Second Star to the Right
By: Kat Casey
Owning a bicycle as a child opened up a whole new world to be explored. Places once impossible for my young legs to walk to were closer than ever with the simple invention of the wheel. At nine years old, a bike served as a ticket out of my small neighborhood way of thinking into a vast beyond that I never even comprehended. But what is a new world to a child if it cannot be seen by another? Alisha was my best friend, living two houses up the street from me. We spent every moment together, mostly reenacting the story of Peter Pan in the tree in front of her house. I would sit on the lowest branch with a towel tied around me like a dress trying to be Wendy. She would be Peter, using her unending energy to leap from branch to branch so fast that I could have sworn she could really fly. Her hair was a nest of tight brown curls, untamed and wild as it crept around her forehead. Her eyes seemed so small through her thick glasses but she barely stood still long enough for anyone to notice. When she ran she was a blur of frizzy hair and uncontrollable laughter that was so contagious that I couldn’t help but follow. Our imagination, though fertile, was stunted by the invisible barriers of our neighborhood. But with bikes, finding a true Neverland was finally within our reach.
We set out early on a summer morning. We circled our neighborhood a dozen times, speeding through the still hot air causing a cool breeze in our wake. We pedaled faster and faster until we reached the dead end of our street, the boundary as thick as the air around us. Without a moment’s hesitation we plowed through it, onto the dirt path leading into the woods. I remember feeling so free as the invisible border peeled from my skin. The sun on that dirt road seemed brighter and the leaves were greener. This new freedom caused a small thought to bubble to the surface; our parents should know where we were going. But that would mean we would have to turn around and face the possibility that they would not let us press on. The idea that our Neverland would be once again out of reach was crushing. Our parent’s were the Captain Hooks of our story, always trying to control Peter Pan. No, we would press on, free of all restraints!
The journey was difficult, filled with steep hills and narrow paths but happy thoughts fueled our desire. The sun moved to the center of the sky and sweat poured from our skin but we were far enough away now that our houses were shielded by the large trees. There was no point in turning back, our adventure was just beginning. We navigated through the paths with ease, thinking not in terms of left or right but onward and upward. Each fork in the road was a promise of something new up ahead. We gave no thought to how we would get back or if we even wanted to go back. Neverland was close, I could feel it. Butterflies flitted through the air like Tinkerbell, squirrels quarreled in the trees like Lost Boys, and there was not a pirate grown-up in sight. We explored for hours but time was something we never considered. We only knew it was time to go home when one of our parents yelled that dinner was ready but their voices could not reach us in Neverland.
The sun drifted out of sight and the once magically illuminated forest was dipped in darkness. The Tinkerbells had vanished and the Lost Boys abandoned us. We huddled together on the ground, flinching at every twig snap and brief howl. Were their alligators in the swamp we crossed? Coyotes in the rock caves? The ominous feel of danger blanketed us and we shivered. Our parents didn’t know where we were, no one would know where to look. We deserted our bikes and ran, hand in hand. We went off the path, running towards a distant light. Second star to the right and straight on till morning. We followed that star, giving no second thought to our bikes tangled in the shrubs. Every sound we made was amplified and echoed against us but it made us run faster towards that small light. As we grew closer, we saw it was a window. We knew that house. In a matter of moments we were off the dirt road and back on our street. We looked at each other wordlessly, tears drenching our faces. We went our separate ways, back to houses that welcomed us with a warm glow. I went into my house, helmet still plastered to my head and hugged by parents sobbing indecipherable words.
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