the lost boys and Wendy Bird.

Her hair smelled like second-hand cigarette smoke as she walked away from the house. The cold air stung her face and everything else stung too.

"I just want to be on an island," surprising herself even as she realized she said it out loud to the night. "And now I talk to myself?"

She cleared her throat and wiped away the lingering tears from their frustrating, circular conversation.

The trouble was she found herself justifying it in her mind.

At twenty, this was not something that she wanted herself or something she necessarily believed in. Yet here she was. She also promised herself she would never feel for a man child ever again. But there would always be the draw of the cheap laughs and the immature jokes she always thought, but didn't say out loud. It kept her twenty and grounded. She couldn't help but think she was holding him back.

After all, as soon as Wendy came around they realized they longed for a mother and real clothes. But Peter never wanted that for himself. He wanted to always be a boy and always have fun.

“But where do you live mostly now?"
"With the lost boys."
"Who are they?"
"They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way. If they are not claimed in seven days they are sent far away to the Neverland to defray expanses. I'm captain."
"What fun it must be!"
Yes," said cunning Peter, "but we are rather lonely. You see we have no female companionship."
"Are none of the others girls?"
"Oh no. Girls, you know, are much too clever to fall out of their prams.”