Wendy had only gotten half way through her story when Nana had dictated that it was time for bed. As Wendy got up off the window seat, she felt an odd chill. Thinking it was just the night air she turned around and closed the window, but didn't lock it. She then proceeded to get ready for bed, brushing her hair, kissing her mother goodnight and crawling underneath the bed covers.
Drifting off to sleep, Wendy still couldn't shake the odd feeling she'd had. Somewhere between dreams, the feeling came back.
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Wendy opened her blue eyes and was met by a pair of very surprised green eyes. She gasped. The eyes flew back and hit the ceiling. Wendy bolted up in bed and stared up at them. As she peered closer she realized that, the eyes she had seen were in fact attached to a body. A boy to be precise. The boy continued to stare frozen in place.
Wendy tilted her head. This didn't make any sense! How was he on the ceiling? Not to mention, why was there a boy there at all?
She didn't get a chance to figure that out because Nana, who was not asleep, started to growl at the uninvited guest. The boy took one look at the menacing nurse maid and decided that it was time for him to make an exit.
Nana had other ideas. She leapt up from her rug and started to chase the boy around the room. Wendy watched with wide eyes as the boy seemed to fly around trying to escape. He leapt over the dresser on the far side of the room, and then proceeded to race across the ceiling. Nana in her haste to catch the boy, jumped over Wendy, knocking her to the ground.
Slightly disoriented from the unexpected movement, Wendy shook her head and tried to quickly untangle herself. Through the tangled mess of sheets, she managed to see Nana pounce on the boy. But, instead of landing on him, she landed on his shadow on the nursery floor.
The boy, who was in midair, came to an abrupt halt. There was a slight ripping sound, as though someone was tearing a piece of fabric. Then with one mighty tug the boy was set free and with a small yelp, out the window.
Wendy rushed up to the window and looked out. The boy was gone! She looked up, down, left, and right, but there was no one outside. She shook her head and stepped back into the room. Maybe there wasn't a boy at all; maybe it was all a very peculiar dream.
Wendy was brought out of her thoughts with a nudge from Nana. She placed her hand on Nana's soft head and began scratching.
"Oh, Nana. What am I to do? I am having dreams of flying boys sneaking into the nursery! Surely that can't be a good thing. But... it was so real, how could it have been a dream? You even knocked me out of my bed which should have woken me up. Then again, John and Michael didn't wake up with all the noise. So, was it a dream?"
Wendy wondered off and started to collect the fallen bed linens and she continued to muse.
"But the most peculiar thing was the eyes. Oh Nana! They were wonderful! I felt them looking back at me! They had to have been rea..." Wendy paused as she looked at Nana. Some sort of blackish cloth hung from her mouth.
"What have you got there, old girl? Is it one of my stockings? I shall be very cross with you if there are tooth marks in them." Wendy stretched her hand out to grab the cloth from Nana, but gasped when she touched it. It did not feel like one of her stockings. In fact Wendy was sure she had never felt anything like it at all.
Cautiously, she reached out again to finger the strange material. It was cool to the touch, like a crisp autumn wind. It was softer than silk. Like...running your fingers over the surface of water. The material was lighter than any she had come in contact with before. It weighed practically nothing. Wendy guessed that if Nana wasn't holding onto it, it would have floated away on the night breeze like a leaf.
More curios now, Wendy lifted the fabric, and held it in front of her. The material was not black, but more of a translucent gray. Eyes widening, she realized it had taken form. She held before her a shape of a boy. A very cocky boy, with hands on hips, but a boy nonetheless. Wendy looked down at Nana, then back at the shape, then back to Nana. It...it looked like a...a shadow.
Nana got bored of the new discovery and went back to her rug and fell asleep. Wendy continued to gaze at the ...well...shadow in awe. How did it....
"I'd like to have my shadow back, if you don't mind."
Frightened Wendy wheeled around to face the window, clutching the fabric behind her. There she stood, staring opened mouthed at the boy floating in her window.
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Peter smirked as he watched the girl fish for words. He put on an air of bravado to mask the Indian war drum in his heart and excited butterflies in his stomach. With mock confidence he glided into the room, until he was a breath away from her face.
"The shadow? Behind you." He said pointing around her back.
The girl stared up at him with wide blue eyes, and then blinked rapidly as if coming out of a trance.
"Oh! Of course! This must be your shadow; I mean who else's could it be? And after all you did leave it here after Nana chased you around the nursery. And of course you would miss it so you came back to get it, wouldn't you?"
Peter scratched his head and the onslaught of words coming from the girl. "Girls talk too much."
"Yes they do, don't the...oh what?" she stumbled, accidently agreeing with him.
"I said, girls talk too much. And can I have my shadow?" Peter repeated tapping his foot impatiently.
The girl's face fell. "Oh...oh yes, here it is." she handed the shadow over to the boy.
Peter took his shadow gratefully and started to look around the room for something to make it stick. He looked under a dresser, on top of a shelf, and then finally in the wash basin where there was a bar of something that might work. The girl watched with curious amusement as he tried to use soap to stick the shadow back on.
