Over a hundred years had passed back in Wendy's world since she had returned to her family, taking the Lost Boys with her, but, little had changed in Neverland.  Neither Peter or Tinkerbell had aged.  Nor had the pirates.  In Neverland, only the Indians aged, but much more slowly than in the outside world.  Princes Tiger Lily had only recently had her first child-not by Peter, of course.  He was still a boy.  He wasn't interested in giving any girl a child.  He'd never even wanted that with Wendy.

The outside world had changed.  Lost boys no longer went to Neverland.  They were, instead, put in foster homes after which they usually spent the rest of their lives in prison, or on the street, homeless and unloved.  Although Peter had Tinkerbell-and could visit the Indians, he missed having a troop of lost boys.  He had been born a leader, but there was no one to lead-and, even though Hook was dead, there were still pirates-pirates who wished to put an end to Peter.  Although he could outwit them, he couldn't battle them by himself-and he missed the battles.

Although the outside world had changed, it hadn't happened overnight.  Peter had often wondered why no other lost boys had appeared in Neverland after the others had returned with Wendy, but none had.  Perhaps, returning those boys had broken the link between the two worlds.  Peter had thought about it for all those long years, having returned often to watch Wendy grow up, marry, have children, grow old-and die, never having let her see him.  He knew she had remembered him, because he had heard her tell stories about him and Neverland to her children-then to her grandchildren; but all of them had thought it was a fantasy.  Perhaps, even Wendy had come to believe that she had only imagined it.

The Lost Boys had grown up-had grown older-but none had ever married or had children.  They had never truly adapted to Wendy's world.  Peter knew it had been a mistake to have let them return, but they had all wanted to go with Wendy.  They had been enticed by the idea of having a mother-had wanted to hear Wendy's stories.  They had been members of his troop, not his slaves.  He couldn't have very well kept one of them against his will.

After all this time, Peter had given up on the arrival of any more lost boys in Neverland.  He knew, if he didn't want to spend forever alone, he would have to travel back to the outside world to recruit some boys.  This time, he wouldn't make the mistake of bringing a girl back to Neverland.  As much as he had liked Wendy, that had been a mistake.  Girls wanted more than adventures and battles.  They wanted love and marriage; they wanted to have children.

Instead of England, Peter decided to go to America, thinking that the boys in that country would be more suitable.  After all: it was the country of cowboys and Indians; a country of individuals; a country which was continually at war.  What better place to find the boys he wanted?

Only certain boys would do.  Peter had the appearance of a boy of eleven.  He wanted none older who might be inclined to contest his position as leader.  Too, he knew that older boys were more likely to become pirates.  He needed boys who would combat the pirates, not ones who would add to their strength.  Only boys would do-not adolescents.

The world had changed.  Few boys dreamed about fighting pirates.  Computers had come about since Peter had last noticed.  Boys still wanted adventure-still wanted to pit themselves against others-but they didn't have to travel to Neverland to do it.  They could do it from the comfort of their homes, playing games of all kinds with people from all over the world on the Internet.  They got their fill of adventure without ever leaving their chairs.

Peter couldn't understand it.  Couldn't they see that it wasn't real?  How could the world of the computer, with its monitor screen and keyboard, compare with fighting real pirates?  If a real pirate killed you-you were dead-for real.  If you died in an Internet game, you just played another one.  Besides he had explained, there was always school the next day-and chores.  They wouldn't have school or chores in Neverland.  That had almost convinced some of them-until he had told them that they couldn't take their computers.  "Why not?" they had asked.

"There's no electricity in Neverland," he had answered.  "There's magic-but no electricity."

"No electricity?  How do you watch TV, then?"

"There's no TV in Neverland," he had answered.

That's when he had lost them: no TV; no computers; no CD players or ipod's.  Although most boys would give up one or the other of these, none were willing to give up all-even for magic-even to be able to fly.  Then, Peter realized that he was looking in the wrong place for boys.  His Lost Boys had been just that-lost boys.  He had been trying to recruit from boys who had families-boys who were loved and pampered-boys who had everything they wanted.  He needed lost boys.  Surely, even in this modern world, there were lost boys.  Robby was the first he found.

Robby was living in his fifth foster home since he'd been taken away from his mother-with Charlotte Johnson and her husband, Clyde.  They had two other foster children besides him, both boys about his age-ten.  Clyde was OK, but Charlotte was weird.  She made the three of them stay outside during the day, but wouldn't let them leave the yard.  It was so boring.  There was nothing to do.  Naturally, if for no other reason than boredom, the boys fought with each other, which got them into trouble with Charlotte, who sent them to their room-which they shared-after supper, where, because there was nothing to do, they fought.

