Page 49 of Lost in the Never Woods

She watched as he turned back around and walked down the street. The sound of crickets drifted in his wake.

When she went back inside, Mrs. Darling was standing in front of the fridge. “How do leftovers sound?” her mother asked. Mrs. Darling pulled out a Tupperware full of cheesy chicken and rice Wendy had made for dinner a couple of nights before.

“Sounds good to me,” Wendy said as she took a seat at the table. Her shins already ached from running through the woods. She felt like she was still covered in dirt and ashes. She really needed to get into the shower and scrub herself clean, but at the moment, walking up the stairs seemed daunting and the promise of melted cheese made her stomach growl.

She realized her mother was watching her, but Mrs. Darling’s eyes flitted away when Wendy looked up and she busied herself with pulling out a pair of forks.

Wendy thought about what Peter had said. How, once upon a time, her mother had known Peter, had even been a swordfighter. The idea seemed preposterous now, with her messy hair, medical scrubs, and perpetually tired smile.

Even before Wendy and her brothers had gone missing, her mother had always seemed like the perfect lady to Wendy. Her hair had always been long and fell down her back in waves. Wendy had been in love with those silky locks and used to run her fingers through them over and over when she was upset and being held. She used to have such a graceful walk, too, like a ballerina. And when she had told them stories, her mother’s voice was a gentle tune, like she was singing.

Those were the only two versions of her mother Wendy knew. The idea of her being a little girl, running around with Peter Pan and brandishing a sword, seemed impossible.

But a lot of things that seemed impossible were turning out to be very real lately.

“So, Barry seems nice?” Her mother’s question brought Wendy out of her thoughts.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, he’s nice,” Wendy said, caught off guard.

“You’ve never brought a boy over before. Are you two…” Mrs. Darling started slowly, casting Wendy a furtive glance, “dating?”

“What?” Wendy almost shouted. “No—we—NO, definitely not,” she stammered, completely flustered. “I only just met him the other day!” She could feel her cheeks turn red.

Oh, God, they weren’t going to have that conversation, were they?

“Okay, okay.” Mrs. Darling held her hands up in surrender. “I was only asking,” she said, an amused look on her face. As she started the microwave, Wendy tried to melt into her chair. “You just seemed nervous when I walked in on you two—”

Wendy slapped her hand on her forehead. “You didn’t walk in on us. We weren’t doing anything—”

“And you kept touching his arm and giving him this look,” Mrs. Darling continued. She was nearly smiling—it was almost there, hiding in the right-hand corner of her mouth.

Wendy groaned and buried her face in her hands. She had only been touching him because she had been trying to get him out of the house! And what look on her face was her mother even talking about? The only look she could have possibly been making was of a girl on the brink of panic! Wendy dropped her hands to the table. “Trust me, there is nothing going on with me and P—between the two of us.”

Mrs. Darling walked over and set a paper plate of chicken and rice in front of Wendy, along with a glass of water. “Well, he seems very nice either way,” Mrs. Darling said as she walked back to the kitchen.

Wendy made a huffing noise as she stabbed her fork into a piece of chicken and popped it into her mouth. She wasn’t the best cook—nothing compared to what her mother used to make when she was little—but the chicken was seasoned with just enough spice, and the rice was gooey with cheese.

“He just seems so familiar, though,” Mrs. Darling continued. She frowned at her plate as she scooped up a portion. “Maybe I used to go to school with his father? Do they look very much alike?”

Wendy took another bite and shook her head. “No, like I said, they just moved here,” she said through a mouthful of food, “from Florida.” Wendy hated lying, mostly because she was terrible at it. “He just has one of those faces, I guess…”

Mrs. Darling nodded slowly, lost in thought.

It was then that Wendy noticed the TV was still on. “I guess you heard about Alex?” she ventured, staring down at her plate as she picked at her rice.

This refocused Mrs. Darling’s attention. Her delicate brows furrowed and a heavy sigh pulled down on her shoulders. “Yes,” she said. “The police were at the hospital all night, checking sign-in sheets and getting security camera footage.”

Wendy coughed. It felt like a piece of chicken had lodged itself in her throat. “Security cameras?” she repeated.

“Yes,” Mrs. Darling went on, not noticing Wendy’s sudden change in mood. “But they’re only positioned at the entrances, so I’m not sure what good they’ll do for the search.” She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. “I guess they want to look for anyone suspicious, maybe anyone who might’ve followed him and his parents out of the hospital this afternoon.”

That probably should’ve relieved Wendy—at least there would be no footage of Peter interacting with her or Alex—but would the security cameras have caught him coming in or leaving? She’d never asked him how, exactly, he got in and out without anyone noticing. Would someone recognize him?

Mrs. Darling put the empty Tupperware into the sink but paused instead of joining Wendy at the table. “They’re looking for the boy from the hospital, too, who you found in the road,” she started hesitantly.

Oh no …

“They seem to think that this is all related somehow,” Mrs. Darling continued. “You haven’t seen him, have you?”