I don't sleep, even though that was the reason I came down here. Well, one of the reasons. I wanted to get away from Peter, too.

The hours slide by and I just watch the embers burn themselves into ash and coal, curled up on the rug with a thin blanket over my shoulders, my left arm going numb since I've been using it as a pillow for too long.

I stare into the fireplace and try to sleep, but I can't stop turning things over in my head. It's like talking to the hollow children again has opened some sort of floodgate inside me and now I have even more questions than before--more important questions.

Why am I here?

That was something Peter said before, when he invited me to Neverland--or gave me the ultimatum that brought me here, anyway. He said, 'I want to know why you, Gwendolyn McKinnith'.

I want to know why me, too. Why did the Book of Unhappy Endings choose me? Is Earth really safe now that I'm gone? How would I even find something like that out?

I've learned a lot about Neverland, but nothing about myself or the important things. Facts like 'the two major sets of waterfalls in the Twisted Wood are called Ebony and Ivory' or 'parts of the Eastern Sande River are actually made of sand' aren't going to help me survive this place.

The information Peter gave me before he left last week, that was useful. I asked Mila to clarify his explanation of Nightmares, but it pretty much boils down to the three types Peter said. She told me that sleepmares and wakemares can be killed, but living nightmares have to be completely and utterly destroyed in order for them to die. No trace of them can remain.

Peter and a few of the Higher Faeries are the only ones with enough power to do it. That's why cities like the City of Quiet just put up with them. There are apparently quite a few living nightmares, and Mila said that their functional capabilities vary. Some of them, like Aurora up in the Silent Castle, are just shells who live for blood or destruction or what have you. Others, like Pinocchio--who apparently does exist and is a living nightmare--are basically normal, just, you know, insane. Mila says Pinocchio is known to be a sweetheart in the Marketplace where he lives--up in the northern Faerie Forest--but that if you meet him at night he'll probably cut you into little pieces and eat you.

It sounds really dangerous. I should probably get a sword and get someone to teach me to use it. Mila said the Militia keeps the Nightmares out of cities generally, but I want to be prepared.

And those are just the issues with the Nightmares. Then there are the faeries. Mila says only the six races who are part of the Faerie Council have to abide by the King's 'peace rules'--apparently Peter can be nice--but some of them don't, and there are a whole bunch of other races.

Most faeries are apparently wicked and like to eat people.

Mila won't tell me if she's one of those, or what type she is.

I think I'll be okay, though. If I stay here, or maybe if I go exploring Neverland someday--that might be interesting--I think can handle the danger if I can learn to use a sword. It might even be cool, like I'm the next Xena or Lara Croft. Or Merida.

Being Merida would be cool.

Except it's hard to cut off a Nightmare's head with an arrow...

And then there's me, and I'm back to the question of why am I here? What does any of this have to do with me? What do the hollow children want from me?

What are the hollow children, really? It can't be right that all the children born here are like that, even though that's what Peter said. If that's true then... how are there any adults?

I know they didn't all come from other planets like me, because Mila said that even though they show up sometimes, I'm the only alien she's ever met.

More importantly, why do they think I'm their mother?

I'm more scared of the hollow children than of the Nightmares or faeries, really.

Another question beats around in my head, and it's the one I try to ignore but never can. Why does Peter hate me?

Did he want me to die before? Well, that's what he said. He said he killed me... how many times was it? Seven? Eight? Stars. The man sleeping upstairs in my bed has murdered me before.

Maybe he was hoping that would end things, and then when it didn't, he got upset because I kept not listening to him. And when I came here... sometimes he seems like a nice guy--haunted, but who wouldn't be coming from here? Sometimes he even seems sweet, like when he carried me through the Thorn Cliffs.

And then sometimes he's a total jerk, like when he's rude or refuses to answer simple questions or treats me like I'm stupid and useless. And why aren't we flying through Neverland? Mila told me not being able to fly over the Faerie Forest is utter nonsense. Peter could fly anywhere. So why were we walking? For that matter, Mila said some of the weaker Sleepmares can be used as transportation, so why didn't we use them?

He's so backwards and inside out, and so mean. For no reason, even. He's just mean because he can be mean.

I can give him the benefit of the doubt, I guess. I'm sure he's a busy guy--being the king and all--and he never asked to get saddled with me and my stupid problems.

But I never asked for this either, and I'm trying to fix it. I'm making an effort. Why can't he? I don't get it.

I don't get why he can't just explain things. If he did, it'd be so much easier on both of us. I'm not trying to be a burden to him, I just...

