Wendy felt Peter falter a bit when they came off the ledge, and for a split second she thought she was going to fall to her death, but in the next moment he was gently guiding her over the row of cars. She felt the lift of the opposing magnetic particles in her suit as they neared the stairwell. They came up on a large metal fence and she started to gravitate to it, but Peter reached around and repositioned her hip so that she continued flying straight.
"You can usually see or guess where the metals and the magnets are, but you'll do much better if you feel them," Peter explained. They rose a few meters higher into the air and Peter pulled her closer. "Close your eyes," he instructed.
Wendy obeyed tentatively, shaking a little at the thought of being blind this high above the ground. They hovered above an old warehouse and Wendy concentrated on every part of her body. She could eventually feel the pattern of her suit, how some sections were opposing the metals and others were attracting. She adjusted herself slowly in all directions, and she could sense where the pull was the strongest. Finally, she opened her eyes and glanced at Peter.
"Let go of my hand."
He raised his eyebrows, but released his grip. Wendy slowly floated over a cluster of buildings and then a train station, finding relative balance as she followed the train tracks. Peter remained close by, but didn't touch her. She relaxed her muscles and soon she was moving along at a decent speed, easily detecting the magnetic forces and adjusting her body accordingly.
"You're a quick learner," Peter commented. She looked at him and very nearly lost focus. It was surreal to be flying along next to him, in London, no less, and something about the moonlight made his features even more appealing than usual. She swallowed the urge to wrap herself around him and instead flew a little higher. He laughed and positioned himself beneath her. She fell a bit with him between her and the tracks, but leveled off just inches above him. He turned onto his back and smiled up at her. She caught her breath and playfully ran her fingers through his hair, then pushed off his chest and did a slow flip in the air.
Peter's bright green eyes lit up. "Brilliant!" He whispered, circling around her. He did a few tricks of his own, but he never flew too far away from her. "Here, give me your hand," he said excitedly. Wendy complied and he pulled her in, then quickly threw her into the air. Wendy spun rapidly and Peter zoomed over to her other side to catch her.
"Again!" Wendy commanded, surprised at her own courage. They did the stunt three more times before Wendy noticed the view below them. They had ascended far above the city, and it was breathtaking. Seeing all the buildings and structures from this angle made her a little dizzy.
"Look!" She said, pointing to a green space below, "There's Kensington Gardens! And the palace is over there! And the Thames, and the Eye! You can even see Westminster Abbey, and of course you have Big Ben right there." She was so enthralled in pointing out landmarks that she didn't notice her shoe had come loose. When she turned herself to look at Peter, it fell off completely.
"Wendy? What is it? Wendy!"
Suddenly, everything was wrong. The balance and forces she had grown accustomed to were thrown off. She jolted to the side and began spinning out of control. She was pulled in multiple directions, and she began to fall down towards the ground. She tried to scream, but she couldn't find her voice.
The familiar buildings became larger and larger as Wendy fell. Just as she was imagining what a disaster it would be when they found a dead girl on the lawn of Buckingham Palace, strong arms caught her around her waist and slowed her descent. Peter managed to steady both of them and they landed on the roof of the Tate Modern. She held on to Peter until she felt calm enough to stand on her own.
"Are you having fun yet?" Peter asked quietly, a trace of mischief in his tone.
Wendy laughed in spite of herself. "You have no idea."
*****
"Wendy?"
"Peter, don't leave. This has been incredible."
"Wendy! Wake up!"
Wendy's eyes flew open and instead of seeing Peter's face, she saw her mother's.
"Honey, aren't you supposed to be at work?"
Wendy scrambled out of her bed, lost her balance, and fell to the floor. "What time is it?" She asked, trying to get her bearings.
"It's 9:06."
Wendy stared at her mother. She was wearing her scrubs. She almost never saw her in the mornings because Wendy would already be at the children's home before her mother's shift ended at the hospital.
"Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, not today." Wendy rushed around her room, pulling off her pajamas and throwing on some clothes. She caught a glimpse of her flying suit and kicked it under the bed.
"Honey, are you alright? Can I help with anything?"
