Chapter 1
"Now, I've got you , Peter Pan!"
"Not a chance, Cap'n Hook!" John and little brother Michael were in the playroom playing a game of the usual, Peter Pan and Captain Hook. The boys were running around, climbing on top of everything they could get their feet on: the toy chest, the chairs, the table. "Could you boys quiet down, please, I am trying to read," Wendy politely asked, but she was completely unaware as to exactlly what the boys were doing. John and Michael were still playing pretend fighting with their wooden swords, dressed up in their usual costumes: a priate hat, and a clothes hanger used as a hook for John, for he was always Captain Hook, and Michael was always Peter Pan, wearing his green pointed hat with the red feather stuck in the side.
"Sure thing, Wendy," John assured, not taking his eyes off the play war between he and his brother, who has been getting quite good lately. Wendy looked up fro her book with wonder in her icy blue eyes, and watched her two younger brothers play. "What on Earth are you boys playing, anyway?" The boys stopped running around, clashing teir swords together and just stared at Wendy. All three stood, staring at eachother for a few seconds, before John smiled. "Wow, Wendy. You're acting studies must really be coming along great! You almost had me there. I can't even believe I even considered accepting the thought of you being serious." Wendy closed her book, and help it down in front of her with both of her hands holding onto it. "But I am serious." Michael walked up to his big sister and looked up at her face. Then he turned to John, shaking his head. "Yep, she's serious."
John rushed to Wendy immediatley. "Wendy are ya sick? Do you need to lie down? How about you take a really long sleep tonight? Because I think your brain is oddly off."
"No, no, and no!" Wendy was appauled that some one should tell her that they thought her mind was not right. She read books, studied her subjects. She had good manners. Surely, she wasn't the one in the wrong mind. "And you say you don't know what we were playing?" Wendy kept her perfect posture, still keeping her book in the same place it already was. "Yes, sir, I do."
"We're playing Peter Pan and Cap'n Hook!" Michael spoke up, still climbing on the objects in the room, swinging his sword around. Wendy put her book down on the table next to her and went to go pick up Michael and make him stop jumping around like a monkey. " Now really, boys, What is it about that game you like so much?"
"I can pretend to be Peter Pan the hero!" Michael exclaimed excitedly. "Well you know he's nothing more that a made up character Michael."
"Huh?" No he's not. We went to Neverland with him!"
"Yeah, Wendy. Don't ya remember we went, lets see." John started counting on his fingers. Wendy just watched with Michael in her arms, looking uninterested, but also wonderous. "Five months, one week, and two days ago." Wendy just put put on her logic face and said, "Well You have a very constuctive imagination." Wendy just stuck up her nose and walked out of the playroom, still carrying Michael. "Father will scold us if we aren't ready for bed by eight," Wendy called out from the hallway. John started to follow, so he could get himself ready for bed, until he heard a nosie. Nothing loud, just a little bell-like sound. Then he had heard some one go, "Shh!" John whipped himself around to see who was behind him. No one was there. The window was open, so it was probably just some one outside, but there was something about that bell sound. John then made his way to the window and looked out. He saw nothing but a man, a beggar, ringing a bell, wishing for charity, and a sweeper, sweeping the streets.
Michael was disappointed. He was so sure it was not only his, but also Wendy's and Michael's adventure calling them back. Then, something hit him that never had before: maybe Wendy was right. Was it all just a figure of their imaginations? No. John wasn't going to let himself believe that. All of this was just a coincidence, and Wendy was in denial for some apparent reason John nor Michael could understand. All he knew is that if Wendy kept this up, she would end up convicing Michael that Neverland doesn't exsist, with him still being so young. Why was this such a big deal? It never was before. Ever since they came home from Neverland, Wendy hasn't told one story of Peter Pan, Tinkerbelle, Captain, Hook, or even Neverland itself.
Why? With all this thinking, John barely noticed himself yawning. Closing the window and turning out the light, he walked out of the playroom and closed the door. He walked passed Michael's room, and Wendy was reading to him. Instead of creating her own story, she selected one? Supposedly, this was a phase for Wendy that would not pass easily nor quickly.
Michael's eyes were falling down, lower everytime he blinked. It was never like this before. Michael would always be so excited to hear Wendy's stories, but now, everything just seems so, lifeless, at least to John. Wendy noticed Michael had fallen asleep, before she was able to get far into the story. She was happy, though. At least she would have a minute or so to herself before bed. She closed her book and tucked Michael in, then turned off the lamp. It wasn't until she got to the door, did she see John. There was a look on his face Wendy couldn't really read. "John, what's wrong?" He just stared at her for a second, then answered in a somber tone. "Nothing," he said, as he walked to his room, slowly, with his head down. Wendy felt bad that she couldn't help whatever was bothering him. They weren't as close as they used to be. Wendy wondered why John was suddenly unopen with her. Surely whatever it was, it would pass soon enough.
Wendy walked down the hall to her room. Before opening the door, she paused. The light wasn't on before, was it? Then the thought of someone being in her room triggered memories of her dreams. All the wonderful dreams of flying, and seeking new adventures in new places. The rainbow, the magic, the pirate, the mermaids, the indians. It all felt like memories of life rather than dreams. Impossible, Wendy thought. Putting her own sense of logic into her mind, she shook her head away from those thoughts, stuck her nose up and headed into her room. The light had not been turned on in her room. What could it have been, Wendy thought. Just then, a magical sounding bell of some sort rang, so solftly it would have been impossible to hear it if any other noise of any kind was heard as well. Wendy thought for a moment: How could there be light in here if there isn't really at all? And how am I hearing something so impossibly quiet as if coming from something rather small? It couldn't, could it? Could all those dreams really be reality? Of course not! One should never think such silly thoughts, but yet, Wendy found herself moving closer to her window. Again, she heard the bell sound. It sounded so familiar. Again, her memories flashed back in her mind, but this time it was different. Those little bells, sounding like little tinkering sounds, like a little tinker bell. Little tinker bell, little tinker bell. Wendy gasped. "Tinkerbelle!" She rushed the rest of the way over to her opened window. She now realized why she always kept her window opened, even now. She was always waiting, even if she didn't realize it. Always waiting to be taken away to her dream home. When she peeked out the window, still a little hesitant, Wendy took a big gulp and forced herself to look all the way. She was. Her eyes grew big and her breath nearly gone. It felt as though the wind was taking it right out of her opened mouth.