Chapter 6

The Grand Neverland Tour

"Come on, Margaret, cheer up," Peter said, flying next to Margaret. "We're gonna show you our hideout and then I'll take you around Neverland like I promised you earlier! Remember?"

"I guess," Margaret said distractedly. She couldn't concentrate on anything. It's a wonder how her feet carried her through the forest while her mind was only on the recently banished fairy.

She couldn't help but admit that Tinker Bell had hurt her deeply. She had trusted the fairy and believed the fairy would possibly want to be her friend. But to find out afterward that the fairy, whom Margaret had always dreamed of, had tried to kill her . . . Margaret didn't know what to think.

She had watched the glow of Tinker Bell disappear into the sky and her eyes remained there until Peter decided to take them all to their hideout. The Lost Boys cheered in excitement and ran off, leading the way. Little barked after them as she chased after them like she was chasing that squirrel. Peter would fly after them, chuckling along the way. But Margaret, who's thoughts remained on Tinker Bell, lingered behind and followed the noisy cheers of the Lost Boys through the forest. Soon, Peter returned to her and looked at her with a mix of confusion and anxiety.

"Margaret," Peter gently called to her. "Margaret," he sang, waving his hand over Margaret's eyes, snapping her from her trance.

"Hmm, what?"

"Margaret, you okay? You have been acting weird since we left. What's up? Well, besides me," he smirked at his own joke.

Normally, Margaret would smirk along. But now, Margaret wasn't in the mood for humor.

"Nothing," Margaret mumbled as she continued on walking slowly.

Peter frowned, following her closely. "You've been saying that word every time I ask you. Is that the only thing you could say?"

Margaret shrugged and walked passed Peter, who stopped moving and stared at her retreating back. He looked down in thought and a smile crept out.

Margaret didn't pay attention to Peter or what he was up to. Her thoughts still remained on the fairy that had deeply crushed her. She paused and rubbed her forehead as if trying to rub off her stupidity. She should have known Tinker Bell wouldn't even think of befriending her. All those descriptions from those stories should have explained clearly of what the fairy truly was and to warn her not to put her hopes too high on Tinker Bell. But Margaret ignored them all, believing in her childish dreams that she and Tinker Bell would become good friends.

She had been an idiot to have believed Tinker Bell in helping her. She should have noticed those sulky and furious looks the fairy gave to Margaret from London. She had been so stupid!

She still couldn't figure out why she had made Peter shorten Tinker Bell's banishment for three weeks. She should have allowed that fairy to be banished forever; she deserved it! But it was her childhood dreams that stopped her and convinced her to help Tinker Bell, even if that fairy would never forgive her.

Margaret felt so angry at herself, she felt like ripping her hair apart!

Suddenly, Margaret shrieked in surprise. Someone was unexpectedly poking its hands on her stomach from behind her and began to mercilessly tickle her. Margaret laughed uncontrollably as she struggles to get away. She could hear from behind her the sweet laughing sound of Peter Pan.

Margaret attempted to push Peter's hands away, but that only encouraged him to tickle her more. Peter pulled her off the ground, twirled around happily, and then landed on the ground. Both couldn't stop laughing.

Peter fell silent as he watched Margaret breathlessly laughing; his lips grinning as if he had accomplished a mission.

"Now there's that smile I've been looking for," Peter said. Margaret looked at Peter, still trying to regain her breath. Her eyes just couldn't leave his charming and wonderful eyes and his fun and exciting grin.

"Look, you can't go all grumpy and moody around here," Peter explained. "Neverland's a place for fun and excitement, not for moping around. You can do whatever you want here, remember? Forget Tink and forget London and that, 'America'."

Margaret smiled appreciatively at him. "You're right. I came here to have fun, and that's what I'm gonna do!"

"That's the spirit," Peter cheered. "Race ya to Hangman Jr.'s Tree!"

"But I don't know where it is."