Living with Charlotte was bad enough, but her home wasn't really any worse than any of the other foster homes where he'd lived-and was better than living with his mom-not that she'd been that bad.  It'd been her boyfriends who had abused him, physically and in ways that he'd never mentioned to anyone-ways he kept hidden deep within his memory.  He wasn't physically abused in the foster homes, but he wasn't loved either.  Foster children were a source of income for most of the people operating the homes.  It was all too obvious to Robby that Charlotte and Clyde cared only for the money.  He was a good choice for Peter.  There was little to tie him to his world.

Robby awoke one night, staring into Peter's face.  When he opened his mouth to speak, Peter, pressing his finger to his mouth, said, "Shhh.  Come with me," he whispered.

Puzzled by the appearance of the strange boy in his room, Robby hesitated, but he was intrigued by the boy who was dressed strangely-besides, the boy appeared to be no older than he-so, he followed him out of the room.  When in the hallway, he asked, "Who are you?"

"Peter-Peter Pan."

"Yeah-right," answered Robby, sarcastically.  He'd, of course, had heard the story of Peter Pan.  He knew that it was no more than a story-one which had intrigued him, but still only a story.  "Who are you, really?"

"I'm Peter Pan."

The kid was dressed as Robby would imagine Peter Pan to be dressed, but there was no such person.  "Come on.  Tell me who you are-or I'm going to call Charlotte."

As an answer, Peter rose from the floor, rising until his head bumped against the ceiling.  Robby's jaw dropped.  "How are you doing that?"  He looked for wires, but didn't see any; besides he'd passed through that hallway several times each day.  There were no holes in the ceiling for wires.

"I'm thinking happy thoughts."

Thinking happy thoughts?  Robby couldn't even remember the last time he'd thought happy thoughts, but he knew it would take more than happy thoughts to fly.  Even in the tale of Peter Pan it had taken more-fairy dust.  "What-no fairy dust?" he asked.

"I suppose it does require some fairy dust."   With that, Peter opened one of his pockets.  From it flew a bright golden light. 

On closer examination, Robby saw a small creature, scarcely larger than a hummingbird, but with the appearance of a girl with wings.  "Is-is that Tinkerbell?" he asked.

"Say 'hello' to Robby, Tink," answered Peter.

Robby heard a faint sound, not unlike the tinkling of a small bell.  "How do you know my name?" he asked.

"I've been watching you."

Robby pinched himself.  After all, wasn't that what you were supposed to do to see if you were dreaming?  It hurt.  Maybe he wasn't dreaming.  "But, you can't be 'the' Peter Pan.  That's only a children's story.  It's not real-and fairies aren't rea-"

Peter clamped his hand over Robby's mouth, preventing him from completing what he was about to say.  "Don't ever say that.  Every time you do, a fairy dies."  The tinkling, coming from Tinkerbell also became more agitated and strident.

"But," said Robby, once Peter had removed his hand.  "Are you saying that there is a Neverland?"

"Of course, there's a Neverland."

"But, where could it be?  We have giant telescopes and satellites.  If it existed, someone would have seen it."

"Neverland isn't someplace.  It's somewhere-another dimension that exists alongside this world.  It can't be seen with telescopes or electronic instruments.  It's a place of magic, not of science."

Robby read a lot.  It was his only escape from a less than satisfactory existence.  Mostly, he enjoyed science fiction and fantasy.  For that reason, he was familiar with alternative dimensions.  It was a concept that wasn't beyond his imagination.  He nodded his head.  "How old are you?" he asked.

"I don't know," answered Peter.

"What do you mean-you don't know?"  Robby knew how old he was.  Was Peter an orphan who didn't know when he was born?

"Time has no meaning in Neverland."

"No one ever grows old?"

"The Indians do-when they want.  They're the only ones in Neverland who have children.  One must die to make room for a newborn."

"Then, you'll live forever?"

"Unless I'm killed by a pirate-or a croc or some such creature."

"Were you born in Neverland?"

"No, I told you.  Only Indians have children.  Neverland used to be part of earth-the magical part.  It split off hundreds or thousands of years ago, fairies and other magical creatures ending up in Neverland."

"How did you get there?"

"I don't know.  Portals exist between the two worlds.  Sometimes, someone from this world will stumble upon one-although, since few any longer believe in magic, it happens much more infrequently now."

"How do you do it?" Robby asked.

"I know where the portals are-and I believe in magic."

"You mean you have to believe in magic to go to Neverland?"  Robby didn't know whether he believed in magic.  He wanted to, but, what about science?  Didn't the existence of science preclude the existence of magic?  "I don't know if I believe in magic," he said.

"Yes, you have to believe in magic-but, if there's no magic, how do explain this?"  Peter floated upward, until he was parallel with the ceiling, then bent over at the waist, until he was staring into Robby's eyes, but with his face inverted.  Tinkerbell hovered next to his face.

