Chapter 6:
Starlight Waltz
When Peter brought Margaret back to Hangman Jr.'s Tree, the sun had already disappeared and the sky had turned to the color of pinkish red and pale yellow with dark blue clouds covering the sky. A cool air blew gently over Neverland as many of the woodland creatures prepare to slumber for the night.
Hangman Jr.'s Tree was empty when they entered. None of the Lost Boys were found, not even Little. Peter told Margaret that the Lost Boys may still be hunting; they often hunt all day and night until they've grown tired. They will return soon, along with Margaret's dear puppy.
Margaret nodded at this, but her head was swimming with everything she had experienced earlier today. And she had loved every minute of it. This place was a lot more lovelier and fun than London. She couldn't understand why grandmum and mum would leave this enchanting land. If it was her choice, Margaret would immediately choose to stay in Neverland forever. That way, she never would have to move to America. And she'd never have to face anyone who criticize her of her personality and interests, especially the dreadful V Gang.
But there was something else that flowed into her mind from earlier. Thinking back now, she remembered of all the times she and Peter were closer than she thought before. And by closer, she meant really closer. Also, not only did she blush more by this, but a certain feeling fluttered in her stomach that she had never felt before. At first, she thought it was only the butterflies in her stomach. But why would she get the butterflies whenever Peter pulled her close to him. Margaret wasn't even sure if Peter felt the same thing. If he did, he didn't show it. But it did get him to subconsciously pull her closer to him.
Margaret wasn't sure what was happening between them and she wished she knew.
"Thank you, Peter, for that wonderful tour of yours," Margaret said to Peter and kissed his cheek, causing him to grin as if getting use to it. Realizing she had been doing that more than often, Margaret turned away, trying not to blush yet again.
Yep, something was definitely happening between them.
"No problem," Peter assured her as he swiftly sat on his throne-like chair. "Anytime you need directions around this place, you'll know who to ask."
Margaret nodded. She walked around the underground hideout, her eyes searching the area. "Do you know when the Lost Boys will come back?"
"The Lost Boys?" Peter said. He shrugged. "Who knows. They could be out all night and fall asleep somewhere else."
"Should we look for them?" Margaret asked, concerned.
"Na, they'll be back; this is you're first night here. The Lost Boys wouldn't want to miss a chance to spend the night with you."
Margaret smiled at him when suddenly, the ceiling rumbled and shook.
"Ah," Peter said in a casual tone. "That must be them."
Out of the blue, small heads popped out from the ceiling and on the walls, cheering. They all pulled themselves out and fell on the floor, laughing merrily.
Tootles slid down on a small slide from the corner of the underground hideout. He had dear Little wrapped in his tiny arms.
None of them seem to have seen Peter and Margaret, until Little started barking loudly and happily as she jumped off of Tootles and ran after Margaret. The Lost Boys looked and grinned widely at who they saw.
"Hey, Peter's here!"
"And Mar' gret!"
"They're back!"
"They're back, they're back, they're back!"
All the Lost Boys scrambled after Peter and Margaret and surrounded them before Little even reached to Margaret. In fact, the Lost Boys rushed through Little and caused her to stumble. By the time Little pulled herself up, the Lost Boys have already created a wall around Peter and Margaret, all talking madly at once. Little went to the wall and attempted to cross through to get to Margaret, but the wall was too strong for her. She tried going under them, but was blocked by their legs. She tried jumping, but she was too small to climb over them. She let out a frustrated huff and tried again.
Margaret was very overwhelmed at all the attention she was getting from the Lost Boys. She saw poor Little struggling to greet her, only to be pushed away from the Lost Boys (without them knowing it). Margaret tried pushing the Lost Boys gently aside so she could greet her puppy, but the Lost Boys came closer to her, practically shouting too many questions that Margaret couldn't really understand them.
She looked up at Peter helplessly, as if mentally asking for his help. It seemed as if he had heard her, for he stuck his two fingers in each side of his mouth and whistled as loud as he could.
All the Lost Boys immediately rushed into a straight line in front of Peter and stood in attention, falling silent. While they were distracted, Little barked joyfully as she ran into Margaret's arms, licking her face repeatedly and wagging her tail wildly, causing Margaret to giggle and hug her tighter, delighted to see her puppy again.
"Welcome back, boys," Peter said to the Lost Boys. "I assume you all had a good hunt?"
"Oh, you bet!" Slightly exclaimed. "We caught the biggest bear in the whole island!" He tried to prove his point by spreading his arms wide open.
"Yeah," piped Nibs, stepping forward. "It went all, 'Grrrrrr,'" he made a scary appearance on his face. "An' we were all, 'Charrrrrrrge!'" he raised his weapon high in the air and pointed at an invisible bear. "An' he was all, 'Grrrr, I'm gonna eatcha all alive!'" he made another scary face, his small hands clawing against the air. "An' we were all, 'AAAAAAHH!'" He suddenly jumped on Cubby's back and attempted to strangle and hit poor Cubby with his weapon.
"Ged off! Ged off!" Cubby exclaimed as he ran in circles, struggling to be released from crazy Nibs. However, the rest of the Lost Boys jumped on Cubby as well and they all ended up in a huge fight against each other.
Margaret couldn't help but giggle at their humorous fight. Peter rolled his eyes annoyingly and whistled again. At once, the Lost Boys froze in their place, staring at Peter. Their frozen position was even more humorous, as a few of them were either gripping, strangling, or biting each other.
"So," Peter began, smirking knowingly, both his fists on his hips. "If you have caught this, 'bear' . . . where is it?"
None of the Lost Boys spoke at once. They all got off of each other, their eyes cast on the floor. Neither one of them spoke, or even looked at Peter.
"There was no bear, was there?" Peter said. The Lost Boys shook their heads slowly in response.
"Don't worry, boys," Peter told them. "You'll catch a real bear next time!"
"That's whatcha said last time," Cubby finally spoke up, clearly complaining. Everyone of the Lost Boys nodded in agreement.
Suddenly, a deep growl erupted and all the Lost Boys shot into an attack mode, preparing to attack whatever made the noise.
Peter, however, chuckled. "Lower your weapons, boys! That's just Cubby's stomach!"
They all turned to Cubby's round stomach, which went growling again and jiggled visibly, just like jello. Cubby moaned, rubbing his rumbly stomach.
"I bet you're hungry, aren'tcha," Peter asked Cubby, who nodded gloomily. Peter suddenly snapped his fingers. "I know how to cheer you boys up! How 'bout we have the Ultimate Feast?"
