Chapter 2
The next morning there was nothing to show of Mr. Darling's rampage, except that Mrs. Darling might have been a bit paler than usual. Mr. Darling had already gone to work by the time the children gathered in the kitchen to eat their breakfast. Nana kept diligent watch, making sure they ate all their butter and toast as Mrs. Darling prepared to go out.
"Now children," Mrs. Darling began, "Make sure you take your walk with Nana and take your naps, and please if you could pick up some of your toys around the house, they seem to have traveled too far from the nursery and I'm sure they're all wishing to be home."
With that, Mrs. Darling gave each of them a kiss and left them in Nana's capable paws.
Her final words stayed with the children long after she had left. They did not acknowledge Mr. Darling's explosion of temper, but they did pay heed to the substance of his fury. Wendy, John, and Michael did not have a cross word with Nana the entire day. They did not even take their play hour, instead spending the time cleaning up the rest of the house. Nana watched them with concern, but did not remark on their behavior.
Wendy was their taskmaster, albeit a kind one, gently pushing her brothers to clean up the messes they had left behind, making sure Michael put his toys in their box rather than shoving them under the bed. She could feel their tension as they worked, knew they were awash in shame and misery at their father's harsh judgment of them. They wanted to do better so he would love them.
Wendy found she did not share their sentiments. As she worked there was no sense of penitence for her messy ways, no shame for the frustration she caused her father. There, barely acknowledged at the beginning, but growing into a dark, fiery thing by dinnertime, was her own rage. When she became aware of it she tried to push it down, tried to talk it away with filial piety and duty and a girl's place. It would not leave, and when they sat to eat, Nana looked at her lack of appetite with a different concern than she beheld the boy's disinterested picking.
Their mother came home only briefly to tuck them in, informing them that she was meeting their father at 27 for dinner, and they would be home long after the children had fallen asleep. She was still meek and pale, and Wendy felt the dark fire in her belly roil. She could not even manage a proper good-bye to her mother, and bit back tears of anger when her mother accepted it without a word.
Sleep came in a dark wave, but it didn't bring a peaceful darkness. It brought a cold breeze that tickled her nose and made her shiver. In her dreams there was a lithe figure and a small, bright light. They rattled and made a great noise. And then someone was crying.
It took a few moments for Wendy to realize the sobs were not a dream and were in fact in her bedroom. She sat up, worried and expecting to see one of her brothers crying. Instead there was a different boy, one who looked closer to her own age, sitting on the ground with a frame and the shadow sail, trying desperately to repair his solar surfer, but without much luck.
So surprised was Wendy to see this stranger that she said the only thing that came to mind; "Boy, why are you crying?"
He looked up, startled out of his crying. He stared a moment, his blue eyes large and bright, before helplessly holding up his items.
"I can't fix it," he answered simply. Wendy slid out of bed and went over to him, holding out her hands for the sail and the board. She waited patiently as the boy shied away, and finally handed them over to her. She looked at them carefully, but at the same time snuck several peeks at the boy. She didn't know many boys other than her brothers; Mrs. Darling had always kept them home, saying she felt better when they were near her. This boy didn't look like Michael or John at all. His hair was not neatly combed, his face not nicely scrubbed, and his cloths looked like bits and scraps sewn haphazardly together. Wendy did not think she had ever encountered such a fascinating creature.
"I think I can sew it so it'll stay on," she said confidently, determined to be friendly even if this strange boy would continue to be shy. She got her sewing box, took her thickest thread and some wax, and began to attach the sail. She hummed to herself, pretending to ignore the boy. He did not seem satisfied with being left by himself, and slowly began to inch closer, looking intently at her work on his solar surfer. When his shoulder was practically touching hers, Wendy spoke.
"What is your name?"
Again startled he jumped back, but then scurried closer.
"I am Peter," he told her with a grin, "Who are you?"
"Wendy Moira Angela Darling," she responded. He looked at her incredulously.
"What, all that at once? But you're only one person."
"It is my name," Wendy retorted, bristling a little, "My mother chose it for me herself!" But she could not think about her mother now. That deep, secret rage from before threatened to rise up, and Wendy looked away from the boy so he would not see the hot, furious tears in her eyes. However, he seemed to notice that something was amiss, because he reached out to her.
"What is it Wendy?"
As his hand touched her shoulder, a violent rattling from a chest of drawers made the both jump.
"Tink!" Peter hissed, leaping to his feet and running to the drawers. A small little light flew out and began shooting about the room with a whirring and clicking sound, accompanied by the tinkle of small bells.
"A…fairy?" Wendy asked, eyes wide as they followed the little light around the room.
