was pleasantly surprised to discover how forward-thinking Neverland had become.

My friends, the writer (whose name was Mitchell Kapner), and I had been rescued by Peter Pan’s band of Lost Boys and Girls. The notion put a satisified smile on my face.

Our destination was hidden deep within the Neverland forest, known as the Neverwood. We flew about halfway there then completed the remainder of the journey on foot. The rain turned to a drizzle then eventually stopped. Afterward, much to the amazement of our new friends, our SRBs returned our clothes to their pristine states with a flutter of silver sparks.

I chatted with various Lost Boys and Girls along the way. The trek was long and I wished I could hover above the ground like they and Peter did. My backpack—which my friends had managed to retreive from the pirates, along with the rest of our things—started to feel heavy after a while. Or maybe it was just the weight I was carrying from my problems. It had been a ridiculously long and arduous day. If my life really was a book, the last ten hours could’ve easily filled a half dozen chapters.

We arrived at a dense row of trees. Peter pushed aside a branch to reveal our endpoint. “Welcome to the Hideaway,” he said. “Or Camp Awesome. There’s been some back and forth about the name.”

Our group stepped into a large campground. There was a flat area with a fire pit to the left surrounded by dozens of plump cushions. Lost Boys and Girls were laying out place settings at an immensely long table on the far right. In the middle of the camp were various obstacle courses. Overhead there were treehouses, rope bridges that connected the trees in a chaotic zigzag pattern, and strings of lanterns that glowed dimly. The luminescent energy inside the lanterns sparkled and pulsed like a heartbeat. In the next moment I discovered why.

A multitude of fairies came zipping through the trees. They stopped at each lantern and shook their wings. Sprinkles of lime green magic fluttered from the fairies, and the lanterns began to glow stronger until they were restored to their full brightness.

When the camp was brightly lit with lime green light, the fairies swarmed around Peter affectionately. They didn’t speak, but their wings changed colors and flashed in a code that Peter must’ve been able to decipher, because he kept offering responses.

“Yup, the whole thing.”

“He had it coming.”

“Defintiely not.”

“Sweat and roast beef with a hint of saltwater.”

Blue cleared her throat and all the fairies whipped their heads toward us. It was kind of intimidating. For tiny, cute creatures, they could sport some pretty sour faces.

“Oh, right,” Peter said. “Guys, these are my new friends—Blue, Daniel, SJ, Jason, and the great Crisanta Knight. She saved my life, you know. Kept me from getting sliced and diced by Hooky’s wormy first mate, Gropper.”

I couldn’t help but blush; getting complimented by the Peter Pan was humbling. Even the fairies were impressed. Their wings glowed pink and began to flutter with extra speed. They flew around me happily and then buzzed around my friends with equal glee.

“They’re glad to meet you,” Peter translated. “And they want to thank you, Crisa, for your service to the team.”

“It was nothing,” I said bashfully. “You saved me first and I—”

The sound of a whistle abruptly rang through the camp. All the fairies stopped mingling and darted to where one specific fairy was waiting at the head of the long dining table. She was slender and red-haired with a cute nose—reminding me a bit of my own Fairy Godmother back home, Debbie.

The fairy saluted her troops and they returned the gesture. She buzzed instructions to them with the colors of her flashing wings.

The rest of the fairies took off, heeding her orders. When they’d gone she flew over and extended her tiny hand to me. It looked like she wanted to shake or something, so I extended my pointer finger. She shook it and winked before taking off into the trees.

“She was sweet,” SJ commented.

“To Crisa,” Blue corrected. “She was pretty direct with those other fairies.”

“That’s Tinkerbell,” Peter explained. “She’s the fairy leader and doesn’t cut the others any slack when there’s work to be done. You gotta respect a leader who rules with an iron fist. She’s the nicest when she’s off the clock, though.”

“Seriosuly?” Blue cocked an eyebrow. “All the stories I’ve read say she can be pretty jealous of other girls and vindictive like a wet cat.”

“Blue,” SJ groaned.

Peter shrugged. “She used to be. Then she started going to therapy. Now, come on,” he continued. “I want to show you guys the rest of the camp.” He addressed the Lost Boys and Girls with us. “Who wants do the honors?”

“I will,” called Madison, one of the Lost Girls in our group.

She grinned and flew across the clearing. She stopped next to a particularly large tree, gesturing for us to follow. Madison shoved an arm into the branches and pulled on something hidden, which made a sound like a cord being yanked to open a curtain. In response, a chorus of mechanical snaps echoed through the area and a section of the tree trunk suctioned open like a sliding door—revealing a hollow center. We stepped closer and discovered a slide inside.

