Wendy’s an angel, I swear. She’s made it to see the boys once a week for the last several months. We don’t sneak her out more than that because we don’t want to push her luck, but I still go to her as much as I can. We don’t do anything all that exciting. Mostly talk about our days, listen to another part of a story to bring back to the boys, and she’s also been showing me how to use a computer and this thing called Google that’ll tell you anything you want to know.

Sometimes, we just lay down side by side on her balcony and stare up at the stars. When she starts to get sleepy, I make her get up and go to bed. I wish I was bigger. Then I could wait until she falls asleep and carry her in. I hope I won’t always be the same size as her. It’ll make it harder to protect her when I need to.

Anyways, tonight isn’t a great night. It’s the first time Wendy’s visited when we’ve been punished for some imaginary thing Croc claims we did. I don’t think any of us really listen to the reasons anymore. Telling him we didn’t do whatever it is only makes him angrier, so we just keep our mouths shut and take whatever punishment we’ve got coming.

I’m glad tonight it was just being sent to bed with no supper. I know she’s real good at fixing us up, but I hate that she ever has to see that stuff. It’s the uglier side of our reality, and I can make myself forget it just as quick as it happened, but I don’t think Wendy can. It’s in her eyes when she looks at the boys sometimes, and I don’t want her remembering those things. I want her to think of only happy thoughts, all the time.

“Tootles,” Wendy says in her best motherly voice, “could you please pass the mashed potatoes?”

I smile as I watch Tootles pretend to pass a heavy bowl to Nibs, who passes it to one twin, who passes it to the other, who gives it to Slightly, then Curly, and finally to Wendy.

“Thank you, boys. Tinker Bell,” she tries again, “are you sure you don’t want to have dinner with us?”

“You mean pretend to have a fake dinner with fake parents?” Tink shoots back from where she’s pouting on her bed. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Tinker Bell,” I say in my best fatherly voice, “that’s no way to talk to your mother.”

“She’s not my mother. I don’t have a mother. None of us do, and you shouldn’t want one, either. They’re horrible witches.”

Wendy frowns. “That’s not true at all. My mom is great.”

“Congratulations, you have the one nice mom on the planet.”

Tink’s attitude is always super pissy when Wendy shows up. I think she likes being the only girl. Maybe she feels like Wendy is taking her spot in the group, but that would never happen. Besides, I like Wendy in a totally different way than I like Tink, so that means Wendy isn’t replacing her. I should explain that to her, and then maybe she’ll like Wendy.

“Tink—”

“Shut up, you silly ass, I don’t want to hear it.”

The boys gasp at her foul mouth around Wendy. They know better than to use swear words in front of her, but Tink doesn’t play by the rules. I figure the problem with Tinker Bell is she’s so small that she can only be all good or all bad, but not both at the same time. When Wendy’s not around she’s great to everyone. But when Wendy visits, she’s horrible to everyone, even me.

“All right, boys, back to your dinner.”

Everyone except Hook, who’s hanging out with Croc—something that’s been happening more and more lately—pretends to dig into the food in front of them. We’re all sitting in a circle on the floor, eating an imaginary buffet of our favorites. Wendy goes around the table and asks everyone about his favorite thing about today, and each of us makes up something outrageously fantastic.

“Boys,” Wendy says when we all pretend to be stuffed so much we can’t eat another bite. “Why do you all have such strange names? Those can’t be your real ones, are they?”

“Peter’s and Hook’s are real,” Curly says with excitement, like he’s happy at least a couple of us know our names.

Wendy looks to me, and I tell her as much as I know. “Hook and I are the only ones who can remember being called by our names before Croc and Delia took over the school. But we don’t know the other ones, and they never cared what the other boys’ names were, so they gave the kids nicknames they could remember.”

I go on, nodding at each of them as I talk. “Curly is obvious with his hair. Nibs is short for Nibbles because he chewed on everything when he was little. I’m not sure about Tootles and the twins don’t even have nicknames because no one can tell them apart. Slightly is because he thinks he’s slightly better than everyone else. Tinker Bell because she likes to mess around with cars and she wears that bell. I don’t know about Smee either. But Starkey is because of his stark white hair.”

“Or,” the kid says, “maybe it’s ’cause of a star that has a key.”

“Or maybe that,” I say doubtfully. “But probably the other thing.”

The sound of someone coming up the stairs makes us freeze, but I give the all-clear signal. I can tell the difference between Croc or Delia’s steps and Hook’s. We hear him punch in the code to get into the room. It’s a system Croc put in to keep us prisoner at night—once you’re on this side, you’re locked in until he lets you out in the morning. But even if you did make it out of the room, there’s an alarm system on every exit and window on the main floor. It’s why I never get caught going out the second story window.

