Planet Neverland Excerpt
Chapter 1
“Are you two sure you’ll be alright?” Wendy asked, pulling socks out of their drawer to refold and put away neatly. She frowned, looking around the cramped dorm room, searching for something else to straighten, but they’d spent all day unpacking — her following behind the twins to re-organize everything. She didn’t want to call it too soon, but it seemed like maybe her job was done. She rolled her neck, stiff from carrying boxes up four flights of stairs all day, and thought about a nice hot bath when she got home.
“We’re fine, really,” John said, nudging her shoulder to push her toward the door.
She narrowed her eyes, hands going to her hips. “What are you two planning?” she asked. They were far too eager to be rid of her.
Michael sighed and stood from the creaky bed, his tall lanky frame dwarfing her with its shadow. “Nothing, dear sister,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “It might be hard for you to understand, but we’re just really excited to be on our own finally.”
Wendy offered her brother a smile. The reminder that the boys were on their own — that they wouldn’t be under her roof where she could watch over them anymore — was a knife straight to her heart. But she sucked back the tears, determined to not make a scene. She was happy for them. They were finally growing up and going out into the world. And she’d finally have some peace and quiet. As much as she loved her brothers, she didn’t love the chaos that seemed to follow in their wake.
“We’re just going to chill, do some studying... Classes start on Monday, you know,” John said with a teasing lilt. She’d mentioned classes starting at least a dozen times while they unpacked throughout the day.
This time, Wendy’s smile was genuine and she nudged John’s arm playfully. “Don’t sass me,” she said, wrapping him in a fierce hug, ignoring her aching body. “You guys may have grown like weeds in the last couple of years, but don’t forget I’m still your big sister.”
“Never,” Michael said, taking his hug with a grin before gently herding Wendy toward the door.
She looked around one last time, the sterile walls they couldn’t poke holes in, the generic college furniture and a window that didn’t even open. But there were signs of the twins everywhere now, too. Comics and figurines, science textbooks for classes they wouldn’t take for years, and a handful of framed pictures she’d made up just for the occasion. Wendy didn’t want them to forget how much she cared about them. They always had a place with her if college didn’t work out.
“Go,” John said with a laugh. “You’ve got a newfound freedom, too, you know.”
She gave them each another quick hug before they practically pushed her out of their dorm room.
The whole way home, Wendy felt moderately guilty about the thought that wouldn’t leave her head — she almost hoped college wouldn’t work out. Then the twins would always be close-by where she could keep a watchful eye on them. She knew that was selfish and she should be happy for this new chapter of their lives.
She was going to try to be happy for them, at least. And for herself.
The townhouse seemed far too empty without them bickering and thundering down the stairs like elephants. How two teenaged boys sounded like a whole army, she’d never understand. It was quiet and dark and Wendy flipped on a light, soaking in the strangeness of it all.
You have a newfound freedom, too, you know.
John was right, of course. John was always right, but Wendy didn’t know how to handle that. She’d never been free to do her own thing. It had always been her, taking care of the twins.
She went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea. As the flames licked the underside of the pot and the water began to heat, she stared at the pictures on the fridge — the boys, so tiny and fragile, still with hospital bracelets on, then a bit older, in oversized lab coats and goggles, doing experiments in the kitchen. One of those experiments nearly burned down the house. There were still scorch marks on the ceiling if she looked in just the right spot.
Wendy sighed. It seemed impossible that they were grown-up and off to college, living on their own already. Some people thought that day would never come — and for a while, it seemed very likely it wouldn’t — but the twins had tenacity and determination unlike anyone else Wendy had ever met. They were never going to accept defeat, even as kids.
The kettle whistled and Wendy poured the hot water over her tea bag, leaving it to steep as she went to run a bath.
She’d fantasized all day about what to do with her first night of freedom: a cup of tea, a hot bubble bath, and that book she’d been neglecting on her nightstand for four months. There would be no loud music, concerning bangs, or explosions to interrupt her relaxation — and honestly, after a day of moving and unpacking, her tired muscles could use the soak.