The Lost Boys' face beamed at once and gave a loud cheer. They ran over to one side of the underground hideout and opened a hidden door.
"You have feasts?" Margaret asked Peter as she came up to him after releasing Little so that she could join the Lost Boys and help.
"Yep," Peter replied proudly. "Only on rare occasions."
"Like?"
"Like now!"
"And what's the rare occasion?"
"You're here!" Peter answered casually. That caught Margaret off guard.
They watch as the Lost Boys pull out a large, round table from inside the hidden door and carefully roll it over to the middle of the area. Tootles, the Twins, and Nibs held the table from underneath as Slightly and Cubby pushed it toward them. As the table lowered, the small Lost Boys ran to the each edges of the table and, along with the two other Lost Boys, they carefully dropped the table on the floor. Once the table was set, they all took their places around the table and plopped down, waiting.
Peter sat down on the floor at the head of the round table and motioned Margaret to sit next to him. And so she did, nervously. Little scurried next to her and hopped up to grip her paws on the edge. She pulled herself on the table and sat up, patting hungrily. She let out a bark as if to say she's ready for food.
"Alright, men," Peter announced. "You've all had a long day. Now it's time to eat!" The Lost Boys cheered. "Dig in, everybody!"
What happened next completely surprised and baffled Margaret and Little.
Instead of waiting for food to somehow appear on the table, Peter and the Lost Boys reached out their hands to the center of the table, wrapped their arms around small spaces on the table, pulled it toward them, and then, they began eating air. There were no food or anything on the table, and yet, they were eating something; all gnawing savagely and loudly. Margaret and Little glanced a 'this is not what I unexpected' look before they observed each of the boys.
Peter was clenching his teeth toward his clasped fist and violently tore away from his fist and chewed, later repeating the action again. Slightly held two of his fists up high and went back and forward, chopping his teeth at each ends. Nibs had both his hands up too, but his hands were cupped into the air and Nibs nibbled into it. Cubby moved his hands everywhere and pulled them to his mouth, repeating this action again and again and again. The Twins both had their hands apart before them and chattered left to right, the slid back and did it again, just like a typewriting tool. And finally, Tootles licked his lips, cupped his hands on the table, and brought it to his mouth, slurping noisily. While this was happening, Margaret and Little awkwardly sat there without a clue to what was happening and what they were suppose to do.
"Why aren'tcha eating?" Peter suddenly spoke to Margaret, sounding as if he was actually talking with a mouthful of food (even though there were none in his mouth).
"What's there to eat? There's nothing there." Margaret waved her hand to show the empty table to prove her point.
Peter swallowed before he responded. "Well, of course there's something there. What else would we be eating? Air?"
Both Margaret and Little (who was listening to the conversation) raised their eyebrows exaggeratedly at him, which Peter failed to see, turning back to his clenched fist again.
"The thing is," Peter continued, taking another bite on nothing but the air. "Food taste so much better in make-believe than real ones."
Then it hit her. Make-believe. It was all make believe. It was now clear to Margaret. There was food on the table, but they were all in the boys' imagination. And they were pretending to eat whatever food their stomach desired.
Margaret looked down on the table in front of her and took a moment to think of a favorite food of hers. She thought of one of the dishes grandmum would always cook for her back home: a nice, creamy potato soup.
Margaret closed her eyes and imagined a large bowl of grandmum's potato soup on the table in front of her. She could already smell the mouthwatering and delicious aroma that was silently calling for her. She opened her eyes and there, before her, was a large bowl of potato soup, exactly like she envisioned it in her mind. She wasn't shocked by the sudden appearance of the soup; she knew it was all in her head.
Margaret looked next to the bowl and imagined a small, silver spoon, ready to transport soup into her mouth. And there, right before her eyes, the spoon in her mind appeared on that very spot, next to the bowl.
With her eyes locked on the spoon, Margaret held out her hand and gripped on the spoon. Immediately, she felt the cold metal between her fingers. She moved it over the bowl of soup, which was still steaming hot. Slowly, she lowered the spoon into the soup and raised it back up, the spoon now filled with small sample of the appetizing looking soup. The smell of the soup in spoon grew more intense as she moved it toward her lips. Margaret gently blew the soup to cool it and, closing her eyes, she slowly brought the spoon into her mouth and sipped the soup.
She was instantly greeted by the taste of a warm and rich soup as she swallowed it down. Margaret took a moment to feel the warmth and the delicious taste of the soup. It was exactly like what grandmum had made. She could remember eagerly awaiting for grandmum to come from the kitchen and lay on the table a hot and luscious potato soup. Grandmum would sit next to Margaret (and mum if she was around) and began eating together. Just thinking of grandmum made Margaret miss her. And, although she also missed mum after thinking of when she was present, Margaret was still angry at her (she still had not forgotten about her mum's decision for them to moving to America).
Finishing with her moment of pleasure, Margaret dunk her spoon into the soup and gulped it in her mouth. She did this again and again, enjoying the sweet and hot taste.
It wasn't until she heard a soft whimper that she stopped. Margaret looked beside her to see Little staring at her helplessly with a depressing puppy pout. Margaret couldn't help but smile warmly at her dear puppy.
"This is all make-believe, Little," Margaret told Little. "Just pretend you're eating a nice, juicy bone."
Little gave her a puzzling look and looked down on the table. She closed her eyes tightly and whimpered under breath, as if wishing for something to happen as hard as she could. Little peaked one eye open and soon, both eyes jumped wide open at what she saw before her. Margaret didn't know what Little saw that excited Little, but Little was already munching and slobbers the invisible food Little had just created by using her imagination.
Everyone around the table ate for over five minutes, with nonstop eating and make-believe. Finally, they stopped when most of the Lost Boys groaned, holding their filled stomachs. Little was still munching on her pretend food, looking very much like a bone. Margaret finished her soup and imagined the bowl and spoon gone, on which, as if on command, they did. Peter swooped to his chair, picking his teeth with his fingernail.
"I don't know about you, boys," Peter said, flicking whatever was in his teeth away. "But I've had my share of feasts for one night, am I right?"
The Lost Boys groaned in agreement.
"Does anyone know what time is it?" Margaret asked, searching around for a clock.
Peter shrugged, not caringly. "I bet it's nighttime right now."
Margaret looked around and saw most of the Lost Boys yawning and rubbing their tired eyes out.
Margaret smiled as she stood up and wiped her hands. "Alright boys, now that we've finished supper, it's time for us to get some sleep."
"Bu' I don' wanna sleep," Nibs complained tiredly.
