Chapter 2

Earlier That Day

It seemed like I would never find her.

The sun was just beginning to rise into the pink sky, casting a slightly brighter sheen than the moon on our sleeping arrangements for the night. It was just enough light that I could see the stretching and yawning forms of the guys as they got ready to begin another search. Matt catches my eye and approaches slowly, lowering himself until his back rests against the shed I sit against.

"Did you sleep at all?" He asks, his eyes filled with doubt. He's staring at the months' worth of bags housing under my eyes, shadowing their usual blue in blackness.

Like always, I voice my doubts. "What if we don't find her in time?"

Matt sighs like he's heard this a thousand times, which he has. "Do you honestly believe you won't?"

I smile. Peter Pan failing at something? It's unheard of, and I'm not about to change that.

I stand and walk toward the youngest of our group, Ron. He had become the human punching bag over the years, probably because the guys were so pissed that he was still so young. He's curled up on the ground and snoring away so give him a wake up kick and move to get the rest.

I stand at the head of the group when everyone has officially woken up. We have to leave soon or else the people who own the yard we slept in will call the cops. Eyes follow my every move, and the guys take in my every word. Power pumps in my veins like liquid energy.

"Nick, Brian, Mike, I want you to go west. Sam, Will, Zack, you guys go north. Ron, Quinn, Josh, Luke, you guys take the south. Me, Matt, and Drake will take the east. Meet back here at sundown." They were so used to the routine by now I didn't even bother reminding them where to go. The key was to search in places where we knew people were sharing stories and well as learning new ones. Book stores, Hair dressers, restaurants at breakfast and lunch so that we could catch those girls who were meeting with friends. All places where stories, if not gossip, is spread. Of course it used to be so much easier when I could just hop into any bedroom where a story was being read and steal the reader away.

Thoughts of Wendy pooled into my mind; her frizzy light brown hair, warm brown eyes, slightly uneven teeth, and freckles covering every area of bare skin. She hadn't stayed that way, a truth I knew from watching from the shadows to make sure she was alright, but my mind always remembered her as she was at twelve because that was when she was the most beautiful and my closest friend.

We take our search town by town and hunt in our directions until we hit the next town over. I wait until everyone has gone before I lead my group east. It's brisk outside, but after years in NeverLand without a fairy's magic to keep the weather warm I'm like a freakin' heater without my coat.

We start at a hairdresser's. The lady at the counter gives me and my walking shadows a weird look when I tell her I want to go back and check out the place. As I begin to get a sense that she will say no, Drake knocks over and spills a bottle of shampoo from a rack. She shrieks and rushes around the counter to go clean it up. While she yells at Drake, Matt and I slip around back and stand where we can see everyone.

Stories are slipping from lips thin, wide, and all colors of the rainbow.

I give it one minute.

Matt is still standing and so am I. We walk back to the front where Drake is finally finished cleaning and apologizing. Seeing us, he stands and we leave the girl crouched on the ground with soapy towels clasped in both hands.

We hit three places for breakfast, two more hairdressers, and one extremely old and extremely dusty bookstore. My feet stay on the ground in all of them and other than the sight of a lady secretly feeding a dog pancakes under a table and one particularly unsatisfied customer who had their head shaved, it seems today is just another waste of time.

It pisses me off that another day of walking is in my future. I never realized how much I despised walking until I could no longer fly.

Matt's eyes are glued to a group of girls giggling as they walk in front of us. One, hair burned into a straight line and so much makeup on that if it hardened and was pulled off it would be an accurate mask of her face, kept glancing back at us before each whisper and giggle. They turn into a shop and though we should keep moving, Matt comes to a stand-still.

"Hey umm, Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe we should umm, check this place out? You know, I just get a really good feeling about the people in here."

"I'm sure you do."

He gives me a look. Drake nudges my arm and points at the sign over-head.

It's a bookstore.

"Alright Matt, we'll test out this 'feeling' of yours."

It's loud inside, unlike any other bookstore I've ever been too. Not due to music or children running and screaming, the noise is a slight background hum that comes from everyone whispering at once. The ceilings are high and painted a dark green that reminds me of the forests in NeverLand. Shelves rise from floor to ceiling, standing anywhere there is room and facing all directions. From the scruffy look of the books to the lack of any organization to the shelving, I assume it's a second hand bookstore.

The guys leave my side and I begin to scope out the place.

