“He was teasing and Wendy gave him a taste of his own medicine,” Michael continued, his voice very quiet. “So, he tried to hit her.”
John stuttered, “S-s-o - you hit him instead?”
Michael looked up and met his brother’s gaze head-on. “Yes,” he said, simply.
John blinked, as did Mary and George. The living room lapsed into a stunned silence once more. And then, delicately, Mary Darling cleared her throat. “John,” she began, nodding at her older son. “Wendy,” she continued, nodding at her daughter in turn. “Could you two please give us a moment alone with Michael?”
Wendy stood slowly and placed a reassuring hand on Michael’s shoulder. He didn’t move and he didn’t look up, but she knew it had comforted him, nonetheless. Then she turned and walked out of the room. John hesitated momentarily and then followed her out. Behind them, Michael and his parents began to converse in hushed tones.
John closed in behind Wendy, securely shutting the kitchen door behind them. “This is all your fault,” he hissed at her once they were out of ear shot.
Wendy turned on him, her eyes a steely gray. At first, she said nothing. Then her gaze narrowed and she stood straighter, coming to face him fully. “What, John? Exactly what is my fault?”
Neither of them noticed the brief flash of a tiny speck of light in the corner of the kitchen window.
“This mess you’ve gotten Michael into. You’ve turned him into a mindless toy with your foolish stories. You’ve pulled him into your make-believe world so that he can’t face the truth and get over it like I have. Why must you insist on hurting him in this way?” His voice had lowered into an angry hiss.
Wendy’s eyes went from narrowed and furious to wide and shocked. “I- I can’t believe you just said that, John,” she whispered. Wendy shook her head, looked at her hands in desperation, and then shot her gaze back up at him. “I’ve seen you try to throw away your experience and ‘agree’ with the doctors, but I don’t understand it. I don’t!” Her tone took on desperation, as did her expression, her eyes once more reflecting a building storm. How - how – can you honestly think that Neverland never happened? You. . . .” She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You, who used to fly higher than the rest of us with your thoughts of quantum physics and – and – macro biology! John, you actually kissed Princess Tiger Lily, even though her father threatened to-”
John closed the distance between them in two quick strides and his hand was over her mouth, his face red, his blue eyes flashing angrily. “Don’t you dare drag me back into your pretend abyss again, Wendy!” He spat the words at her, his hand forcing her head to jerk with every syllable. “I had to claw my way out of it, fighting tooth and nail to regain reality and face what really happened to us! I will not play puppet to your string pulling again! Not now – not ever! Never!”
Never is a terribly long time, Wendy’s thoughts whispered.
But the stinging wasp-nest-like numbness that had encased her forbade her from further speech, even after John removed his hand from her mouth. He towered over her, a year younger than her, but half a foot taller. Wendy looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. She knew that if she did, she would either hit him or cry. And she had the strength for neither one just then. The sound of his words had attacked her like a million supernatural mosquitoes, leaving her drained of much more than blood.
“I’ll leave you with your thoughts, Wendy,” John straightened, his tone lower now and his demeanor one of a man who believes he has just won a very smart argument. “Maybe they can talk some sense into you.” He adjusted his V-neck vest sweater over the long-sleeved shirt beneath it, then spun on the squeaky heel of his new black loafers and strode out of the kitchen.
Wendy gently, distractedly, touched her face with shaking hands, and turned toward the sink.
*****
Outside the window, Tinkerbell stood straight and blinked. No, she thought. No, no, no, no, no, no! Not her! Not now! Oh! In frustration, she lifted off of the window sill and spun around wildly, thrashing her arms and legs out at nothing but thin air. This was horrible! But, of course, it made so much sense. Why hadn’t it occurred to her before? Because. That’s why. Because she didn’t want it to because she hated Wendy Darling and because Peter Pan was hers – Tinkerbell’s – not Wendy’s, and because there was no way in Neverland that Tink was going to let that Wendy bird interfere in their lives again!
Tinkerbell flew in mad circles, her tiny body containing so much anger that if she didn’t get it out, she knew she might explode. Her path through the night sky looked like a miniscule shooting star, streaking from here to there and back again with wild abandon.