I was peering down the entryway when a Lost Boy pushed me from behind with a gleeful hoot. I fell forward—tumbling through the dark passageway. After a few seconds, I plummeted into the light. I landed on a massive trampoline and was jettisoned into a plastic ball pit with assorted pillows and thousands of feathers.

When I surfaced, I found myself looking up at the curious faces of a dozen younger children. I was about to open my mouth when I was interrupted by the sound of another squish on the trampoline. A body landed in the pit next to me.

Blue popped out of the balls and feathers, spitting one of the latter out of her mouth.

“That was awesome!” she said as we climbed out of the pit.

I felt something solid and prickly poking into my side. I turned around to find a seven-year-old nudging me in the ribcage with a mace. “State your business here, intruder,” the child said assertively through his missing three front teeth.

Blue and I looked around to find that all the kids had encircled us and were pointing their respective weapons in our direction. Before I could say anything, SJ, Jason, and Daniel landed in the pit. Peter and the Lost Boys and Girls came flying through the passage right behind them.

“Pan!” all the kids shouted excitedly

“We caught intruders,” the toothless one announced as he poked me with his mace again.

“Hey, watch it,” I said.

“You watch it,” he challenged as his gums whistled. “I am Thaddeus Thunderbolt—Conqueror of PogPie Valley.”

I stooped to his level. Both figuratively and literally.

“Yeah, well, I’m Crisanta Knight,” I said, crossing my arms. “Conqueror of Anybody Who Gets on My Nerves.”

“Troops!” Peter said. “At ease. These are not intruders; they’re our new friends. They helped me beat Hook today.”

The mood in the room changed instantly. All the menacing tiny faces were replaced with smiles of interest and delight. Even little Thaddeus seemed glad to have us, although he didn’t put away his mace.

The kids bombarded us with questions as they gave us a tour of their bunker. It was like a palace constructed from the blueprints of a child’s sugar-high daydream. The floor was a blend of wooden boards mixed with ball pits, stretches of trampoline, and hopscotch squares. The high ceiling was decorated with strings of confetti, mobiles, arts-and-crafts cut-outs, and hoops hanging every which way. Multi-level bunkbeds were embedded in the hideout’s walls. Each bed was decorated with its own unique flair and none were properly made.

In the activity areas, there were pillow-and-blanket forts for playing cards and holding secret meetings. Slides and rope ladders crossed this way and that. Hardcore crafting areas, mountain ranges of toys, a plethora of board games, and small, mismatched shoes, were littered everywhere. There was even a whole nook dedicated to glitter.

“So what do you think?” Peter asked as we bounced from trampoline to trampoline across the room. “This is one of three underground bunkers in the Hideaway.”

“It’s epic,” Jason commented, making a front flip on the trampoline beside me.

“What about you, Mitchell? What do you think?” I called back.

No response.

“Mitchell?” I turned in mid jump to discover he wasn’t behind us.

“He can’t come down here,” Peter said, floating next to me. “We let him into the camp because he’s a friend of yours and an enemy of Hook’s. But down here is just for kids. Big people—even big people we like—have to stay up top. That’s the rule. Even our adult friend AP lives by it. Anyway, ol’ Mitch isn’t alone. My first lieutenant showed him to the Wendy House where our Honorary Mother lives. She’ll keep him company til we get back.”

“Honorary Mother?” SJ repeated. “You mean Wendy Darling is still here?”

Peter shook his head. “Nah, she left a long time ago. We’ve had lots of Honorary Mothers since then. It’s a title that gets passed on to the oldest girl in the camp at any given time. We’ve called the bunker those girls live in the Wendy House since the Darlings visited us, though.”

“Hold up,” Blue leapt from her trampoline over to mine so she was closer to the conversation. “I think I missed something. Who’s AP?”

“Nice to meet you,” AP said, extending a firm handshake to each of us.

AP was a handsome man who looked about thirty-five. I recognized his face. I’d seen it in a dream once. The man was lean and muscular with honey blond hair, bright blue eyes, and an endearing, impish smile. He almost looked like a grown-up version of our host, Peter.

“SJ Kaplan, princess of Dobb,” SJ said, shaking AP’s hand.

Last in line, I extended my hand. “Crisanta Knight, princess of Midveil,” I said.

AP’s congenial expression faltered.

“You’re a Knight,” he said, stating the obvious. “A Knight of royal blood.”

“Um, yeah. I guess so.”

