Haley stirred slightly in her bed. She was deeply asleep, but something
tugged at her consciousness. There was something wrong. Haley's eyes
fluttered open and she heard her mother call out, a cry of panic and
anguish. She gasped in surprise, and choked on the smoky air. The apartment
was on fire! She leapt up out of bed, suddenly awake. She reached for the
door handle, but leapt back in pain. The door handle was hot as hell in the
summertime! She couldn't get out that way. Living on the top floor of an
apartment building in the middle of uptown New York was not the best
arrangement if your house was on fire. Haley raced around the room
gathering up items that she knew must be saved. The fire had not yet
reached her room, and for that she was grateful. The smoke, however, was in
full force up there. She began to have trouble breathing, and gasped and
choked. She was devoured by a coughing fit, and collapsed on the bed. She
couldn't catch her breath and her head spun for lack of oxygen. She
stumbled over to the windows, great open picture windows with a seat in
front of them, and threw open the latch. The French door-style windows flew
open with a bang. Haley leaned out over the crowded streets and breathed
deeply of the smoke free air. She jumped a little as the sirens rounded the
corner and pulled into the streets in front of the apartment complex. She
breathed a sigh of relief, and thought to herself, 'Oh good, I'm saved.
They'll save me and Mom and Dad. We'll be safe.' She waved her arms above
her head, shouted to the men in the yellow jackets, she leaned out the
window until she almost fell out, but none of them seemed to notice her.
This worried Haley, because she knew that she didn't have much time before
the fire reached her room. She had been shouting for a while, and even the
clean night air was beginning to fill with smoke. She choked and coughed on
the dangerous gasses. Just then the door behind her exploded, sending
shards of wood and flames all over the room. The force of the blast knocked
her out the windows and, clutching tightly to her bag, she fell screaming
to the ground 20 stories below.
* * *
Peter had been flying for hours, looking for an open window and a place to rest. He was exhausted, and Tinkerbell was too. She had given up somewhere about two hours ago, and was now snoozing contentedly in the brim of his hat. The aforementioned faerie woke up abruptly and began the chatter at him insistently.
"Don't worry Tink, I smell it too. I wonder what's burning." He flew a little lower and a horrible sight stood before him. There was a huge apartment building that was burning to the ground. Peter's heart sank into his stomach. "Gosh, Tink, that's awful. Let's go see what we can do to help." The two dove to a lower altitude and neared the burning building. Sudden movement caught his eye, and he zeroed in on the source. A girl about his own age was hanging out the window and waving her arms wildly. He watched her closely, trying to figure out what she was attempting to accomplish. All she seemed to do was lose her balance then sway back into the window, then pop back out for another round. She looked halfway insane, but fully in danger. He fell into a steep dive and slowed only ten feet or so above the eaves of her window. He looked down at her to make sure that, before he revealed himself, she was really and truly in danger. Over the years he had learned caution, and that if too many people saw him he would be captured and held prisoner by people Wendy had described as even worse than Hook. This girl was mature, older that Jane or Wendy had been when he had taken them to Neverland. He was skeptical, but then he reminded himself that he too had been growing older, for some unexplainable reason. So it must be perfectly acceptable to bring older kids back to Neverland. He smiled smugly at his own logic. The Girl began to scream loudly, interrupting his self-praise, and she started yelling for help and some other things Peter didn't recognize. He decided that now would be a good time to help, but before you could say 'faith, trust and pixie dust' the room had gone and blown up. The flames shot out of the windows, the roof rattled underneath him, and the girl toppled out of the window and down to the ground. He leapt from the rooftop and fell behind her, to a height of about a hundred feet off the ground. He swept her into his arms and pulled out of the dive. For the first time, he looked at her; really looked at her; and saw a young girl around his own age with blonde hair in a spunky, feathery cut that flared out around her ears. Her eyes shone out in the dark, an electric blue that glowed with an internal flame. She stared at him, eyes wide in fear and opened her mouth slightly. He smiled unsteadily at her and watched in surprise as her eyes rolled back into her head and her body went limp. He figured she had fainted, and so pulled over onto a close by rooftop. He laid the body down on a flat overhang and sat down next to it. Tinkerbell came over and landed on his shoulder. She tittered in his ear, speaking in the language of the faeries, a song-like rising and falling of chimes.
"I don't like her," the fairy complained. "She doesn't seem right. There's something strange about her." Peter shrugged off Tinkerbell's complaints and said,
"You never liked any of them. I'm beginning to think you're biased." Peter smiled to himself as he used the big word. He had heard a gentleman use it on the street, and then had looked it up in the dictionary Jane had given him last year at Christmas. Sometimes that girl was just too practical for her own good. Tink began to argue with him that she was not, in fact, biased, but that there was something wrong with the girl, but Peter wasn't listening, so she huffed at him and sat down in his hat. The girl in question began to stir, but settled quickly. Peter decided it would be a much better idea for her not to wake up on a rooftop, or hundreds of feet in the air, and that he had better get her to Neverland quickly before she waked. He gathered her once again into his arms, and flew off through the smoke into the night sky.