"Yeah, and besides," Slightly said, suddenly yawning. "We're not that tired."
"Is that so," Margaret playfully asked.
"Yeah," spoke the First Twin. "We wanna stay up all nigh'!"
"Isn't tha' righ', Cubby," the Second Twin asked, patting on Cubby. Unfortunately, Cubby was already asleep, snoring quite obnoxiously. The pat the Second Twin gave to him caused Cubby to fall flat on the table, still asleep.
Margaret shook her head and open her mouth to speak, but Peter beat her to it. "Margaret's right. It's been a long day and we need our rest for tomorrow's fun. Roll the table back in the hole and let's hit the hay."
The Lost Boys grumbled sleepily as they got up and carefully held the table up. Though the table got a lot heavier because Cubby slept on top of it, undisturbed. The Lost Boys struggled to carry the table all the way back to the hidden door. They pushed the table to its side, causing Cubby to slide down and land on the ground. He suddenly woke up and let out a tired, "Wha'?" The Lost Boys pushed the table inside the hidden door, closed it so it became hidden again, and slowly headed straight for their hammocks, getting more tired every step of the way.
Margaret helped a few of them get into their hammocks, mostly the Twins and Tootles. Slightly climbed up the wall and jumped onto his hammock. Cubby just fell flat on his hammock (which, thankfully, it was positioned close to the ground), causing his hammock to be pulled down to the ground. And Nibs climbed over to a bucket and pulled a rope that carried him up to his hammock. He quickly jumped off the bucket, getting on his hammock, and didn't flinch when the bucket fell on the ground with a loud bump.
Margaret spotted Tootles tiny hands reaching out desperately toward the ground. Margaret looked down to see Little standing up on her hind paws, staring straight at Tootles. Knowing what they wanted, Margaret wordlessly picked up Little and laid her next to Tootles. Both beamed at each other and Little let out a bark before snuggling with Tootles.
Margaret turned to Peter, who remained in his seat. "You too, Peter."
"Na, I'm not tired," he said, raising his arms and crossed them behind his head, leaning back.
"If you don't, you'll keep the Lost Boys awake as well."
It turned out that Margaret was right. When Peter glanced over at the Lost Boys, all of their eyes were on him, watching his every move. They were trying to keep their sleepy eyes wide open.
Seeing her point, Peter sighed in defeat, gliding off of his chair and landed on his bed.
"And where am I sleeping," Margaret asked.
"You can sleep on that bear rug over there," Peter pointed at the bear-skinned rug close to his bed. "Don't worry, it's awfully warm and cozy like my bed."
Taking his word for it, Margaret lay down on the rug (which was actually warm and cozy after all) and snuggled into the fur skin.
"Good-night, everyone," Margaret called out, closing her eyes, ready to fall asleep.
"Wait," Nibs piped out. "Tell us a story!"
"Yeah," the First Twin also piped out.
"Tell us a story," finished the Second Twin.
The other Lost Boys voiced out their agreements all at once, begging Margaret to recite at bedtime story, the same way her grandmum would have.
"Uh," Margaret said uneasily. "I'm not sure. I've never really told a story before."
"Come on, Margaret," Peter said to her. "It can't be that hard. Why, anyone can do it."
"Oh, really," Margaret responded. "Then why don't you tell them a story?"
"Because I'm the leader," Peter quickly answered. "And leaders don't tell stories."
Margaret shook her head, the Lost Boys' pleading voice still rang in her ears.
Finally, she thought of an idea. "Why don't, instead, I sing you one of granmum's lullabies?"
Little barked in agreement and excitement, but all the boys, including Peter, wore a puzzled look.
"What's a, 'Lul-a-bys,'" Slightly demanded.
"Well," Margaret answered as she stood up. "A lullaby is a song that puts children to sleep. Works every time."
"Then let's hear it," Peter commanded. The Lost Boys hesitated, clearly wanting to hear a bedtime story. But because their leader asked for a lullaby, they had to go along with it. Only Tootles nodded furiously, just as excited as Little to learn of this new technique to slumber them.
"Okay," Margaret said, slightly nervous, having all eyes on her, waiting. "Mmmmm, let me think." She walked around, in deep thought of which one to sing. Little and all of the boys' eyes followed her.
Margaret soon stopped and turned to the boys. "I got it. It's called, 'Never, Never Land.'"
"Oooo, I like it already," Cubby commented.
Margaret smiled as she kneeled down on the bear rug, took a deep breath, and began to sing:
"I know a place where dreams are born,
And time is never planned.
It's not on any chart,
You must find it with your heart.
Never Never Land."
"It might be miles beyond the moon,
Or right there where you stand.
Just keep an open mind,
And then suddenly you'll find
Never Never Land."
Margaret could undoubtedly see that it was working, for she spotted all of their eyes slowly dropping. Few of them were already asleep.
"You'll have a treasure if you stay there,
More precious far than gold.
For once you have found your way there,
You can never, never grow old."
"And that's my home where dreams are born,
And time is never planned.
Just think of lovely things,
And your heart will fly on wings,
Forever in Never Never Land."
Margaret paused for a moment. She saw that everyone of them have fallen asleep. Gently smiling, she slowly stood up and tiptoed to the Lost Boys' hammocks, pulling their blankets over them and giving them a gentle bedtime kiss on their cheeks (a longer one on top of Little's head) as she continued singing.
"You'll have a treasure if you stay there,
More precious far than gold.
For once you have found your way there,
You can never, never grow old."
She paused again as she turned to Peter. He had fallen asleep on top of his bed, curled up into a ball. Margaret silently walked up to him, taking a moment to watch him sleep. She noticed how calm and young he looked and couldn't help but stare at his peaceful features. Soon, she gently and cautiously pulled the covers out from under him and wrapped Peter under it. She froze when Peter moved, but he only brought the covers closer to him and grinned, satisfied. Margaret softly giggled and shook her head in disbelief. She stared at him a bit more as she finish her singing.
"And that's my home where dreams are born,
And time is never planned.
Just think of lovely things,
And your heart will fly on wings,
Forever in Never Never Land"
As she sang that last word, Margaret leaned closer to Peter until she was nose length apart and softly kissed him on the cheek. This time, it went about seven seconds longer than her other kisses with Peter. She leaned back and noticed how very close she was to him. She could feel his soft breathing on her. She quickly pulled back, unsure of what just happened at that moment. She stood up and walked backward away from Peter, still staring at the youthful boy before her.
