The bedroom door flew open with a bang. Peter Pan grabbed the small hand and pulled — out they tumbled into a sky of blue and white. Below them floated an island, bobbing gently among piles of cloud like a boat on a quiet sea.
Peter Pan launched upward with a whoop, his feet kicking up a scatter of lost toes that clattered like marbles against the clouds. He spun in a circle above the child, arms spread wide, already halfway to the island's tallest tree.
Peter Pan circled back and hovered upside-down, his green hair hanging toward the earth. "Ready?" he called. The child shook their head and hugged their knees tight. A seabird squawked from a nearby palm, and a coconut popped into the grass with a soft thud.
Peter Pan dropped a handful of glittering dust and blew. It exploded like golden confetti. The child sneezed hard, sparkling particles landing on their shirt like fallen stars. Peter Pan glanced at his reflection in a puddle and giggled, covering his mouth with one hand.
Peter Pan lowered himself until his bare feet touched the moss. "Believe in yourself," he said, and slipped his fingers from the child's hand. One scuffed shoe edge peeked over the cliff. Below, the cloud rumbled softly, warm and low like a sleeping cat.
Peter Pan took two quick steps backward and spread his arms wide. Then he tipped — straight back, into the endless sky. His laugh followed him down like a trail of echoes.
Peter Pan fell past, arms pinwheeling, laughing loud enough to shake the leaves. "Catch me!" The child stumbled forward, reaching out with both hands — and then the ground was gone and they were floating.
The child caught themselves. Suspended. No ground, no falling — just air, holding them up. Their eyes went enormous. They kicked their legs once, twice, and rose. A giggle bubbled out before they could stop it.
Peter Pan landed softly on a cloud cushion and grinned, tipping his cap. "Told you." The child hovered above, legs kicking in delighted circles, hands pressing against the invisible air as if it were solid water.
They soared above the floating islands together, weaving between palm fronds and rocky spires. The child laughed the whole way, arms windmill-wide, chasing Peter Pan through the clouds like a kite on a string.
Later, the child sat alone on the windowsill, legs swinging, feet scuffed and grass-stained. The clouds had settled into evening pink. Already, the child was plotting the next flight, chin in hand, eyes bright with plans.
Outside, a familiar green flash zipped across the moon — quick as a wink, bright as a promise. The child smiled, climbed down, and pulled the bedroom door open one more time.
