t felt like I’d been ejected into open space.

The portal this wormhole created dropped us into a large, black abyss that smelled like garden soil. My friends and I tumbled through darkness. My body flailed and my boots scraped against what felt like dirt walls and roots. After about twenty seconds, the dark chasm abruptly opened into a massive room.

I fell onto a comically large bed and rolled out of the way to avoid being landed on by Blue and Jason, who came tumbling down in the next instant. The impact of their landing launched me off the mattress and onto the ground.

Blue and Jason sprang out of the way as SJ and Daniel dropped in after them. Their landing ricocheted Jason onto the floor beside me while Blue fell off the bed’s other end.

I groaned. I think we all did. Once I was on my feet again, I stared up at the hole in the ceiling we’d fallen through. It was twenty feet above ground. The area surrounding it, like the curved walls that led there, was made of earth. Straggling vines dangled near the dark ejection point and a veil of spectral fog wafted over it, matching the layer of mist at our level.

Throughout the strange, circular room this light mist hovered over the floor, coming up to the middle part of my lower leg. I gazed around. Fourteen doors lined the rounded walls. Each door was unique in design—and closed. One was constructed of ice and framed with holly and garland. Another was dark and wooden with vines sprouting orange tiger lilies. Two were small—no bigger than a foot in height—while a couple others were over ten feet tall with titanium and steel reinforcements.

The bed was the only thing in the room, and it merely consisted of a thick white mattress on a metal bedframe.

“Is everyone okay?” Jason asked.

We all nodded, except for Blue who was still lying on the floor. She pulled something out from under the bed. “Hey, look what I found.”

She was holding a latched wooden box. Inside, the lid was lined with a half dozen secured vials labeled “Drink Me” and the bottom was made up of the same number of sealed Tupperware containers labeled “Eat Me.”

“It’s like in Alice in Wonderland,” she said. “We must need to take these if we want to get through a few of those doors,” she said. “The big and the little ones, anyway.”

“Okay, but what is this place?” Daniel asked.

I walked up to a door with curiosity—the one with the holly and garland. It was normal-sized. The door itself was made of ice, but the handle was smooth and silver. I reached out for it and pulled. The moment I did, a frosty wind slammed the door the rest of the way open. A blizzard began to immediately blow into the room—forcing me back and onto the floor.

“Whoa!”

The others rushed to help me close it. A landscape covered in snow was on the other side of the doorway. In the distance I could see the glow of a village. The smell of sugar cookies blended in with the wind that blew against us until we managed to shut the door again.

“What was that?” Jason asked as he leaned against the icy doorframe.

“I think it might have been another realm,” I responded.

I moved for the next door in the sequence (a forest green one with a gold floral design etched into it). It may have been a bad idea, but I threw it open before the others could stop me. I was glad I did. It gave me confirmation.

Through the open door we could see the inside of the antiques shop we’d just been in. Every tchotchke was there—cloaked in the dark seclusion of the store.

“I think these are all portals,” I said in awe, closing the door back to Book.

“How does that make any sense?” SJ asked, still dusting flakes of snow from her black suede jacket and camel-colored pants.

“It doesn’t,” I admitted. “But when has that ever stopped our story before?”

“So if these doors are all portals to other Wonderlands,” Jason clarified, “then we just have to pick one to begin our search.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Only I think we should look for a door to Neverland. We should start our quest in that realm.”

“Why there?” Blue asked. My other friends looked at me curiously.

“While I was in Midveil I had a lot of vision flashes relating to Neverland,” I explained. “Once I even had this old man appear to me in a dream the way Liza used to. I don’t know who he is, but I think he wanted us to go to Neverland.”

“Isn’t it kind of a gamble to base our search on a vision of some guy you don’t even know?” Blue asked.

“It was dreams of Liza last semester that helped me discover my magic, which was what saved us from being killed in Alderon,” I countered. “My gut tells me we should listen here too.”

My friends exchanged silent glances before Jason eventually responded. “All right. Neverland it is. Let’s spread out. One of these doors has to lead there.”

