by J. M. Page
All at once, a plume of fire shot out of the beaker, reaching toward the ceiling, at least six feet tall. Peter sat forward, alarmed, ready to spring into action if this wasn't how things were meant to go.
But the boys didn't seem concerned. Instead, they had pure glee written on their faces as the flames curled and Michael took control of them, wrapping it around his wrist like a ribbon. Michael flicked his wrist and the flames shot out, toward what would be the crowd, but he had control of them and with concentrated moves of his arm and wrist, he made the ribbon of fire dance, forming elegant mesmerizing swirls and spirals in the air.
John pinched his fingers and the blue flame under the beaker flew into his hand, forming a ball. Michael lit the blue flame again, with a flick of his flame ribbon and they repeated the trick until John had three balls of glowing blue flame and he started to juggle them.
Michael produced yet another ball of blue flame and Peter wasn't sure how John was going to grab it. John tossed one of his flaming balls toward Michael and scooped up the new one, adding it to his juggling rotation seamlessly.
The ball he'd thrown at Michael soared in a high arc before it started to come down. Michael grinned, and a thin jet of green liquid shot from between his teeth, colliding with the ball and creating a cloud of hot orange flames that obscured the performers and quickly dissipated. When the cloud was gone, both boys stood in the middle of the stage — free of any fire — and bowed, fighting back nervous laughter.
Peter sat there in silence for a moment, replaying the whole act in his head. They had a good set-up with the mad scientist schtick, people wouldn't know what to expect. Then the surprise of the "failed" experiment and Michael catching the first jet of flame. People would applaud for sure. He could probably even cut out his plasma juggling routine in favor of John's, and the big finish was exactly what he always looked for — shock and awe and a big payoff.
He nodded slowly to himself while the twins stood there exchanging nervous glances. The longer the silence went on, the more antsy they seemed to get until finally, Peter stood and brought his hands together in a slow clap.
"Well done, boys," he said, delighting in the way they looked so pleased with themselves. He wasn't sure how, but somehow, he'd gotten pretty attached to these kids and he was happy to see them doing well. Glad that they would undoubtedly have a place in his show with an act like that.
"You liked it?" Michael asked, the disbelief evident in his tone.
Peter laughed and nodded. "Don't sound so surprised. You two worked hard on that, be proud. There are a few tweaks we could make, but yes, I think you've got a solid act there, boys."
They turned to each other and high-fived, just as the door leading to the lobby opened. All three men turned to look as Wendy walked down the aisle.
She noticed the attention right away and stopped halfway to the stage, turning to Peter with a worried look. "Am I interrupting?"
Peter shook his head, his grin growing threefold. "No, of course not, come sit down. Your brothers have come up with an act."
Wendy's eyes went wide, her brows shooting toward her hairline as she looked to her brothers. "Have they now? And... Have you already seen it?"
Peter heard the wariness in her tone, saw the hesitation in her gaze, and he felt a burst of indignation race through him. "Yes, I have," he said through a clenched jaw, forcing the anger back. "You should see it," he said. She needed to see it. She needed to know what all her fretting and hovering and worry did to them — it stifled them. When she loosened the reins a bit and let them do their thing, look what they'd accomplished!
Wendy still looked unsure. "I can take your word for it. I don't need to have a heart attack over them trying to kill each other," she said primly.
Peter took two long strides down the aisle, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into a seat next to him.
In a hushed tone he said, "I know you worry about them, but they worked really hard on this and it's pretty great. You should see what they can do when you give them a little freedom."
She pursed her lips and folded her arms, but said nothing.
"You boys wanna run through it again for a wider audience?" he called to the stage, satisfied that he'd won.
Michael perked up. "Should we get Tink, too?"
Peter covered his laugh with a cough, clearing his throat while Wendy gave him an incredulous look. "Sure," he said. "She'd probably like to see it, too."
