The children turned out the light and waited under their covers, their shoes ready. Peter Pan always came… when good and ready. His time.
Tap-tap. John opened the window as Michael and Wendy grabbed their shoes.
“This is for the psycho pirate —”
Peter dodged the projectiles.
“Getting us kidnapped. Nearly blown up, eaten by a crocodile.”
Smack. Peter took the hint and left.
The Darling shoes dangled on a pole outside their window. Their parents were going to go ape. Shoes didn’t grow on trees any more than horses became wishes.
Only one option — fairy dust. John sprinkled himself and ran towards the window.
“Happy thoughts, John! Happy thoughts —”