As the water filled the tub and the bubbles grew, Wendy decided to treat herself, lighting a few scented candles and turning on some soft soothing music. Medicine for the soul.
Sure, not having the twins around would be hard and lonely sometimes, but she was bound and determined to explore the bonuses of living alone. It might be bitter, the boys moving out of the house, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be sweet too.
She grabbed her mug of tea and walked toward the bathroom, book in her other hand, her chest already loosening from the stress of the day. But as she walked by her computer, Wendy paused, hovering behind the desk in an intense debate with herself.
I shouldn’t...
Just a little peace of mind, though...
But you should trust them!
One little peek won’t hurt.
If the twins were really studying like they said they were, then there wasn’t any harm in checking in on them. Wendy opened the lid of her laptop and moved the mouse to wake up the screen. Then she stared at the wallpaper — a picture of Hong Kong at night, lit up like a carnival — for a long moment, steam from her tea wafting upwards as she debated this serious breach of trust.
She was only doing it to look out for them, she rationalized, pulling up the Track My Phone app on her computer. The twins didn’t know she’d installed the app, it was all very discreet from what the guy at the phone store told her. At first, he thought she was trying to catch a philandering husband, but Wendy quickly laughed that off. There had never been any romantic prospects — let alone something serious enough to lead to a husband. She’d always had her hands full trying to make sure the twins didn’t singe off each others’ eyebrows or steal junk from the neighbor’s garage for their latest contraption.
She smiled, thinking about the robot they’d built with Mr. Carruthers’ scrap — it was meant to be a butlerbot, one that could bring her tea and soup while she was under the weather. Of course, thirteen year-old boys — geniuses though they may be — were not always good at thinking things all the way through.
Wendy had been a snotty sniffling mess when they introduced the uncoordinated butlerbot and not two minutes later, she had hot soup in her lap and an angry neighbor threatening to have her brothers locked up and sent away for their delinquency.
She sighed. They always had good intentions, but they needed her to provide perspective. They needed her to watch out for them. No matter how old they got, they were still her baby brothers.
Without debating it anymore, Wendy opened the app and pulled up their phone locations, lifting the mug to her lips as it loaded.
Her mug clattered to the desktop, sloshing hot liquid over her hand and making Wendy hiss as her eyes narrowed in on the map.
They weren’t at the dorm. She absently wiped the desktop with a tissue from the nearby box, frowning at the screen while cleaning the mess.
Maybe they just went to get some food... she thought to herself, trying to give her brothers the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they wanted to explore campus, she reasoned.
Before doing anything rash, she whipped out her own phone to text them. Still settling in okay? Find anything we forgot yet?
Michael texted back first: You? Forget something? Not likely. We’re fine, really.
Then John: Hitting the books hard. Wouldn’t want to be unprepared the first day of class. Stop worrying.
Yeah right, Wendy thought with a scowl. They were up to something. They clearly weren’t home studying and they were lying about it.
She stared at the screen for a long time, watching the dots of their phones move down the map, turning a corner and heading to a seedy part of town. Wendy pursed her lips and pushed her mug away, standing to go drain the tub and blow out the scented candles, killing the warm glow she’d created.
So much for relaxation.
Without answering them, Wendy put on a sweater, grabbed her keys and locked the door behind her. She was going to keep her brothers safe if it was the last thing she did — even if she was only protecting them from themselves.
Chapter 2
“That no-good dirty, rotten scoundrel!” Peter cursed, slamming his fist on the table as the newest advertisement for The Jolly Roger Hotel and Casino played merrily on the screen in front of him.
Tink sent him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised, her lips pulled into a frown of boredom.
“Did you see this?” he asked, gesturing wildly at the screen as she filed her nails. Tink shrugged.