Michael ran off in a blur and Wendy tapped her foot. Her shoulders were tense — her whole body was tense — and her face was drawn tight with worry. Peter felt a momentary stab of guilt. He knew she only wanted the best for them, and she was only doing what she knew how. Still, couldn't hurt to shatter some perceptions now and again. She underestimated her brothers and it was time to face the truth.
"Relax," he whispered, leaning over to her.
Wendy scoffed. "Easy for you to say. How many times have you had to take them to the Emergency Room?"
Peter huffed. "Just trust me, will you?"
She met his gaze and Peter read her answer in those bright mint eyes. She would do no such thing, defiance and determination shimmering just beneath the surface. She opened her mouth to answer him — no doubt some snarky biting reply — but before she could say anything, Michael returned with Tink and she joined them in the audience, sitting on Peter's other side.
Peter turned his attention from Wendy to the stage, lacing his fingers together behind his head as he propped his feet up again and let out a sigh. "Just sit back and enjoy the show," he said to them both.
Chapter Nine
Wendy
Wendy sat back, crossing her arms as the house lights dimmed and John wheeled out a table heavy with glass beakers, vials, and graduated cylinders. Her heart rate picked up almost instantly, her palms growing damp with the memories of how many times this exact scenario had gone horribly wrong.
Sit back and enjoy the show.
She rolled her eyes. Who did this Peter guy think he was, acting like he knew her brothers better than she did? She was the one there for all the explosions, injuries, and visits from the fire marshal. Not Peter. Her. If anyone knew what her brothers could do, it was Wendy. And that was what worried her so much.
But even she had to admit the little routine with the lab coats and goggles was cute. She remembered them being much younger with coats just like those, trailing to the ground, the sleeves covering their tiny hands. She remembered the first science kit their parents had gotten them when they were only five — and the unearthly mess it made when expanding purple foam took over their entire living room.
She took a deep breath. They weren't those little boys anymore. They were young men, now, capable of handling this. She hoped. So, placing her faith in her brothers' maturity and Peter's judgement, Wendy sat back and tried her best to relax as John lit the Bunsen burner.
Of course their act involved fire. It was always fire with those two.
Michael took a drink from a beaker and pulled a face. "Harmless, but not tasty," he said, drawing a little giggle from Tink.
Wendy frowned. What was that he was drinking? Was it safe? Could it damage his heart?
John poured the green liquid into the flask above the flame and added another chemical to the mixture.
Peter tapped Wendy on the arm. "This is the good part," he said, and inwardly, she cringed. 'The good part' normally meant...
Flames shot up from the flask and Wendy gasped, her heart nearly flying out of her chest, her fingers gripping the armrests with white knuckles.
Peter covered her hand with his and patted it firmly. "It's alright," he whispered and she tried to release the tension in her shoulders.
The flames nearly kissed the ceiling and then they curled, curving toward Michael. He lifted his arm and the fire moved toward him, but something distracted him and he lost focus. The fire reached his outstretched arm and he yelped, snatching his arm back as the smell of burning hair filled the theater
. She watched what happened next unfold in horrifying slow motion.
After the fire burned Michael, it blazed a path across the stage, quickly climbing up the curtain until half of the stage was engulfed in rapidly spreading fire. Thick black smoke quickly clouded the air and Wendy jumped up, rushing to her brother's side as he cradled his injured arm. John looked around helplessly before saying, "Come on, we need to get out of here!" through a bout of hacking.
Something far off shattered and then plumes of white fog choked the life out of the flames, clearing to show Tink behind the smoldering ashes with a fire extinguisher.
"Well, that was definitely exciting," Tink deadpanned, waving her arm in front of her face to clear the air. Wendy, Michael, and John were still coughing, trying to rid their lungs of heavy smoke, and Peter approached tentatively next to Wendy.
"Everyone alright?" he asked, peering up to the stage.
Wendy ground her teeth together. "No, everyone is not alright," she snapped. "Michael's hurt because you decided to ignore me and go ahead with your foolhardy plan with no regards to their safety!"