A woman sits reading to her daughter in a corner I can recognize as a kid section (if the bunny painted walls are any indication). She gives a voice to every character and the sound makes my feet tingle in anticipation. I'm going to fly. She continues reading while I watch, hidden, my arms unconsciously outstretched, and then she trips over her words. My arms slap my sides. You just blew it, lady.

Another woman sits in the middle of an aisle, her back resting on the shelves. A coffee in one hand and a book in the other, she mumbles as she reads and I strain to hear. It's nonsense, not from the book at all but a conversation going on within her. I back away slowly; crazy people freak me out.

I scan the rows, but they are either empty or filled with people browsing. Another bust.

I spot the guys peeking around the side of a shelf, Drake kneeling and Matt standing over him. They must have spotted those girls.

"Come on guys, it's time to go."

Drake turns around and holds a finger to his lips while glaring, the universal sign for shut up. Matt grips my arm and switches places with me.

"Focus on the blond." He directs.

I raise my eyebrows but follow his lead and look around the corner. Two girls stand in front of a table piled with books, facing us. One is a brunette and the other a blond and they both wear the black t-shirts that indicate they are staff.

"Eww, look at this one." The brunette says, displaying a page of one of the books to the blond. The blond crinkles her nose and draws her eyebrows together.

"Who sticks their gum inside of a book?" She asks, her voice crisp and not as annoyingly high pitched as her friend's.

"I don't know, but if it's going into the bad stack anyway…" her friend pulls her own gum out of her mouth and sticks it the page. Then she places it in the stack to her right. The bell rings as a middle aged, balding man enters the store.

"Your turn," says the blond without looking up.

The brunette surveys the man for a couple of seconds. Then she turns back to the books but doesn't start working again.

"He was sitting at home watching his favorite infomercial, the one about the retracting ladder that can fit in your pocket, when his ex-wife called from her beautiful new house in Florida.

"Reggie?" she slurred, even though it was only four in the afternoon. "I just want you to know that I probably would have loved you if you had kept your hair."

He realized that hair was all it took to get his lady back and he raced to his car. But where to go?

He chose Mass Books, the local used bookstore. Now all he had to do was find a book on hair growth." The brunette stopped and the two girls laughed together. A guy in a staff shirt came over shaking his head.

"Just terrible," he commented.

The girl brought a hand to her chest in mock offence. "And just what, Ethan, did you not like about my story?"

"Watching infomercials? And why would he just start blaming the divorce on his baldness now?"

"Maybe he wasn't aware it was a turn-off."

The blond girl snorted. "Oh, I think anyone would know it was a turn off. He's all patchy."

Ethan gave her a high-five. "Thanks Daphne. See Janie, some people understand what I'm talking about."

Janie rolled her eyes but grinned anyway.

"Oh, and I almost forgot," Ethan said. "We've kind of been using a copy of Twilight as a hockey puck in the break room, and I blamed its current state on you when Brad asked."

"What!" Janie exploded, but Ethan was already walking away. "Its official, Daphne, I'm going to kill him."

I turn away from the conversation to raise my eyebrows at Matt. "What's so special about her?"

The door dings.

He groans and shakes his head. "Turn back around before you miss it!"

Now Daphne is surveying the newest customer, a short lady with her hair in a messy bun wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a line indenting the fabric above her waist.

"All right, show me up again Daphne." Janie says.

Daphne gives a modest grin and then begins. "Catherine was at home, cleaning house. The smell of Clorox calming the nerves frayed from her recent phone call. If only she could clean up her act as easily as she could a bathroom.

Her mother-in-law dropped the bomb only an hour ago about how her son, Catherine's husband, had invited his whole family over for dinner the following night, and wasn't that such a nice surprise? What are you going to cook, dear?

What was she going to cook? Never before had food been so important.

She stopped cleaning and threw on an apron, tying it tight. Then she removed it.

Lobster? Chicken? A casserole? Maybe some exotic meal with fruit incorporated?

She had no idea how to cook anything as grand as that. Jumping in her car, she turned down streets not seeing where she was going. When the Mass Books sign came into view she threw her car into a parking spot and came to buy some cookbooks."

Daphne stops and starts another conversation with Janie, but I'm not listening.

Matt taps my shoulder but I'm still staring into space, not willing myself to believe.

He's flying.

No higher than the first row of books, but still he's flying. So is Drake, his feet hover even with my knees.

The final test, I dare a glance at my feet.

The faded carpet is at least a foot away.

"See?" Says Matt. "I told you I had a feeling."

I can't stop the grin that bursts from out of nowhere. "We found her."