"Too bad!" Peter shouted after he zoomed off and disappeared into the forest. Margaret laughed, shaking her head, and ran after him.

"No fair," she shouted after him. She could hear chuckles from the ageless boy and followed the noise. She ran through the forest, pushing away branches in the way and jumping over logs or rocks.

Finally, Margaret arrived at another clearing. There, she could see the Lost Boys, her puppy, and Peter, gathering around, what looked like, an old, crooked and leafless tree that stood in the center of the clearing. It looked about the same descriptions in her mum's story, and it looked like it was a duplicate of the first tree hideout (according to grandmum's descriptions of the old one).

"There you are," Peter exclaimed as he moved in front of her, his arms playfully crossed. "What took you so long?"

"Well, considering you left me all alone with no guidance, I had to let my wits guide me instead," Margaret answered, playing along. "Oh, by the way, next time that happens again, try to chuckle louder."

Peter chuckled. "Hey, if I would have known you like to hear my enchanting, chuckling voice, I could have spent more time on it."

Margaret covered her face, not from laughing, but to hide her blushing cheeks.

"Well," Peter turned to everyone. "Now that we're all here, let's go on inside!"

The Lost Boys cheered and ran toward the lonely tree. They went to separate spots around the tree, pulled secret levels or hidden switches, and disappeared into appearing holes. Little followed Tootles, barking along the way.

"Would you like to try our, 'special entrance', m' lady?" Peter asked Margaret in a mock British-like gentleman, bowing to her.

"Why, I would be delighted," Margaret said in the same tone, only lady-like.

"Then," Peter jumped up in midair and wrapped his hands under Margaret's arms without warning. "Here we go!"

He carried her over to the top of the tree and dropped her. Margaret screamed as she fell inside and landed on a slide. She slid down and around until she fell, bounced off from a bed, and landed right on Peter's waiting arms, who had already entered from who knows where.

"Now that was pretty fun, wasn't it?" Peter asked cheekily. Trying to cover her burning blush on being carried in Peter's arms, she hit him on the chest. This was a bad idea when Peter cried, "Ow," and dropped her on the floor. She could hear the Lost Boys laughing and saw Little right beside her, licking her pain away.

"What was that for," Peter frowned, rubbing his chest.

"For scaring me half to death! You could have warned me!"

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

Margaret rolled her eyes and shook her head, grinning. Margaret then paused to take a look of their hideout.

It looked just like what the stories described it. It was an underground cave, where there's a bed (where the Lost Boys and Little were currently at), six small hammocks hanging on one side of the underground cave, and a bear-skinned rug lying on the floor. There were stairs that must have led to the entrances to the tree. And there was also a throne-like chair, where Peter swooped down and sat proudly on it, like a king.

"Welcome," Peter proclaimed. "To our secret, underground hideout: Hangman Jr.'s Tree!"

All the Lost boys cheered wildly and Little barked along as if cheering as well. Margaret grinned wider.

"Let me show you around," Peter hopped off of his chair. He pointed to his chair. "That's my chair. Only I sit there, and if anyone but me sits there (or touches any of my stuff), they'll be murdered in their sleep," He threatened dangerously. He said this while giving the Lost Boys a pointed look, causing them all to gulp uneasily and quickly jumped off and away the bed.

Margaret stared at Peter amusingly. He must really be serious about his possessions.

Changing the mood of his voice to a happy one, Peter pointed to the bed the Lost Boys had been on recently. "That's my bed where I sleep and sleep alone."

Margaret hid her giggle. No wonder the Lost Boys were so quick to escape Peter's bed.

"Over there," Peter continued, pointing at the small hammocks, where the Lost Boys now occupy. "Are the Lost Boys' bed."

Margaret could see Little jumping after the hammock Tootles was on, which was the lowest and smallest of all the hammocks. Helpfully, Tootles lifted Little and placed her close to him, earning a grateful lick. Margaret was glad to see Little getting along with him.