Michael groaned and lifted up his arm, already blistering under the burned remains of his lab coat. "I'm fine," he said, sending a sideways look to the wings where Tink still stood, monitoring the ashes for any flare-ups.
"You're not," Wendy said sternly. "You need a doctor."
John held out an arm for his twin and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, I know where the first aid kit is. It's not that bad."
They both ignored Wendy while she protested and insisted on medical attention.
She turned back to see Peter with an expression of mixed emotion. He seemed... worried, maybe? But that didn't seem right. He certainly wasn't worried before all this happened when he told her to relax and let her brothers burn the theater to the ground.
"What's the damage?" Peter called to Tink, also ignoring Wendy.
Tink appeared, covered in a fine dusting of fire retardant, and swept her honey blonde bangs from her eyes in a casual move. "Main curtain's toast. We need to get it down before..."
Slowly, the other half of the curtain lifted, sailing toward the ceiling.
"That," Tink finally said with a sigh. She waved Peter off. "Don't worry about it, I'll go up and take the weights off."
"Everything's counterbalanced," Peter explained to Wendy's look of confusion.
"I don't care," she snapped back. "What I care about is my brothers — something you clearly don't care about."
"Hey now, wait a minute," Peter said, holding his hands out, his eyebrows knitting together. "You can't say I don't care about them just because there was an accident. Stuff like that happens in rehearsal all the time. It's why we have rehearsals. You don't need to get mad at me."
Wendy groaned and threw her hands up. "You just don't get it, do you? I told you this would happen. I told you they're destructive and careless. This will only get worse if you don't put a stop to it. They'll hurt themselves more, destroy more of your theater, and maybe — God forbid — one day they'll hurt someone in the show or your audience and then what, Peter? Are you still going to stand by your decision when your theater is in ruins?"
"I—"
"You need to send them home. They won't listen to me, I've tried to tell them. But they belong on Earth — we all do. They belong in school, not here, carelessly gallivanting around and setting fire to everything in their paths."
Peter folded his arms, his mouth set into a firm line. "You know, I thought your overbearing protectiveness was kind of amusing before, but it's just insufferable."
Wendy's jaw dropped, something in her chest clenching painfully at his rejection of her. He didn't know the first thing about their struggles or what she'd gone through trying to keep those two out of trouble on her own. He had no right to judge her.
"I've lived with those boys for eighteen years and you've known them for all of two days. If anyone knows what they're capable of, it's me and I don't want to see them — or anyone else — hurt," she said, setting her jaw.
Peter shook his head. "They just need more practice. You'll see."
The charred remnants of the curtain slowly floated back down to the stage, the other side landing with a heavy thud.
"That's good, Tink," Peter called, his eyes still burning into Wendy's, twin pools of swirling aqua fire.
"I'm going to prove you wrong," he said.
Wendy rolled her eyes. "Not likely."
She looked over and spotted Tink in the wings, watching them carefully, her face turning redder and redder with each passing minute.
"Peter knows more about show business that you ever will," Tink spat to Wendy.
"Not now, Tink," Peter grumbled, surprising both women. Tink's eyes went wide and her face flushed fuchsia before she stomped off.
Wendy watched her, her mouth hanging open in shock. Had he really just dismissed his friend for standing up for him?
"Aren't you going to go after her?" Wendy asked, her anger slipping away now that an innocent bystander had gotten caught in the crossfire. Okay, so maybe Tink wasn't exactly innocent — she'd done nothing but make fun of Wendy and try to make her life miserable since they met — but she still didn't deserve that treatment from someone she showed unwavering loyalty to.
Peter shook his head, letting his hands fall. "Nah, it wouldn't do any good. She'll be back. She always comes back. She just needs space more than anything else," he said, sounding sure of himself.
"If you say so..."
"She's just mad about not being the center of attention," he added as an aside.
