Wendy glared at the clock as if it were her enemy. It was two in the morning and she still wasn't tired enough to fall asleep. She was sleepy to be sure, but she needed to be exhausted. She needed to be so drained that she would fall asleep seconds after her head hit her pillow. Because if she had any semblance of energy left when she got into her bed, she would inevitably end up thinking about Peter.
Her mother had come home that day with an arsenal of stories from her first day of work at the bakery, and most of them had revolved around how Peter was so wonderful and so smart and so creative. Wendy had tried to change the subject numerous times, but her mother seemed determined to fill every moment of their conversation with "that marvelous boy." Wendy had had some reprieve when Mrs. Darling finally went to bed, but lingering thoughts of Peter found their way into Wendy's mind and the only way she could suppress them was with constant distractions.
First she had completed all of her assignments for her architecture class and had even started on some for the following week. Then she had dusted the entire apartment except for her mother's room, and had made a list of several spots that needed to be repainted. She had changed out the lightbulbs in the bathroom and fixed a rusty hinge on the front door. Now, nearly desperate for something to do, she decided to rearrange her room.
She started with her closet, organizing all of her clothes (which weren't many) by color. Then she took all of her designs off the wall and put them up on the opposite wall. After that, she decided to move her bed. She'd only moved it a few centimeters when something caught her eye. A shiny and metallic piece of fabric was stuck between her headboard and the wall. She pulled it out and sighed.
"Of course," she muttered. "Just when I'm doing my best not to think of him, I find this." She sat down on her bed and studied the flying suit Peter had given her, noticing that there were still bits of pixie dust stuck to it. She thought of the night they had flown around the city and she couldn't help but smile.
She suddenly had a wild idea that she knew was stupid and counterproductive, but she just couldn't put it from her mind. She had been holding back and avoiding anything to do with Peter for so long that she just wanted to indulge in this one, highly unsafe and irrational adventure.
Wendy changed into the bodysuit, then crept to her mother's bedroom to make sure she was still sleeping. Then she went into the living room and opened the window, shivering as the cold winter air blew inside. She stood on the ledge for a moment, then steeled herself and jumped out into the dark night.
And then she fell.
And fell.
And she kept falling.
Panicked thoughts raced through her mind.
Something is very wrong. Perhaps the suits lose effectiveness over time? Why did I think I could do this by myself? I'm going to die in this ridiculous suit!
Then she felt a sudden lift. She glanced down and saw that she was wobbling two or three meters above a large truck. She expelled her breath and carefully maneuvered up to a cluster of buildings at the end of the street. She had a few more moments of instability, but as she flew over some train tracks, she began to feel more comfortable. London was beautiful and mysterious in the middle of the night, and drifting along above the city was freeing and invigorating. She made a loop around Kensington Gardens and started to head back to her flat. Some movement caught her attention. She spotted several people acting suspicious in front of a large house. She landed on a roof several houses away where she had a better view. After observing the group for a few seconds, it was clear that they were attempting to break in.
Wendy hesitated, trying to figure out her course of action. She wasn't really cut out for fighting crime, but she knew she had to do something. She flew over to the back of the house and tapped on an upstairs window. When nothing happened, she made her way up to the roof and stomped around until she saw a light come on. There was shouting from the house and from the street, and she peeked over and saw the perpetrators running away. Soon she heard police sirens drawing near, so she leapt off the roof and flew away from the neighborhood.
Adrenaline was coursing through her as she returned to her flat and shut the window behind her. It took a few minutes for Wendy to realize she was shaking. She went to her room and stretched out on her bed, knowing full well that it would now take hours for her to fall asleep, but she didn't care. She hadn't felt so alive in months, and she wanted to hold on to this feeling for as long as she could.
*****
Bleary eyed, Wendy walked down the street to Mrs. Nancy's. The euphoric feeling had lasted through most of the night, but it was definitely gone now. She had only slept an hour before waking up with a terrible headache. She had dragged herself out of bed and forced herself to get ready for work. She was exhausted, but she didn't regret her adventure from the night before. Under all her tiredness was a sense of happiness and relief. Somehow flying around London and fully immersing herself in memories of Peter had been therapeutic, and she was ready to move forward.
Wendy turned on to Barrie Street and halted. Two fire trucks were in front of Mrs. Nancy's and smoke was pouring out of the upstairs windows. Wendy thought she was dreaming and shook her head to get the image in front of her to disappear. But the trucks and the smoke remained, and she saw all the boys lined up in front of the house. Nana was running back and forth and Mrs. Nancy was frantically speaking to one of the firefighters.
Wendy rushed forward, breaking through the circle of bystanders to get to the boys. She reached Arthur first.
"What happened?"
"Miss Wendy! It was so scary! Everything upstairs was burning and it was so hot with the smoke and the flames and these guys came in and carried us out..." he gestured to the firefighters, "and all of our stuff got burned up."
Wendy reached down and hugged Arthur. "I'm so glad you're okay. Did everyone get out?"
"Yep," he responded simply. "It took them a while to get Nana to go through the smoke, but she made it through eventually."
Wendy glanced up at the house, noting all the damage and saying a prayer of thanks that everyone was safe.
"But how?" She asked. "How did this happen?"
Arthur shrugged, but Matthew came up behind them, his eyes wide with fear.
"Trevor made a remote control car out of the toaster," he explained. "He was driving it through the vents to send messages to the other rooms, but it crashed, and then there was fire everywhere."
Wendy looked around and spotted Trevor sitting alone on the sidewalk. He was wrapped up in a blanket and had tears streaming down his face. She ran over to the young boy and knelt down next to him.
"It's all my fault, Miss Wendy!" He sobbed. "It's all my fault!" Wendy pulled him into her lap and held him until the firefighters left.