* * *
Haley woke up the next morning in a bed that was large and soft and quite unfamiliar. Before she could open her eyes, however, something poked her quite rudely in the ribs.
"Girl! You awake yet?" She moaned and rolled onto her back, and her eyes flashed open. She found herself facing a scruffy little boy of about six years studying her closely. Quite closely. In fact, his face was only an inch from hers. She let out a bloodcurdling scream and tossed a makeshift pillow at the boy. He ducked, but not in time, and the pillow knocked him over. She sat straight up in the bed and looked around, every single unfamiliar thing in the room made her scream louder, and harder, and higher... but Haley's scream died in her throat when a large, warm hand clapped over her mouth. She almost screamed again but a cold sliver of metal pressing against her throat made her think twice. The icy blade was slowly removed from her neck, but the hand stayed in place. The face that belonged to the hand, however, swung into her field of vision, and she found herself staring into the deep blue eyes and suntanned face of Peter Pan. But, because her mind was still groggy with sleep and a state of utter disbelief, she did not recognize him.
"Who are you?" she shouted as soon as he moved his hand.
"I'm Peter Pan. The one and only." he said matter-of-factly.
"No. No you're not. Peter Pan doesn't exist. And therefore I'm crazy. Looney. Psychotic. Schizoid. Take your pick."
"I don't think you're crazy. A little weird, maybe, but not crazy" Peter said generously. He was perplexed by her lack of....what was it exactly? It reminded him of Jane. She wasn't like Wendy, that's for sure.
"No. I'm crazy. Definitely." She nodded her head vigorously, trying to tell herself she wasn't.
"I fink your cwazy. Anybody who doesn't know Pan when he's standing wight in fwont of them is definitely cwazy." The smaller boy piped up.
"No. Maybe I'm dreaming. I dream about Peter Pan all the time. I used to wish on every star I could see that he would come and save me from...." She trailed off and blushed bright red. Peter didn't notice this, he was still stuck a few sentences back.
"Y-You dream about m-me??" he stuttered. She nodded and blushed again.
"But any minute now Mom is going to come in and pinch me and tell me it's time for school or something...OW!" she screamed out in pain and whirled with furious eyes on the small boy at the end of her bed.
"What? You said to pintz you!" He giggled and slapped hands with Peter. She growled in rage at the small...creature... that was by now running around the room in mock fear. She'd show him fear. She threw back the covers on the bed and before Peter or the smaller... whatever it was could bat an eye, she was lunging from the bed and diving on the arrogant little bugger. Peter reacted more quickly than she'd hoped he would and pulled her off of the little boy's chest where she was sitting, yelling at him.
"What's your problem? Why'd you attack Freckles? Golly, Tink was right. There's something not right with you." Her jaw dropped open and she stared at him with a blank look on her face. One might attribute this to the fact that Peter had one hand on each of her arms and was holding her very close to him. But that's not what was causing the blank look. The unbelieving eyes were linked to the color rising her cheeks, both of which were due to indignation. She had never heard anyone be so blatantly rude. Hints and jeers at school about being 'not all there' were a completely different sort of thing. "What's wrong, girl? Are you okay? Wait, you are a girl, right?" Unbeknownst to Peter, his innocent question was the straw that broke the camel's back.
* * *
Peter had been flying for hours, looking for an open window and a place to rest. He was exhausted, and Tinkerbell was too. She had given up somewhere about two hours ago, and was now snoozing contentedly in the brim of his hat. The aforementioned faerie woke up abruptly and began the chatter at him insistently.
"Don't worry Tink, I smell it too. I wonder what's burning." He flew a little lower and a horrible sight stood before him. There was a huge apartment building that was burning to the ground. Peter's heart sank into his stomach. "Gosh, Tink, that's awful. Let's go see what we can do to help." The two dove to a lower altitude and neared the burning building. Sudden movement caught his eye, and he zeroed in on the source. A girl about his own age was hanging out the window and waving her arms wildly. He watched her closely, trying to figure out what she was attempting to accomplish. All she seemed to do was lose her balance then sway back into the window, then pop back out for another round. She looked halfway insane, but fully in danger. He fell into a steep dive and slowed only ten feet or so above the eaves of her window. He looked down at her to make sure that, before he revealed himself, she was really and truly in danger. Over the years he had learned caution, and that if too many people saw him he would be captured and held prisoner by people Wendy had described as even worse than Hook. This girl was mature, older that Jane or Wendy had been when he had taken them to Neverland. He was skeptical, but then he reminded himself that he too had been growing older, for some unexplainable reason. So it must be perfectly acceptable to bring older kids back to Neverland. He smiled smugly at his own logic. The Girl began to scream loudly, interrupting his self-praise, and she started yelling for help and some other things Peter didn't recognize. He decided that now would be a good time to help, but before you could say 'faith, trust and pixie dust' the room had gone and blown up. The flames shot out of the windows, the roof rattled underneath him, and the girl toppled out of the window and down to the ground. He leapt from the rooftop and fell behind her, to a height of about a hundred feet off the ground. He swept her into his arms and pulled out of the dive. For the first time, he looked at her; really looked at her; and saw a young girl around his own age with blonde hair in a spunky, feathery cut that flared out around her ears. Her eyes shone out in the dark, an electric blue that glowed with an internal flame. She stared at him, eyes wide in fear and opened her mouth slightly. He smiled unsteadily at her and watched in surprise as her eyes rolled back into her head and her body went limp. He figured she had fainted, and so pulled over onto a close by rooftop. He laid the body down on a flat overhang and sat down next to it. Tinkerbell came over and landed on his shoulder. She tittered in his ear, speaking in the language of the faeries, a song-like rising and falling of chimes.