My friends and I began opening and closing doors. I had to get down on my hands and knees to check the tiny doors while Jason gave Blue a boost to turn the knob of a giant one.

Soon enough it was SJ who found our exit portal. “Here,” she said, calling us over to the last door she’d opened—the dark wooden one with the vines and orange tiger lilies growing around it. “This door leads to Neverland.”

“How can you tell?” Jason asked as we approached.

“See for yourself.”

We all crowded the doorframe and looked through. The door opened into an alleyway, but a storefront window at the end of the lane had a sign that read “Neverland’s Best Souvenir Shop.” That’s when I became certain that our course was true. I’d seen that sign in a vision.

“Huh. Well, that’s fairly self-explanatory,” Blue said. Then without any hesitation she stepped through the doorway.

“Blue!” SJ said, reaching out.

She landed on the street in front of us. “What?” she said. “Come on, it’s just a doorway. No need to freak out.”

SJ apprehensively tightened the straps on the small black backpack she was wearing. “It is a doorway to another realm,” she argued, gradually stepping over the threshold into the alleyway. “It is not exactly the same thing as stepping from a living room into a kitchen.”

The rest of us followed. Daniel was the last one out, and he closed the door behind him. When he did, it was replaced with a silver, swirling wormhole that levitated in the alley.

“I guess on this side the portals resemble normal wormholes.” He shrugged.

Suddenly the wormhole sealed itself up and every trace of it disappeared.

“No turning back now, I suppose,” I said.

The five of us journeyed out of the alley and found ourselves in a bustling portside town. We stood under a red awning and observed the Wonderland we’d arrived in.

Despite the sun going down, small businesses were charged with activity. Storefronts were decorated with multi-colored paper lanterns while twinkling lights lit up the windows and doorframes. Fireflies flickered around like curious spectators.

From my Wonderland mapping I knew that Neverland had several busy portside towns, but there were elements about this place that I hadn’t expected. For starters, there were only adults, which baffled me since I knew for a fact that Neverland was home to plenty of kids who came here to avoid getting older. Then there were the shops surrounding us. They sold goods that we’d never seen before. Banners hung from store windows advertising things we didn’t understand.

“Sale on Microwaves!”

“Half off Dehumidifiers!”

“Buy one, get one free Falafels!”

For a second I wondered if we were really in Neverland. Then I looked out at the sea beyond the boardwalk and spotted a familiar ship. The sides of the vessel were painted red and black. My friends spotted it too.

To get a better look, we wandered along the boardwalk where mechanical telescopes were mounted. I pressed my eye to peer through one then rotated the mechanism until I had a clear visual of the ship. The enormous sails were silky white, the mast was bronze, and a single flag adorned with skull and crossbones flew from the crow’s nest

Each of my friends took a turn at the telescope and they all concurred. We’d all spent time staring at an illustration of that boat in our textbooks when we’d been cramming for midterms.

“We’re definitely in the right place,” Jason said as he looked up from the telescope. “That’s the Jolly Roger, Captain Hook’s Ship.”

“Okay, so we’re in Neverland,” Daniel said. “Where should we start our search for Paige?”

Blue lifted her chin, closed her eyes, and took a deep whiff of the air. Then she pointed back up the boardwalk at a tavern on the edge of town. “There,” she said.

“Why?” SJ asked.

“Because that’s where the smell of burgers is coming from,” Blue replied.

“Blue, we have hardly begun our quest. Do you really think this is an appropriate time for a meal break?”

“Considering that the last thing I ate was a chicken dumpling off the floor of Crisa’s ballroom after the attack this afternoon, yes,” Blue said. “Besides, the sun is going down and we need to come up with a solid plan for how to proceed. Dinner is the perfect chance to regroup.” She glanced at me for half a second. “A lot has happened today.”

My stomach rumbled loudly the moment Blue mentioned food. It had been forever since my last meal and I was starving.

“Blue’s right,” I said. “We should regroup and get some dinner. It’s not like taking a half hour to eat is going to kill us.”

On the corner of two streets—one marked “Buena Vista” and another “Alameda”—we entered a pub called “Once Upon a Tavern.”

