Chapter 7
Peter looked the same, exactly the same as he had the last time I had seen him. I knew he would, but it was still a shock to find him a child when I was not anymore. Though I had never grown very tall, I was taller than him now, instead of the other way round.
"Peter", I said "Do you see who I am? Iīm Wendy." Peter looked at me without recognision. Oh it hurt, it really did, though I had expected that too. But then he gingerly come closer to me and stared up in my face. He carefully looked me over and then, hesitantly; "You look a lot like Wendy. But you are much fatter than her." Jean-Baptiste, who was still laying in the grass, snorted. "Iīm not fat, Peter. Iīve grown up." Peter looked scandalized. "Even worse!" Jean-Baptiste snorted even louder and Peter paid attention to him for the first time; "Who is that?"
"Jean-Baptiste." I said as the same time as Jean-Baptiste said "Frog." Peter seemed to find that very funny. "Frog!" he exclaimed and then he croaked absolutely lifelike several times. "Ribbit." Jean-Baptiste agred, and they both burst out laughing. They looked so silly that I started to laugh too. Peter danced around me and sang; "She laughs, she laughs. Now you look like my Wendy. You looked so serious at first. Have you came back to be my Mother again?"
It felt good to laugh. I had not laughed since the Captain had kidnapped me and it felt like years since I had had something to laugh at. Right then, at that moment everything felt wonderful. We were free, we had found Peter, who would know what to do about Captain Hook. But then Peter noticed the fading bruises on my arms and his laughter died.
At first, when we told him about the Captain he didnīt remember him. But the memories came back as we told him what had happened and his sunny face grew serious. I didnīt told him the full extent what the Captain had done to me. I couldnīt, he was a child. I donīt think he would know what I was talking about even if I had told him.
When we had finished our story, Peter took us back to his home. True to his nature he didnīt brooded long over the Captain and was soon flying around us crowing, telling us a thousand unimportant things. Jean-Baptiste took my hand and whispered in my ear; "You should always laugh, Wendy, you look so beautiful."
At first it was wonderful to walk there, holding his hand and with Peter tumbling around in the air above us. But little by little the feeling of joy left me and I felt tired and cold. Peter had wanted me to fly with him, but I could not. Flying is for the children, for the gay, innocent and heartless and I was not innocent anymore. The Captain had robbed me of it and I started to suspect that there would be more to it than just not being able to fly anymore.
The arrival to Peterīs place distracted me from my gloomy thoughts. I was not surprised to see that there was Lost Boys around. They were very much like those Lost Boys who now grew up in London and they swarmed all over me, chattering exitedly. After supper Peter got me to tell them all a story and it was not until it was time to sleep that the feeling of hopelessness returned to me.
I felt very cold and despite the furs that covered me I could not get warm. I longed for my mother to come and tuck me in and tell me all was well. but I had begun to fear that I would never see her again. Wen I finally slep, I was hunted by the strangest dreams.
At first I dreamt I was back home. I was trying on my wedding gown, my mother helping me with its pink sash. Then I was walking on my fathers arm on a church aisle, Edgar waiting for me at the end. Then I sat up in a bed, holding a new born baby in my arms. There the dream changed and I saw the Captain sitting on the bed in the cabin, his face in his hand. He was sitting very still, but the image chilled me, because all around him was the ripped and shredded pieces of my blue ballgown.
The dream changed yet again and I saw Jean-Baptiste crying over the dead man in a red coat. His throat had ben cut and I could sense the Captainīs shadow behind them. Another change and Jean-Baptiste lay there naked and unconcious with his long hair flowing over the floor. His back a bloody mass of slashes. Then I was back in my old nightmare and the Captain approached me with eyes that burned red. He lifted his claw and I screamed. Screamed and woke up hot and feverish in Jean-Baptisteīs arms.
The night went on and on like that, I become hotter and hotter and the nightmares became harder and harder to tell apart from reality. I thought I heard Peter telling the others that we needed help. I thought that Jean- Baptiste was carrying me through cool night air. But perhaps it was all dreams.
End of Chapter 7