Lost in the Never Woods(70)

He took her hand and placed an acorn in her palm.

It had to be her acorn—the one that had been clasped in her hand when the park ranger discovered her in the woods, the one she hid in her jewelry box.

The one she had fallen asleep wearing around her neck.

Wendy cupped it gently in her small hands.

“The fairies helped me pick it out,” Peter went on. Pink bloomed in his freckled cheeks. “It’s so that you won’t forget about me…”

“Forget about you?” Wendy laughed. “Why would I forget about you? I’m not going anywhere!”

Peter looked down at his bare feet.

“Wen-dyyy,” Michael whined behind her. “I don’t feel so good.”

Wendy turned to look at her brothers, but before she could see their faces again, shadows crashed over Wendy, flooding her vision, and plunging everything into darkness.



* * *



Wendy sat bolt upright in bed. Morning sun streamed in through the window. Shuddering breaths shook her body as she tried to gulp down air. She buried her face in her palms and tried to calm herself down. Her cheeks were slick with tears. A miserable pain ached through her, a pit of longing that felt like it would swallow her whole.

John and Michael.

She’d seen her brothers—or, at least, a memory of them. A memory that had been taken from her years ago. That had been just a big, gaping hole in her memory. This was the second time she’d remembered something from their stay in Neverland together. It was so vivid. She could smell the ocean, taste the salty air, and feel the warm sand between her toes.

Why were her memories coming back now? Was it because of Peter? The shadow?

Her brothers were right there. She needed to see them again. She needed to get them back. The memories felt like they were taunting her, holding her brothers hostage, just out of reach.

If she and Peter could just find the shadow, find her brothers and the other missing kids, she could finally get John and Michael back. Everything would be okay.

Wendy’s hand clutched the acorn hanging from her neck. It was warm to the touch. It almost felt like it was buzzing, like a hive full of bees, but very faint.

Peter had given it to her. That was why she had held on to it so desperately, and that must have been why she had kept it for all those years. Somehow, something inside her remembered what it meant.

Wendy frowned and tried to replay everything that had happened in her dream. Peter had looked so guilty when Wendy said she wasn’t going anywhere. Did he know, then, that something was wrong? That he would have to take her back? At what point did the shadow take her brothers, making it impossible for them to go with her?

It’s so you won’t forget about me.

Wendy pressed her hand to her mouth, the words repeating themselves in her head as she stared at the acorn.

The last time Wendy had gotten one of her memories back, she had fallen asleep with the acorn in her hand. She turned it between her fingers. Was this the key? Was the acorn the secret to getting her memories back?

She needed to find Peter and ask him.

After a quick shower, Wendy pulled on a pair of jean shorts and a loose-fitting white tank top to combat the heat. This time, she put on a pair of old running shoes in case she and Peter ventured back into the woods. If she was going to stumble around through trees, roots, and creeks, she needed to be in the right shoes for it. The trek yesterday had left blisters on her heels and toes.

Wendy threw her bag over her shoulder and leapt down the stairs two at a time. When she reached the ground floor, she walked into the living room and found her parents sitting on the couch next to each other, watching the TV.

“Morning,” Wendy greeted them as she crossed the living room, trying to rub the exhaustion from her eyes.

Her mother jumped and turned to face Wendy. One of her delicate hands was pressed to her collarbone. Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy. Her father remained still, facing forward. He gripped a mug of coffee, his knuckles white.

There was a heaviness in the air that slowed her down. When she stepped closer, it felt like moving through quicksand. Her heartbeat thudded through her veins.

“Mom? Dad? What’s wrong?” she asked.

Mrs. Darling said nothing but gestured toward the TV.

Wendy looked up and shock hurtled through her chest.

The news was on. The female anchor sat at her desk. A picture of two boys floated on the screen next to her. The older boy sat behind the younger. They were dressed in red, white, and blue. Small American flags were in their hands. Their smiles were wide and excited, sitting in their backyard for the annual Memorial Day BBQ. Wendy knew, because she had been there.

They were the spitting image of their father.

JOEL DAVIES, AGE 10 AND MATTHEW DAVIES, AGE 7, was written on the red marquee below their photo. The boys next door had gone missing.

Wendy thought of quiet Mr. Davies who always seemed to look out for her. She remembered him and his wife talking to the detectives just the other day. Mr. Davies had looked so worried and frightened, and now his sons had been taken from him.

A sudden wave of nausea made Wendy lightheaded. Everything around her swayed like she was on a boat. She gripped the back of the couch to keep her balance.

Again, the missing children were connected to Wendy. They were her neighbors, boys she watched regularly, especially over the summer.

The anchorwoman continued speaking: “The boys’ father, Donald Davies, said his sons were playing in their backyard yesterday evening when he saw them picked up by a young man who then ran into the woods behind their house. Mr. Davies said he tried to pursue but was unable to keep up. Although he wasn’t able to get a physical description of the kidnapper, police are setting up a special unit to—”