Using his understanding of science, Robby couldn't explain how Peter could float-nor could he explain the existence of Tinkerbell.  Perhaps, both magic and Neverland existed.  "Can you take me to Neverland?" he asked.

"Yes, but if you go, you'll have to stay.  You can't come back."

"But, Wendy and her brothers came back.  The Lost Boys came back."

"Wendy-a girl-didn't belong in Neverland, and it was a mistake for the Lost Boys to return.  They weren't happy in this world."

"Even though they had a mother to love them?"  Robby often wished that someone loved him.  His mother hadn't.  She'd only cared about her boyfriends-her booze and her drugs.

"I suppose they were happy for a while, but a mother's love can't sustain you throughout your life.  They may have been happy as children, but they weren't as adults."

"Why didn't you take them back?"

"I can only take children through the portal-not adults."

"Why?"

"I don't know-but that's how it works.  Adults have come through in the past-once a ship full of pirates-but no longer.  Only children can cross into Neverland."

If the story of Peter Pan was true, Peter had to be over one hundred years old.  Wendy had lived in England back in the 1800's-and no telling how long he had lived before that.  What would it be like to live forever-to forever be a boy?  Being a boy hadn't been fun for Robby.  He had looked forward to growing up-to be no longer under the control of people like Charlotte-but, what did he really have to look forward to as an adult?  No one would send him to college.  Did he want to spend his life in a succession of menial jobs?  And, adventure-a life of adventure.  Although Charlotte had a computer, she never let any of the foster kids use it.  Robby never got to play any Internet games.  He was starved for affection, but, perhaps, adventure would do.  "Will you take me to Neverland?" he asked.

"There are no computers in Neverland."

"I never get to use on-except at school.  Don't guess I would miss them."

"There's no TV."

Since he was always being sent to his room, he seldom got to watch TV-and then it was what Charlotte wanted to watch-not what he wanted.  "I don't care," he said.

"Is there nothing here that you'd miss?"

Robby thought.  Moved from foster home to foster home-from school to school-he had no friends; he had no family.  The only things he owned fit into a small suitcase.  No, there was nothing he would miss.  "No," he answered, "nothing."

Grasping Tinkerbell in his hand, Peter shook her, shaking fairy dust onto Robby.  "Think happy thoughts," he said.

At first, Robby could think of none-then he thought of how Neverland must be, a place without adults-except for the pirates, of course-a place without school and foster homes, a place without Charlotte and her rules.  He felt himself rise.  He was floating several inches above the floor!  "That's it!" said Peter.  "Keep that thought in your mind."

He took hold of Robby's hand; they floated toward an open window at the end of the hall, then through it.  Once through the window, they picked up speed, until the ground below was just a blur.  Suddenly, they were elsewhere-no longer above his city, but above a jungle.  It had been night when they had left, but now it was light.  The sky was bright.  From the position of the sun, it appeared to be about noon.  Holding onto Peter's hand, he was flying high above the jungle.  "Is this Neverland?" he asked.

Peter smiled and nodded.  They flew down, landing in the jungle at Peter's camp.  Although-on Robby's world-the Lost Boys had been gone for over a hundred years, the camp was exactly as they had left it.  Time was truly different in Neverland.

Robby had traveled to Neverland clad only in his T-shirt and underwear.  They seemed out of place; so he shed them and dressed in some of the cast off clothes of the Lost Boys.  Although they seemed to be made of leaves and vines and other natural products of the jungle, they were soft and comfortable-even seemed to adjust to fit him perfectly.  He wore shorts, held up by a strap which crossed his chest, over one shoulder, then crossed his back to where it fastened, once again, to his shorts.  He wore no shoes, but, although he wasn't used to going barefooted, the stones underfoot didn't hurt his feet.  He and Peter, dressed similarly, were similar in height.  They could have been brothers-except that Peter had blond hair and blue eyes.  Robby had brown hair and brown eyes.

Food was no problem in Neverland.  Robby only had to sit at the table, think about what he wanted, and it appeared, ready to eat.  When he finished eating, the leftovers and dishes disappeared.  At Charlotte's he'd washed the dishes and done other chores, cleaning up, not only after himself, but after others.  In Neverland, there were no chores.  He didn't even have to clean up his own mess.

After they had eaten, Peter taught Robby to fly by himself, introduced him to the Indians, showed him the mermaids and the croc which had eaten Hook, then took him to spy on the pirates, whose ship was anchored in a cove.  There must have been at least a hundred pirates, both on the ship and on the beach.  When the boys flew over the ship, several of the pirates shot at them, even firing off a cannon, but missed.  Peter shouted taunts at the pirates as they flew over.  Robby saw that they had old flintlock muskets and pistols.  "What if they hit one of us?" he asked.