"No, I just slept in. All I need is some breakfast-" she grabbed an apple off the counter, "and I'm good to go."
As Wendy ran through the door, her mother called out:
"Who's Peter?"
Wendy was glad she didn't have the time to answer. She still didn't know how she'd explain to her mother that she spent her Saturdays (and now perhaps some of her late nights) with a boy who lived in a fantastical underground wonderland. She smiled as she recalled the events and feelings of the previous night, even if they had resulted in her sleeping in and being late for work. Flying with Peter had been absolutely enthralling. Besides the part where she had nearly fallen to her death, the whole experience had been marvelous. After they had flown back to her apartment Peter had stayed with her and told her funny stories about the twins until she fell asleep. It had been wonderful.
But now she was late for work at a very crucial time. This was the first day of Mrs. Nancy's vacation, and her friend from the department would be filling in for her. Wendy hoped the woman would excuse a little tardiness, especially since Wendy was never late.
She reached the building with the mauve shutters, sped up the steps, pushed open the door, and ran into a tall, blonde woman wearing large spectacles. She looked down at Wendy with an amused expression.
"You must be Miss Darling."
"Yes, ma'am. I'm so sorry. You have to believe me, I'm never late. I just slept in on absolutely the worst day."
The woman was silent for a few moments, studying Wendy. Finally, she broke into a restrained smile. "I suppose these things happen," she said. "And Nancy has spoken so highly of you, so I won't judge you by this one error. But don't let it happen again."
"Yes ma'am."
"Call me Mrs. Hinsdale."
"Yes ma'am, I mean, Mrs. Hinsdale."
Wendy escaped the woman's glare and went to check on the boys. To her surprise, instead of rambunctiously playing, they were all reading or studying.
"Hello, Miss Wendy," Arthur whispered, then went back to his book. The other boys looked at her, but otherwise didn't stir. Wendy went around the house and did her routine chores and then went in search of Trevor. She found him in the supply closet, fiddling with a small flashlight and a can opener.
"Trevor! What are you doing in here!"
"I'm hiding from the witch."
"Mrs. Hinsdale? You really shouldn't call her that."
"But she is! I saw her casting a spell on Matthew!"
"Is that so?"
"Yes! He was crying because he dropped his eggs, and she whispered something in his ear and he stopped."
"Maybe she's really good at comforting people."
"I don't think so. He hasn't said anything for hours." Trevor twisted a bolt off of the can opener and fit it inside the flashlight. "Plus, she's scary. She looks like she's nice, but she's actually really mean. She told us if we made any noise while we were studying we wouldn't get any lunch. And she said if I took anything else apart she'd tape my hands together."
"I don't think she was serious," Wendy said, hoping her statement was true. She sat down next to Trevor and gently pulled the gadgets out of his hands. "Mrs. Hinsdale will only be here a week, and it's probably hard for her because she doesn't know any of you very well. How about you go read with the other boys and listen to what she says and by the end of the week maybe you'll like her a lot more." Trevor looked up at her and pouted, but nodded his head and got to his feet. Wendy was about to follow him out when her phone rang. It was her mother. She gestured for Trevor to go to his room and answered it.
"Wendy! I've just been worrying about you! You've never been late for work! Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes, mom. I just had an off morning."
"Well, honey, it's been more than just this morning. You've been distracted and a little bit silly. You've met a boy, haven't you?"
Her mother's accusation was so unexpected that Wendy could only grunt in reply.
"I knew it! It's that Peter boy, isn't it? I've heard you say his name a few times, you know."
"Mom, it isn't what you think..."
"Oh Wendy, you don't need to keep secrets from me. You are seventeen, after all, it's about time you started dating someone."
"Dating?"
"Yes! Now, I trust you Wendy, but sometimes I think leaving you alone in the house at night isn't a good idea. I hope that you're being careful, that you're being safe..."
"Oh mom, please don't..."
"And I want to meet him."
Wendy froze. She should have known this situation would be unavoidable if she was going to keep spending time with Peter, but the thought of her mother meeting him was mortifying.
"Mom, I don't think that's a good idea."
"Of course it is. I want to meet the young man who's occupying all of my daughter's thoughts. I don't have work on Thursday, invite him over for dinner then."