A frown tugged at the corners of Wendy's mouth. "That's not a very charitable assessment of your friend," she said, watching the spot Tink disappeared from.
Peter shrugged. "Just honest. I know her better than you," he added, a tone of mocking making its way into his voice. Wendy's head snapped back so she could glare at him, already anticipating his next jab. "You don't seem to have a very charitable opinion of your brothers, either."
Fresh hot anger swept through her bloodstream and Wendy clenched her hands into fists until her fingernails bit into her palms. "That's not the same. Besides, it's none of your business."
Peter arched an eyebrow.
She wasn't going to let him bait her again, but then he just kept looking at her, expecting more. "I just... I have to look out for them because they need me to. Because I promised..." She realized she was saying too much despite being determined not to. "Well, it doesn't matter," she finally said. "It's none of your business."
She started to walk away from him, but his voice stopped her before she'd gotten more than two steps away. "You can't control them anymore, love. They're adults now and on Neverland, anyone can do anything their heart desires."
Wendy huffed, pressing her lips together in a prim line. "My heart desires to take my brothers home where they're safe, thank you very much."
A smile cracked through Peter's stern look and Wendy found that some of her resolve melted with its appearance. He closed the distance between them with one step of his long legs, crowding into her personal space.
"I think you just have a bad impression of Neverland," he said, barely louder than a husky whisper.
Wendy shivered, his warm breath caressing her clavicle, tickling up her neck. She couldn't find her voice to say anything. All of the sudden, it felt like he'd sucked all the air out of the room and left her feeling dizzy. And the way the corner of his mouth quirked up did things to her insides. Squirmy uncomfortable things.
"Maybe if I take you out, show you the place through my eyes, you'll get it, yeah?"
"I—"
"Come on, Wendy," he cajoled, his hand reaching out to trace one finger down the side of her upper arm. Goosebumps sprang up and sent new shivers all the way to her toes. "Live a little."
Her tongue felt heavy and thick, her whole mouth dry as she lost herself in his eyes, the deep lagoon blue that beckoned to her like a refreshing pool on a hot summer's d
ay.
She swallowed thickly, her throat like sandpaper, finding herself slowly nodding. "Okay," she croaked, licking her lips.
Peter's face broke into a wide smile and his hand dropped, his whole body pulling back a step. "Great!"
"But you know the boys will want to come on the tour too," she added quickly, not trusting herself to spend the day alone with Peter. Not with these feelings raging inside of her. She didn't even know what they meant. Only a minute ago she hated him and wanted to sew his mouth shut, but now... Now she wanted to do other things with that mouth and it unsettled her.
Peter nodded, his smile only fading a shade. Or did it fade at all? Was she seeing things? Imagining them? "Of course, wouldn't dream of excluding them," he said.
"Excluding us from what?" John asked, walking in from the lobby with his twin following. Michael's arm was wrapped up in a bandage and he held it bent at the elbow, holding it close to his chest. Wendy felt a pang of guilt for thinking those things about Peter instead of chasing after her brothers to make sure Michael was okay.
But he looked okay. She guessed if there was one thing they were exceptionally competent at it would be dressing burn wounds.
"How's the arm?" she asked.
Michael shrugged, trying to hide his wince as he did. "I've had worse."
That wasn't entirely comforting, but she didn't want to press it. Not when everyone already seemed irritated with her concern.
"So what are we doing?" John asked, clapping his hands together.
Peter gave Wendy a lingering look before turning to the boys. "Your sister has agreed to let me take you all on a tour of Neverland."
"A brief tour," Wendy amended, seeing the gleeful sparkle in her brothers' eyes. If they had their way, they'd tour every nook and cranny of this whole planet before being satisfied.
"But it's not going to do you any good in changing my mind," she shot back over her shoulder to Peter.
He shrugged, smiling smugly and looking quite pleased with himself in a way that Wendy did not find unattractive. "We'll see."