It was a quaint place with low wooden ceilings, dark green vinyl booths, and antique light fixtures. The windows were stained glass. Every bar stool had legs with intricate vine designs.

I noticed a few framed signatures hanging on the walls of the establishment. Beneath each frame was an empty table. I was surprised that no one was sitting at them. The tavern was bustling with activity and there was barely any standing room.

Evidently my friends and I shared the same thought. Led by Blue and Jason, we wormed our way through the crowds to one of the aforementioned tables. Just as we were about to sit, a burly man with a round nose and white whiskers appeared before us. His nametag read “Manager.”

“What do you five think you’re doing?”

“Sitting,” Blue replied.

“Not here you’re not,” the man said. “Ain’t you got any respect?” He pointed to the framed signature behind the table.

It was indiscernible, but then I noticed a plaque directly beneath it that held the same name in professional engraving.

“Walt Disney,” I read aloud. The last name struck a chord of familiarity. I was pretty sure I’d heard it while I was on Earth last semester.

The manager took off the bowler hat he was wearing and brought it to his chest. “Wonderful man. Bless his soul. This was his regular table, see. And like all the other valued storytellers, we save ’im a spot here permanently. So, off you go.” He shooed us away from the table. “There are a few stools at the bar. Come with me, but keep your heads down.”

We trailed the manager through the crowded tavern until we reached the far end of the bar. We passed several other permanently reserved, empty tables along the way. I was able to make out the names on some of the plaques, including “J. M. Barrie,” “Steven Spielberg,” and “J. Howard.”

I knew J. M. Barrie was the writer responsible for Earth’s first adaptation of Peter Pan. The other names were unfamiliar.

We sat down at the bar as the manager came behind the counter. He began to clean some glasses as he lowered his voice to speak to us. “You’re more than welcome to stay; business is business after all. But if anyone asks, you’re all twenty-one,” he whispered.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “We weren’t planning on drinking.”

“No, it’s not that,” he said. “Ale flows like rainwater around these parts, so I couldn’t stop you if I tried. I just don’t want anyone to know that you’re kids.”

“Why?”

“Because kids aren’t allowed. The only kids in Neverland are the Lost Boys and Girls that live in the Neverwood, some Indian children, and of course Pan. If any of the pirates got wind you were here, they’d feed you to the crocodiles. They’re not too fond of your kind.”

“Like adults are so much better,” Blue scoffed.

The manager glared at her. “Just eat quick and get out. And don’t to talk to anyone.”

“We’re teenagers, not toddlers,” Blue replied. “You don’t have to warn us not to talk to strangers.”

“I do when the repercussions could affect every other realm,” the manager responded.

“How’s that?” Jason asked.

The manager sighed. He leaned against the bar and nodded to a man wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a big, gold-colored WB logo printed on it.

“See that fella over there? He’s one of the storytellers in Neverland on temporary visa. Word is, he’s doing early research for a big adaptation back in his home realm. So we gotta be nice or he won’t give us the goods he’s brought with him. That means no tampering with his research.”

“What do you mean, research?” I asked.

“The White Rabbits have an agreement with the higher-ups in most of the Wonderlands,” the manager replied. “Every now and then, they’ll select a few storytellers from other realms like Earth and allow them to visit us for a short period of time. These storytellers hear our tales, do research on our realm and its main players, and then take that information back to their world to make stories they can turn a buck on. In exchange, they give us technological advancements from their worlds.

“How do you think we ended up with stuff like electricity, churros, indoor plumbing, jeans, and tacos? Those things weren’t invented in our realms—they’re innovations brought to us by them storytellers. It’s a good gig, and we don’t want to screw it up. So don’t tamper with the system. The storytellers in Neverland are only to have access to characters and plot lines about Neverland. That’s all their visas are good for unless the White Rabbits give ’em access to somewhere else. I don’t know where you kids are from, but you’ve got that protagonist look about you, which means you don’t belong in someone else’s story, got it?”

We nodded.

“Good,” he said as he handed us menus. “Now what can I get you? Might I recommend the Tiger Lily tiger prawns with honey dipping sauce? They’re so good, it’s sinful.”