I huddle in the blanket, the warm, fuzzy rug leaving imprints on my arm and cheek. I just don't want to be alone.

I'm so tired of being alone. Mila has helped, and tonight, being able to do some good around here, that helped too.

But I still feel like I don't belong here, like I'm out of place. And even if I make a home here, it won't change the fact that no one in my last home--even the people who professed to love me, like Stacy--is missing me. No one cares.

Back there, I'm just another cold case.

It hurts more than I can even say. I just want... I just want one person to care if I live or die. I just want one person to remember me, so my life isn't... a waste. Pointless.

Not even a blip on the scale.

I'm only twenty-two years old. I could die in this world, any day, and not one person would miss me. I'm sure Mila would go on with her life--death here in Neverland is common and expected, after all. No one even blinks when it happens.

Not just in this world but in the whole universe... not one person is missing me.

It shouldn't hurt so much, I shouldn't care.

But it does and I do.

A few tears squeeze their way out of my eyes and I scrunch them up to avoid any more coming. I don't need some patron to find me all tearstained and blurry eyed in the morning, if I even fall asleep.

It's probably almost morning now anyway. I ought to get up.

I lay here instead.

I'm still laying here when Mila comes downstairs an hour later to start the morning chores. She stands over me and stokes up the fire, adding a few logs.

"If you were going to sleep down here, you should've tended the fireplace," she says calmly.

"Sorry," I mutter, my voice wide awake but rough since I haven't used it in hours. My throat feels clogged with all the tears I haven't been crying.

Mila shrugs. "Do better next time," is all she says before she heads for the kitchen.

All my questions rise up like a flock of birds in my head and I open my mouth as I sit up, determined to learn something useful.

"Why does Peter hate me?"

I instantly hate myself. Why is that the question that came out? I try to take it back, but the way Mila is looking at me keeps the words inside. She's staring at me over her shoulder, something... quiet in her blue eyes.

I curl into myself, bringing my knees up to rest my chin atop them. "It's just... he's so..."

I can't finish it. I don't know what to say for sure. I don't know how to put it all into words that don't sound like me being petty or needy or childish.

Mila is silent for a minute and I think she won't answer me. I realize that I don't know what her relationship is to Peter, why he left me here, why he seems to trust her. Did I make a mistake in asking Mila about him? He is the king, and I know in books and movies that means a lot, people are supposed to be loyal to the ruler.

"Peter Pan," Mila says finally, her voice quiet, thoughtful even, "is a bit of a mystery to us all, I think."

I look up at her, not sure what to say to that. Knowing that he makes as little sense to her as he does to me doesn't really help, and it's definitely not reassuring.

I want to understand him, not be told that no one does.

And if that's true...

Whatever happened to the Lost Boys? To Wendy and the Darlings? To Tinkerbell? Is Peter... just as alone as I am?

If he is, why is he so mean? Why does he try to push me away? Or is that just who he is? Some people are like that, I guess, though I don't understand how someone could live that way, just being mean to everyone all the time for no reason except that they like doing it.

If that's who Peter really is, how is it that he can be nice sometimes?

None of it makes sense.

"Do you think maybe I did something horrible to him?" I ask tentatively.

Mila arches an iron gray brow at me. "Did you?"

I hug my knees more tightly. "I don't know. I've... forgotten a lot of things." Peter wouldn't even tell me how many times I opened the Book. How long I was stuck in the same repeating time period, how many times he tried to help me, tried to stop me, tried to do something. I wouldn't be surprised if I did something mean to him once or twice. I'm not a mean person, but maybe I got scared of him or something and punched him. Maybe I dumped hot coffee on him. Maybe I called the cops on him.

Maybe he just got so fed up with me not believing him that he's sick of me. That he hates me for what I did, and now he's being forced to protect me--or so he said. He told me he would protect me here.

But then he disappeared, up and left me for a week after telling me he wished that I'd died. What am I supposed to do with that?

"Ask him," Mila suggests.

I snort. "He never answers questions."

Mila studies me for a moment, then walks over and pats my head. "Maybe you aren't asking the right ones, then."

I frown up at her. Peter's told me that before, sort of--he says I ask 'pointless questions'. They don't feel pointless to me though.

"I don't understand."

Mila just pats my head again and walks away, disappearing through the door behind the bar. I stare into the burgeoning fire and think about questions and how words like 'right' and 'wrong' and 'pointless' apply to them.

I think for a long time.

I don't know if I come up with anything at all, because after awhile, I fall asleep.