Margaret looked around and saw the Lost Boys asleep, snoring both softly and loudly. Little snuggled closely to Tootles in his hammock. Margaret then realized, as she made her way back to the bear rug, that this was her first time Margaret had to sleep without Little by her side, as she had every night. And Margaret felt distressed at this. It was also her first time sleeping in a room full of boys, something she never had imagined would happen to her, or the fact that she now had to sleep on the floor. It all seemed so different and uncomfortable to her.
She dug her Peter Pan doll out of her night robe pocket and stared at it, thinking of her memories back home of each night. She remembered kissing her mum good-night (she didn't know why she thought of her mum; she knew she was still angry at her) and listening to grandmum's stories or lullabies before falling asleep, clutching her Peter Pan doll close to her. Thinking of all that had caused her to hold her doll closer to her, feeling as if a part of her had left her alone.
Then she remembered one more thing: the night stars. She would always stare at them for a moment, particularly the second star to the right, before going to bed. Margaret looked up at the ceiling. I wonder if they're there, she thought to herself.
After one last look at the sleeping boys, Margaret quietly stood up and tiptoed to the stairs that led to the exit. She accidentally stepped on her bottom nightgown and fell against the wall, causing a bump noise. She froze, afraid to have awoken the boys. But, when she heard nothing, she breathed out in relief and continued up the stairs, missing Peter's stirring on his bed, his one eye popped open.
As she walked up the stairs, she placed her doll back in her pocket, not knowing that it was slouched out a little.
Soon, Margaret reached to a small door. On her knees, she pushed the door open and crawled out. She silently and slowly closed the door behind her and looked around her.
It was pitch dark outside, with light only from the full moon above. Crickets chirped melodiously into the open air and the cool wind gently glided across the forest. Margaret took a deep breath to inhale the scent of the exposed nature. She could never get all this or feel all this back home in the industrialized city.
Margaret looked up at the sky and saw, to her shock, the entire sky covered by billions of stars. London never had this many stars before; only a few of them. Her eyes widened, unable to look away from them. They were such an amazing sight.
Her eyes caught a tree that stood higher than the other trees. That gave her an idea. Without another thought, she ran into the forest, her eyes dead set on that tree. She could feel her bare-feet touching the slightly cold and dirty grass, stepping on a few sticks and leaves. She ducked the giant leaves in the way and moved a few of them away from her. But her eyes never left that tree.
Finally, she had reached to the tree. It was even taller than afar. Luckily, some of its branches were low to the ground and all of them were stretched out, making it easier to mount it. Cautiously, but excitedly, Margaret reached out for the first branch, pulled herself up, and then grabbed the next branch. Using her climbing skills from home, she climbed her way to the top of the tree.
Eventually, Margaret stopped at a branch that was thick and strong enough for her to sit on. It was also the perfect viewpoint of, not just the whole sky, but the whole surface of the forest. It was all so beautiful.
She looked up into the sky and gazed at the stars. She spotted the one star that looked exactly like the second star to the right back home. Margaret wondered how that was possible. Perhaps it must be, not a gateway to Neverland, but a gateway to London. It brought her so many memories of staring at that star so many nights ago, with her grandmum, her mum, and . . . her dad.
"You know," interrupted a voice behind her. "It's not safe to be out at night all alone."
Margaret jumped and twirled around, only to find a grinning Peter Pan, floating behind her. He had woken up and followed her to the tree.
"What are you doing here," Margaret asked him instead of responding his earlier comment.
"I should be asking you the same thing," he said as he hovered over next to her and sat down on the branch.
"Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"
"Shouldn't you?" Peter shot back jokingly. "What, the bear skin don't suit you?"
Margaret softly laughed. "It's fine. Now, why are you here?"
Peter shrugged. "I heard a noise and woke up. Saw you weren't there, so I came lookin' for you. A lot of things can happen in the dark, don't you know?"
It was Margaret's turn to shrug. There were a few seconds of silence.
"Alright," Peter suddenly said. "now it's your turn. What're you doing out here on this tree?"
Margaret's eyes were on the stars, silent for a moment until she soon spoke. "I'm just looking at the stars. I never go to bed without looking at them. I never knew there were so many of them here."
"Well, you don't expect to see them back at London, do you," Peter asked rhetorically. Margaret looked at him questionably. "London's got too many lights, it scares away most of the stars. But it never frightens the second star to the right!"
Margaret looked back at that star. "It never does," she said in a whisper.
Just then, a memory appeared in her mind. It was a memory she didn't realized she still had it after so many years. It was on the night before the terrible accident that took the life of her father. Margaret, a little girl, had finished saying her good-nights to her mum and waited in her room. Soon, dad came in, ecstatic to see her small angel. Margaret hopped onto him and he swiftly caught her, lifting her up and ran around the room, as if she was flying. Both eventually fell down laughing uncontrollably. After they quieted down, dad escorted her to the window, where they sat on the window seat and looked up at the stars. Dad would point to each star, naming each one of them to her. Margaret shot her tiny finger to the second star to the right and called it, Neverland. Then, she asked him why there weren't many stars in the sky. And his answer was the exact same thing Peter had recently said to her: most of the stars were terrified by the illuminated city, but the only ones who weren't afraid was the second star to the right and the first star on the left. Afterward, Margaret asked that, if the second star to the right led to Neverland, then where does the first star on the left lead to. And Margaret never forgot her dad's answer: it led to the dwelling of many angels who would escort the deceased ones' spirit to their beautiful and everlasting home, so the spirit won't have to wonder the universe alone and homeless.
Coming back to the present, her eyes watered as she shifted her eyes to the first star on the left. She wondered if her father had found his way there, by the help of their angels. She also wondered what he is doing right now. Could he be playing with the angels there or helping the departed spirits find their way to their new home? Does he even remember her and mum? Could he have watched over Margaret her entire life from his eternal home?
A tear fell down her cheek.
"Why are you crying," Peter abruptly asked in a gentle voice.
Feeling insecure on crying in front of him, she quickly turned away and wiped out tears from her eyes. "I'm not crying."
"Yes you are. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong!" Margaret shot at him.
"Of course, there's something wrong, just tell me!"
"No, Peter, I won't! I shouldn't tell you anything about it!"
Peter stared at her for awhile until he spoke softly, "You know you can tell me anything if something's wrong, right?" His eyes were begging her to talk to him, so he can do anything to cheer her up.
Margaret sighed as she looked away. After a long moment of complete silence, she finally spoke to him.
"I was just thinking about my dad."
Peter gave her a surprised look. "You have a dad?"
