I wish I owned Peter Pan. But I don't. Pooh.

Written after a dream I had. Don't blame me if it's bad. My dreams are weird.

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Samantha Kensington didn't believe in fairy tales. After her mother died and her father moved them from America to England to start a new life, fairy tales, which always brought the young girl happiness, didn't seem as magical as they were before. She still read classic tales of Arabian Nights and the Brothers Grimm, but they weren't as enchanting and exciting as before. As she grew older, the classic tales grew repetitive: princesses, princes, a curse, good triumphing over evil, it was all the same. Samantha decided that fairy tales and miracles were things created to make children naïve about the real world.

And while she always wanted to visit England and study at Oxford, she had always hoped her mother would be at her side. Her real mother, that is. Samantha was mortified when, after only three months of mourning, her father, Bill, remarried again. Along with the marriage came one snotty stepsister, a future half-brother, and a grand fortune that rivaled the Queens. It wasn't unusual, however. The Duchess Margaret, her new stepmother, was tenth in line to the throne and the queen's favorite cousin.

She wanted none of it.

She and Bill moved from their cozy two bedrooms flat in the slums to a grand manor in one of the richer areas of London. Their clothes and personal possessions in storage were dragged out and shipped to their new home. Samantha had mixed feelings about the marriage her father was getting into. On one side, she was moving into a large house where she could keep all her books in one place. One the downside, she was getting a new mother who would no doubt try to dominate her life.

They arrived on a spring morning, but the sky was anything but clear blue. Gray clouds hung over the London streets and highways, predicting a day of light showers. Bill, excited about the wedding only weeks away, knocked on the large mahogany doors and grinned at his young daughter. He thought she would enjoy living in a large mansion with plenty of privacy. Samantha stared back at him. She liked her privacy but even she thought having to dial extension just to ask a simple question was a little extreme.

A butler answered the door, but he was pushed aside by the duchess who was dressed in a flimsy peignoir with fur-trimmed edges with a matching negligee that fell to her ankles. Her platinum blond hair was brushed back and held in place with pearl combs and makeup was carefully applied to her face. As her hands reached around to hug Samantha, she noticed her nails were delicately polished and manicured.

"Hello!" she cried, hugging Samantha. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you. Your father speaks of nothing but how wonderful a daughter he has." Her nails bit into Samantha's arms. "But he never mentioned how beautiful you are."

Samantha tried not to laugh. She wasn't beautiful. She might have been the spitting image of her mother, but she could never compare to her regal beauty. Her jet-black hair was like her father's: wild and untamed. But her eyes were the same lavender, and her skin was, like always, fair bordering on pale. She could never compare to the goddess her mother was or the glowing beauties that lived in this house.

The Duchess moved from Samantha to Bill, where they passionately embraced. But before Samantha had time to study the enormous entry hall she stood in, she was enveloped in another hug, this time by a much smaller person. It took her a moment to realize that the miniature twin of her new stepmother was her new stepsister, Elizabeth. She was like a china doll, her new sister. Her honey blond hair was perfectly curled and held back with a pastel pink ribbon, and her flawless face, accentuated with just a dash of makeup, was as bright at the sun. She was ten, two years younger than Samantha, but already had the makings of a beautiful woman.

"Welcome to our new home, big sister!" she cried cheerfully. "I'm Elizabeth, you're new sister."

Samantha glared down at her new sister. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father giving her a look that plainly told her to be nice. Sighing, she put on a false smile. "I'm Samantha. You can call me Sam."

Elizabeth giggled. "Sam? That's a boys name!" Samantha felt the sudden urge to bash the ninny's head in. "From now on, I shall only call you Samantha. And you must always call me Elizabeth."

"Lizzie?"

She giggled again. "No, you silly. Elizabeth!"

Samantha ground her teeth together. It was going to be a pain living with this new sister, who was constantly cheerful. There was nothing to be cheerful about. Her mother was three months in the grave, and her father was going to remarry a woman who wasn't half the woman her mother was. He had already forgotten her.

"Come!" Elizabeth cried. "I want to show you our new room."

Samantha didn't want to follow her new sister. She didn't want to go anywhere, except to the Thames River to drown. But Elizabeth had already grabbed her arm and was dragging her up the grand mahogany staircase. All the while she talked about how much fun they would have now that they were sisters. They passed a corridor filled with portraits of the royal members who had lived in the house. Samantha wanted to stop to admire them, but Elizabeth was adamant about showing off her room.

"You're going to love our room. It's painted pink- isn't that a lovely color? –and white. I have a big bed with roses on it and a white peppermint canopy. You have one too, but it's not as grand as mine. I share my bed with my miniature poodle, Ginger. She's..." On and on she went, until Samantha was sure her ears would start bleeding.

One flight and three long corridors later and they were in front of a white door with "Elizabeth" painted in pink on the door. Samantha despised pink. It was the color of happiness, something she hadn't known for a very long time. She shied away from the color, and relished the comfort of dark colors. She stepped aside as Elizabeth opened the door to her room.

Samantha was taken aback. The room, lit by a stray stream of sunlight peaking in from the clouds, was bright and cheerful. The light reflected off the white in the room, and made her assume that one step in and she would be blinded. And the overabundance of pink made it even harder to enter. But what she did see when she staggered into the bright room was the described canopy bed and a smaller and not as grand light blue bed.

"Is that a bed for guests?" she asked Elizabeth.

She giggled. "No, Samantha. That's your bed! Mother insisted we share a room."

Samantha fumed and stormed out of the room, nearly knocking over the footman carrying her bags. "Don't bother unpacking the bags in that room. I won't be staying."

The middle-aged footman stared at her. "But Miss-"She cut him off.
"You may leave them here and tell the Duchess that I am searching for a new room for I will not be staying with Elizabeth."

The footman put the bags down and bowed. "Yes, Miss Samantha."

Samantha groaned. "Please. I hate formal titles when given to someone who doesn't deserve it." It took the footman a moment to understand that she was talking about herself. "And don't bow, either. It makes me nervous. Just call me Sam, okay?"

"But you are the Duchess' new daughter," he protested. "I must-"

"You don't have to do anything because the Duchess hasn't adopted me. And I am no one until she does. So until that day comes, I am Sam. Just plain ole Sam."

The footman caught himself in mid bow and smiled. "If I may make a suggestion?"

"Of course. I believe in free speech as much as the next person."

"Some of the rooms you might want to look at are locked. If you want, I could accompany you on your quest, and perhaps find you a proper room."

Sam's eyes sparkled for a moment. "That would be wonderful. Perhaps you know of some rooms with an adjoining sitting room?"

"There are a few like that overlooking the gardens."

"Great! You can show me the rooms and you-"she pointed at Elizabeth- "can tell the Duchess that I am not staying."

Elizabeth fumed. "I am not a servant for you to boss around!"

"Welcome to sisterhood." Sam closed the door on her.

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Well, how was it?