“What?”

“No really, you actually disappeared. I watched you reappear right in front of me.”

“That’s not possible, Tink.” Wendy trudged up the beach until she found a large piece of driftwood. She sat and took off her shirt, leaving her in just her tank top. She began to wring out the water. “I was here the whole time.” Or at least she thought she was.

“Trust me, there’s a lot of weird stuff that isn’t possible, but this is. And you are becoming number one on my list of weird people.” Tink plopped down on the driftwood next to Wendy and stared off into the water.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Wendy said sarcastically. “Nice to know I’m number one on one of my friend’s lists.”

“Whoa.” Tink shot Wendy a disbelieving look. “We’re not friends. I don’t have friends. I have people I tolerate.”

“Well then, it’s nice to know I’m tolerable.”

Tink nodded and hit her softly in the arm. “Now you get it.”

Wendy offered a half-smile and her voice softened. “Except for Peter.”

Tink looked away absently, rubbing her arms. “Yeah, he was the only one who was ever more than tolerable.” She shot Wendy a heat-filled look before standing up and marching up the beach to her scooter.

Wendy followed her and felt the girl’s pain radiating off her in waves. “Tink, I’m so sorry about Jax and Peter. I didn’t me—”

Tink spun toward Wendy, her finger jabbing her angrily in the chest. “Don’t. Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry.” Tears started to pour out of her eyes. “You have no idea what you’ve done.” She snapped her green glitter helmet on and scooted forward on the scooter and started it up. She revved the engine and glanced back. Wendy was still dripping wet, but Tink just curled her lip. “Get on. I don’t want to waste any more time because of you.”

Wendy sat behind Tink and tried to give the girl as much room as she could. She didn’t know where to place her hands on the spunky girl, so she rested them on her shoulders. She really hoped Tink wouldn’t take any sharp turns, because she probably would slide off and die.

But maybe, with the mood Tink was in, that had been her plan all along.

On the ride back into town, Wendy finally cried in silence, grieving the loss of Peter. There was no way he could have survived being thrown from a Hummer at that speed. It was all her fault. Her heart ached, and she couldn’t believe how empty it felt after only knowing him for such a short time. But that time together, felt like an eternity.

Peter showed her so much kindness—he cared so much he died for her.

The wind dried each and every tear.

And she wished that the wind could dry up her heart just as quickly, so she’d never hurt again.

The Neverwood Academy wouldn’t be the same without Peter.

Wendy walked up to the old, abandoned house alone while Tink tucked her scooter into a hidden shed. The same homeless man who’d been sitting near the garbage before started to rustle around. He pulled a bottle up to his lips and took a drink. There was a distinct click of a camera sound and Wendy spun on him, ready to either attack or sprint away. When he continued to drink for an impossible amount of time, she studied him a little closer.

Something was off about the proportions. The elbow seemed bent at a weird angle; the knit hat was pulled a little low over his head. Then she saw the red blinking light and the camera lens hidden in the bottom of the bottle. She stepped closer, and the hand holding the bottle dropped. The homeless guy dropped his head to his chest, as if hiding from her.

Wendy bent down and ducked her head to look closer. His face looked waxy, and he was wearing way too many layers of clothes for how hot it was. She nudged his boot and it didn’t move. She nudged it again and nothing happened. Feeling braver, Wendy leaned forward and gently shook the shoulder of the homeless man.

The whole head rolled forward and fell into his lap.

She bit back a scream and scrambled back as the recurring sound of a familiar chime blasted into her ear right behind her.

“Don’t touch Homer!” Tink shrieked. “Stay there. Don’t touch anything,” she huffed.

“Homer?” Wendy looked back at the robotic head that had fallen from the robot sitting outside the warehouse.

“Heat Overseer Mechanical Emergency Robot. Homer. He’s heat activated and monitors all activity. Usually we get lots of pictures of stray cats.” Tink picked up Homer’s head, sighed loudly at her creation, and pulled a screwdriver out of her tool belt. She went to work screwing his head back on. Then, reaching behind him, she flipped a switch off and on again until he rebooted. She carefully pulled his hat down over his head and readjusted his arm and camera.

“Did you make him?” Wendy asked in disbelief.

“Of course I did. He’s our first warning signal.” She ducked and peered into Homer’s face. The bottle came up and Wendy heard the zoom of the camera.

“Hey, Tink,” a male voice said through speaker.

“Fox, it’s me, plus one.”

“Gotcha. Proceed.”

The front door unlocked this time, and they headed directly toward the fireplace. Wendy missed having Tootles greet them with the riddle.

“The first time you came, Homer was down. A few malfunctions, but I got it up working again.” She entered the tunnel and the fireplace slowly closed after them. As soon as they passed into Neverwood, Tink gestured for Wendy to follow her toward the medical wing.

There was a twin bed in the middle of the room. On the bed was the young boy from yesterday. His leg was bandaged, and he looked like he was in a lot of pain.

“Is he…?”

“Alive? Yes,” Slightly answered. “He’s woken up a few times, but he’s said nothing but gibberish. We think we might not have gotten him here in time. The morphling’s poison was too strong. He’s dying.”

Wendy sat next to him, grabbing his hand. “Oh, Teddy,” she whispered.