"I had a dad," Margaret said miserably. "He was the most amazing dad I ever had. But now he's . . . "
Peter looked at her carefully as another tear fell down on her cheek. "What happened to him? Did he abandoned you like any grown-ups would do?"
Margaret gave him an angry glare. "You know, not all grown-ups are evil, Peter! My dad was never evil! He was one of the most wonderful and caring human being I've ever had in my entire life! And if you dare curse him, I swear I'll . . . I'll . . ." She trailed off, feeling more tears approaching. She hurriedly turned away, refusing to look at Peter.
Peter just watched her with a repentant guise.
"I'm sorry," Peter almost whispered, sounding so apologetic. "I didn't know."
Another silence filled the air for a moment. Then, Margaret took a deep breath and told Peter her answer.
"He's dead."
Again, silence came.
"What's 'dead'?" Peter asked. Margaret looked at him, shocked that he would ask a question like that. But when she saw him, he truly looked genuinely puzzled and curious. He really had not heard of 'death' before.
"Are you serious," Margaret asked him, just to understand him. "You really don't know what 'death' means? I thought you knew what it was. Remember the mermaid drowning earlier?"
Peter paused to think. "It's just . . . I've been told before that death is when your whole body shuts down forever. But, now, I don't think that's even it. I don't know. It just sounds awful to me."
"It is," Margaret mumbled to herself. She faced him so that she could clearly explain to him. "Peter, death is . . . well it's . . . it's kind of like . . ." she trailed off. How can she explain something very grave to a child that has never experienced something like that. Usually, grown-ups have an easier perspective of death; they would know what to say.
Peter was watching her closely, waiting for her answer, which Margaret had a hard time finding. "Um . . . have you . . . have you ever saw someone who . . . I don't know . . . almost disappeared forever?"
Peter thought for a minute until he found his answer. "Yeah, twice. With Tinker Bell. When she got hurt or sick, her light began to fade slowly. If she isn't well soon, her light will vanish forever."
"That means she was dying when she got hurt or sick," Margaret explained as best as she could. "If she isn't well . . . she would have died."
Peter paused, trying to understand her. "So, if our light fades, we die? Does that mean we have lights like Tink?"
"No, Peter," Margaret said, slightly frustrated. She thought of another way of explaining it. "It's like . . . death is like, uh, falling asleep. An everlasting sleep."
"Well, that doesn't sound too bad."
"But it is. You know in stories, when someone falls into an everlasting sleep and is awoken by a kiss?" Peter nodded. "Well, in reality, a kiss will not break the spell. They will never, ever wake up. Soon, their breathing will stop and their spirit will be forced to leave their body forever. Soon, the body will be nothing but an empty and lifeless shell."
"Wow," Peter breathed in terror. "Now that sounds bad. So that's what happened to your dad?" Margaret nodded. "Did he . . . die . . . from hurt or sick?"
"Hurt. Real bad hurt."
"Oh," was all Peter could say.
More of Margaret's tears fell from her eyes. "I never forgot what he looked like, how much fun we had together, and how much he had made me and mum so happy. He would always explain the little things to me whenever I asked him to." She gasped. "I loved him so much," she cried.
"Loved?"
Margaret looked at Peter, bewildered. "You don't know what love is either?"
"Not really," Peter said, shaking his head. "Though, it sounds a lot nicer than 'death'."
"It is," Margaret agreed. "You see, love is . . ." she stopped when Peter moved forward to listen to her. She had just realized how close they really were. Her eyes were on Peter, never wishing to look away from him. She slowly moved her head toward him to get even closer to him so that they would have a chance to-
Margaret quickly pulled back, gasping, and looked away, anywhere that wasn't Peter. She couldn't believe what just happened and what could have happened if she didn't pull away. What was happening to her? Why was she suddenly having this feeling that was so new to her and only happens whenever she's around with Peter?
Peter.
"What is it?" Peter asked, alarmed. "What's wrong?"
Margaret couldn't speak, her mind in total blank.
"Margaret, what is it?" Peter tried again, raising his voice a little.
Margaret looked up at Peter, only to rapidly turn away, staring straight down. "Um," she mumbled absentmindedly. She looked up at the sky. "It's, uh, getting late. We should head back to Hangman Jr.'s Tree." Not waiting for Peter's response, she swiftly grabbed on to other branches and made her way down the tree. She never looked back at Peter, who was staring at her in confusion.
"Margaret?" Peter called after her, but she ignored him. Soon, she felt Peter's floating body following her. That only persuade her to climb down faster. "Alright, Margaret, what's going on? You're avoiding me again? This time, you didn't drown." Margaret continued to ignore him and Peter followed her as she came close to the bottom. "Come on, Margaret, tell me! Please?"
She finally reached to the ground, quickly walking off without looking back (she was afraid to). "Look, Peter, we're all tired. We really need to get some sleeEEEEEE-"
Her foot suddenly stepped on her nightgown, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground. However, Peter swooped in front of her and caught her right in his arms, gripping her tightly.
He slightly chuckled. "You know, you should be more careful at least once in a while."
Margaret picked herself up, ready to retort to his comment, until she looked up at him. Both hers and Peter's eyes locked together, refusing to break away. They didn't think about what they were doing; their minds were blank. They stared at each other as if they had discovered something so stunning then they've ever seen before. After a long moment of gazing at each other, they slowly began to move closer and closer, their eyes almost closed . . .
Without warning, they moved far away from each other, shock clearly written on their faces. Something had definitely happened to them; something even deeper. And it was obvious that, whatever Margaret was feeling, she wasn't the only one.
"Um," Margaret muttered in a small voice, as if unsure if she should speak. "Do you still . . . wanna know what . . . love . . . is?" She ended in a tiny whisper. She wasn't even sure if Peter heard her.
He shook his head as if waking up from a trance. "Uh, what? Oh, yeah! Yeah, I do."
Margaret sighed, feeling very uncomfortable at this moment, especially to this topic. She nervously cleared her voice and took a deep breath.
"Well," she began. "Love is . . . it's . . . it's kind of like . . . um." She was getting more nervous by the second, twisting her night robe uneasily. Peter kept watching her patiently and curiously at her strange behavior over the subject.
"Well, love's . . . sort of like . . . it's actually . . . an affection," she finally said.
"An affection?" Peter asked.
"Um, well, two kinds of affection. One is like . . . um . . . like the way I feel toward my dad or my mum and grandmum. It's sort of like family love. You'd feel so close to someone, whether they are a boy or a girl, as if you're all related. You and this . . . someone do everything together and you'd want to spend as much time with them as you can. You'd help each other out and . . . um . . . you'd feel so close to them and so connected in a special way that . . . you'd do anything to . . . keep that someone . . . close to you . . . forever."