"If you like," Peter said with a shrug, "Compass Fairy, she sees me home. Come on now Tink, stop that. Why'd you shut yourself in a drawer if you couldn't get out again?"
"Where is home for you, Peter?" Wendy asked, knowing it would be someplace terribly exciting. Peter gestured vaguely out the window.
"Second star the right, and straight on till morning."
Wendy looked outside, "But there are so many stars!"
Peter smiled at her, "There are, aren't there? Here," he took her hand and pointed with it, "That one. That one leads home."
"Do you live with your family there?" Wendy asked. Peter's face lost his smile and he shrugged despondently.
"It's just me and the lost boys."
"The lost boys?" Wendy asked, having never heard of such a thing, "But what about your parents? Their parents?"
"Got none. None of us have any," Peter answered, the light gone from his face. He looked sideways at Wendy, "We have no mother to tuck us in, to cook for us, care for us, to mend our clothes or help us if we get hurt. Tink, get away."
"That's just awful, Peter," Wendy said quietly, but then wondered if it really was so awful. Her own father did not want her or her brothers. Her mother was too weak to protect them. They would all be sent into workhouses, she was sure of it. But this place where there were no parents, this could be an escape. To live without rules, without fear… Wendy could hardly contain the sudden excitement she felt building in her breast. She restrained herself, merely for a moment so Peter wouldn't think her bad-mannered, then commanded, "Peter, you must take me back with you. All of you need a mother!"
Peter's grin returned, brighter and more vibrant than before, even as he batted Tink away.
"Absolutely, let's go now!" he said, jumping up, grabbing her arm and hurtling towards the open window.
"Peter, wait!" Wendy gasped. She could not leave her brothers behind while she escaped, "Peter, my brothers should go with us. John and Michael, there in their beds."
Peter glanced over at them and wrinkled his nose, "Very well, if you wish," he said imperiously. Elated, Wendy ran to each bother, shaking them awake, telling them the exciting news. They woke up groggily and at first did not understand her, but when they saw Peter and the bright little Compass Fairy, the jumped up and made such a racket that Wendy had to hush them, certain Nana would hear.
"Peter, how do get to your home?" Wendy finally asked, once she had quieted her brothers. Peter's grin widened and he held out his solar surfer.
"Is it big enough for all four of us?" John asked, excitement stuttering his words. His fingers were already itching forward, dying to touch the device. Peter frowned and thought about that for a second.
"None of you have one of your own?" he asked.
"No, Father wouldn't allow it," John said sadly.
"Well, we'll have to make ourselves fit," Peter declared, and Michael and John cheered at the simplicity of the solution.
"Not so fast, we must pack before we go," Wendy said, preparing to take charge, "We need our coats, and food, and –"
"No you don't, silly!" Peter said, "Besides, there's no room for any of that anyways!"
"Well we have to at least put on our shoes," Wendy insisted. Peter shrugged, allowing that. The three children scurried to find and don their shoes, and when finished, ran to line up by the window.
Peter stepped up on the seat and reached out, pressing a button on his solar surfer so it unfolded into a sturdy board with a large sail that glimmered dimly in the moonlight. He hopped on, and motioned the others to join. Wendy sent John next, then Michael, and placed herself at the back so she could hold on to them and make sure they didn't fall.
"Everyone set?" Peter asked, looking around excitedly. They cheered.
"Alright, here we go! Tink, show us the way!"
The little bright light zoomed ahead, and Peter followed after it.
Flying. It was like nothing Wendy had ever experienced. She had been on one of the great airships before, but that had been so smooth, so steady, it was like being on solid ground. This was flying. Peter rode each gust of wind naturally, and the other children soon learned to mimic his movements, leaning into the sail and arching away from it by turns. Wendy knew she had never felt so alive as those moments when the wind jostled her, threatened to throw them about like a ragdoll, but the shifting of their bodies kept them on course.
They flew high above the city, then Peter, as a joke, sent them zipping down, just above the waterfall which cascaded from the floating island. The other three children screamed, and laughed alongside Peter when he righted them again.
Eventually they left the city far behind, and all that surrounded them was the velvety blackness of night and the pinprick stars. John and Michael began to grow tired, and it was all Wendy could do to stay awake and hold onto them.
A faint rose glow appeared on the horizon, and Wendy strained to see over Peter's head.
A small, mountainous island appeared, small from this distance. There was no city lighting the clouds above it, there were no airships anchored at bustling docks, and as they approached nearer and nearer there was no sound but the rushing of the wind.
Wendy had never felt happier in her entire life.