I wait until she is gone; nothing more than a pretty smile and a curtain of white curls shielding her face. He waves, she waves back, and then she disappears around a corner. He turns the other way, his shoes clicking on the pavement. I can tell he's happy. I can tell he has forgotten about me.
The paper in his hands slips and falls to the ground, and I am quick to bend over and hand it back to him. He looks into my eyes, and recognition floods his features. He takes the paper, all the while with his eyes staring into mine. Their chocolaty brown color is a pool of shock and surprise, while mine are only full of sorrow.
"Tricia."
"Warren."
He is speechless, trying to process how I could be here, standing before him. One hand reaches out and brushes against mine, making my skin tingle with his touch.
"How—wha—how?" He asks, stuttering.
"I've been here the entire time, ever since you left. I only found you last week," I reply, staring down at the ground and kicking a pebble.
"Why didn't you say something?" He inquires, hurt in his features.
I sniff, the gathering tears threatening to spill. "Because you're happy; talking to you would just mess that up."
"What are you talking about?" He asks, confused.
"The girl, just a second ago," I imply, refusing to look into his eyes.
"What—" but then realization crashes down upon him, and he does what I least except him to—laugh. "Tricia, that girl has been trying to help me find a way onto the Isle for the past five months; so that I can be with you."
"You're lying," I presume, the first tear racing down my cheek, followed by another. I begin to walk away, unable to bear the pain that claws at my heart, betrayal infecting it.
"Tricia, wait!" He calls, jogging to try and catch up with my ever quickening pace. "Tricia—"
My shoe catches a crack on the sidewalk, and I lose my footing, tumbling forward. I brace myself for the impact of the concrete, but it never comes. Instead, strong arms sweep underneath me and tug me gracefully upward. I find my head against his chest, gazing up at him, and he looking down upon me. "I'm really not lying, Tricia. I love you, and always have. There isn't any way I could forget everything that happened."
He leans forward, inching closer to my face. I pull away, a sensation spiking my senses. "Prove it," I challenge.
"Tricia—"
"Prove it."
He thinks a moment, then seems to remember something. He pulls out the piece of paper he had dropped earlier, and extends it toward me. I take it, unfold it, and read its contents:
"The Isle of Everlasting has been a legend for more than ten years now, when a girl named Wendy Pearson, after going missing for five days, claimed that she had been kidnapped by a pirate that went by the name of Captain Hook and was taken to a different world. When she was asked to name where she was taken, her reply had been the Isle of Everlasting, or as she liked to call it, Neverland…"
I look up, my eyes locking with his. "Keep reading," he urges, and so I do.
"Not long after this girl's claim, many believed her to be mad. 'It is simply a work of the girl's imagination,' her therapist once said. 'Her imagination made even the darkest times of her life brighter, with adventure and fun mixed in with the bad.' Wendy, though, insisted that her words were true, trying to get people to listen, telling them about a boy she had met there, and how he needed her help. It is only now that the name of this boy has been released to the public, after all of these years. The boy's name was, as Wendy's therapist said, Peter Pan.
"Peter Pan could fly, Wendy believed, and this only led to further havoc as more and more people began to question the girl's sanity. Flying? That was absurd! All the same, though, the only people who seemed to remain by Wendy's side were her mother, Agatha Pearson, and her brother, Warren.
"Five months after Wendy's reappearance, she disappeared once again, and this time, she never returned. Some superstitious believe that because of the people's unbelief in such a matter, the gods of the Isle of Everlasting took Wendy to make them see. And this is where the phrase, 'Gone back to Neverland' came from…"
"Are you trying to rub old memories in my face?" I ask, "because you're doing a really good job." Tears flow down my cheeks freely, guilt and regret swirling into the gray-clear liquid.
"No!" He denies. "I've been searching for a way—I've been searching for you! Sasha was helping me, but now I don't need it! You're here now, Tricia! And I still love you."
"Everything that has happened…I don't think I can trust you anymore," I reply uncertainly, my voice quavering.
He says nothing, but pulls at a copper chain from around his neck, pulling it out from under his shirt. A small pair of fairy wings hangs around the bottom, transparent and flecked with gold. They glint in the sunlight, the soft glow reminding me of when I would soar through the sky without a care in the world.
"Could you trust me now?" He asks, a hopeful expression in his eyes.
I hesitate, remembering the night I flew us up to the highest branch of that tree, and sat there. I gave him that necklace the very same night; the night before he left.
Footsteps clop toward us, a distant sound to my ears. I shake my head, unable to figure why he kept that necklace.
"Goodbye, Warren," I say, and turn to leave.
The voice I hear calling Warren's name makes me stop, though. It's a voice I know; I'm positive I know it, but I can't think of who it belongs to. I turn around, curious.
And that is when it hits me. A wave of shock slams into me, wonder, confusion, and every emotion swirling into one, making me dizzy.
Blonde curls. Blue eyes. Small frame. A sweet smile.
"Wendy."