Margaret snuffled up a little. She hid her face to wipe her hidden tears away. Peter lost himself in a deep thought for a long moment. Margaret glanced at Peter, wondering what he was thinking. Then, she turned to the stars, remembering how beautiful they were.
"Like Tink and me," Peter asked out of nowhere. Margaret looked at Peter in surprise. He thought of Tinker Bell as a close relative. Even after Peter had banished her, Tinker Bell was still very close to him. Margaret smiled at how much Tinker Bell meant to him, even though Peter sounded as if it wasn't a big deal.
"Yes," Margaret answered. "Just like that."
"Oh," Peter bowed his head. He later looked up. "What about the other one?"
"Other what?"
"Other . . . affection?"
Margaret's cheeks suddenly burned. She knew what the other was, but she wasn't sure how to explain that to him.
She stepped toward him, looking at anything but his face. Somehow, looking at him only increased the heat of her cheeks.
"The other one . . . is . . . completely different than the . . . first one. It's . . . so much deeper . . . I just don't know how to explain it to you," she admitted.
"Try," Peter encouraged her.
Margaret waited for a minute before she began again. "It's . . . well . . . um . . . when you . . . love a girl . . . it's like being friends." She groaned in frustration. She could tell she wasn't getting anywhere. Already, Peter's face was scrunched into confusion. Margaret knew she had to start from the beginning to make it easier for both him and her.
"It's when a boy and girl like each other very much. They share their affections toward each other; their hearts belonging to each other and . . . it's such a beautiful feeling. Your heart would flutter when you see her, your cheeks would turn red when she comments about or to you, your cheeks would burn whenever she looks at you. You two would be so perfect together. You would have done anything for her; to make her happy and, if she's happy, you're happy. And, if anything happened to her, if she get's herself into trouble, you'd want to help her. If she's hurt or sick, you'd want to heal her; to make her feel better. And . . . if she's . . . gone or . . . dead . . . then your heart will break into a million pieces and . . . you'd have felt the worst pain in your whole life . . . and . . . you'd want to do anything to bring her back . . . but you can't. She would have been gone forever and you would have to carry that pain for a very long time."
It took a long while for her speech to sink into Peter. None of them dared to speak. Finally, he asked her, "Has that happened to you before?"
Margaret was completely caught off guard by that question. "Oh, uh, no, no, it hasn't really! Well, yet, I hope."
"Why," Peter asked, genuinely puzzled. "Why would you want all that to happen to you? What about all that pain that comes from it? Do you want that? If it were me, I'd pass! Don't you?"
Her heart pinched at what he said. "Of course I don't want that pain, Peter! But," Margaret looked up at the bright stars again, spotting the second star to the right. "If I love him with all my heart . . . then it will be worth it."
Once again, silence filled the open air between the two. Margaret's eyes were on the Neverland stars, but Peter's eyes were on her. He slowly touched his cheek, where Margaret had repeatedly kissed him there. Catching an idea, he gradually leaned forward, his lips directed to Margaret's smooth cheek.
Margaret felt Peter moving closer to her, so she turned to him to see what he was doing.
Instead of Peter's lips touching her cheek, it ended up touching her lips.
Immediately, they jumped far apart, absolutely shocked at what just happened. They touched their lips as they stared at each other, completely speechless. They stood frozen for a long time, afraid to move even an inch.
Soon, Peter gathered enough courage to speak first. "What was that?"
Margaret almost didn't hear him; her mind blank. "What?"
Peter cleared his voice and tried again. "Um . . . what was . . . what just happened?"
Margaret bit her lips, only to stop, remembering those same lips that had touched Peter's a few seconds ago.
"I . . . I think we just . . . kissed."
Again, Peter wore a puzzling feature. "That's a kiss?" Margaret nodded wordlessly. "You mean that was what Wendy was trying to show me?"
"Wait, what," Margaret asked him curiously. Her grandmum tried to kiss him?
"After I told her she could come with me to Neverland," Peter explained. "She said she wanted to give me a kiss. I asked what was a kiss and she said she'd show me. She closed her eyes and leaned toward me. I got nervous and backed up."
"Did she really . . . kiss you," Margaret asked, feeling strangely irritated on the possibility of her grandmum actually kissing Peter.
"No," Peter answered with a slight reassured grin. "She almost did, but Tink came and pulled her hair sharply, pulling her away from me. I don't know what would have happened if she hadn't."
"Oh, good." Margaret released a relieved breath she didn't know she had. But that still didn't ease the complete shock over their first kiss. So, she asked Peter in a small and nervous voice:
"Did you . . . like that . . . kiss?"
Peter didn't respond at first, obviously thinking as he looked down at his lips. "It felt . . . weird," he admitted. "And . . . kind of gross." He worse a disgusted look and gently wiped his lips with his hand.
Margaret felt as if an invisible dagger stabbed her hard and deep. He didn't like the kiss. He didn't feel a thing like Margaret had. And why should he, a voice whispered in her head. He's just a boy. He'll never understand the true meaning of love and a kiss. And he'll never will.
That only moistened her eyes. To think that Peter Pan, the boy who refused to grow up, would have felt the exact same thing Margaret was feeling. She felt so stupid. She felt as if the whole time, Peter never felt something between them as she had.
"Oh," Margaret muttered as she turned away. She couldn't stand looking at him without having her heart dance blissfully at the sight of him, yet drowned into a sea of dejection. She couldn't even stand close to him, absolutely confused at this whole thing that was providing her with more ache.
She slowly walked away from him. "I see. That should have never happened, then. I understand." She soon disappeared into the forest and speeded up, not caring on where she was going. She ignored Peter's calling for her, attempting to prevent tears from falling out of her eyes. Why was this happening to her?
Eventually, she instantly stopped when her bare feet touched something cold and wet. She backed up and saw a small lake. What caught her attention was what the lake possessed. The lake had a smooth surface, not a tiny ripple to be spotted (well, after it calmed down from Margaret's interruption). The lake softly glittered like a diamond ring and had the perfect reflection of the starlight sky way above her. All the trees and forest surrounded the lake, revealing the beaming of the moonlight.
Just the sight of the beautiful lake erased all of her troubled event with Peter a while ago.
She didn't even notice Peter finally catching up to her, only to stop to see her enchanted by the peaceful and sparkling lake. He silently stood right beside her and waited.
Margaret stepped her foot into the water, then raised it up until it was settled on the surface. This gave her an idea.
