Chapter 1: The Discovery
Peter Pan woke up on that summer Tuesday morning as he did any other morning; dried drool still splattered on his cheek as he threw on a simple tunic and pants, rushed out to the kitchen and devoured his morning porridge. Tuesdays weren't particularly special for Peter. They were the same as the preceding Mondays and the Wednesdays that followed.
Peter wiped his porridge-stained mouth with his sleeve, pushed his bowl away and headed for the door.
"And where do you think you're going?" Mrs. Pan called after him with a harsh tone. She was a short, stocky woman with a round face.
Peter cringed hearing her voice and reluctantly turned on his heels to face her.
"To go play with the lads—" Peter replied with large, pleading eyes.
"Not until you do your chores, Peter!" Mrs. Pan said definitively as she wiped up the breakfast he spilled onto the table.
"I already did my chores," Peter fibbed unconvincingly.
"Peter Pan!" Mrs. Pan scowled, "Are you lying to your mother again?"
Peter shrugged, "Mum, I promise I'll come home before dark and do them!" Peter pleaded with his hands clasped in a ball in front of him. "Please?"
Mrs. Pan hesitated a moment, deliberating on her verdict. This exchange happened a few times a week. Usually, Mrs. Pan was very firm. No meant no. However, on this ordinary Tuesday, for some strange reason, she was lenient.
"Come home early enough to finish your chores before supper," she said reluctantly.
Peter rushed out the door, a winning grin plastered across his face.
"Not even a kiss for your mother!?" Mrs. Pan yelled after him, but Peter did not turn back.
This Tuesday was special, and not just because he was allowed to skip his morning chores. Unbeknownst to Peter, this was the day that would be the catalyst to make him infamous.
The sky above Peter was grey, as were most days in London, England. He scurried down the dirty streets, clicking his heels in excitement. He jumped over a large puddle, not quite clearing it, and landed with a splash. Dirty water and mud splattered onto his shoes and pants.
Surprisingly, Peter Pan was a normal boy. No magic. No flying. No fairies. Not a pirate in sight. He was a perfectly average specimen for a ten-year-old English boy of his time. But what was Peter's time? At this particular moment in Peter's life, it was 1710.
Peter's long run came to a stop at a quaint market square. Grey cobble-stone shops faced the dirt street beckoning perusing Londoners. A dozen other boys, most of them a few years older than Peter, gathered in a circle on the street corner. Peter barged his way in, pushing two boys apart to make a space for himself. Robin, a thirteen-year-old with Jet-black hair and ruddy cheeks, led the group.
"That wall is safe, but you have to hide at least 10 ells away from it in order to tag it!" Robin explained the rules of the game to the group.
"How big is an ell again?" Taylor, a rough looking twelve-year-old with a face full of pockmarks, asked with a raspy voice and furrowed brows.
"About this much," Robin said as he spread out his hands, just short of their full length.
This was one of Peter's favorite games to play: Hideaway. But he was tired of having to hide and tag the wall with the other younger boys. He wanted to be a Chaser; the boy who found the hiders and tagged them before they could reach the wall.
Peter stood up straight to appear as tall as possible, "Could I be a Chaser?" he asked with his best attempt to sound confident. The boys around him groaned. This, too, was a normal part of Peter's routine.
"Pan, how many times do we have to tell you? You're too little to be a Chaser!" Taylor barked.
"I've been getting faster!" Peter replied with clenched fists.
"Peter, you hide this round. If you make it to the wall safe, you can be a Chaser next round," Robin replied.
Peter knew his chances of outrunning the other boys in the game was unlikely, which is why he was never allowed to be a Chaser in the first place He was younger and smaller, and therefore slower than the rest of the boys. And he had never done it before, despite his best efforts. He even resorted to cheating on a few occasions! Yet, it made no difference. But Peter was desperate to be included with the older boys and be a Chaser.
"What if I hide for the entire round, and none of you find me?" Peter proposed, "Can I be a Chaser then?"
"You have the worst hiding spots, Pan," Taylor scoffed.
"Then you'll find me!" Peter retorted.
"Robin, I don't have time for this! We need to get the game started!" pleaded Max, a bespectacled eleven-year-old.
"Fine, Peter! You can be a Chaser in the next round if you tag the wall or if you don't get found. Happy?" Robin declared. "But you can't hide too far away from the wall! If I catch you cheating again by hiding beyond the limits, I'll kick you out of the game entirely…for a week!"
The other boys traded deliberating looks, considering whether Robin's proposal was fair.
Max squirmed, "We need to hurry and start! My father is interrogating the man who broke into the Cromwell basement! And he says I can listen in. I can't be late!"
"Really? My father heard he is mad," Robin said.
"He is completely mad!" Max said with a smile, "And I get to hear the whole interrogation! My father said they are probably going to ship him off to the Americas!"
"Who is this man?" Peter inquired.
"Some man broke into the basement of the Cromwell House and was living there," James, a twelve-year old, answered disinterested.
"That's not so bad!" Peter proclaimed. He had heard of men doing far worse. Just the week prior a man stole an entire ham from the butcher shop. And the month before that, a man set fire to his neighbor's house.
"Yeah, but the man claims that he is Mr. Cromwell's great-great-grandfather!" Max explained to Peter and the group.
"But old man Cromwell is ancient! That's impossible!" Peter exclaimed.
"My father said he had strange things down in the basement with him, too!" Max squeaked.
"What kind of strange things?" Robin asked.
"All sorts of peculiar objects," Max replied, "Why don't you come to the interrogation with me and hear for yourself?" Max asked Robin.
"Us too?" Taylor gestured to himself and James.