"Back there are where we keep our weapons," Peter went on, pointing to somewhere else. "And that's where we have our . . ."

Margaret no longer paid attention. She was staring at something that was sticking out from under a pillow on Peter's bed. Curiously, Margaret stepped forward and took it out. In her hand was a small and musical pipe.

"Hey," Slightly's voice rang out, causing Margaret to jump in surprise. "That's Peter's pipe!"

At those words, Peter flashed to Margaret and his eyes narrowed onto the pipe in her hand.

"Margaret, put that down and step away from it," Peter warned her.

Margaret's eyes traveled from Peter to his pipe and back to Peter. She grew a mischievous smirk on the thought of getting revenge on Peter for tickling her earlier.

"Hmmm," she raised Peter's pipe up to her eye level and examined it. She could tell, from the corner of her eyes, that Peter was getting more irritated from her playing his pipe. "I wonder how it works."

"Blow on it and you die," Peter threatened, but his eyes were playfully challenging her. Margaret slowly raised the pipe toward her mouth, building dramatic tension to the whole area.

"Don't do it, Mar'gret," one of the Lost Boys begged. She could hear the others agreeing and also begging Margaret. Little let out a whimper, as if to join the Lost Boys in begging.

But Margaret ignored them, her eyes dead set on Peter, who was glaring at her as if daring her.

Taking a deep breath, Margaret raised the pipe to her lips and blew on it, releasing a flute-like sound.

"That's it!" Peter said suddenly, jumping up in midair and zooming toward her. Margaret swiftly moved out of the way and blew on the pipe again, receiving a higher pitch sound than before.

"Look out!" two of the Lost Boys (possibly the Twins) shouted. Margaret twirled around and ducked just in time to miss Peter, who flew over her. She blew on the pipe once more and got a slightly different sound than the first one.

"Hey," Peter called out, grinning. "Give it here!"

"No!" Margaret shouted, also grinning, as she blew on the pipe, this time in three notes that was heard before.

Peter flew after her and Margaret ran away from the flying boy, still playing on the pipe, which seems to only play three notes.

Peter chased Margaret all over the underground cave, avoiding obstacles in their way. The Lost Boys, at first, didn't know who to cheered for. So, they just cheered for the both of them and watched the excitement. Little barked at the chasers.

Margaret suddenly stepped on her nightdress and was about to trip and fall to the ground. But Peter wrapped his arms around her from behind and held her firmly, spinning both of them around. They both burst into laughing again.

"Gimme!" Peter demanded, reaching for his pipe with his free hand.

"Never!" Margaret moved his pipe away from Peter's advancing hand. "Little, catch!" She threw the pipe before Peter's hand overtook her thrown hand.

Little popped out from the hammock and caught the flying pipe in her teeth. Margaret smiled triumphantly to Peter.

But Peter didn't give up. "Lost Boys . . . Get That Pipe!"

All at once, all the Lost Boys cheered excitedly as they jumped off from their hammocks and ran after Little. Little's eyes popped open at the stampeding boys and scurried away from them, gripping tight on the pipe. But it wasn't long before the Lost Boys jumped forward and stacked on top of Little one by one, burying the poor puppy under the mass of Lost Boys.

"I got it!" a hand popped out from the very top, his hand gripping on Peter's pipe. Margaret wasn't sure who the hand belonged to (she was too busy laughing to really think of this), but she had a hunch it was Nibs.

Peter flew over the tiny mountain of Lost Boys and snatched his pipe. "Thank you!" Peter said, satisfied. He flew over and swiftly landed on his throne-like chair. He rubbed his pipe, as if to clean the unwanted fingerprints off, and blew on it himself, releasing sweet notes from it.

He later narrowed his eyes on Margaret, who couldn't stop smiling. "Rule number one: no one touches my pipe but me. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Margaret mockingly saluted. "Wait, since when did you have rules?"