I was quite satisfied with our visit to the tavern, particularly in regards to the house special, Neverland Nachos.

The manager had directed us to a machine in the corner of the bar called an ATM to change our Book money into Neverland currency to pay for the meal. We ended up exchanging a good portion of our funds that way. We didn’t need Book money on this quest, and the ATM had an option labeled “ONC” that converted money into currency valid in Oz, Neverland, and Camelot.

As the sun continued to recede outside the windows, the place got busier. I was glad for the delicious distraction of the fattening foods we were enjoying. I’d been through so much today; I really needed a break from the—

“He’s coming!”

My head snapped in the direction of the tavern’s front window where one of the waiters had pressed his face against the stained glass. “Assume positions!” he shouted.

People began moving and items were swiftly hidden. The bar counter was wiped down. Several parties evacuated the tables and chairs they’d been using. A waiter grabbed the framed Disney signature and stuffed it beneath a booth cushion. Even the manager jumpily began mixing drinks into glasses.

“What’s going on?” I asked as he poured some whiskey.

“The captain’s coming. Remember what I told you about keeping your head down. And whatever you do, don’t—”

The door burst open. Every person in the tavern silently turned to acknowledge the new arrivals, but all were careful not to make direct eye contact.

A tall, lean man sporting well-trimmed facial hair and a short black ponytail swaggered in with twelve others behind him. It was obvious they were pirates. And by the looks of their leader’s hand (or lack thereof), it was obvious that he was Hook. Captain Hook.

“Chawkovsky!” Hook bellowed.

The manager who’d been helping us zipped around the bar and came out to greet the Captain.

“Are my men’s drinks prepared?” Hook asked.

Chawkovsky nodded. “Yes, sir. They’re waiting for you at the bar. I’ll have servers bring them over momentarily.”

“Good,” Hook replied. “On the house, as always?”

Chawkovsky nodded even faster. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

“Very good, man. Very good. At ease.” Hook smiled and gestured around to the patrons. “All of you at ease. We’re here to drink and be merry, are we not? Go about your business, please, and we too shall drink and be merry. As long as there aren’t any swine from Disney in here.”

A patron standing by the bar subtly zipped up his jacket, concealing his t-shirt of a cartoon mouse wearing red shorts and white gloves.

“Of course not, Captain,” Chawkovsky said nervously. “We all know how you feel about that lot.”

“Right then.” Hook nodded. “Let’s have a look for ourselves just to be sure, shall we?” Hook marched over to the storyteller wearing the WB shirt. “You’re not from around here. Which studio do you represent?”

“Um, Warner Brothers,” the man replied, shaking a little.

Hook smiled and patted the storyteller on the shoulder. “Good lad, no need to be nervous. You just be sure that my character is represented valiantly in your next adaptation and all will be well. Make me look foolish, however . . .” Hook scraped his hook against the marble countertop. The awful sound made the patrons cringe.

“You’d be surprised how many of your kind haven’t made it home because I disapproved of their pitches,” Hook said. “So, tell me. Am I going to be disappointed with yours?”

“Um, no sir,” WB guy quaked. “In fact, you’re not even the villain my writers want to focus on. We’re thinking of focusing more on Blackbeard. You’d be a secondary character.”

Hook’s eyebrows shot up and he snatched WB guy by the back of the neck and slammed his face into the counter.

“Do I look like a secondary character to you?” he barked. He shoved his hook under WB guy’s chin. “Next time, do more research.”

The pirate viciously lifted his hook to strike.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” I shouted.

Hook, his twelve men, my friends, and every other person in the tavern turned and stared.

“Crisa,” Blue whispered between gritted teeth.

Hook released WB guy’s neck and the storyteller coughed gratefully. The captain took a few steps closer to get a better look at me. The crowds parted on cue.

It was hard to say whether Hook was more outraged by the remark, surprised by its source, or intrigued by the fact that I had chosen to hold my ground rather than leap behind the bar and go into hiding.

“Well, now,” Hook said as he eyed me. “Who do we have here?”

“They’re no ones,” Chawkovsky tried to intervene. “They’re just travelers.”

