"Wendy, Wendy, Wendy!" I opened my eyes to the beaming sun through my curtains mother saw me awake and left the room. The older I got the more I thought of peter, it hurt me I asked myself why? Maybe it was because of that broken promise or the thimble on my shelf or the fact that I had always wished peter had stayed here in England. I glided over to the open window to close it a tear jumped out of my eye, I knew I was growing up I didn't want to. I wished I could be 12 again but I'm 18. I let my hair fall loosely to my waist, even though I knew my mum would have a rant. It was nearly time, nearly time to, grow up; it hurt when I thought about it is like someone had stabbed me deep in the chest. I was upset all day, it was my birthday my family told me but they didn't understand. The night crept up on me soon I found myself dancing with a lot of boys.