"Since now," Peter replied, sarcastically. Margaret rolled her eyes and turned to the Lost Boys, who remained where they were.

Tootles, who was stuck in the bottom of the pile (poor Tootles, Margaret thought to herself), lifted himself a little and, from underneath him, came Little, struggling to crawl out of the small hole Tootles could only provide for her. Finally, Little popped out, free. She licked Tootles in gratitude and rushed over to Margaret, jumping on the bed and rising on her paw feet. She barked at Margaret and Margaret came over and petted Little.

The Lost Boys at last pulled away from each other and walked over to Margaret and Little, talking excitedly of Little, who was staring at each one of them with her joyful eyes.

"Alright," Margaret began, turning to Peter. "If there are these, 'rules,' that I've never heard of from the stories, what other rules I should know about?"

"I'm glad you asked," Peter said, as if expecting that question. He rose from his chair, placing his pipe on his belt, and walked over to Margaret. "Rule number two: no one sits on or touches my chair but me."

"Okay," Margaret nodded understandably.

"Rule number three: no one sleeps or touches my bed but me."

At those words, realization came over Little and the Lost Boys; they were all touching his bed. The Lost Boys quickly moved away from the bed to the other side and Little jumped down and joined them. Margaret giggled under breath from this.

"Rule number four: whatever I tell you what to do, you do it. Right boys," he turned to the Lost Boys.

"Yep."

"Uh-huh."

"He's the boss."

"That's-"

"-Right."

Tootles nodded lastly, absentmindedly petting Little, who curled up to him.

"Anything else," Margaret asked, slightly amused from Peter's rules and thought of how ridicules they were.

"Yep; there's a whole lot of rules for you to know. But that'll take too long. I'll tell you tonight, after I give you that tour I promised you."

Margaret's eyes let up, excitement filling her heart. "Can we go know?"

Peter chuckled. "Sure we can."

"Wait," Slightly interrupted, stepped forward. "What're we gonna do while you're gone again?" The other Lost Boys nodded in agreement.

Peter shrugged. "I don't know; go hunting again, chase some Indians, spook those pirates, whatever."

An idea popped into Margaret's head after she glanced at Little. "Hey, why don't you boys take Little on your own tour?"

Little barked in agreement and most of the Lost Boys took a moment to think about it. But Tootles, beaming as never before, ran to Little and picked her up, twirling her around in joy. When Tootles stopped, Little licked his baby cheek.

"Well," Slightly said at last. "I guess we could take the puppy."

The other Lost Boys cheered as they gathered around Little. Little released a few cheerful barks as the Lost Boys petted her.

Margaret smiled as she watched on. Little never had this many affection back home. It was only Margaret who supplied it for her dear small puppy. And now, the whole Lost Boys were taking over the position Margaret had had for many years. She wasn't jealous, but she did feel sad that Little will soon be spending more time with the Lost Boys than with her. She knew that. She also knew that she herself will be busy as well, spending time with Peter (she blushed slightly at that thought). It distressed her that she and Little won't be spending time together anymore like they use to, but she completely understand.

Margaret whistled out loud and the Lost Boys silenced. She motioned Little to come to her and Little obeyed, hopping off of Tootles and scurrying to Margaret.

Margaret kneeled down and placed her hand on Little's head. "You promise to be good to them and to stay with them?" she asked to Little. Little nodded and stood up, waving her paws at her as if asking to be held. Margaret's smile widened as she hugged her puppy, feeling her tail wagging in delight. Margaret pulled back a little to receive a big lick from Little. Margaret giggled, releasing her and watched Little run back to the Lost Boys.

"So," Peter suddenly said, surprising her. He was floating close to her. Margaret didn't even notice him moving up to her. He landed on his bed in front of her, took his hat off, and bowed, saying in mock gentlemanly voice, "Are you ready for the grand tour of Neverland, m'lady?" He offered his hand to her.

Smirking, Margaret accepted his hand, saying in mock lady-like voice, "Yes, of course I am ready, good sir."