"Peter, do you have extra pixie dust with you by chance?"
"Oh yeah," Peter said, relieved that the earlier tension was over. He reached down to his belt and opened a hidden pocket, pulling out a small cloth bag. The bag was faintly twinkling by tiny gold dust.
"This was in case Tink wasn't around," Peter answered her unspoken question. He carefully untied the bag and poured a little bit of pixie dust on top of her head.
The only happy thought Margaret could think of was of her memories with grandmum and mum, both watching the stars with young Margaret. This brought a smile to her face and, instantly, she felt her feet leaving the ground.
Slowly but surely, she held out her foot and placed it over the surface. Then, she reached out her other foot and stepped forward. Soon, she was walking over the surface of the lake.
Once she reached to the center of the lake, she gazed at the sparkling lake around her and couldn't help but giggle. She had never 'walked' on water before and it thrilled her. She twirled around and around, giggling more. She had completely forgotten that Peter was still standing on the ground, watching her closely.
Margaret soon ended up dancing on the surface of the lake. She kicked the surface water and dipped her toes into the water, spinning her toes around. She waltz over the water, dancing at an invisible dance partner. She fell lost in her own world.
"What are you doing," Peter suddenly called to her. Margaret jumped in surprised, finally seeing Peter's presence. She abruptly felt all those feelings she had felt earlier and struggled to banish them away.
"Oh, uh, I was just, um, dancing."
"Dancing," Peter asked as he floated toward her. Margaret stood back a little, for once afraid of him getting closer to her. "That looks like fun. Can you show me how to dance?"
Margaret now felt extremely nervous. She wasn't sure if she could. Especially to him. But Margaret was determined not to let whatever it was interfere with her having fun with Peter.
"Um, sure," Margaret said. She stepped closer to him, again feeling that same nervousness. She forcefully pushed it down.
She took Peter's right hand and slowly placed it on her hip. "First, you put one hand on my hip, like this." She took Peter's left hand and unhurriedly intertwined them. "And we hold our hands like this." Peter nodded at every word she said, but it was clear that he was getting uneasy about the whole thing. However, he didn't say a word.
"Now, if you step back, I step forward. If I move back, you move forward. Got it?"
"Got it," Peter said, even though he didn't really get it.
Then, Margaret went straight to dancing with Peter. However, it didn't go so well. Peter kept stepping on Margaret's feet and repeatedly missing his cues to move opposite of her. It was clear that dancing wasn't working out and they soon had to stop when nothing had changed.
"This is just too hard," Peter complained. "Isn't there an easier way of doing this?"
"I don't know, Peter. I don't think there is an easier way." Margaret sighed as her head fell. She spotted the moonlight beam and raised her hand to see a long shadow cast from her hand. She looked up and saw countless stars in a clear night sky.
"They're so beautiful," Margaret said softly, whether she was saying that to Peter or to no one. "I wish I could get a closer look at them."
Peter looked at her, looked up to the stars, and then looked back at her, an idea forming in his head. Grinning mischievously, he unexpectedly gripped Margaret's waist with both hands and pushed her up to the sky.
Soon enough, Margaret, taken by surprise, was soaring high above the forest and up to the sky. Ecstasy filled her heart, a gleeful giggle flowed out of her thrilled smile. She looked back down and saw Peter flying toward her, circling around her. Margaret laughed as she began to spin around, her nightgown trailing behind.
Soon, she and Peter slowed down to a stop. They were particularly high above Neverland and were surrounded by billions of stars.
Margaret looked at Peter, who floated up in front of her. "What was that for?"
"You said that you wanted to get a closer look at the stars. Your wish it, I grant it."
Margaret giggled, smiling playfully. "Why thank you for granting me my wish, Mr. Pan."
Peter wore the same smile she wore also. "Oh, it was my pleasure, Miss . . . Uh, what's your other name?"
Margaret giggled again. "Benson."
Peter looked at her in disbelief. "Really?" Margaret nodded, her smile grew wider. "Hmmmm . . . I don't like it."
Margaret just laughed at his comment. She took a look around her and saw all the stars up close. She was completely surrounded by so many stars. "Wow, this is amazing!"
For a moment, Margaret did nothing but gazed at each of the stars. Suddenly, she felt a hand grabbing her hand and another placed on her hip. She looked to find Peter in the same position as they were when they were on the ground.
"What are you doing, Peter?"
"Well, if I can't dance on the ground, I bet I can up here."
"How can you dance in the sky."
Peter didn't answer. Instead, he started moving them slowly forward and then backward. He shift from side to side and twirled both he and Margaret around in circles. Before long, they were flying all over the enchanted land below, dancing away accompanied by the stars and nearby clouds.
"Does that answer your question," Peter asked her.
Margaret didn't speak. She was too speechless. Everything was so beautiful. Her eyes stopped when they landed on Peter's face. The moonlight illuminated Peter's dark eyes, a sparkle shone in them. He softly smiled at her and his fiery hair danced on his head from the wind. Her eyes couldn't look away. It was as if her eyes were locked into Peter's eyes. Margaret's mind fell blank again and only stared at him, smiling as she gazed at him. She never noticed how attractive Peter's face was. And, without her knowing, and without knowing himself, Peter was thinking the same thing about her.
For a long time, Peter and Margaret did nothing but gaze at each other and exchanging soft smiles, dancing mechanically all over the sky. Nothing disturbed or interrupted them. They were at peace, but they had no idea what was happening. They just allowed whatever was happening now to happen.
Soon, Margaret slowly lay her head on Peter's shoulder, feeling very tired.
"You know what, Peter?" she spoke softly and sleepily.
"What?"
"I've never had this much fun in my entire life."
*"Captain," Smee whispered against Captain Hook's cabin door. He knew that he wasn't suppose to wake up the captain this late at night. But it was extremely important for the captain to see something, before it was too late.
"Pssst, oh captain," he whispered louder. He waited for a moment. Then, he suddenly banged his fist against the door. "Hey captain, wake up," he shouted. "I need to tell you something! Something very important!"
While he had said all that, Hook finally opened the door, only to have Smee punch him repeatedly, Smee thinking he was still knocking at the door and not his captain.
At last, Hook grabbed Smee's knocking fist before it made another punch and slowly lowered it down. Smee looked up to see his captain, wearing his undergarment, his forest green blanket wrapped around him, and clutching a teddy bear with a scar across the left eyes button and a tiny hook on the right arm.
Smee chuckled nervously, for Hook was giving him a hard cold glare, waiting silently for an explanation to Smee's interruption.
