"Mrs. Darling, could you do me a favor?"
"Please, Peter, call me Angela."
Peter attempted a smile, but the thought of calling Mrs. Darling by her first name made him feel weird. "Could you run this over to the children's home down the street?" He asked, holding up a box of pastries.
"You mean Mrs. Nancy's?"
"Yes."
Mrs. Darling gave him a sly look. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to go?"
Peter shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think that would be a good idea."
"No? I'm sure Wendy would love to see you."
Peter winced at the mention of Wendy. He should be used to it by now. It seemed all Mrs. Darling ever did was talk about Wendy - about how wonderful and beautiful and available she was. And every time she talked about her, he felt an aching in his chest.
Peter cleared his throat. "Wendy has made it clear that she doesn't want me to visit her at work."
"Oh." Mrs. Darling furrowed her eyebrows. "Alright, I can deliver them," she said, taking the box from Peter and starting towards the door. "But I'm sure Wendy will think it's an awfully nice gesture," she called back before slipping out.
Peter frowned. He didn't think he was doing this for Wendy. The children's home had caught fire and he felt the least he could do for those boys was to give them a bit of free food. But perhaps, deep down, he was doing it to get Wendy's attention.
Peter groaned and began prepping the meats for lunch. To keep his mind off of Wendy, he thought of Neverland, but those reflections were equally dismal. Tink's ultimatum had caused him considerable stress, and he was constantly in a state of indecision about where he was going to live. On one hand, he loved Neverland and he always would. It was his home and a place where he could be creative and carefree. But on the other hand, the Grey World had an odd excitement about it. The opportunities out here were limitless, and while he'd have to provide for himself, he was oddly intrigued by the prospect of independent living.
His musings were interrupted by Susan running out of the kitchen.
"Peter!" She exclaimed, her blue eyes wide, "I think we have rats in the kitchen!"
"Really?"
"I keep hearing scratching noises!"
Peter waited for her to say more, but she just glanced around nervously. "Would you like me to go investigate?"
"Yes! Please!" She cried, as if her very life were in his hands.
Peter rolled his eyes and headed back into the kitchen. He glanced around for signs of rats but found nothing. Then he stood still for a minute and listened. Finally, he heard some creaking coming from the large pantry. He opened the door, bent over, pushed aside a large flour bin, and saw a young boy with curly red hair.
"Peter!" The boy whispered. "You've got to help me!"
Peter scratched his head. "Tootles?"
"Trevor."
"Right. What are you doing here?"
"I ran away. They were going to send me to an awful place with no toys and mean ladies."
"What? Why?"
"Because I set Mrs. Nancy's house on fire with my toaster car."
Peter exhaled as all the pieces fell into place. Trevor had accidentally started the fire, and now he was going to be sent away from the children's home, and with the boy's record, it couldn't be anyplace pleasant. Peter knew helping Trevor hide would not be a smart thing to do, but the boy looked so desperate. Plus, Peter knew how it felt to be punished for creativity and curiosity.
"Quick, get into the office," Peter commanded, pulling Trevor out of the pantry. "Nobody goes in there except for me. Just stay quiet until the end of the day, and then I'll take you to Neverland."
"Neverland! I'm so excited."
Peter gave him a stern look. "It's only for a few days until we figure something else out."
"Okay!" Trevor responded with a big grin. Peter had the feeling the young boy didn't care what happened in a few days, so long as he got to go to Neverland.
Peter gave Trevor a sandwich and a marketing book, warned him again to be quiet, and shut the door. He rubbed his temples, then went back out to the front of the bakery.
"Did you find it?" Susan asked breathlessly.
"Find what?"
"The rat!"
"Yes, I did." Peter washed his hands and began slicing some tomatoes.
"Well, did you kill it?"
"No, I fed it."
"What?"
"I'm keeping it in my office. I think he'll make a great pet."
"Peter! You can't do that! It'll get out and then it'll bite me and I'll die of rabies!"
"Susan, calm down! I'm kidding!" Susan took quick breaths and glared at him. "Sort of," he added under his breath.
"I can't believe you would joke around with something like that!" She scolded. "You awful, insensitive..."
But Peter was spared more insults by the return of Mrs. Darling.
"How was the children's home?" Peter asked nervously.
"Oh, Peter, the most horrible thing happened!" Mrs. Darling exclaimed, rushing to the counter.
"Did it?"
"It's so awful, you'll never believe what happened!"
"I have a pretty good guess," Peter muttered.
"One of the boys, Trevor, ran away!"
"Oh no!" Peter cried, trying to act surprised and doing a terrible job.
"I talked to Wendy and she was in tears. She's so worried. She's really quite fond of this little boy, you know."
Peter swallowed hard. He didn't like the thought of causing Wendy pain, regardless of how much she had hurt him.
"I'm sure he'll be alright," Peter said with a tight smile. "He's a smart boy."
"Yes, but still, it's a big city and so much could happen. You'll keep an eye out for him, won't you? You'll let them know if you see him?"
Guilt coursed through him like a river. "I definitely will," he lied.