Peter enlarged the screen and restarted the advertisement for Tink’s benefit, but she seemed even less interested as it played on.
“The greatest show in all of Neverland can only be found at Jolly Roger!” the narrator of the ad said as it drew to a close.
Tink looked up from her nails, scowling, her face turning crimson. “What did that say?”
Peter rolled his eyes. “You missed the important part again,” he said, rewinding back thirty seconds to a clip of the show. “There, you see?” He pointed, jabbing his finger at the screen like it was the cause of his torment.
Tink stood and sauntered over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders as she leaned over his back and squinted at the screen. “Is that Curly?” she asked, her eyes growing wider.
“And Slim, and Monroe,” Peter said, pointing to them each in turn.
He watched as his old friends performed their familiar tricks — Slim and Monroe taking turns in a death-defying spinning wheel that rotated high above the stage. A short clip of Curly showed him juggling balls of plasma, the energy glowing hot and blue in his hands. Peter gritted his teeth as the images twisted the knife in his gut.
“I thought they went missing?” Tink said, pulling back from the screen, her hands still on his shoulders, sliding down toward his chest. Peter shook her off, standing and pacing.
“Clearly they’re not lost anymore. Hook’s got them at his casino — in his show!” Peter thrust his fingers through his hair, letting out a groan.
“My best performers, poached right out from under my nose!” he roared, circling the empty green room. Their show was failing with one performer after another disappearing and now this. They weren’t disappearing, they were going to greener pastures.
Tink’s eyes went wide, her face reddening again as she folded her arms and pouted.
Peter sighed, his head drooping. “Come on, now. You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, a pleading note in his voice. “You’ll always be my star, Tink, but amazing as you are, you’re not a one-woman show.”
She turned her nose up at him, huffing.
“It’s not personal, Tink, but we need more performers, you know that. We’re barely paying our bills as it is and we haven’t sold out in ages.”
Her eyes still blazed, but she dropped her arms. “What’s your plan?”
Peter frowned, going back to the screen where Hook’s advertisement waited to be played again. “We’ve gotta beat Hook at his own game,” he said. “We’ve gotta get some new talent and pack the house again.”
He waited for Tink’s inevitable question — what’s in it for me? — but it didn’t come.
“Fine,” she gritted out. “But only because he had the nerve to say they have the best show in Neverland. Can’t have the best show without me,” she grumbled, her cheeks still pink.
Peter grinned. “Most certainly not.”
“But he’s been snatching up all the talent in Neverland. You’re not going to find anyone here,” she added, her resolve fading.
Peter nodded. “You’re right. We’re going to have to go somewhere else — and I think I know just the place.” A sly grin spread across his face and as it did, Tinker Bell’s eyes narrowed, her lips pursing.
“Why do I have a feeling I’m going to hate this idea?”
***
“Showtime in five,” Peter said, peeking his head behind the flimsy curtain that cordoned off a changing spot for Tink.
“What are you doing? You’re not even in costume!” he said, bustling in and thrusting her outfit toward her. “Come on, no time to waste.”
“I’m not going out there,” she said stomping her heel with a pout.
Peter sighed. Of all the days for her to be a diva...
“Alright, I’ll bite. Why not?”
Tink stood and examined herself in the full-length mirror, running her hands over her hips and backside. “Look at me!” she cried.
Peter said nothing, having long ago learned not to take the bait in these situations.
“I hate this planet. I’m so heavy and I feel bloated and I just can’t do it,” she said, scowling at her butt in the mirror. “I won’t.”
Peter resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. He also resisted the need to shout at her, to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. He couldn’t risk Tink — she was all he had left. The rest of his troupe had either disappeared or gone to Hook’s show voluntarily and now he was out of options. If they couldn’t pick up some new recruits after this show, there wasn’t much hope for them.
Still, Tink was difficult and delicate all at the same time. He had to maneuver this minefield carefully.