“And how old are these travelers exactly?”

“Um, twenty-one,” Chawkovsky stammered.

Hook narrowed his eyes and seized the manager by his shirt collar. “Do I look like an imbecile to you? I didn’t become a captain in Neverland without being able to recognize a protagonist when I see one. And I didn’t get a twelve-year-old for an archenemy without being able to note the difference between a kid and an adult. They. Smell. Like. Children.”

“I thought he was a pirate, not a bloodhound,” Daniel muttered under his breath.

Hook pushed Chawkovsky out of the way.

“Crisa, now would be a good time for a magical distraction,” Jason whispered urgently.

“I know, I’m working on it,” I said.

I tried to focus and make the power flow out of me. Alas, hard as I concentrated, my magic would not manifest. I was still in the reboot stage of Magic Exhaustion. The twenty-fours I needed had not been fulfilled. Not quite yet.

I frowned in surprise. I knew I usually needed the complete twenty-four hours, but for some reason I’d been able to call upon my powers to burst out of my mother’s study this afternoon. During other times when I had reached Magic Exhaustion, I could only access the tiniest amount of power to operate my wand. And even that was by accident, or instinct. I shouldn’t have been able to harness that much magic on purpose earlier, but I had. I didn’t know why that was, but I wished whatever mojo I’d channeled then could come back now. Regrettably, it didn’t.

“I can’t do it,” I muttered. “My powers are still tapped out.”

“Take them to the ship!” the captain ordered.

Hook’s twelve men drew their weapons and began to shove their way toward us.

“Then I guess we do this the old-fashioned way,” Blue said. She took one last swig of her root beer then thrust the glass to the ground, causing it to shatter. Several heads turned in her direction and she responded by swiftly rotating to the nearest bar patron and punching him in the face.

“Bar fight!” she yelled. And like that, it was on.

Immediately the patrons were up in arms as if they’d been waiting for this all night. Maybe they also craved a distraction from Hook’s pirates. Or maybe they wanted to satisfy a long time urge to take a shot at them in the confusion.

Swords were drawn, bar stools went flying, punches swung left and right, pirates slammed into tables. Chaos erupted so quickly that I began to wonder if maybe adults shouldn’t be allowed in here either.

“Get down!”

Daniel and I ducked beneath a table to avoid the body of a drunken hermit who had been thrown over the counter.

As we made our way to the door, my friends and I had the opportunity to land a few punches ourselves. A smile slipped across my lips. After a long, strenuous day, letting off steam with a good bar fight was strangely liberating. While my heart still ached from the tragedies I’d experienced in Midveil, the fun of slamming an antagonistic pirate in the back with a bar stool made me feel oddly alive again.

After Jason head-butted a guy with a gold tooth and Blue kicked another pirate so powerfully he flew through the window, we managed to make it out of the tavern unscathed. We stumbled out into the street and kept running until we were a safe distance from the establishment.

When we stopped at the dock to catch our breaths, Blue shot me an exasperated look. “Did you have to do that?” she panted.

“Hook would’ve killed that guy,” I protested. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Not get us almost killed would’ve been a good start,” she replied. “We’ve got bigger problems and responsibilities riding on us, Crisa, and a lot of people who need our help. What you did in there was reckless. Enjoyable or not, that wasn’t our fight.”

“Blue, you’re right. We’ve got a lot of big things riding on us. But that doesn’t mean we should ignore the smaller problems that cross our path. Just because we didn’t owe WB guy anything doesn’t mean this wasn’t our fight. The fact that we were there and could do something about it makes it our fight.”

Blue shook her head and sighed. “Ugh, I hate how—”

“Noble I am sometimes? Yeah, I got it. But nobility has nothing to do with this; it’s just a matter of right and wrong. SJ agrees with me, don’t you, SJ?”

I glanced around. Only then did we notice that our group was short one princess.

“Where’s SJ?” I gasped.

Daniel nudged me in the shoulder and nodded in the direction we’d come from. “There.”

Coming down the boardwalk was Hook and his band of men. And constrained by several pirates within their ranks was SJ.