"I don't like her," the fairy complained. "She doesn't seem right. There's something strange about her." Peter shrugged off Tinkerbell's complaints and said,
"You never liked any of them. I'm beginning to think you're biased." Peter smiled to himself as he used the big word. He had heard a gentleman use it on the street, and then had looked it up in the dictionary Jane had given him last year at Christmas. Sometimes that girl was just too practical for her own good. Tink began to argue with him that she was not, in fact, biased, but that there was something wrong with the girl, but Peter wasn't listening, so she huffed at him and sat down in his hat. The girl in question began to stir, but settled quickly. Peter decided it would be a much better idea for her not to wake up on a rooftop, or hundreds of feet in the air, and that he had better get her to Neverland quickly before she waked. He gathered her once again into his arms, and flew off through the smoke into the night sky.
* * *
Haley woke up the next morning in a bed that was large and soft and quite unfamiliar. Before she could open her eyes, however, something poked her quite rudely in the ribs.
"Girl! You awake yet?" She moaned and rolled onto her back, and her eyes flashed open. She found herself facing a scruffy little boy of about six years studying her closely. Quite closely. In fact, his face was only an inch from hers. She let out a bloodcurdling scream and tossed a makeshift pillow at the boy. He ducked, but not in time, and the pillow knocked him over. She sat straight up in the bed and looked around, every single unfamiliar thing in the room made her scream louder, and harder, and higher... but Haley's scream died in her throat when a large, warm hand clapped over her mouth. She almost screamed again but a cold sliver of metal pressing against her throat made her think twice. The icy blade was slowly removed from her neck, but the hand stayed in place. The face that belonged to the hand, however, swung into her field of vision, and she found herself staring into the deep blue eyes and suntanned face of Peter Pan. But, because her mind was still groggy with sleep and a state of utter disbelief, she did not recognize him.
"Who are you?" she shouted as soon as he moved his hand.
"I'm Peter Pan. The one and only." he said matter-of-factly.
"No. No you're not. Peter Pan doesn't exist. And therefore I'm crazy. Looney. Psychotic. Schizoid. Take your pick."
"I don't think you're crazy. A little weird, maybe, but not crazy" Peter said generously. He was perplexed by her lack of....what was it exactly? It reminded him of Jane. She wasn't like Wendy, that's for sure.
"No. I'm crazy. Definitely." She nodded her head vigorously, trying to tell herself she wasn't.
"I fink your cwazy. Anybody who doesn't know Pan when he's standing wight in fwont of them is definitely cwazy." The smaller boy piped up.
"No. Maybe I'm dreaming. I dream about Peter Pan all the time. I used to wish on every star I could see that he would come and save me from...." She trailed off and blushed bright red. Peter didn't notice this, he was still stuck a few sentences back.
"Y-You dream about m-me??" he stuttered. She nodded and blushed again.
"But any minute now Mom is going to come in and pinch me and tell me it's time for school or something...OW!" she screamed out in pain and whirled with furious eyes on the small boy at the end of her bed.
"What? You said to pintz you!" He giggled and slapped hands with Peter. She growled in rage at the small...creature... that was by now running around the room in mock fear. She'd show him fear. She threw back the covers on the bed and before Peter or the smaller... whatever it was could bat an eye, she was lunging from the bed and diving on the arrogant little bugger. Peter reacted more quickly than she'd hoped he would and pulled her off of the little boy's chest where she was sitting, yelling at him.
"What's your problem? Why'd you attack Freckles? Golly, Tink was right. There's something not right with you." Her jaw dropped open and she stared at him with a blank look on her face. One might attribute this to the fact that Peter had one hand on each of her arms and was holding her very close to him. But that's not what was causing the blank look. The unbelieving eyes were linked to the color rising her cheeks, both of which were due to indignation. She had never heard anyone be so blatantly rude. Hints and jeers at school about being 'not all there' were a completely different sort of thing. "What's wrong, girl? Are you okay? Wait, you are a girl, right?" Unbeknownst to Peter, his innocent question was the straw that broke the camel's back.