“You look fantastic,” he said, catching her eyes in the mirror. “And the crowd is going to love you. Don’t you want to hear them all cheering and clapping for you?”
He saw the spark in her eyes at the mention of applause and knew he had her hooked.
“And don’t you want to go back to Neverland and perform in packed houses and see Hook’s second-rate show go out of business?”
Tink spun around facing him, her eyes searching his face as she seemed to war with herself internally. Finally, she nodded.
“Fine. But next time pick a planet with less gravity. I can hardly pick up my feet here,” she pouted.
“And such dainty little feet they are,” he said with a smile, knowing he had a chance now. If Tink went out there and performed the way she always did, surely people would want to join them. Theirs was a life free from responsibility and the oppression of everyday life. Who wouldn’t want that?
“Now you’re just buttering me up,” Tink said, a little grin playing on her lips.
“Is it working?”
She sighed. “You know it is.”
Peter laughed. “Good, now go get dressed. You’re supposed to be on stage in two minutes.”
***
“Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls, tonight, you’re going to see a show unlike any other!” Peter boasted to the rather modest crowd. He’d hoped more people would show up, but when you’re asking for a miracle, you couldn’t exactly be picky about what you got. Still, one never knew. The next biggest star of Neverland could be in his audience and not even know it.
“We’ve come from a planet far from your own, seeking new members to join our troupe. But first, a little taste of our show,” he said with a grin, his eyes searching the crowd for interest. There were a few people watching with glazed, wandering eyes. There were small children, drawn in by the bright lights and exciting music, clutching the hands of their bored-looking parents.
Peter held in his disappointment. There was still time — Tink hadn’t even gone on stage yet.
“I’d like you all to give a warm welcome to Neverland’s own Damsel of Danger, our Midair Mistress, the fabulously talented and always-ravishing Tinker Bell!” Though they’d been a bit reticent before his introduction, the crowd dutifully applauded for him, the promise in his voice alleviating their hesitation momentarily.
He gestured to their make-shift stage, set back into an alley so the crowd could gather on the sidewalk, and the lights lowered, fog pouring in from the sides of the stage with just a press of a button on the remote in his pocket.
While the crowd cheered and the music ramped up again, Peter retreated to the edge of the threadbare curtain, keeping one eye on Tink and one on the crowd.
She sauntered out onto the stage as if they were the ones there meant to entertain her, not the other way around. Her small frame was lit from behind and as the fog built and gathered around her, Tink disappeared.
Now, the side lights came on, and the fog cleared to gasps from the crowd — Tink really was gone.
“Mommy, look!” a little boy cried, pointing up, his jaw slack with wonder.
High above their heads, Tinker Bell soared, flying and flipping, twirling and twisting, only a thin rod keeping her from plummeting to a broken neck — her hover trapeze.
The crowd ooh’d and ahh’d at all the right times and Peter watched as more and more spectators joined the group, his smile growing as the congregation did.
She was nearly done with her routine when someone in a uniform started breaking up the crowd, saying they were blocking the street. Peter didn’t care — he was half enthralled with Tink’s grace, and half giddy with the idea that they may actually have some new additions after this.
His plans rarely worked out so well.
As Tink’s performance came to a close, the officer breaking up the crowd lost interest in harassing them. Peter emerged on the stage with a fresh plume of smoke and extended an arm toward the sky, where Tink had disappeared high above the alley — she did love her grand entrances and exits.
“Let’s hear it one more time for Lady Bell!” he said to the applauding crowd. Just as he’d hoped, they weren’t immune to Tink’s charms; nearly every person in attendance looked thoroughly entertained, but only one pair had that devilish gleam in their eyes that he recognized.
Good. He had a couple more tricks up his sleeve just for them.
A ball of light erupted to life in his palm and the crowd sucked in a breath in unison. Peter tossed the plasma ball up a few times, letting it get close enough to a hanging banner to singe the edge and fill the air with the smell of charred paper.
The gangly pair of twins were more glued than ever.
