I move towards him, even though everything inside me is screaming ‘run, hide, fly.’  But I won’t this time.

        “You are a bully. You’re a lost boy who-”

        Felix laughs, but it is short and raspy and angry. “Whoever said I was a lost boy?”

        “What?” I jerk my head back. Confusion seeps through me. Confusion and frustration. He is making no sense! “You-you did. Back when you first told Kelvin about this place.”

        He taps his chin with long, thin fingers. “Ah. And no one has ever lied to you before?”

        “It wasn’t a lie. You’re Peter’s right hand man. He told me so himself.”

        “You know nothing.” Felix shrugs. “You have no idea who I really am.”

        Silence stirs between us. I try to shake off the heaviness that keeps me tied to this clearing. What is Felix hinting at? Is he just playing with my mind?

        Felix bares his teeth in what is meant to be a smile. He points to the tree fort hidden by branches and leaves and shadows. “Go on. He doesn’t want you to see him, which is why he never came down.”

        “Then I shouldn’t go up.” Maybe I’ll try to find Kelvin and the other lost boys. Bert can probably show me where the fairy circle is.

        “You must, but only if you are ready for the truth. But you won’t like it.” Felix’s warning hangs in the air as he walks away. Did he only come to taunt me?

        I run my fingers over the rough bark of the Neverland tree. I press my forehead against it and close my eyes. Why can’t life be easier? Why, even in a magical island, does everything have to seem so complicated? Everyone has secrets and scars. We all have a story. Am I ready to hear Peter Pan’s yet?

        Do I want to know the truth when I’ve barely known the boy whose smiles never reach his eyes and whose laughter never lingers? Something about Peter reminds me of Kelvin. How a stranger can become a friend from one moment to the next. How you can love and care for someone you barely know. And eventually, how a friend can become part of your family.

        But I have no family.

        I remember Felix’s wild eyes and pale scar. I wonder how he got it and who he was before he came to this island. Felix has a story too.

        I climb the tree again. Partly because I love to climb trees, but mostly because it will lengthen the time before I have to confront Peter. The apple in my pocket scrapes against the thimble, another reminder of a life I am already forgetting.

        Maybe it is because I have been sitting for several hours or because I’ve already climbed up before, but I reach Peter’s tree house too soon.  I still don’t know what I’ll say without sounding needy or offending him. Maybe Felix was wrong, and Peter is out somewhere with the other lost boys.

        I look into the tree house which is as messy and random as it was the day before. Then I grab a nearby branch and feel my heart beat wildly inside me. Why am I so nervous? Peter probably isn’t here, I repeat silently. But something inside me knows he is up there, a few feet above me on the roof made of woven branches and slabs of wood.

        Breathe in. I tighten my grip on the branch and get ready to pull myself up. Breathe out. I am exaggerating. No matter what Felix said, Peter is only sleeping…I think. Of course, if he really is sleeping, then I shouldn’t be swinging myself into his makeshift room.

        I climb up, using the thick branches and a little bit of flying.

        The lies continue to drum through me, thudding with every heartbeat. I am exaggerating. He is probably sleeping. He is okay-

        I pull myself onto the roof and see the boy crumbled in one corner, his eyes open and staring at the sky.

        A breath of relief whispers from me. But then I look down and my mouth falls open.

        There is blood on his hands.

**

        “Peter!” I scream and stumble forward, but then freeze.

        Thousands of tiny pieces of glass glisten across floor. I pause. It looks so beautiful when the sunlight sparkles through it. For a second, it mesmerizes me. But then the illusion fades. Who did this? How will I get to him? There is no way I will be able to get across without hurting myself-I groan. I can’t believe that I actually forgot that I can fly now.

        I float above the dangerous glass and reach Peter. He shakes his head, his eyes distant.

        “Wendy?” His eyebrows sink down. His green eyes widen. He lurches forward. “No, no! You’re not supposed to be here, you’re not supposed to see-”

        “See what? See that you are hurt?” I look down at the angry marks on his hands, at the red blood staining his fingers. “Who did this, Peter? Who?!

        The truth is there, but I am too afraid to accept it.

        His eyes do not stray from mine. There is brokenness in him, like there is in all of us. I want to help him. I want to blame it on the darkness he had mentioned. I want to fly away and pretend that nothing is wrong in this world full of magic and mysteries.

        Instead I brush my dirty finger over his cheek. I pull the apple from my pocket. “Are you hungry?”

        Peter’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile yet. He holds out his hand for the piece of fruit.

        I set it down. “But first, you need to clean off those hands. Now, we will probably need some water. Maybe I can go down to the stream and-”

        One of the bowls appears next to us, filled to the brim with cold water. “What…?” Questions stir inside me, but I ignore them. I smile. “You probably didn’t need me to climb up to give you an apple. You could have just called for one, or however it is you got this bowl up here.”

        “Magic belongs to Neverland, and yes I could have called for an apple.” Peter bites his lip. “Although I have to admit, I prefer it when you come instead.”

        I blush, a habit I’ve never been able to break. Then I remember the glass and the blood and the gravity of the situation. My smile settles into a frown as I rip off a piece of fabric from the hem of my old dress.

        Peter squints at me. And too late, I remember he probably could have just ‘called’ for some fabric of his own. I shrug and dip the cloth into the bowl of water. Then I hold his hand carefully and wipe away the tiny pieces of glass and the dark blood.

        Once his hands are clean and bandaged, I hand him the apple.

        “Now, Peter Pan, I may not want to hear it and you may not want me to know. But I am part of this world at least for a while.”

        “Only for today. You are going back tonight.”

        Not if I can change your mind. I settle onto a thick branch next to him. I still need to clean up this glass around him, but first… “Then there is no reason for you to lie to me. Tell me what is going on.”

        “I can’t. I won’t.” His eyes shift away from mine. He shrugs and takes a large bite of his apple. “Sorry, darling.”

        Frustration wells up inside me. Already the boy with blood on his hands is shifting back into yesterday’s masquerade. It is hard to believe that they are okay when you have seen them curled alone in a tree; their hands stained with evidence of the pain in their eyes.

        “Peter…” I glare at him. I fold my arms, trying to hold my anger in. “You can tell me. You can trust me. What is wrong with this island?”

        “I already told you. It is cursed with darkness.” He takes another overly large bite. Is he mocking me? Or am I acting paranoid again?

        “Fine.” I point at the shards of glass surrounding us. “Then who did this?”

        He smirks. “Ah, but you already know who.” Something in his voice makes me think of Felix.

        “I-but, it doesn’t make sense. No, it can’t be true. Don’t lie to me.”

        “I am not lying to you.”

        I clench my teeth together. “Tell me who hurt you. Who broke the glass and made you bleed?”

        Peter leans back, tossing his half eaten core into the leaves below us. “I did. But you’ve already guessed that, haven’t you, Wendy Darling? That is why there is fear in your eyes. You figured out the truth on your own, but you refuse to believe it. Me. I am the darkness. I am the curse.” He stands up, his body a shadow against the blue sky. “I am Peter Pan, Neverland’s monster.”