"Whatever are you doing?" she smiled.
"Trying to get my shadow back on, what do you think I'm doing, girl?" Peter replied frustrated. This bar wasn't working; it was just making everything slippery. And the girl seemed to find it funny which did not make Peter happy.
"My name is not girl. It is Wendy. Wendy Moira Angela Darling. An..."
"Wendy's enough for me" he interrupted.
"As I was saying, you can't stick it on with soap silly! It needs sewing. That is the proper way to do it."
Peter watched as Wendy pulled the soap from his hand. Then went to a drawer and pulled out a needle and thread. She sat down on the floor and patted the bed beside her expectantly. Peter stared at her cautiously.
"It will hurt a little, and it will be over fast so it is okay if you cry." She said encouragingly when he didn't move.
His pride wounded at that remark Peter landed on the bed and forcefully replied," I never cry."
Wendy began threading her needle. "Alright" After a few stitches she cried out "Oh! I don't even know your name!"
Pulling out his dagger and studying it he replied nonchalantly, "Peter Pan."
At that Wendy, and her heart, stopped. She turned to look up at the boy sitting on her bed. The boy had fiery red hair and slightly pointed ears He was wearing a bright green tunic and dark green leggings that matched his mischievous eyes. His skin had a sun kissed tone to it. But it could also be mistaken for dirt. Wendy continued to study him and then put two and two together. She clapped her hands. "Of course you are Peter Pan! That explains the flying! Oh Peter I can't believe it's you! I have waited such a long time to meet you and suddenly here you are! Oh this is absolutely wonderful!"
Peter raised an eyebrow and gestured to the unfinished sewing. "Well get on with it girl."
"As I said before its Wendy." She corrected, a bit miffed. Then continued sewing in silence for several moments. A feeling of nervousness and unease filled the air as neither was sure what to say. It was a first for both of them.
"There." Wendy breathed finally, tying the last stich. "All done."
Peter rose up from the bed and flipped his shadow up onto the wall, where it belonged. He moved he legs and arms to make sure everything was back to normal.
After a little while Wendy spoke, to break the slight unease that had settled in the room. "Where are your manners Peter?" Wendy tssked. "Aren't you going to say thank you? That is what a proper gentleman would say to a lady."
Peter turned around and looked at the girl with a confused expression. He saw a hint of mischief in the blue eyes and decided to play along. Dramatically Peter dropped into a low bow and in serious voice said, "Thank you Wendy-Lady."
Wendy almost giggled at the over exaggeration, and did a deep curtsy in return.
"You are welcome, good sir."
Wendy watched him explore around the room, a new puzzling question forming in her mind.
"Peter?"
"Uh huh?" he replied picking up a ballerina figurine music box.
"Peter, I have to ask...What were you doing in my room earlier tonight?"
Peter froze, caught off guard by the question. His eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at Wendy, as he tried to think of an answer.
Then remembering the real reason for coming, he relaxed back into his confident bravado. Peter flew up to recline on the back of a chair. "To hear the stories."
Wendy looked puzzled. "The stories...My stories?"
"Uh huh! I come to listen and then take them back with me to tell the lost boys."
"You mean to tell me, that you listen to my stories every night? Then tell them to the lost boys?"
"Isn't that what I just said Wendy?" Peter huffed slightly annoyed. He moved from the chair to the foot of her bed.
Wendy wasn't sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed by this sudden revelation. She walked up to Peter and sat down on the bed.
"Do they like my stories Peter?" She questioned shyly.
Peter wanted to blurt out that he loved her stories, even though he altered them and took all the credit. He also wanted to say that the stories weren't the only reason why he kept coming back. But he banished the second thought (because he didn't know where it came from), and made a revised edition of the first one.
"Oh ya, they can't get enough of them! Their favorite story has been jack and the bean stalk, but they also liked sleeping beauty, and of course all the ones about me." He finished with a lopsided grin.
Wendy smiled, a very pretty smile, and decided that she was flattered, not embarrassed. The two sat there smiling for a quiet, special moment. Peter was getting used to this unusual girl, and decided he liked her company. As they sat there Peter's stomach butterflies came back and in an attempt to squash them, he also squashed the moment.
"Well speaking of the lost boys, I'd better be getting back to them. Who know how many murders I might have on my hand, leaving them alone for so long?"
Wendy looked horrified by that unpleasant thought, which made Peter laugh. "Nah, they won't have killed anyone, just maybe a few rabbits."
Peter made a move towards the open window. Wendy leapt off the bed and grabbed Peter's arm. Peter flinched at the unexpected contact of her hand on his skin.
"Oh Peter you will be back won't you? Will you come tomorrow night?" She pleaded with her big blue eyes.
Peter looked down at her hand, and then at her. He rolled his eyes and smirked, "Of course I'll come back, silly girl. I have to hear how the story ends!"
Wendy smiled at his answer and let go of his arm. "Promise?"
Peter laughed as he soared into the night. "I promise Wendy-Lady."