She was awakened by a loud tapping on the window. She sat up, squinting at the dazzling light that shone through the curtains. Her heart leaped and she dashed over to open the window, auburn hair flying behind her in long waves. "Peter! You came back!"
Peter flew through the window and landed on the round carpet in the center of the room. "Oh yeah," he said distractedly, looking around the room. "Where are the other two?" He asked, pointing at the empty beds she'd never used. "Michael and John."
She fiddled with her long nightgown, unsure of what to say. "No one else sleeps in the nursery but me," she said. "Oh, Peter, I'm so glad you've come! Grandmother always told the most wonderful stories about you and the Lost Boys! But where is Tinker Bell?" She asked suddenly, peering out the window in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the tiny fairy.
"Who?" Peter asked, confused. He was scratching his head. "Well, come on, Wendy, let's go back to Neverland! You promised to be our mother every spring!"
Oh dear, she thought, her heart sinking. "Peter, I'm not Wendy."
"What! Then who are you?" Peter hopped back in a graceful leap. "Wendy lives here, with her brothers, Michael and John."
"Peter, Wendy hasn't lived here for a long time," she said, trying to be gentle. "I'm Wendy's great-great-granddaughter, Angela."
A horrible, pained expression suddenly came over Peter's face. "Does that mean Wendy has grown up?" He asked, his voice wounded.
"Yes, Peter," Angela said, her stomach twisting. "Wendy passed away over ten years ago."
"No! I don't believe it!" Peter shouted, drawing his knife. "Where is she? Did her father make her move to her own room? I want to see her!"
Angela stepped back cautiously and gently picked up a small book from the floor. "She's gone, Peter. But you can see pictures of her in this book. It's about all your adventures together." She handed it out to Peter, who tentatively flew forward to take it. He flipped it open and stared at it, running his fingers over the page.
"Why did she have to go away and leave?" He asked softly, and a single tear rolled off his cheek and onto the paper. A part of Angela's heart was touched, and she ran over and gave him a hug. Peter jumped back, startled, and said defensively, "I wasn't crying."
Embarrassed, Angela retreated and said, "Of course not. The stories always say you never cry."
"Stories?" Peter asked, unexpectedly interested again. "Could you tell them to me?"
"I suppose I could," Angela said (she really knew them all by heart). "But, they're all about you!"
"I like those!" Peter grinned mischievously. "Come to Neverland with me and tell them to the lost boys!" He ran forward to grab her hand and began pulling her towards the window.
Angela stumbled forwards, slightly mystified at the change of events but secretly a little thrilled at the prospect of going off with Peter. Then a thought came into her mind, and she stopped abruptly.
"But what will Mother and Father say?" She questioned, looking off into the distance. "And I can't go in my pajamas! Although I suppose Wendy did…Oh, to actually go to Neverland!" Her expression changed to one of longing and Peter, sensing weakness, leaned close and said, "I can teach you how to fly. I can show you the mermaids, too."
As Angela heard those words, a small thought in the back of her head warned her that this was a bad idea. But the lure of adventure was too strong, and soon Angela felt herself leaving the window of the nursery in London, headed towards the fantastical land where dreams come to life.