He leans toward me. “Very good, Wendy Darling. Took you long enough.

        My stomach twists. I step away from him, my back connecting with the trunk. “What is going on?” He doesn’t sound like Peter at all. I see the boy who taught me how to fly and who returned for me, but I hear Felix and dark men whistling in alleys and bullies who never know when to stop.

        Peter eyes darken. The inches between us disappear he steps toward me. I catch my breath as he slants his head down. He raises his hand and rams his fist into the bark next to my head.

        I jump away. Peter carves into the wood, then slips the dagger back into his belt. “Thank you for your help, Miss Wendy.”

        I smooth my thumb over the jagged lines of a star. I don’t know what is happening. Who is this boy? I saw a flash of him in a treehouse, but it was easy to ignore with the open blue sky and sunshine.

        But now at night with shadowy trees around us, fear pulls curtains around my heart.

        “Well…” Peter folds his arms. “The moon is almost full. I think this is enough adventure for one night. Wouldn’t you agree?”

        I need to warn the Indians. I don’t know who they are or why they are hiding, I can no longer trust Peter Pan. He might mean them harm and I don’t know why.

        And it is my fault because I helped him find them.

        I whip around the trunk and open my mouth to yell something-anything. But as soon as I move away from the trunk, Peter’s hand digs into my arm and he jerks me back. I wince and the Indian hideout fades away.

        Are we returning to Earth? Did he get what he wanted and now will send me home?

        I open my eyes and stumble forward. We stand in the lost boys’ clearing.

        “I wasn’t sure if that would work.” Peter’s voice comes from behind me. I jerk around.

        “Tell me what is going on!”

        “There is a curse on this island. But you already knew that. Everyone changes at night, Wendy, even you. Soon you will forget yourself. The darkness is already poisoning you. It still might time some time, but then again time has never really mattered here-so I’ve already won. You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

        “I never will. There is still hope.”

        “What hope? This isn’t a fairytale. It isn’t a dream anymore. What are you going to do about it, Wendy girl? No one can defeat me. No one can save this island.”

        He leans against the largest tree. Above us is his treehouse where I saw the first glimpse of Neverland’s darkness.

        “Are you ready for the game to begin?” Peter pulls the dagger from his belt and spins it through the air.

        I step away. My heart catches in my throat. “I’ve done what you wanted, Peter Pan. I don’t know what is going on, but you must let me go home.” My words steady my breathing. Why would he keep me here? I want to leave and why shouldn’t I? I had fallen in love with the Neverland full of magic and mystery and blue sky. But this isn’t the island I know. This is danger and darkness and questions.

        “Silly girl. You aren’t going home. You returned of your own free will. This is your choice.” He flicks his knife into the air again. The silver glints in the moonlight.

        I need to leave-now. I lift my head and strain upwards, but my feet remain latched to the ground. I fight the gravity, but something-or someone-is holding me down. Anger flashes through me. “Let me go, Pan!”

        He looks at me oddly. “You’ve never called me that before.”

        “Well, you’ve never acted this way before.” I tug upwards, then give up and try to move my feet. If I can’t fly, I can still try to run. But my legs won’t budge. “Pan!”

        “Sorry, Darling, but you aren’t going anywhere.”

        I glare at him. “You-” Another pang of fear jolts through me. “Kelvin. And Bert and Daine and Jacob-where are they? What have you done to them?” Maybe they can help me, maybe they can explain what is going on and take me home.

        Peter ignores me and raises his fist, pointing the dagger at the night sky. “Come on, boys!” His cry rings through the air.

        I turn towards their hidden door, but it doesn’t open. Dark figures materialize from the trees around us.

        They step into the moonlight, weapons in their hands and hoods covering their faces.

        The lost boys surround us. My feet finally loosen, but I have nowhere to run. Names beat through me. Daine. Bert. Kelvin. Jacob. Even Felix. And all the other boys who sat next to me by the fire or rolled down the hill after us.

        I turn around slowly. Their faces are blank, their eyes hidden beneath dark hoods. I don’t know who is who.

        “Kelvin?” I gasp, my eyes jerking from boy to boy.

        One of the boys shifts, dark curls escaping his hood. And I remember the shadow moving across a balcony. Peter’s words drift back to me, “Kelvin helped.”

        Panic pushes through me and works its way inside my bones. London. Home. Safety.

        I close my eyes. I am dreaming. I am dreaming. When I open my eyes, I will be cold and wet in a dark alley. Forgotten and lost. And safe.

        “All the pieces are in place.” Peter Pan’s words rip through my thoughts. “Let’s play.”

        I open my eyes. “No, no!” I back away and run into Peter. He locks his hand around my wrist. I struggle against his grip. “No, stop, let me go!”

        The moonlight disappears. I blink away the black dots and find myself in the lost boys hideout. Hammocks swing above us.

        Us.

        Peter Pan is here too.

        I can feel the fight slipping away. Nothing I say or do will change the fact that I am stuck here.

        Peter’s hand is still wrapped around my wrist, but his grip loosens.  I jerk away. “You can’t leave me here. You can’t do this.”

        “I can do what I want. This is my island, my world.”

        “Bert told me you would never keep me here against my will! And you said it was true.”

        Peter blinks. “I did? When?” He tucks his dagger back into his belt.

        “Only a few hours ago. Before you sent me back to London.”

        He folds his arms. “Ah, you see, that was during the day, this is nighttime.”

        “What difference does it make?”

        He chuckles, shaking his head slightly, “Day during Neverland is a dream. Night is a nightmare.”

        During day he was Peter, but now-now he is Pan. My legs sway. I reach out and rest my hand against the wall. The room spins.

        “I am never calling you Peter again.” I lean against the wall and wait for the room to still.

        Peter-I mean, Pan-shrugs. “It is always easier to hate someone than to love them, right, Wendy girl?”

        My legs buckle and I slide to the floor. I curl in the corner, as far away from him as I can get. He watches me. My eyelids droop, but I can still see his boots as they move towards me.

        Exhaustion scatters my thoughts. I force my eyes open as Peter crouches in front of me.

        I am too tired to be angry.  My words won’t ever hurt him.

        Everything is fading away.

        Peter brushes aside my loose curls and presses his long fingers on my forehead. Sleep immediately slips over me. I slump forward.

        As darkness closes my eyes, I catch Peter’s soft whisper.

        “Sweet dreams, Wendy Darling.”