"Great!" Peter placed his hat back on his head and let go of Margaret's hand, puzzling Margaret. But before she asked, Peter jumped up in midair and swooped behind Margaret, wrapping his arms around her tight.

"What are you-"

"Hang on," Peter exclaimed right before he zoomed up through the ceiling entrance and up into the sky, holding Margaret the rest of the way. She screamed in surprise, but stopped when Peter paused in the sky.

Margaret saw that they were high above Neverland, giving them a full view of the entire land. Margaret looked down to see a dot on the center of the clearing, knowing it was Hangman Jr.'s Tree there.

"Now, where shall we begin," Peter asked Margaret. Margaret turned her head to him, but quickly turned away, realizing how very close their faces were.

"Um," Margaret slightly croaked, hurriedly clearing her voice to properly speak. "Uh, I don't know. Why don't you decide. You're the tour guide."

"Alright," He said, oblivious to Margaret's croaked voice or her blushing cheeks. "Peter Pan's expedition it is!"

"Wait," Margaret said suddenly, stopping Peter from diving down into the island. "Why are you carrying me? Why couldn't I've just flown along with you?"

"Oh, well, I . . ." Peter's face unexpectedly fell into a frown. His eyebrows crossed in thought. It was as if he never really thought of why he decided to carry her. Margaret watched him thoughtfully, still being held in Peter's grasp.

"Because . . . well . . . uh . . . I . . ." He tried not to look at her, but his eyes glanced on her a few times.

Finally, he said, "Because it's . . . more fun this way. Watch." He gripped her arms ad flipped her over him, having her land on his back, her wrapping her arms around him securely.

"Hold on tight," he told her. "And here we goooooooooo!"

As he said that last word, he dived straight down to Neverland. Margaret screamed, whether of fear or excitement she wasn't sure. But what she did know was that Peter was no longer diving down, but soaring over the vast ocean of trees. Margaret looked over Peter's shoulder, gripping on him firmly, and could see their own shadows beneath them.

Her eyes suddenly caught approaching waterfalls. Margaret had never seen a waterfall before and they were all beautiful. Peter glided over one of them and flew behind the waterfall so that Margaret could see the other side of it. This side was more darker than the other side, but it had that same magical beauty as the front side. Peter took Margaret's hand and directed toward the waterfall, where her hand parted the falling water, releasing unsuspecting and sparkling drops on both of them. Peter and Margaret laughed before Peter did an unexpected act: flying right through it. As likely, they were completely soaked, but they were too busy laughing to even care. Peter shook them both until they were dry again and set off.

Peter took her all over the island. He took her around the Never Peaks, flew her over the beaches, through caves and forests, pretty much everywhere there is to see. Along the way, Margaret couldn't help but snuggle onto Peter's warm back, gripping on him gently. She missed the puzzled glances Peter gave her.

He flew over to the Indian Village, where the Indians there greeted him as Flying Eagle. Margaret saw the Chief himself and his daughter, Tiger Lily, standing close by him (though Margaret thought she saw a furious look on Tiger Lily at the sight of her on Peter's back).

Peter flew her up into the sky, gliding over cloud after cloud. Feeling adventurous, Margaret crossed her legs around his stomach and sat up, spreading her arms out to feel the wind brush furiously against her. Peter glanced behind him and, after seeing what Margaret was doing, he chuckled merrily and flew faster.

Almost too fast.

Margaret's legs began to weaken and she was suddenly blown off of Peter, falling straight down to, of all places, a pile of sharp rocks resting on the shores. Peter, hearing her screams, flew after her and caught her just in time, gripping her tightly with her back pressed against his chest.

"I told you to hang on tight," he teased her.

"Shut up!" Margaret laughed.

