Peter Pan.

        That's all I see. My eyes take in his folded arms, laughing green eyes and familiar smirk. I am not sure if I am only seeing a mask, or if this really is some part of him, but the broken boy from this morning has disappeared.

        I do not know what to do or even what to say. Everyone seems to be watching us. An idea flickers through my mind. I fall into a curtsey, deeper than the one I had just teased Kelvin with.

        To my surprise, Peter bows at the waist. Then he nods at our audience.

        The lost boys turn back to their work and general rough housing. Kelvin joins them.

        Peter and I stand inches apart. I have no words to give him. He showed me darkness when we were alone in his room. What will he show me now?

        Besides, I still don't believe him. Peter can't be Neverland's monster. Isn't he the leader? The closest thing to a king? He isn't evil, he's just a boy. Then again, that last statement could be considered contradictory.

        Peter runs his hand through his hair, like Kelvin did a few minutes ago. He doesn't say the words 'I am sorry' out loud. So I don't tell him I forgive or that I understand. Instead we both pretend that the moment never happened. We banish it to the shadows where it belongs. Why let it hang over our last few hours? I mean, my last few hours.

        "Have you ever rolled down a hill?" Peter asks.

        The question is so unexpected, I giggle. Wait, what? I don't giggle! I change the rebellious girliness into a hacking chuckle. "Rolling down a hill? Sounds painful."

        "Your cough sounds painful. Did you choke on something?"

        Just on my own silliness. Good thing he can't read my mind. "I'm fine. So you really want to tumble down this hill?" I know what bruises feel like. Not something I usually welcome.

        "The grass is soft. You won't get hurt."

        I rub my toe against the green grass. He's right, it is soft. But there might be rocks concealed in that tall wavy blades. Or, even worse, spiders. I might sleep alone in alleys, but I still scream when I see a daddy long legs. I grew up in an orphanage with plenty of bored, naughty boys who did more than tug braids. Their favorite ammunition was spiders.

        "I promise nothing bad will happen to you." Peter's smile disappears.

        "Okay." I nod. He pulls away from me and plops onto the ground.

        We lay down on our stomach, several inches between our heads. "Try not to move sideways!" He yells and then rolls down the hill.

        I groan inside, but follow his lead. I tumble over and over. The grass blurs into blue sky and back again.

        I land on my back at the bottom of the hill, laughter bubbling inside me. I am not ready to sit up yet. In fact, I want to stay here forever, lost in a sea of green below an ocean of blue.

        Peter gasps as he crawls over to me. "Told you nothing would happen."

        But something did happen. I found out that magic can be found in the things that you can do anywhere, not just on a magical island. I turn my head, glancing at Peter.

        With grass sticking in his hair and the dirt smeared on his cheeks, he looks like a little boy. "Grass matches your eyes." I do not know where that came from, but I blush as soon as I hear my own words.

        "The sky matches yours."

        My cheeks burn even more, so I shift away from him and sit up. I look back up the green hill. "That was so much fun. I loved it."

        Peter leans back on his elbows. "Should something that simple make you this happy?"

        "Why not? This place makes me happy." I shrug.

        A shadow passes over his face. He looks down at his hands and I realize what I didn't before. He has no scars, no marks. He isn't even wearing the bandages. "Your hands..."

        Peter shrugs and rubs them on the grass. "I healed them."

        "You did?" I press my lips together. He was probably only humoring me as I had tried to clean the glass and blood. He didn't even need those silly bandages. I finger the ragged edge of my skirt where I tore it for him. "Were you making fun of me the whole time?" He never needed me or my help.

        "What? No, Wendy. I mean, I didn't need you to bandage them or even clean them. But even if I can heal my own wounds-" He catches my eyes. "-is it wrong to want someone else to care enough to help me?"

        I sigh. "I understand, but you should have told me." Before Peter can answer, screams fill the air.

        The other lost boys tumble down the hill, whacking each other with flailing arms and legs. Felix stands alone next to the dead animal, his eyes on me as usual.

        Peter's chuckle pulls me away from the angry stare. "Unless you want a black eye, we should probably move!" He helps me stand.

        We run and leap into the air. Even though I can fly alone, he keeps his hand anchored to mine.

        The magic of Neverland continues to dazzle me. Flying seems so right. Maybe not logical, but natural. How can I ever spend the rest of my life rooted to the ground?

        I laugh and stop wondering how this is possible. For now I just believe. And it is enough.

        Peter folds his legs and sits down there in the middle of the air. I join him. The wind whips my hair around my face. I pull the blond locks back into a braid. When I look up again, Peter's eyes are on me. He jerks his gaze away.

        "I want to try something." Peter stands up and hold out his hands.

        I balance on the invisible currents of wind. "What are you doing?"

        "Trust me. I think you'll like it."

        I slip my hands into his. He grins. "Are you ready?"

        "Ready for-?"

        Peter spins me around.

        The world flashes by in a blur of colors. All I can see is Peter's eyes as we twirl in circles. Our hands loosen and we both fall backwards. The wind catches me and floats me back towards Peter.

        I tilt my head back and laugh until my stomach aches, wisps of blond hair escaping from its braid. This is better than flying alone or rolling down a hill.

        Peter leans forward, his voice changing abruptly. "You're crying!"

        "No, I'm not!" I wipe my eyes, "Besides, some tears are of happiness. And I am so happy right now, I could give you a kiss." As soon as I say the words, I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand. What is wrong with me?

        Peter isn't laughing anymore. His smile is there, but stays only in his eyes. I swallow as he leans toward me. He reaches out his hand and brushes a loose curl away from my eyes.

        "What is a kiss?"

        I blush. "You don't know?"

        "I'll know when you give it to me." Peter waits expectantly.

        Relief and confusion wage inside me. Is he teasing me? What if he's not? What do I do? I smooth down my dress and my fingers brush over my pocket. It isn't empty.

        I pull out the thimble and stare as the sun dances through the tiny holes. Before I can hesitate, I drop it into his outstretched hand.

        "I didn't think a kiss would be so beautiful." Peter smiles at me before tucking my thimble away. He lowers his voice, his words soft and measured. "Now can I give you a kiss too?"

        I don't understand why his eyes are laughing, but his voice is serious. He slips an acorn into my pocket.

        "Now, wasn't there a certain fairy circle you wanted to see?" We fly off together, carrying each other's kisses.

        And keeping our hands unlinked.