He moved back a step, spread his feet, and put his hands on his hips. The spotlight centered on him. He cocked his head back and crowed.

Jack grimaced. Brother! Bring on the pirates!

Suddenly a huge shadow passed into the light, casting itself onto the stage and swallowing up a now frightened Peter Pan. Heads swiveled curiously, a few anxiously. A man was making his way down the aisle, crouching now in an effort to escape the light, bumping into folding chairs and occupants as he went.

"Sorry, excuse me, pardon me," he whispered, bending and dipping and squinting into the dark.

Attorney-at-law Peter Banning caught his toe on a chair leg and nearly went sprawling. "Quiet!" and "Shh!" were whispered at every turn. His boyish face smiled apologetically, a mop of unruly brown hair falling down over his forehead, the skin at the corners of his startlingly blue eyes crinkling. He clutched a polished leather briefcase and a folded tan raincoat to his chest. Working his way clear of the spotlight, he let his eyes adjust momentarily, then caught sight of Moira waving to him from several rows farther down. Smoothing out the coat flaps of his dark blue business suit and tucking back his favorite yellow power tie, he eased past the irritated play watchers, stepped on more than a few toes, and arrived at Moira's side.

Jack smiled up at him expectantly, patting the open seat next to him. Peter smiled back, then motioned him to switch with Moira. Jack gave his father a pointed look, then stomped past his mother and threw himself into his chair.

"Down in front, please!" someone behind them hissed.

Peter settled himself next to Moira, the briefcase and the raincoat piled in his lap, and leaned over for a quick kiss. Moira obliged, her voice musical as she whispered hello.

"Sorry. It was 'the never-ending meeting.' You know the kind. And traffic was brutal." Peter grinned, leaning across his wife to Jack. "Hey, how was practice, Jackie? You working on hitting that curve for the big game tomorrow? Hey, tuck in your shirt."

Jack flinched and turned away sourly before doing so. Peter looked questioningly at Moira. "What's with him?"

Moira shook her head, then indicated the stage. "Your daughter's stealing the show."

On stage, Maggie as Wendy Darling was watching her costar being hoisted on the wire as if flying, her hands clasped, her face shining. Behind her, still in bed, the second-graders playing John and Michael were awake now as well and watching the show.

"Oh, you can fly!" she exclaimed loudly. "How lovely! But how do you do it?"

"You just think lovely, wonderful thoughts, and they lift you up into the air," answered Peter Pan, landing a bit more gracefully this time than before. "But first, I must blow faerie dust on you."

Tinkerbell reappeared, the flashlight beam dancing back into view. A jingling sound rose from off stage, and glitter rained down on Wendy and the boys. Michael was the first to fly, then John, and finally Wendy as well, all soaring about the stage like windblown kites. Applause rose from the audience.

Peter Banning looked shocked. "Moira!" He started to his feet, apoplectic at the sight of Maggie swinging on a wire, but Moira quickly pulled him back down again.

"She could fall, Moira!" he whispered frantically. "How could the school allow them to do something like this? It's too dangerous! Just watching makes me dizzy!"

"Oh, Dad!" Jack groaned, but the clapping drowned him out. Moira simply smiled at her husband, patted his arm reassuringly, and joined in the applause. Jack whistled, rather impressed that Maggie was doing so well, a bit envious that she was getting to fly.

Backstage, the jingling of bells mixed with the resonant tinkle of a xylophone as Peter Pan led Tinkerbell, John, and Michael out the window. After a moment's glance and a wave in the general direction of her parents, Maggie as Wendy followed and the curtain closed.

A low hum of voices and laughter rose from the audience as the children readied the stage for the next act. Peter straightened in his chair, finding it decidedly uncomfortable now that he had spent more than five minutes sitting in it. The voices and laughter faded expectantly.

Abruptly a ringing sounded, the high-pitched, annoying squeal of a cellular phone. Heads turned. Peter fumbled hurriedly with his raincoat and pulled the phone out of one pocket. Beside him, Moira sagged slightly, whispering, "Peter, please!" Jack, aware of the looks being cast in their direction, plugged his ears with his fingers and tried to pretend he was somewhere else.

"Brad, make this quick," Peter whispered into the phone. "I'm with my family."

The curtain drew back in front of him revealing a backdrop of Neverland in front of which were stationed seven brightly painted cardboard trees. Doors in each opened and seven Lost Boys appeared dressed in seven variations of old pajamas. Joining hands, they faced the audience and began to sing loudly, "We Never Want to Grow Up."

I'm a Toys "R" Us kid, thought Peter, trying to listen to the voice on the other end of the phone.

The Lost Boys finished singing, and the one playing Tootles turned to the others and declaimed, "I wish Peter would come back soon. I'm always afraid of pirates when he's not here to protect us."

From the right side of the stage, a band of pirates began dragging a raft on stage. Settled in the raft was the hefty-looking boy who had been given the part of Captain James Hook.

Peter Banning's attention was focused on the cellular phone. His voice rose. "Brad, that's why we have an ecologist on staff! That's why we're paying him all that money! Remind him he's not working for the Sierra Club anymore!"

From several rows in either direction, a scattering of boos and hisses were directed his way. He slid further down into his seat, curling protectively around the phone.

On stage, a Lost Boy raced about frantically, trying to escape the pirates. Smee, bespectacled and stripe-shirted, with padding for a belly, wiggled his cutlass threateningly.

"Shall I after him, Captain, and tickle him with Johnny Corkscrew?"

The boy playing Hook stood stiffly. "No, I want their captain, Peter Pan. It was he who cut off my arm and flung it to that crocodile."

Jack heard his father whisper into the phone. "Look, I leave for London with the family tomorrow night, Brad. So call a meeting in the a.m." Jack tried to protest, signaling frantically. The game, Dad! Peter glanced up. "My son's big game, don't forget. Gotta be there. So a short meeting. Quick and clean. Blow 'em out of the water."

He clicked the phone off and shoved it back in his pocket. Jack stared at him in dismay.

Tick, tick, tick, sounded from on stage. Smee and Hook cocked their heads in pretend fear.

"The crocodile!" exclaimed Hook. "Licking his lips for the rest of me! By lucky chance he swallowed a clock or I wouldn't hear him coming."

Kids in the audience joined in the ticking, Jack among them. Peter Banning grimaced and put his hands over his ears. A crocodile composed of an old green blanket and two squirming children slithered on stage amid yells from the audience, sending Hook and Smee fleeing for safety.

Peter Banning sighed, frowned, folded his hands in his lap atop the raincoat and briefcase, and took a deep breath. There was something unsettling about this play.

The action continued, and Jack grew interested in spite of himself. By the time they got to the part where Hook and Pan face off for the final battle, he was completely absorbed. Wooden swords clicked together three times as the adversaries dueled before the rigging of the pirate ship.

"Pan, who and what art thou?" Hook exclaimed in dismay.

"I am youth. I am joy. I fly, I fight, I crow!" answered Peter Pan, and crowed loudly to prove his point.