They continued onward, this time their position switched. Margaret now had the full view of Neverland under her. And just as Margaret had done before, Peter subconsciously snuggled closer to Margaret. He caught her youthful and ecstatic eyes and saw how her eyes looked almost like the Never Oceans he had enjoyed flying over on occasions. He quickly turned away when he realized he was staring at her too long; he had to focus on where they were. What he didn't know was that Margaret glanced at him and also wore a puzzling frown. Did he just stared at her? And why? She didn't know that Peter himself was asking the same questions.

Soon, they came across Mermaid Lagoon. Margaret was very hesitant about going there, remembering grandmum's story of her time here. And it was certainly not a good visit.

As soon as they saw Peter, all the mermaids there greeted him excitedly. None of them noticed Margaret, even though Peter was carrying her in front of him.

Peter landed him and Margaret both on top of the strangely shaped rock that sat in the middle of the lagoon. All the mermaids came and surrounded the rock, all staring adoringly at Peter.

There were about four or five mermaids. They all looked very beautiful, especially with all of their accessories made from shells, sea flowers, and pearls. Each of them had different style they wore on their chest, like one wearing starfish and one wearing seaweed. They, as everything else here in Neverland, were exactly described from the stories. Margaret also realized that the mermaids oddly reminded her so much of those V Gang girls back home. These mermaids had that snobbish appearance, acting as if they own their own, perfect world and took pride of that. And the way they were gazing possessively at Peter was enough to boil Margaret's blood.

"Hello, Peter!" all the mermaids welcomed him with awestruck clearly written on their eyes.

Peter, apparently, didn't pay attention to the mermaids' dreamy eyes on him, or even noticed it. "Hello, girls! I'd like you all to meet a new friend of mine: Margaret!"

He grabbed Margaret's hand and pulled her to the center so that all of the mermaids saw her. Instead of an animated welcome they gave to Peter, they each gave Margaret a cold stare at her. Margaret began to feel so uncomfortable under their glares, especially when most of them were on her and Peter's intertwined hands. Margaret quickly pulled her hands away, but that didn't help her.

"Who is SHE, Peter," a blond mermaid asked Peter, not bothering to hide her unkind tone.

"And why did you bring HER here," a redheaded mermaid asked in the same tone as the blond's. Margaret struggled to stay calm and ignore them, even though she was deeply tempted to strangle their necks.

"I brought her over from London," Peter replied, oblivious to the tension that was building up between Margaret and the mermaids. "She's Jane's daughter and Wendy's granddaughter!"

"Oh, how . . . nice," a raven-haired mermaid said sweetly. Too sweetly for Margaret's taste.

Before Margaret could respond, another redheaded mermaid, with her long, shiny hair in a ponytail, exclaimed, "Why don't you join us for a SWIM!"

All of the other mermaids eagerly agreed. However, Margaret spotted a knowingly smirk on each of their faces and suddenly had a bad feeling on their definition of 'swim'. And she was pretty sure of that definition from grandmum's story.

"Um, no thanks," Margaret shook her head and hands. "I'm really not in a mood for a SWIM."

"Oh, come on," said an impatient redheaded mermaid as she pulled herself up and rapidly grabbed Margaret's nightgown, pulling her to the waters. "We insist!"

All at once, the mermaids swam up to join the redheaded mermaid, each seizing Margaret's nightgown and her night robe, and tugging her to the waters. Margaret struggled to pull back, but couldn't. Their grip was too strong. And that, if Margaret tried harder, her nightgown and robe would tear apart and be ruined.

Margaret turned to Peter, who was floating above her, and tried to call for his help. But the mermaids were splashing right on her face, preventing her from speaking. Besides, Peter was laughing, as if this was just a playful game, and couldn't see Margaret terrified.

Finally, Margaret fell underwater and was forcibly pulled deeper by the cruel mermaids. Margaret kicked at them and tried to swim up, but that only made the mermaids pull her down even more. Margaret looked up into the surface, slowly losing air. Where was Peter?

