Wendy looked at the ceiling of her new room and wished to cry desperately,
but no tears came. There was no way to get out these confusing feelings she
had but to ignore, but she could not sleep. Quietly, she rose from her bed
and picked up a new book she'd borrowed from the library. It was, of
course, Peter Pan, her friend had written it for her after she told him the
stories. There were so many things wrong in it, however, that it sometimes
disturbed her. "There never was a happier or simpler family." Wendy almost
laughed allowed to read such a sentence about her own family. Her mother
was completely out of touch with reality, always shopping and spending and
moving about dreamily, while her father also drained the accounts in the
stock market. Michael had become a horrid, spoiled brat who enjoyed
watching violent or dangerous things such as car wrecks. John was the only
one she still was close to. He was muted, his childhood lost as he moved
emptily about the house, ignoring the insults thrown at him with wounded
looks. She once heard him whispering in the dark for Peter to take him back
to Neverland.
Wendy patted the bed silently and closed the book, waiting as Nana threw
her big furry person onto the bed with gusto, and the curtains fluttered.
The girl's heart beat with anticipation, and she sat up slowly. "Peter..."
she called hopefully. The curtains stopped moving, and she lay down,
disappointed. He had not returned. Wendy closed her eyes and drifted off to
sleep, trying not to recall Peter. He too had left her, and she was alone
in the world with her new adulthood. When she woke the next morning, there
was a skeleton leaf by her window. Wendy's spirit danced inside her
joyfully, and she reached to pick it up. As son as she brushed it with her
fingertips, it blew out the window and floated gently onto a London
rooftop. Wendy knew she should be slightly heartbroken, but instead she
smiled- it was classic Peter, always flying away when you needed him. She
was confident though- he would return. Soon, since he had left the leaf,
and it was only a matter of time- the question was, her time or his?
Wendy dressed quickly in her school uniform, grabbing her books and
hurrying Michael and John through their daily morning routine. After eating
hastily, the trio hurried into the street and walked to the prep school
they now attended. The Lost Boys, in their anxiousness, had rushed ahead of
the original Darlings long ago, and were now chattering in their respective
classes with other students. Michael trailed into his own classroom, and
Wendy stopped John, turning him toward her. "John. I want you to know that
these boys are just selfish brutes, and you do not deserve their beatings.
No one can make you feel inferior without your permission." He nodded and
blinked dark eyes at her, plodding into the small instruction room he
learned English in. Wendy walked to her own lesson, holding her head high
and marching into it with a sigh. Marie Champlain looked at her and
sneered. "Look who it is. The bookworm. It's so sad that you think you're
as good as us, Wendy." Wendy opened a book and ignored her, but Marie
walked over and continued her torment. "You're just a gutter rat- your
father is a bookie, just like your filthy brother, Michael." She shut
Wendy's book and looked her in the eyes. "Too bad your mother sleeps around
so much, or she might be watching him." Wendy's fists clenched under the
table, and Marie sneered. "Are you sure you're not the milkman's daughter?
I'm sure your mother would hate you even if you were legitimate." Wendy
stood up and knocked Marie across the face, and she crumpled in the corner,
holding her cheek and whimpering. Satisfied, the Darling sat down and
reopened her book. "Hate is a word people use when speaking about YOU,
Marie."
Moments later, Wendy found herself sitting stiffly on a chair in the
headmistress's office. "Hold out your hand." The old woman said coldly.
Obediently, the girl stuck out her hand, and bit her cheek to keep from
crying out as the headmistress brought the ruler down whistling on her pale
hand. A red stripe puffed up immediately, and the woman asked her angrily
how old she was. "Fourteen," she answered, and the headmistress said icily,
"Then you have twenty-eight demerits. Report to the custodian for your
chores." Wendy nodded and left, bending over the sink outside and spitting
the blood out of her mouth. She had bit her cheek too hard. Wendy let the
water run over the blood, watching as the water swirled around it and
erased it slowly, until there was no trace it had been there at all. She
walked to the janitor's office and received an errand that used four
demerits- scrubbing the stones in the courtyard. Wendy dutifully lugged the
buckets outside and began, scouring them with the old muddy rag that made
it worse.
Many hours later, she guessed, her brothers showed up as she was just
finishing. "School's been out a while." Said Tootles. "How many demerits?"
asked Curly. "Twenty-eight." She responded. The Twins, Charles and
Geoffrey, gasped in unison. "Twenty-eight?" She nodded. Nibs gave her a
dark look. "I hate that horrid old woman. I'll plan a battle against her;
she ever gives you any of this crap-" "Nibs! You are not to use such
language around impressionable ears!" Nibs regarded Wendy stonily, and
replied, "It's Angus now." Indeed, they had all chosen names for themselves
when they came to England, and they were only called by their old monikers
in the house. Curly was now Theodore, and Tootles was Rupert. Slightly, who
lived with Aunt Millicent, had chosen Patrick. The boys helped Wendy to her
feet and volunteered to run the bucket back to the custodial offices for
her. She winced as they took her hand, and slowly started back home. When
they got there, Wendy feigned sickness for dinner and went up to her room
to think. Her mother did not sleep around, and her father was not using all
the money. Just a lot. She decided that she loved her family and all their
problems, and closed her eyes. A rush of air blew into the room, and her
eyes shot open as Peter sailed into it. "Oh! You didn't forget!" Wendy ran
over to him and wrapped him in her arms. He pulled away, saying, "You
grew!" She laughed. "So did you!"
Peter had broader shoulders, a huskier voice, and darker hair, but the same
smile. He was taller than she now, and was regarding her slowly, making his
way from her hair to her toes. Wendy noticed his bright green eyes linger a
long moment on her chest, and she blushed, crossing her arms over it. Peter
asked her, "How old are you now?" "Fourteen." Peter, who had a tendency to
float as opposed to standing, came crashing to the floor, and landed on a
ring. "Ow!" He cried, rubbing the arch of his foot gently. She took it back
and set it on her dresser hastily. "That was a ring. Do you have suitors?"
He asked suspiciously. She gulped and shook her head slowly. Peter knew she
was lying and felt his chin, making sure she hadn't kissed someone and
given his thimble to them instead. "Well, I just wanted to see you. Bye!"
He called, starting out the window. She ran over to it and grabbed his
foot. It threw him off balance, and he twisted back and slid toward her,
his legs slipping under hers and ending up with the two on the floor, Wendy
draped over Peter, and both teenagers blushing. They lay in the dark a
moment, and Peter asked, "Shouldn't you be off me now?" Wendy stood up
quickly and said, "Oh, yes, of course, r-right away..." Peter looked at her
and whispered, "You are growing up beautifully." He turned and flew out the
window before she could say a word, as she saw something small and
glittering fall from his body as he turned. It was a single tear. Gently,
she picked it up and kissed it, placing the drop on the windowsill. In the
morning, it had frozen, and she put it in her locket, closing the clasp
around the sphere of ice. Wendy wrote on her school slate, "COME BACK", and
hung it on the trellis, hoping he would see it. A month passed, and he had
not returned, so sadly, she brought it back inside. He had not forgotten,
but he was not willing to see her again, and she would not push the issue.