Peter tossed the crackling energy into the air and another appeared in his palm, and another, until he was juggling — one-handed, mind you — and then, he stepped off the stage.
Of course, Peter didn’t fall into the crowd or land on the cobblestone street with a painful crack, he stepped out onto the air and it supported him.
Heavy planet or no, anti-grav boots always worked. Tink just missed floating.
He climbed — on nothing at all — up above the crowd as they twisted and craned their necks to follow him. More people gathered around the edges and the officer with the shiny badge decided they were troubling him again.
“You’re blocking the road, pal. You got a permit for this show? I’m gonna have to shut you down.” he shouted up at Peter.
Peter ignored the quick burst of indignation that flared within him and turned to the crowd. “You heard the man, folks. Show’s over I’m afraid,” he said, hanging his head. In one last burst of showmanship, he fired the balls of plasma into the crowd, eliciting shrieks and shouts, but each one dissipated just above their heads, earning him another round of applause.
But the officer wasn’t having it. He didn’t like Peter’s final word and stomped red-faced toward the curtained-off alley, making pointed glares in Peter’s direction.
He may not know much about this planet, but he knew the importance of a shiny badge. At least he had Tink with him.
Peter offered the crowd a sweeping bow and a grin. “And remember kids, we’re looking for new additions to our troupe. We’ll be accepting applications backstage,” he said, doing a series of somersaults in the air as he made his way back stage.
His feet had hardly touched the ground when Tink stomped over to him, her cheeks flaming and her hands balled into fists at her hips.
"Did you really have to juggle plasma?" she said through gritted teeth. "Of all the showboat moves to pull..."
"That cop's back here threatening to fine us, isn't he?"
Tink pursed her lips and glared at him.
Peter blew out a long breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "Right. Okay, not the end of the world. You're charming, right Tink?"
Her glare intensified.
"Oh, come on, don't give me that look. It's just one little officer and one measly little ticket. That's nothing for the Damsel of Danger," he said, lowering his voice in a tease.
Tink's anger drained with her resolve and slowly she unbunched her fists with a groan. "Fine. But you owe me, mister," she said, thrusting her finger in his chest.
Peter just grinned as he watched her disappear to the other side of the curtain where she'd undoubtedly work her Tinker Bell charms on that poor unwitting officer of the law.
His shiny badge never stood a chance.
Just then, someone cleared their throat behind him and scuffed their toe against the pavement. Peter's face split into a grin, knowing who was there before he even turned around.
Sure enough, it was the twins from the audience. One, practically bouncing on his toes and the other, curiously examining the props and doodads laying around backstage.
"Well, hello! Did you enjoy the show?"
The bouncy one grinned and nodded. "It was awesome! Was that real plasma you were juggling? How do you do that without burning yourself? Can you show me how? That was so cool."
He seemed content to prattle on, but his brother cleared his throat. "What Michael's trying to say is that we heard your call for new recruits and—"
"We wanna join you!"
A glare shot from one twin to the other. "—And we're interested in hearing more about the opportunity."
Michael sagged a little at the admonishment, but Peter wasn't going to let that stop him.
"Of course!" he said, clapping his hands together. "Yes, it was real. It's very tricky and I've burned myself a lot. And I would be happy to show you," he said, all to Michael. Then, turning to the other twin, he added, "We're performers. We have our own theater and we pack the house with the greatest show in the land. You could be part of that show."
Michael's eyes widened and he started bouncing again. "Come on, John. We never get to do anything like this."
John frowned, considering it.
Peter flicked his wrist and a new plasma ball sprouted in his palm. Four identical eyes glowed with wonder as Peter turned and twirled the ball in his hand.
John seemed to shake himself free of a trance and his voice came out broken when he asked "And what land is that?"
Peter let the ball disappear and tried to keep his smile from splitting his entire face in two. He had them now, hook, line, and sinker. Now he just needed to reel them in, hope Tink was handling that cop alright, and all would be well.