Having enough of this, Margaret thought of a brilliant escape plan. She reached down and violently pulled the mermaids' hair opposite of their direction. All of the mermaids' mouth went wide open, releasing a trail of air bubbles (must be their screams), up to the surface. They freed Margaret and placed their hands on their heads, cradling their hair.

Taking advantage of their distraction, Margaret swam up as fast as she could and broke through the surface; she violently gasped, welcoming the wonderful and fresh air. She swam over to a large, flat rock that sat on the shores of the lagoon. She sat on the edge and took a moment to breath deeply, calming down her rapid heart beat.

"Are you okay," a voice spoke. Margaret looked up to see Peter floating over the surface, watching her closely.

Margaret wanted to say that she was fine, or even just nod at him. But after remembering that he hadn't saved her from drowning, or even stopped the mermaids from pulling under the surface, Margaret angrily shunned him and walked away from Peter, gripping her heavily soaked clothes from slipping off of her.

"Margaret," Peter called after her. But Margaret stayed silent, hopping on other rocks that resided on a river that lead away from the terrible Mermaid Lagoon and into the ocean.

"Come on, Margaret, say something," Peter begged, attempting to fly in front of her view. But no matter where he flew, Margaret avoided him and jumped farther away from him.

"Alright, now you're acting just like Tinker Bell," Peter accused her. Gee, I wonder why, was all Margaret thought sarcastically.

At last, Peter pulled her shoulders to face him and gripped on her firmly. Still, Margaret looked away, but now couldn't move away from him.

"Margaret, what's wrong? Are you mad at the mermaids?"

That finally got Margaret to look at him, only giving him a hard glare. "Oh, no! Why would I be mad at those pathetic mermaids?" She roughly pushed Peter's hands from her and turned away from him, returning to her skipping over rocks.

Peter grabbed Margaret's arm and forced her to turn back to him. "So you are mad at them, aren't you."

"Of course I'm mad at them!" She ripped her arm off of him. "They tried to kill me back there!"

Peter suddenly laughed at her. "Oh, they weren't trying to kill you. They were trying to drown you."

Margaret stared at Peter in a bewildered look for a moment. Has he gone mad?

"Peter, that's the same thing!"

"No it isn't. It's their little game they like to play with each other. They see how long they last underwater, which always last forever because, well, they're mermaids. Though, they never let me play with them. But they tried to play with Wendy back then."

Margaret took steady breaths to calm her frustrating anger on him. Apparently, Peter doesn't really understand the full concept of drowning. Mostly on how it affects humans.

"Peter," Margaret said slowly. "They never let you play their games because, if they do, you'd die. Humans are different than mermaids and don't last too long underwater. If they do, they'd die."

"Really," Peter asked her. She nodded. He thought for a moment before asking, "Do you think the mermaids know that?"

"Oh, they know it alright," Margaret replied. "Why else would they invite grandmum for a SWIM?"

"Huh," was his only response. He went back to thinking as he sat down on a large rock he stood on a second ago. Assuming this could take a while, Margaret distracted herself by collecting small, smooth rocks and threw them across the waters, watching them skip over the surface.

"Wait," Peter interrupted. "If drowning means killing humans, and the mermaids knew that, then that means . . . They were trying to kill you?" His voice suddenly went darker.

"And grandmum," Margaret nodded. "But yeah, that pretty much sums it up. At least that never happened, right?"

"Yeah," Peter said distractedly, staring at Mermaid Lagoon with a look that would murder anyone who looked directly at him. "Right."

This was the second time Peter acted so coldly. First to Tinker Bell, and now, to the mermaids. Margaret had never thought that she would encounter something like this from Peter. It just doesn't seemed to fit him. However, anything can happen here at Neverland.

Still . . . it didn't seem right at all.

Margaret looked over the ocean and smirked, hatching an idea. She looked over at Peter and crept up behind him. And, with all her force, she pushed Peter toward the waters.

But Peter swiftly flew away just in time and hovered over the ocean.

