The windowsill still squeaked when you stepped on it—that hadn’t changed. If James thought about it, the only thing different about all of this was the girl standing beside him now.

“Have you ever done this before?” Avery asked him. She peered over the edge of the window, where she could see the desolate swing set her father had built ten years ago. Avery had swung so high that she was certain she’d take off if she jumped from the swing. She’d broken her arm and never returned to the swings. If she jumped now, from her second-story windowsill, escaping with a broken arm would be the least of her worries.

“Yes. No.”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes. Not like this.”

“Not with a girl?” She lifted her eyes to meet his.

The last girl to look at him like that had been Wendy, his first mother. He looked away. “Not with a ‘Lander.” No one had flown with a ‘Lander since Peter had taken Wendy back.

“Now what?” She asked as she placed her arm around his shoulders and his around her waist.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, now what, James?”

“I don’t know,” he said. Time passed differently in Neverland, but he was certain it had to have been at least twenty years since he’d left England with Peter. Peter didn’t normally take older boys, but he’d made an exception for James. He could make one for Avery, too.

She was still looking at him. “Well, what did you do when you did this with the others?”

He shook his head. “Not others. Just one.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of dust.

“What did you guys do then?” She asked as he sprinkled the dust over her face.

“We held onto faith and trusted each other. Do you trust me now, Avery?”

“Completely.” She threw a second arm around his neck and pressed her face into his shoulder as they jumped from the windowsill.