Max nodded, "My father will let the four of us sit in the back and we can hear the whole thing! But if we are going to make it on time we need to get this game started!"
"What about me?" Peter said, "Can I come too?"
"You're too young, Pan!" Taylor croaked, "You'll get scared and wet yourself!"
"I will not!" Peter fired back.
"You are too little, Pan!" Robin said decisively, "Who knows what this man will reveal. He could have been torturing people in that basement—"
"Max is only a little older than me!" Peter said.
Robin pushed by Peter, ignoring him, "All right everyone, we are about to start!"
But then Peter had an idea. The Cromwell house was around the corner and just within the area he needed to hide within for the game. The basement would be the perfect place to hide! And while he was in there, he could investigate for himself. The other boys would be so impressed with him if he emerged from the basement with one of the mad man's strange objects! They would be so impressed with his bravery they would have to invite him to the interrogation!
"Me, Taylor, and James as Chasers. The rest of you are the Hiders!" Robin announced to the large group, "Countdown starts…now!" The boys scattered. "30, 29, 28…"
They ran as fast as they could in all directions: down London alleys and behind the shops. They ducked behind barrels and hid behind crates. Peter ran straight to the Cromwell house. He heard Robin's countdown getting farther and farther away, fading into the background.
Peter reached the Cromwell house; it was a large house. It could have been grand, but it had a dilapidated front door and multiple broken windows. Mr. Cromwell lived there alone and was too elderly to tend to it.
Peter knew he could not simply knock on the front door and be let down into the basement. Mr. Cromwell was ornery. Instead, he would need to sneak himself in as the mad man did. But how did the mad man find a way in? Peter circled the house, surveying for a way down into the basement. Then he found an opening: a broken rectangular window..
"Ready or not, here we come!" Robin bellowed from the distance, making Peter's heart leap in excitement.
Peter got on his hands and knees and lowered himself into the basement. He hung onto the base of the window tightly and dropped with a thud. The basement was dark and smelled of mold. Only the small, broken window let light in. Peter did his best to look around, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.
The basement resembled an abandoned workshop of some sort. Worktables and benches covered with a layer of dust filled the drafty room. Strange glass tubes and peculiar equipment were laid out on side tables. Were these the strange objects Max was referring to?
Peter approached a table. A large parchment covered in dust lay on top. Peter brushed off the dust and held the parchment up to the light, revealing a drawing: circles, surrounded by smaller circles. Scribbled numbers and words and calculations filled the spaces of the page between the drawings. Peter did not know it, but the drawings were that of a solar system. He scrunched his face at it and tossed it aside, disinterested.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Taylor's raspy voice rang through the alley Peter had just come from.
Peter darted underneath a table. Even though he wanted to explore the strange items, he needed to win the game by not getting found. He held still, not wanting to make any noise and draw attention to the basement.
Suddenly, his eyes spotted something shining in the darkness. It wasn't a usual shining, like light refracting from a glass, or the sun reflecting off water. It was a peculiar shimmering coming from the opposite wall.
Peter couldn't help himself. He was a very curious ten-year-old boy. He crawled out from under the table and approached the opposite wall to inspect the shimmer. It was coming from behind a painting hanging askew on the wall. How odd to have a painting in a drafty basement, Peter thought to himself.
Peter could hear nearby footsteps splashing in puddles and running through the alley, growing closer to him.
He moved the odd, crooked painting to reveal a fist-sized hole in the wall behind it. And inside the hole was the source of the shimmer: a black stone. It wasn't small enough to be considered a pebble, but not large enough to be referred to as a rock. Peter reached out a hand and grasped it. It fit perfectly in his palm.
"We are going to find you, Pan!" Taylor's voice called devilishly from right outside.
Peter thought about darting underneath the table again, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He was fixated on the stone. It gleamed in his hand. He held it closer to his eyes. Flecks and sparkles darted and moved not on the surface of the stone, but within the stone. He tilted it in his hand and the stone appeared concave. He tilted it to the other direction, and it appeared convex.
Peter gazed deeper into the stone; the specs and glitter that danced within the stone were stars and planets and galaxies!
What Peter did not understand was what he held in his hand was no stone at all. It was a wormhole!
"Peter! Where are you?" Robin called nearby with an exasperated tone, "You better not be cheating!"
But Peter paid no attention to the boys just outside the basement, searching for him tirelessly. The shimmering stone engrossed him. He was transfixed. Peter brought the stone closer to his face and leaned in toward it. Suddenly, without warning, everything around Peter was black swirls; the basement swirled in darkness and rings of light. Strange high-pitched noises rang in Peter's ears. He was weightless, yet simultaneously, he felt as though he were falling. Scared, Peter closed his eyes and clutched the stone tightly in his palm. He felt his body being pulled from one direction to another; he was upside down; he was right side up! Peter was endlessly spinning and twirling with no control.
Then…Peter felt nothing. It was suddenly quiet. Peter stood still with his eyes firmly shut. The only movement he felt were his own trembling knees. As his heartbeat slowed, and his panting grew quieter, he heard water; the unmistakable sound of nearby waves crashing onto a shore. A light breeze brush against his skin and tousle his hair. He smelled salt in the air, and fresh grass, and a subtle sweetness from flowers and fruit trees.
With all the courage he could muster, Peter opened his eyes. Before him he saw a grassy field filled with vibrantly colored wildflowers with a crystal-clear ocean just beyond. Pete's mouth hung agape in shock. He knew he was no longer in the Cromwell basement.
What Peter didn't know was that he was no longer in London at all. In fact, he was no longer on planet Earth. Peter was on Planet 112 in Galaxy 90. Or, more popularly known as, Neverland.
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