"Nice try," he smirked at her, crossing his arms. At least Margaret succeeded on distracting him from the mermaids. "But that's not gonna work the way you do that. Here's how you do it!" He flew behind Margaret, picked her up and, before Margaret could stop him, he dropped her into the waters, laughing uncontrollably.

However, a moment passed and Margaret remained underwater, bubbles from her air support slowly diminishing. When Peter noticed this, his whole joyful face dropped to a worried look. He landed on is knees on a rock and stared intensely into the water, where he last saw Margaret disappearing.

"Margaret?" He spoke with uncertainty. He lowered his face closer to the surface, calling for her again.

Suddenly, without warning, Margaret shot out of the surface, wrapped her arms around Peter, and pulled him completely underwater. As soon as Peter got over the shock, he swam up to the surface to reclaim more air, and Margaret followed, smiling madly.

"And THAT is another way of doing that," Margaret joked, laughing at him.

Peter glared at her, but couldn't stop grinning at her. "Why you little . . ."

He unexpectedly splashed her and she splashed back. Soon, a splashing war had begun and both Peter and Margaret had the time of their lives, splashing at each other.

Margaret stopped when she felt she was the only one splashing. She saw that Peter had disappeared. Taking a deep breath, she dove underwater and saw Peter motioning her to follow him.

They swam for what felt like hours underwater. They didn't even care where they were, but they were enjoying their time together. They found numerous fishes in every different colors and many beautiful corals. They even spotted a clearing where the light streamed down to the bottom of the waters. It was the most amazing thing Margaret had ever seen.

Finally, they reached to the surface and came to a large and flat rock where, according to Peter, he took her mum to after he saved her life from the pirates. With help from Peter, Margaret stepped onto it and tried to dry herself. She twisted her long hair tight to release water on her and did the same to her nightgown and robe. However, she was still wet and caused her to shiver.

But Margaret didn't mind. She was too joyful to care. So far, she had the most fun she ever had. She could never do this kind of stuff back home in London. There was no forest to explore, no caves to adventure in, no sunlight to bathe under, no ocean to swim in, nothing. Neverland was truly a paradise worth living in. She would have rather moved here than to America.

And the best part of Neverland was, not just the beautiful landscapes here, but Peter himself. It wasn't because she got to spend time with her mum and grandmum's hero, but she got to hang out with someone who was just like her. Everyone back home grew up too fast and would pressure her to do the same. Not to mention them believing her as a silly and ridicules child who refuses to grow up. But with Peter, Margaret could freely be herself without someone telling her to act grown up or to remind her of how childish she was acting. She and Peter would act childlike whenever they want and have no one else to stop them. Now that she thought about it, she and Peter are so much alike; they love to have fun and dislike the very idea of growing up. It would seem as they were a perfect match.

Margaret smiled at that thought as she twirled around, feeling her still wet clothes trailing along. Loving that feeling, she did this a couple of times.

Soon, she stopped when she caught Peter staring at her in a dream-like phase. He looked as if he was looking at the most beautiful thing on the whole land. What else, he didn't even notice Margaret looking at him in an odd expression.

She looked away, feeling flushed under Peter's stare and coughed loudly to grab his attention.

Peter jerked and lost his dream-like stare. "Mmm, what?"

"Why were you staring at me," Margaret asked him, still feeling reddened and also very strange, as though she missed his stares already.

Peter gave her a frown. "I wasn't staring at you."

"Yes, you were."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you . . ." Margaret trailed off, feeling that this wasn't going anywhere. However, she knew there was something strange happening between them, whether Peter knows it or not.

Silence took over for a moment before Peter said, as if he had forgotten their earlier argument, "So, there's still more to see here! Where to next?"

"Um, I don't know, surprise me."

Peter chuckled as he flew over and took hold of her. "You'll find surprise is my actual middle name."

Margaret grinned as Peter carried her back to the sky as they continued on with their Neverland tour.