Disclaimer- I do not, or ever will, own Peter Pan or anything else that I mention in this story. I just own Cassandra and the other characters that I made up.

A/N: The words in Italic are Cassie's thoughts. The words in bold is a stupid little voice inside her head, more commonly known as a conscience. Also, this story is probably going to be from Cassie's p.o.v, if I continue the story.

And, I had this story on earlier but my computer messed up very badly and I had to delete the story and put it back on. Sorry for the inconvinence

"Ping." My game boy pinged after getting a Tetris, on, you guessed it, Tetris. "Ping."

"Yes…" I muttered, throwing the covers back over my head and continued playing under the sheets. "Sixty two lines, Sixty four, if I make it to seventy, I'll beat my high score! Squeeee! That rhymes!" I glanced at my digital alarm clock. "Damn…it's 3 am in the morning. I stayed up all night playing Tetris!" I shook my head proudly.

"Wow…" I rolled my eyes, thinking of what my mother would say if she found out. Probably something along the lines of, "Eleanor Cassandra, I don't know what I'm going to do with you. You're a failure. All you ever do is lay down on your bed and Read, you never like to play sports at all, and to top it all off you've got no friends what-so-ever. And the friends that you do have are Goths and Lesbians!"

I screwed my eyes shut, not wanting to think about it. Think about something else. Don't think about your parents. Think about, about, um…Fashion!" My eyes popped open, and I continued playing my game. Fashion. Ah. The thing I lived for the most. Of course, my parents never approved of my fashion, which, if you considered it, would be called 'Punk" I refused to give it a name. Of course, my parents didn't approve at all. Mom and Pops wanted their 14- year old daughter to dress in girl sizes JC Penny's clothing, be an evangelical baptist, play sports, be popular, date jocks, and like country. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but not EXACTLY my style. And, to top it all off, they named me Eleanor. I don't know what they were thinking. They must have been high for the first time in their Jesus loving lives when they named me. So I went by my middle name. Cassandra. God. Sometimes I wish I could just get away from this hell- hole. Go to Never-Never Land or something. Okay, Cassie, stop your whining.

I turned my attention back to Tetris. "Ping." It said. "Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping."

"Pin-THUD!" My head shot up. That definitely did not come from my game. It sounded like a very big bird had hit the door in the kitchen. Robbers. I slowly got up from my bed, turned my game off, and quietly made my way down the hallway to where the kitchen was. I cautiously poked my head out into the kitchen, checking out the glass/screen door, making sure no one had broken it.

No one had. I slowly walked up to it, and then noticed a body lying on the other side of the door, on our wooden porch. What the… I flicked on the porch light, making sure none of this was a dream.

There, lying on the porch was a boy. He had beautiful curly blond hair; bright green eyes, an extremely good figure, and leaves for clothes. If he had been in my school, he would have had numerous girl friends and been a jock.

Somehow, I doubted he had been to my school. Or any other school, for that matter.

Wait. That couldn't be Peter Pan could it? I mean, he wasn't real, was he? That was just a children's story, wasn't it? Be careful what you wish for, you knowA voice said inside my head. "Shut up voice." I said aloud. I'm not a voice. I'm your inner conscience. I'm the one that's been guiding you all these years. "Then how have I never heard you until today?" I demanded. The voice was silent.

Maybe I'm going crazy… I turned my attention back to the boy. He still wasn't moving. God, Cass, you can't just leave him out there in the cold. I shrugged my shoulders, then threw open the door and began pulling him in. He was heavy, too. You need to start working out more. I bit my lip in frustration. "OK, 'Peter', one last chance or I'm leaving you out side." I pulled harder, and pop! He made it through.

"Wow…" I muttered to myself, "He can't be Peter Pan. Peter Pan is supposed to be like ten years old. This boy is like fifteen, and is extremely hot." I studied him for a moment and noticed he was clutching a rag. But why would he be clutching a rag?

Enough gibbering! The voice was back. He needs blankets and a pillow! You can't just lay him down on the hard floor without any support! I rolled my eyes. "Maybe I'm going crazy."

Well, if you take what the kids in school say…

"Oh, shut up."

Needless to say, I took his advice. I walked quietly to the living room and grabbed a red throw pillow. Then I rushed as softly as I could to a closet in the hallway and took a few blankets.

When I got back to the kitchen, he was still out. I pushed him gently with my toe, and to my surprise he groaned in his sleep and rolled over. I set the blankets on the ground and put the pillow behind his head. Then, I gently grabbed him and set him down on the blankets.

Now attend to his wounds. The voice commanded. "Bossy." I grumbled, and then checked him over. He didn't seem to have much in the way of injuries, just a bump on the forehead, presumably from when he took a nasty hit at the window. "Hmm.." I reached out a finger and touched the swelling knot.

And then, his eyes sprung wide open.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!"

OOoooOOO! A Cliffy! Did you like it? Do you want me to continue the story? R&R and tell me!