, but they can't dance to make-believe music, so they glare at the girl and call her names. She can't understand fairy language, or she doesn't care ; it's probably the former, since they tell her some very rude things, but he can't be sure.
— 'Oh', she says again, lower. 'It's so dark already, it must be very late.'
He wants to tell her he is not going out to get the time, but he can't remember why ; there's a clock on the wall, as far as he can remember there's always been. He has no idea why he would have to go out to get the time, so he chases the weird thought away like a bad dream.
— 'So very late', she continues. 'Surely Mother is waiting for me. I must go back now, Peter, I must.'
He wants to shrug, thinks she probably won't be very pleased, shrugs anyway. She frowns and puts her hands on her hips.
— 'I am going back home, now', she insists haughtily. 'Good-bye, Peter.'
He looks at her, and for the life of him, he can't remember her name. So...
— 'Good-bye, Wendy.'
She looks upset, tells him that isn't her name, tells him her actual name too, probably, but he's stopped listening already. He doesn't know where that name came from, can't remember ever hearing before either, it just sounded right to end that sentence.
No, not right, something shrieks inside of him. Not right at all. You shouldn't say "good-bye" to Wendy, never.
When he looks up, she's gone, but he knows she'll be back next year (spring cleaning time, don't you forget, the something inside him says), and the fairies are looking at him expectantly.
So he starts playing again.
oxoxoxoxoxo
Peter's got such a short-term memory, I don't think he could really remember Wendy very long, even though her descendants would keep accompanying him to the Neverland.
I loved the tiny bit in the book about how you get the time on the island ; I wanted to mention that, especially since Miss-No-Name said she was late, but then, sadly, I remembered the crocodile's clock went off in the end. Though, this being supposed to take place long after Wendy Grew Up, it probably should have gone off anyway. So, since I love that crocodile too much but couldn't have Peter go out to get the time, I had him remember that he once had to go out to get the time. Or, er, remember that he forgot that he once had to — you got it. I hope.
Anyway, since the crocodile's stopped, I figured one of Wendy's great-grand-daughters-and-a-bit would have ended up hanging a clock on a wall, as there ought to be a clock in any proper home. Probably took it from the pirate ship or something, or brought him from home if that's possible.