Lost in the Never Woods(81)

Peter’s shoulders sank.

Wendy gestured for him to come back and pointed toward the hallway that led to the stairs.

His eyes slid back to Mrs. Darling. He lingered for a moment before retreating. Peter had just entered the kitchen when Wendy pushed the sliding glass door shut. It let out a high-pitched squeal of rubber against glass.

Mrs. Darling stirred on the couch.

Wendy grabbed a bewildered Peter and shoved him into the hallway and out of sight.

“Wendy?” Mrs. Darling’s voice, thick from sleep, mumbled from the living room.

“Yeah, Mom, it’s me!” Wendy called back. “I just got home from the hospital.”

Peter pressed his back against the wall, cringing.

Mrs. Darling sat up and readjusted her glasses on her face. “Just now?” She looked down at the plastic watch on her wrist and frowned.

“It was a really crazy day,” Wendy said, nodding vigorously. “They needed all the help they could get! But I’m really exhausted, so I’m going to head up to bed.”

“Oh … all right.” Mrs. Darling sat back on the couch and gave Wendy a tired smile. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”

The only thing that saved Wendy from her poorly constructed lies was the fact that she’d never lied to her parents before, so they had no real reason to doubt or question her. Especially about things like sneaking around with mysterious boys. Or any boys.

“You too, Mom.”

Peter was waiting for Wendy in the hallway with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked like a child inside a museum who had been scolded not to touch anything. She tried not to smile.

Wendy pointed up the stairs and poked the middle of his back, urging him forward. Peter led the way up and, when they got to the second floor landing, he made to open the door to her and her brothers’ old room.

“Not that one,” Wendy said quietly, gently catching his elbow. She nodded her head to the right. “My room is over here now.”

Realization shadowed Peter’s features. His eyes went to the doorknob for a moment before he nodded.

Wendy opened her door and was immediately glad that she had cleaned it up last night. The fairy lights cast a warm glow over everything. Peter walked to the center of the room and turned in a slow circle. Wendy closed the door behind him and stood there, tucking her hair behind her ears, watching as he looked around.

Other than Jordan, she had never had anyone in her room after her brothers went missing. It was the singular place in this world that was hers. The only place she could hide and feel at home. And now, there Peter stood, in the middle of all her things. Somehow, he stood out and fit in at the same time.

Peter moved to her dresser, his long fingers brushing against the spines of her books. “Is your mom okay?” he suddenly asked.

“What do you mean?” Wendy said, distracted as she tried to remember if she had put her bra in the hamper last night, or was it still hanging on the towel rack?

“She looked…” He paused. “Sad.”

“Oh.” Wendy nudged a badly written romance novel under her bed with the toe of her shoe. “She’s been working a lot,” she told him. “And, obviously, the missing kids have been weighing on her. My dad, too. I don’t think she’s been sleeping very much…” Wendy thought back to when she had listened outside her mother’s door and heard her talking in her sleep. “I think she’s been having bad dreams.” Wendy crossed her arms. Her thumb rubbed against her elbow. “Sometimes I can hear her talking to John and Michael in her sleep.”

Peter stared down at his hands. His expression was … mournful.

Wendy wondered if he still pictured her mother as the little girl he’d gone on adventures with. She found herself wishing she’d known her back then.

“I don’t like seeing people in pain,” Peter finally said. There was a strange edge to his voice, almost an urgency, like he was trying to make her understand something very important.

But of course he didn’t like seeing people in pain. She knew that. When children were lost and alone, Peter was the one to find them and take care of them. He was the one who took their fear away. The nature of him was to stop people’s pain and suffering. So of course he couldn’t stand seeing her mother like this. Maybe as much as Wendy.

Wendy didn’t know what to say, and Peter didn’t elaborate further. He just stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind his back again, shifting his weight between his feet. The time between leaving the clearing and now was the quietest she had ever seen him. It wasn’t normal for him, but then again, nothing about any of this was particularly “normal.”

“Do you want to take a shower or something?” Wendy suggested. “I have my own bathroom, and you’re kind of a mess.” Peter looked down at himself. His clothes were covered in dirt, as were his legs and arms. There was a dark smear on his cheek, debris from the woods stuck in his hair, and spots on his shirt from where her tears had landed. At least the swelling of his lip had gone down, but there was still that small cut. “I can throw your clothes in the laundry and give you an old shirt. I, uh, probably have a pair of gym shorts that would fit you?” she offered.

Peter narrowed his eyes at her. A grin twitched at the corners of his lips. “Are you trying to tell me I stink?” he asked, his humor starting to come back.