"Then the other takes him back to our camp.  If he still lives, Tink can heal him."

"And, if he doesn't?"

"Then he's dead.  Not even the power of the fairies can bring someone back to life."

"Why do you tempt the pirates, chancing your life?"

"How can you treasure life-if there is no risk-no possibility that you might lose it?  Without the possibility of death-possibly even the certainty of death, life has no meaning."

"Do you think that you'll ever die?"

"I'm certain of it.  Someday a musket or pistol ball will find me, or I'll dodge too slowly and get stabbed by a sword," answered Peter."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"Nothing is forever-not even Neverland.  Everything has an end-even the Universe."

"Did any of the Lost Boys ever get killed?" asked Robby.

"Yes, and we've killed some of the pirates.  The croc ate Hook; but, we don't really try that hard to kill each other.  There would be no one to fight, if we killed all the pirates.  They were the last adults to come to Neverland-and, if they killed us, they would have no one to fight."

"What about the Indians?"

"No one can enter the Indian village uninvited.  Magic protects them from the pirates-just as magic protects our camp.  While we are there, we're safe from the Pirates."

After they had returned to their camp, Robby thought about their day, wondering how they had done so much in one day.  Wondering what time it was, he looked at the sun-there were no clocks in Neverland.  The sun was still directly overhead.  It hadn't moved since he had arrived.  How could that be?  "When does it get dark?" he asked.  "When does the day end?"

"It ends when we want it to end."

Ends when they want it to end?  How could that be?  "You mean, if we decide that it should be dark, it'll get dark?"  With that question, the sun rapidly dropped toward the ocean, hesitating only long enough to create a spectacular sunset, then it was dark.  "But," Robby said, "I didn't decide that it should be dark."

"You must have," answered Peter, "or it would still be light."

Perhaps, he had.  He did want it to be dark  It'd been a full day.  He was ready for it to be over.  Peter and he ate.  Robby had pizza-his favorite food-then crawled into his bed.  Up until then, he hadn't been tired, but he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

When he awoke the next day, his bladder was full.  Even in Neverland, he had to pee.  Dropping his shorts, he lifted his cock.  "There was nothing below it!  Oh, there was a shrunken flap of skin-which had once been his ball sack-but it was empty.  His balls were gone!  With piss still streaming from his cock he ran to where Peter was just awaking from his night's sleep.  "Peter," he said.  "My balls are gone."

"So?" answered Peter-nothing else, just "So?"

"What do you mean, 'So?'  Didn't you hear me?  My balls are gone."

Peter dropped his pants.  He, too, had no balls.  "Didn't you say that you wanted to be forever a boy?"

"Yes, but I never said I wanted to lose my balls."

"What use are they to a boy?  Only a man needs balls.  You still have your cock.  You need that to pee like a boy, but what good would balls do you?"

Robby wasn't sure how to answer.  He thought about what it meant to be a man.  He thought about his mother's boyfriends-about what some of them had done to him.  If that's what it meant to be a man, he certainly never wanted to be one.  He had heard that child abusers often grew up to become abusers themselves.  He would never want to hurt a child as he'd been hurt.  Perhaps, he was better off without his balls-and, as Peter had said, if he were to remain a boy, he wouldn't need them.  "Did you do it?  Did you take my balls?"

"No," answered Peter, "Neverland does it.  All boys who come to Neverland lose their balls."

"But, why didn't you tell me?"

"I never thought about it.  I scarcely remember ever having balls.  I lost mine so long ago.  I don't miss them.  You won't either."

Well, there were some advantages, Robby thought.  At least it wouldn't hurt so much to get kicked in the crotch.  It wasn't that he felt any different.  He wasn't old enough for his balls to produce any hormones.  If he had balls, puberty would have been two years in his future.  It's just that his body was different.  Maybe he didn't really need his little toes, but he would miss them if they were gone.  "I still wish you'd told me."

"I'm sorry.  As I told you, I didn't think about it."

"How about the Lost Boys-and Wendy's brothers?  Did they get their balls back when they returned to the.."  He hesitated, almost calling it the "real world," but was it any more real than Neverland?  "Did they get their balls back when they returned to the other world?"

"No.  Once they're gone-they're gone.  They grew up, but they never became men.  Perhaps, that's why they were never happy."

So, his decision to come to Neverland was irrevocable.  He couldn't go back unless he wanted to grow up without balls.  Oh, well....He thought about his life back there.  There was nothing back in that world for him-no friends or family.  His mother-were she still alive-had probably forgotten him.  Here, he and Peter were kings.  The world revolved around them.  They even decided whether it would be night or day.  He, too, would get used to not having balls.  He pinched the loose flap of skin below his cock.  No, he thought, I don't need them.  I don't need balls.