Wendy would have objected, but just then the closet door opened and she found herself looking at the perturbed face of Mrs. Hinsdale.
"Okay mom," Wendy said and quickly hung up her phone.
"I don't know what kinds of rules Nancy implements here, but I would imagine taking personal calls at work is never a good idea."
"I'm sorry, it was my mother. She was worried..." Wendy trailed off as Mrs. Hinsdale raised her eyebrows. "You're right. It was completely unprofessional. It won't happen again."
Mrs. Hinsdale looked slightly appeased. "That Newfoundland that Nancy insists on keeping here won't stop barking. Could you go see what the matter is?"
"Of course." Wendy slipped past the woman and went through the kitchen to the back door. Nana was in a frenzy and kept pawing at the back gate.
"Hey old girl," Wendy said soothingly as she scratched the dog between her ears, "why are you all riled up?"
Nana quieted down long enough for Wendy to hear the back gate was rattling. She jumped up, undid the latch, and nearly screamed when she saw a young man standing on the other side of the gate holding a small box.
"Hello. Oh, hello," said the stranger, his blue eyes widening as he gave Wendy a surreptitious once over. "I apologize if I startled you, I was just trying to drop off my aunt's things without having to talk to her."
Wendy squinted at the young man in confusion. He seemed pleasant enough. He was fairly tall with sandy blonde hair and a confident smile, but the fact remained that he was trespassing on a children's home.
"Excuse me, who are you?"
"Oh, of course! I'm Ethan," he said jovially, extending a hand which Wendy hesitantly shook. "I'm Fran's nephew."
"Fran?"
"Mrs. Hinsdale. She's staying here for the week."
"Oh yes, I see."
"She asked me to bring her some personal items that she left at home, but I had hoped to sneak them inside before she saw me. She's so particular, I'm sure she'd just find something to criticize, and I really didn't want her to send me on another errand."
Wendy didn't know what to say, but she was spared a response when Mrs. Hinsdale's shrill voice rang out across the yard.
"Ethan! What are you doing back here? Isn't it clear where the front door is?"
"Well, so much for that scheme," Ethan whispered as Mrs. Hinsdale marched towards them. "However, I am quite delighted to have run into you."
"Ethan! For goodness sake! Why can't you follow simple directions!"
"I'm sorry, Aunt Fran. I thought maybe it'd be less of a hassle if I dropped off your things in the back."
"Hardly," Mrs. Hinsdale muttered, grabbing the box from him and rifling through its contents. "Where is my lavender scarf?"
"Well isn't it right there?" Ethan asked, pointing in the box.
"No! That's clearly lilac!"
"Close enough. Plus, aunt, you have so many scarves, it's a wonder I didn't suffocate in them."
Wendy stifled a giggle. Ethan rocked on the balls of his feet and cleared his throat.
"Aunt Fran, aren't you going to introduce me to this lovely young lady?"
Mrs. Hinsdale rolled her eyes but turned to Wendy. "This is my nephew, Ethan Pollard. He's living with me while he's interning at a law firm downtown."
"I'm the youngest intern they've ever taken on," he added.
"Impressive," Wendy responded politely.
"I'm glad you're impressed," Ethan said, grinning broadly. "I'd love an opportunity to impress you even more."
Wendy blushed and busied herself with restraining Nana, who was beginning to sniff at Ethan's shoes. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hinsdale took Ethan's arm and directed him towards the gate.
"He's also the most insufferable 19-year-old I've ever encountered! Now would you please leave! I'm sure you have some errands to run in that ridiculous car of yours."
"I'll leave as soon as I've gotten the young lady's name."
Mrs. Hinsdale threw up her hands. "It's Wendy Darling!" She announced in frustration.
"And darling she is," Ethan murmured, taking Wendy's hand and kissing it lightly. "It's been a pleasure, Wendy. I hope we meet again."
Mrs. Hinsdale practically shoved him out the gate and then stomped back into the house, muttering to herself. Wendy wasn't sure if she was more annoyed or flattered as she watched Ethan hop into an Aston Martin and drive away.