Hook walks in and doesn’t even look at us, just walks like a zombie into the bathroom for his nightly shower. As soon as the door closes behind him, Wendy is back to our conversation.

“Okay, so I have an idea, but you can tell me if you think it’s stupid.” The boys are excited and beg her to tell them. Wendy always has the best ideas, so I’m just as curious. “What if I gave you all names?”

I’m not sure what they’ll think of that—seems to be a mix of confusion and blind enthusiasm coming from the younger kids.

“I’ll try to come up with some that sound similar to what you’re called now. That should make it easier to get used to them. But then you’d have real names instead of pretend-sounding ones.”

All the boys light up at the thought of Wendy giving them special names, and I have to hand it to her, she’s come up with another great idea to give them a bright spot in their lives.

“It’s settled, then,” she says with a big smile. “I’ll have names for all of you the next time I visit.”

“Leave me out of it,” Tink says. “I like my name just fine.”

I sigh. Such a grumbly little fairy. But Wendy doesn’t let it affect her.

“I think you’re absolutely right, Tinker Bell. Your name is really pretty and unique. Way better than my boring name.”

I lean in, so I can whisper in her ear. “I like your name, Wen.”

She blushes and ducks her head, hiding behind the waterfall of caramel colored hair. “Thank you, Peter. I like your name, too.”

“Is it time for a bedtime story yet, Mother Wendy?”

That makes her smile. “Yes, my sweet Tootles, it’s time for a bedtime story. Everyone in bed, and father and I will come around to tuck you in.”

For the next half hour, we go through our weekly routine of tucking the boys into bed—except for Tink, she doesn’t want to play, and not Hook, he’s too old to play—and telling them a story. Then I sneak her out of the school, across the city lines, and back onto her balcony where our night began.

Usually we hug and say goodnight, and there’s all this weird energy between us, like there’s something missing. I started holding her hand sometimes, and it’s nice, but I want more. I just never knew what that more was. Until tonight.

“Well, goodnight, Peter,” she says, pulling out of our hug.

I don’t know how to start this except… “I snuck onto Croc’s computer in his office for a bit today.”

She gasps. “Are you crazy? What if you’d been caught? I told you to use mine—”

“I looked up what a kiss is, Wen.”

Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open like it always does when she’s shocked. And now I have all sorts of ideas on what I want to do with those lips. Thank you, Google.

“I…um…”

I take a step closer. “It’s okay, I get it. I didn’t know it then, but I put you on the spot and you…” I chuckle, unable to help myself. “Well, you improvised with something that is not in fact a kiss. What is this, anyway?”

I hold up the small silver piece she gave me that first night. Her face is covered by shadows, but I know my Wendy, and I know she’s most definitely blushing right now.

“It’s a thimble,” she says, embarrassment clear in her tone. “And not even a real one. It’s a Monopoly game piece.”

At that, I raise my eyebrows. I think we played that before. “Like the iron and the dog? That game?”

“That’s the one. Oh God, you must think I’m so stupid.”

She covers her face with her hands, but I pull them away. “Not stupid, Wen. Creative. You’re always so creative, even when you panic.”

Laughing softly, she says, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I use my fingers to tuck her hair behind her ear, then trail them lightly across her jaw. “Can I give you a kiss now, Wendy? A real one, I mean.”

For several seconds, she doesn’t say anything, and I think I’ve screwed up. But then she nods her head and her eyes fall to my mouth. My knees almost buckle from relief.

Slowly, I lean in, inch by inch, second by second, until my lips touch hers. They’re soft and warm, and I want to live here like this forever. Her hands come up to fist in my T-shirt and mine land on her hips. I don’t want this to ever end, but she has to go inside and get some sleep, or she’ll be tired at school tomorrow.

Forcing myself to pull away, I try to steady my breathing with no real luck.

“Wow,” she whispers, her eyes still closed, and suddenly, I feel ten feet tall.

I take a deep breath, ready to let out the excitement before I explode, when her hand claps over my mouth. “No, Peter,” she whisper-scolds. “No crowing or you’ll get us in trouble.”

“Oh, right, sorry. Habit,” I whisper back. She rolls her eyes then shoos me away, telling me it’s time to go, so I do. But before I hop over her balcony railing, I need to say one more thing.

“Hey, Wen?” She stops at the doors, gripping the handles as she looks over. “For the record, that really is called an acorn nut.”

I watch her muffle a giggle right before I drop to the ground with the biggest smile on my face. I think I’m going to like kissing Wendy Darling more in the future.