The silence is making me nervous. I sit up and shove his shoulder, “It’s quite a funny looking hat. What’s with the red feather?”

        “Believe it or not, this was all the rage a few centuries ago.” He hands me the hat.

        I copy his smirk and slip it over my curls. I stand up and wave my hands in the air. “Methinks the feather a bit much.” I crinkle my nose as the feather tickles it. 

        Peter chuckles and rises to his feet. He bows deeply. “I must admit, I’ve never seen someone wear the hat backwards like that.”

        “You knavish rake! To insult a lady so!” I gasp and cover my heart with my hand.

        “It’s a fact, not an insult. Now, if the lady allows.” He holds out his hand.

        I shrug and drop the old fashioned language. It can be rather exhausting. Peter’s fingers brush over my curls as he pulls off the hat. The moonlight shines brightly over us. His outfit used to match his eyes, but now his black shirt lightens his brown hair. My heart stills as I catch my breath.

        There is barely an inch between us.

        Peter turns the hat around and ruffles the feather. “Perfect.” He smiles.

        I always loved it when he smiles. He doesn’t do it nearly enough. A smile is different from a smirk.

        Peter looks down. His gaze latches on mine. He’s eyes are so green. Bert’s eyes are green too, but they lean towards hazel. Peter’s are a deep unbroken green.

        I never realized how his eyelashes curl slightly at the end. They are long, like Jacob’s eyelashes. But black, not blond.

        I blush. It is a good thing he cannot hear my thoughts anymore. Although I wish I could hear his. What does he think of me? Does he think of me at all?

        Peter’s lips part. “Wendy-” He whispers. He pushes a curl out of my eyes.

        His head tilts down toward me.

        I inhale sharply and step away.

        “Funny hat!” I blurt.

        “What?” Peter twists his hand in his hair. He looks above my head, avoiding my eyes.

        I swallow and tap the corner of the hat. “A funny hat. Maybe you should keep it. I mean, it is yours.” I reach up to pull it off, but his hand catches my wrist.

        “No,” He smiles softly. “I like it better on you.” His eyes darken and he releases my hand.

        I shrug, but wish he hadn’t turned the hat around. We are too close, and there is no feather swaying between us. My cheeks start to ache from my forced grin. I drop back onto the grass. Peter joins me.

        Okay then, now what?

        Peter reaches over me and grabs the bag. “We have unfinished business.”

        “Peter!” The boy is insufferable.

        “What is this stuff?” He pulls out the wooden star. “Daine, of course. But this-” he holds up the torn blade of grass. “What is this?”

        “It came from this meadow.” I roll my eyes. “Nothing in there will interest you! Well, except for maybe that.”

        Peter rolls the acorn between his fingers. “You kept it?”

        I nod. Does that mean he’s already forgotten my thimble? Blood is still rushing quickly through my veins. Now is not the time to relive how we exchanged an acorn and thimble and called them kisses.

        To be honest, I just didn’t want to hurt his feelings. And I still can’t believe I offered to kiss him in the first place. Warmth brushes my cheeks. And of course the moon strains even harder to replace the sun’s warmth with its own pale light. It is nighttime, so why isn’t it darker?

        A girl should be able to blush without the moon giving her away.

       Peter hands me the acorn. I shove it deep into my pocket.

        “Jacob told me what this acorn really is.” The last piece of his life before Neverland. So I am not the only one who keeps silly things to remember. “How could you have given me something so valuable?”

        “I don’t regret my choice. I know my kiss will be safe with you.”

        I fold my arms. “We both know that it is an acorn, not a kiss.”

        “And we also know that to us it will never be just an acorn.”

        Or just a thimble. If he’s even bothered to keep my kiss.

        My fingers brush over the lump under my shirt. My dagger. Tears spring into my eyes. I turn my eyes away from Peter. Not here. Why is it all catching up to me now?

        “Wendy?” Peter tugs on my shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

        “No, I-it’s just late.” Now that was a silly thing to say. It’s always late. My voice wobbles. “I mean, I’m tired.” I struggle to keep my tears in my eyes, but they spill out.

        Peter pulls the hat off of my head and pushes curls out of my face. “Oh, Wendy! Are you crying? Did I say something? I’m sorry-I know this is all a mess.” Peter pats my back awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

        “I’m okay.” But a sob strangles my words, turning them into a lie.

        He rubs his hands over my shoulders, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Don’t cry, Wendy-girl. Please don’t cry.”

        I wipe my eyes. He has no idea what this is about. I can’t tell him, but I also can’t kill him.

        I can’t kill anyone. But especially not Peter Pan. He is my friend. Maybe even my best friend. Like Daine said, we’re family now.

        But how can I choose him over my world?

        “Don’t attack my world.”

        Peter’s hand stills on my back. “Wendy, you don’t understand.”

        “Of course I don’t!” I clench my fingers. “You don’t either. Give me one real reason why you would do this!”

        Peter pulls away from me. His jaw tightens. “It’s the next logical step, right? You’ve said it, everyone has said it-I am evil. I’m the bad guy.” He stands up. “So is this the only reason why you stayed behind?”

        I stumble to my feet, dropping my bag and the silly hat. “Don’t! Don’t blink and disappear.” My voice catches, “Please.”

        “Why? So you can save your silly world? It was my world too, once. But what has it ever done for you? For me? For any of us? We don’t belong there. I am going to change everything.”

        “You are going to destroy everything.”

        “I don’t kill. I don’t destroy.” Peter folds his arms over his chest and turns away from me.

        “I know, I know. You change things instead.” I glare at him. “Death is too final for you, too simple. You want to ruin your victims. And that means that you do still destroy. Not physically, but emotionally. But there’s still hope, Peter. We can change the rules. Stay, please. Don’t leave me alone again. We can find the answers, I will help you.”

        “I’m sorry, Wendy. It’s too late for me. And for this island.” He shakes his head and does what I asked him not to.

        He leaves. Just like everyone else in my life.

        And I am left alone. Like every time before.

**

        I wrap my arms around my waist and walk slowly to the clearing. I’m so tired. Maybe one of the lost boys will let me borrow their hammock for a little while.

        Yells break out. I jerk my head up. What is going on?

        The campfire glints through the trees. And one word rises above the rest.

        “Fight!”