"Oh, captain! Good, you're up! And might I say, you look positively colorful this evening!"
Hook just stared at him with a deep frown and very dark eyes that carried several bags under them.
Noticing the captain not responding, Smee decided to hit straight to his reason.
"Um, yes, well, I know you had ordered us all to never disturb you while you are sleeping. But there is something very, very important you need to see!"
"Could it have waited until morning," Hook mumbled dangerously, thinking how wonderful it would be for him to cut Smee's throat with his extremely sharp hook.
Smee swallowed, getting more nervous by the second. "Uh, no sir, captain, sir! It would already be too late! Please come and see! You must!
"Give me one good reason why I should," Hook commanded coldly.
"Well, uh you see, it's, well, it's about Peter Pan."
Hook's eyes suddenly widened, unknowingly dropping his teddy bear.
"What?" Hook whispered, completely forgetting his anger toward Smee.
"Yes, yes, Red-Handed Jack spotted him up in the sky with his lady friend! He said that he saw something very interesting about Peter Pan that you should see for yourself! Immediately!"
Without another word, Hook dropped his blanket, marched out of his cabin and hurried to the watch tower, located at one corner of the fort. Smee, realizing what the captain was still wearing, rapidly scurried inside the cabin and ran out, carrying the captain's scarlet coat.
Once he arrived, Hook went straight to the bamboo-made elevator and waited impatiently. Smee dashed into the elevator and quickly put the coat on Hook, who wrapped it tightly around his body. Smee closed the small door behind him, gripped on a nearby rope, and pulled it hard but gently and quickly. By doing this, the rope pulled the elevator up, carrying Smee and Hook up to the top of the watch tower. Once they made it, Hook instantly took off, leaving a very exhausted Smee behind. He was breathing harshly, gasping for air. He wiped his sweaty forehead, accidentally knocking his hat off of his head. Realizing this, he ran to his hat and retrieved it . . . only to find out that he had let go of the rope.
Smee froze. "Uh oh."
Before he knew it, or even attempted to move, the elevator suddenly dropped all the way down, crashing onto the bottom.
All was silent until a faint, but slightly pained voice called out. "I'm okay!"
Meanwhile, Hook found Red-Handed Jack, who was looking up in the sky with his telescope, and rushed up to him.
Red-Handed Jack caught sight of the approaching captain. "Captain, thar ye be! Look wha' I found!"
He handed the telescope to Hook and pointed up in the sky. "They be right o'er thar!"
Hook held up the telescope and took a look through it.
There, through the telescope, was a sight Hook never thought he would ever see in his entire life. It was certainly Peter Pan himself. He was with his new lady friend, the same one who was part of that whole prank Peter pulled on him this morning. Hook flinched at the memory of that morning.
What caught Hook's attention the most was the look on Peter's image. He was holding his lady friend very close to him. The girl had her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed. They held each other while they slowly spun around in the sky.
Hook studied Peter Pan's face. He could see the boy's face so calm and relaxed, something Hook has never seen the boy like that before. He was use to watching the boy wearing the appearance of a carefree, adventure-seeking, cocky boy, who would rather spend all his time having fun forever. But never, in his whole life on this island, has Hook ever seen the arrogant, fun-loving Peter Pan look so peaceful, still, and . . . vulnerable.
Hook slowly lowered the telescope, an evil and scheming smile making its way across his shadowed chin.
"So, Pan," Hook muttered to himself. "You've finally got yourself a weakness. On that little lady friend of yours."
He shrank the telescope and handed it over to Red-Handed Jack. "Call in an emergency meeting and make sure to keep the racket down," he ordered the pirate, his eyes still on the floating couple, oblivious to what Hook has in store for them.
"I think it's time for all of us to . . . personally meet Peter Pan's new lass."
*Peter didn't know how long they floated around in the air. He felt maybe an hour or more. Both were comfortably quiet, holding each other the whole time. It was all so peaceful and relaxing, Peter had to admit. He had never done something like this before and it felt really nice. Though he was getting sleepy.
He looked down at Margaret, who's head was still on his shoulder, her eyes closed. She hadn't moved from that position for a while. Peter wondered if she was getting tired as he was.
"Margaret," he whispered in her ears. She didn't respond. "Margaret," he tried again. Still, nothing.
He raised his hand and softly gripped her shoulder, shaking it slightly to awake her. "Margaret? Are you still awake?"
The only answer Margaret let out was a soft and drowsy moan, proving that she had fallen asleep.
Peter smirked as he wrapped his arm under her legs and wrapped another around her back, carrying her bridal style. "Come on, Margaret. It's time for bed."
Making sure not to go too fast, he flew back down to Neverland, clutching sleeping Margaret in his arms. He never noticed a doll falling out of Margaret's night robe pocket, disappearing into the forest.
Soon, Peter had arrived to Hangman Jr.'s Tree. He flew down from one of the hidden entrances and landed his feet on the ground.
It was as if he had never left. All the boys were still asleep in their hammocks (they were even snoring like pigs). Margaret's puppy was also asleep, cuddled up next to Tootles.
Peter, still carrying Margaret, walked to the bear rug, but stopped. His eyes glanced at his bed. For some reason, he felt awful for having Margaret sleep on the floor, the only warmth found in the fur of the rug.
Without another thought, Peter walked over to his bed, pulled the covers back by using his foot, and carefully placed Margaret on his bed. He pulled the covers over her, making sure she was warm and comfortable under it.
His eyes soon fell upon her face. She held the same face she had the first time he saw her back in London. She still contained all those wonderful things that drew Peter to stare at her for a long time. He remembered everything with her, from London to tonight. He smiled at the memories of her. She was defiantly different than Wendy or Jane.
Once again, he held his hand and touched his cheek, where Margaret had numerously kissed on. He remembered where he tried to return a kiss on her cheek, but, instead, it landed on her lips. Thinking back, he had to admit it had felt strange, gross, and yet . . . kind of nice.
And, since Margaret's asleep, Peter thought he could try again without accidentally falling onto her lips like last time.
He slowly leaned forward, very cautious and hesitant. He didn't want to wake her, or possibly kiss her again. He paused for a moment, unsure if he should do it.
Finally, he quickly kissed her cheek and pulled back, observing her to see if she will awake.
The only thing Margaret did was grin very slightly.
Peter let out a relieved sigh he didn't know he was holding. He stood up, feeling proud of himself. He stared at Margaret one last time.
"Good-night, Margaret," Peter whispered to her before he went over to the bear rug and fell fast asleep.