He shook my hand, but continued to stare at me.

“So if you’re an adult,” Blue asked AP, “why do you live with the Lost Boys and Girls?”

AP cleared his throat and turned to Blue. “When I first came to Neverland I tried living with the adults in one of the portside towns,” he explained. “But the pirates kept hassling me to join their crews. And then kept trying to kill me for not wanting to. They’re scum who prey on the weak and ravage this land of its magic properties. I wasn’t about to team up with the likes of them.”

“So we offered AP the opportunity to team up with us,” Peter said, flying overhead to help a tiny fairy carry a large loaf of bread to the enormous dining table. “I know it’s unorthodox, but he proved himself worthy. A long while back there was one adventure I thought I might not make it back from.”

Peter gestured for us to sit. It looked like dinner was ready and all thirty Lost Boys and Girls were settling along the benches and beginning to dig in. We took our seats at the head of the table.

“Hook and his men had me and a handful of my troops cornered,” Peter went on as we started passing food. “He’d laid a trap for me. We all would have been killed, but AP here saved us. He is the most awesome sword fighter I’ve ever seen. When the battle was done and we’d escaped, he offered to train me and the other kids in sword fighting so we could be better matched against the pirates. That’s how we’ve all gotten so skilled over the years. In exchange, he lives at the edge of our camp and is an honorary member of the Lost Boys and Girls.” Peter gave a sly grin. “Despite his disadvantage.”

“Disadvantage?” Jason asked as he helped himself to a big serving of mashed potatoes. Despite our partial dinner earlier, he was clearly hungry. I didn’t blame him. So was I. Whooping pirate butt can really work up an appetite.

“He means that I’m an adult,” AP replied with a huff of amusement.

“Question,” I said. “You said you came to Neverland. Obviously I’m glad you ended up staying if it helped to improve everyone’s combat skills. But before you met Peter and teamed up with the Lost Boys and Girls, if the pirates were hassling you that much, why didn’t you just go back to where you came from? I’m assuming you’re from another Wonderland, right?”

A shadow passed over AP’s eyes, like a sad thought. Peter quickly swallowed and interceded on behalf of his adult friend.

“I got it, man,” Peter said. He pivoted toward me. “Lost Boys and Girls come to Neverland for different reasons. For most of them, it’s because they have no place to call home in their own realms—no parents, no family. So they find their way here and we give them a home. Others like me are here to escape what adulthood has in store for us.”

“What did adulthood have in store for you?” Daniel asked.

Peter paused for a second, but swiftly shook his blond head. “It doesn’t matter. The point is that I left. The third reason people come to Neverland—kids and adults—is because it’s the only place where they can keep on living. That’s the case for both AP and our current Honorary Mother.”

“How familiar are you with the different realm time zones?” AP asked, picking up the conversation.

“We know that Earth moves twenty times faster than Book,” Blue replied.

“And Book moves about four and a half times faster than the ONC—the time zone that Oz, Neverland, and Camelot run on,” AP responded. “But Neverland is special. While this realm is on the same time zone as Oz and Camelot—a year here is equal to a year there—the physics of time are different. Every sunset and sunrise in Neverland may correlate to those of Oz and Camelot, but the people here don’t feel their effects. That is why the citizens of Neverland don’t age. In Neverland, while the days move forward, biological time is frozen. And because of that, people from other realms with mortal injuries or sicknesses can come here to preserve their lives. You can still die from instant killings like, say, if Hook were to stab you. But you can’t die from any kind of mortal harm that needs time to do its work—a disease, an injury that doesn’t claim your life right away, even poison.”

“This realm keeps your biological clock from ticking forward,” Peter summarized. “So the mortally injured or ill can live forever.”

“People like me,” AP said. “Years ago, I was stabbed with a poisoned blade during a great battle in my home realm. I thought I was dead, but when I woke up I was here. I didn’t know that Neverland could save me, and I’m not entirely sure how I came through a portal to end up in this land. But so long as I stay, my wound cannot kill me because it is frozen in time. If I leave Neverland, I will die instantly.”

Our little group went silent, despite the gleeful conversation of the children further down the table.

“I’m so sorry,” I said after a beat.

“It was my own fault,” AP admitted solemnly. “The man who stabbed me in the back was my half-brother. I should have seen it coming.”

It felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. My friends’ eyes lingered on me. I focused on my breathing and ignored the burning pain in my chest where my heart used to be.

“Trust me,” I said with a sigh. “It’s not your fault. People tend to have blind spots when it comes to family.”