![]() ![]() Neverland usually calls to me, like a siren’s lure drawing me closer-but instead my Never Never Land pushed me away. But this time, without her, it took much longer to even to get a bead on the island. To drift lightly down to perch on the trees and spy on Lily’s tribe-or kick one of Hook’s cannonballs out of the air. When I had Tink, there’d always be plenty of dust to make it to Neverland. Spiraling toward the roiling, dark stretch of Neversea below like some rock shot from Slightly’s slingshot, I flail in the air but can’t seem to slow. I try to coast, treading late-afternoon air, but the last shred of dust flickers out. My body wobbles midair, and I check the store of dust, only to find that it’s almost gone. I angle toward the island, trails of Jeremy’s packet of pixie dust lifting my body, when I start to stutter. It spreads out below me in familiar rugged curves that I know better than my own shadow. One minute I’m soaring past the stars, barreling through a veil of color and magic and snatches of children’s voices and whispered dreams-and then there it is. ![]() Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist.Ĭhildren already know that dragons exist.įairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.įalling out of the sky is far less fun than it sounds. ![]()
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