Always Neverland Read Free Page A

floorboards. Peter flew just behind me, holding his shadow in a headlock all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. With his leafy shirt and the struggling shadow, he looked so out of place flying over the sink that I had to pinch myself again—to make sure it was all real.
    Then I opened the junk drawer and started combing through it. I knew the Super Glue was in there somewhere. We heard brakes squeal in the next room.
    Peter looked around wildly, one hand on his sword. “What’s that noise?”
    I pushed past dried-up pens and several pairs of scissors to the back of the drawer. “A car chase. The TV’s on.” Megan had turned up the volume really loud. No wonder she didn’t hear me shout earlier.
    â€œTV? Would the Lost Boys like it?” Hovering a couple feet above the floor, Peter pushed open the door to the living room, peeking his head through curiously.
    â€œNo!” I grabbed his foot and yanked him back.
    Now that he stood on the ground, I could see he was only a little bit taller than I was. He glared, cheeks bulging, like he was about to start shouting.
    Legendary or not, I wasn’t going to let him get me in trouble. Especially when I was doing him a favor.
    â€œStop it!” I said sharply. “Do you want to get caught?”
    That got his attention.
    â€œThe great Pan is never caught,” Peter said, but he said it very quietly.
    â€œMaybe so. But I’m not taking any chances.” I didn’t want Mom to find out and reconsider the trip to the Christmas tree farm.
    I held up the tiny bottle of Super Glue and gestured toward the stairs.
    Two and a half minutes later, we sat on the floor in my room, and Peter forced his shadow to the carpet beside him, pinning its arms to its sides. The shadow hung its head, as if accepting its defeat.
    â€œMind lifting up your foot?” I asked Peter.
    Instead of just raising his leg like I expected him to, the boy flew up and hovered several inches off the ground, feet still extended toward me.
    â€œThanks.” I unscrewed the top of the Super Glue and reached toward Peter’s foot.
    The boy flew very slightly out of the way. “Are you sure this will work?”
    I’d figured that I had an 80 percent chance that shadows could be glued. But I told Peter, “I’m positive . Wendy would’ve done it this way, if she had Super Glue. It won’t even hurt.”
    After hearing that, Peter relaxed a little, and he did let me grab hold of his ankle. I squeezed a thin line of Super Glue across the boy’s muddy heel, and then I reached for the shadow. It kicked me a couple times, halfheartedly—it didn’t hurt; it felt more like a puppy trying to squirm out of my lap—but I managed to squish the shadow’s heel against Peter’s without getting any Super Glue on my hands. I let it go and dealt with the other foot.
    Luckily, the glue held, even when the shadow clutched my bed frame and tried to drag itself away from Pan. I was almost as happy about what I’d done as Peter was.
    â€œGluing is even better than the sewing. Why didn’t I think of this before?” Peter crowed and started doing a few backflips. When he stopped, his shadow swayed a little and put a hand to its head dizzily.
    Then Peter zipped toward the window, not looking my way once.
    Worried that he really would leave, I said quickly, “Since you woke me up and all, would you mind telling me why you came to visit?”
    I was pretty sure he would just say that my window was closest when his shadow snapped off, but I was hoping to steer the conversation to other things. Like flying, for instance.
    He turned back, grinning, his fists on his hips. “I came to take you back to Neverland, of course.”
    He made this announcement as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but I stared at him, almost afraid to believe him.
    â€œNeverland! Really?” I glanced at the cover of