“Planet Neverland, boys!” Peter said, clapping them each on the back heartily. “Where all your dreams become reality and responsibilities are a worry of the past.”
The twins exchanged a look, eyebrows raised, slow grins spreading their faces in tandem.
“What a load of nonsense,” said a stern voice from behind them, each syllable clipped and short.
Peter turned to scowl at whoever dared insult his home, but he stopped short, the words dying on his tongue. The twins shared another look, this time pure dread, as they groaned and slumped with defeat. Peter gave them another clap on the shoulders, extracting himself from between them, sauntering over to the woman with a lazy smile.
“And what makes you say that?” he asked, his eyes roving over her.
She had the same strawberry blonde hair as the twins, the same pale complexion, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. On most girls, it would look quite cute, but cute was not at all the right word to describe the woman glaring daggers at him with her hands on her hips. Her lips were pursed in a sour lemon face and her eyes blazed pure fire.
“You can’t just have a place where no one’s responsible. That’s ridiculous. Who picks up the trash? Who fixes the leaky pipes when they burst? Who maintains order and reason? Someone has got to be responsible,” she said, hurling the words at him like they were insults to his own character.
She looked past Peter — having dismissed him thoroughly in her mind — to the twins, jerking her head backwards. “Come on then, you two ought to be at home, not at…” She paused to look Peter over, her lip curling like she’d just seen something offensively unclean. “Not at trashy street shows. You’ll catch your death in this cold.”
The twins started arguing and resisting her, but Peter just strolled around her, circling like a curious shark testing the waters. “Have you ever considered show business?” he asked, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll bet you look fantastic in sequins.”
Her jaw went slack, a total lack of words coming forth as she gaped at him aghast.
Peter grinned, pleased with his own ability to get a reaction from this girl, but he spotted Tink lurking just beyond the curtain, her face screwed up into a crimson scowl.
Realizing she'd been discovered, Tink waltzed into the chaotic backstage area and pointedly ignored everyone other than Peter. "He's not going to write us a ticket, but you definitely owe me," she said, dragging the back of her hand across her lips and making a face. The twins watched her with worshipful admiration, drinking in Tink's ample curves and tiny tight waist. If they hadn't been sold on the idea before, Tink certainly provided some sway.
"Good job," Peter said, returning his attention to the newcomer. She had a hand around a bicep of each of the boys and was muttering about taking them home.
"Hold on a minute," Peter said, jogging a few steps to catch up to them. "These boys were interested in joining my show."
The woman's horrified expression seemed more appropriate if he'd said something about the ritualistic slaughter of furry baby animals. "They'll be doing no such thing," she said, her voice tight and clipped. "Honestly, John, what were you thinking coming to something like this? Michael I'd expect, but you're supposed to be more reasonable." She started dragging them out of the alley again. They didn't resist much, but sent longing looks over their shoulders, still practically drooling over Tink while being admonished.
Peter hurried around to cut off their escape — there was only one way out to the street and it was through him. "And who are you to say so?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest.
He had to admit, she was quite pleasant to look at — or she would be if she ever stopped scowling at him like a plague-bringer in a hospital.
She huffed at him and blew a bit of fringe off of her forehead, not releasing the twins for anything. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm they're sister and I'm the one in charge of taking care of them. Come on," she said to the twins, trying to use their considerable height to intimidate Peter into moving out of her way.
He stood his ground, smirking even as Tink quietly fumed behind them, making gestures to suggest they should just forget the whole thing. Peter wasn't going to forget, though. He needed performers or his show was going to have to shut down, and twins? Well, he was certain he could find a use for them, all their enthusiasm aside.
"Does the sister have a name?" he asked.
"Wendy," said one of the boys — Michael he thought, but it was harder to tell them apart now that they'd moved.
"Wendy," he repeated. "A pleasure. I'm Peter."
She rolled her eyes. "And we're leaving."
