Hey guys! So these are short stories from Flynn, Aladdin and Peter Pan's early life in the orphanage. These are pre-stories from my original piece "Hard Knock Life", so if you get confused at all, reading that would be advised. As would reviewing... :)
Any who, this one-shot (or whatever) is about how Peter Pan found out Flynn's real name and shocking past. :O
It was summer when Peter Pan had found Flynn's folder.
To find the folder wasn't 13-year-old Peter's original intention. He only wanted to get a bit of air conditioning before he had a stroke, and the only place were there was a bit of cool air was the headmistress's office. Peter would know, since he's been called to the office many times.
He found himself slowly creeping down the carpeted halls. Normally there was screaming and fighting within the orphanage, but all the boys were outside, running in the neighbor's sprinklers and spraying each other with a hose. He wasn't used to the quiet. It was unsettling.
When he reached the door to the office, he peeked through the window. There was the headmistress, with her dyed red hair and pot belly, basking in the air conditioning's glory. Peter resented her with a passion.
Peter threw open the door, startling the headmistress and almost causing her to tip out of her swivel chair.
"MRS. HEADMISTRESS MRS. HEADMISTRESS! I FOUND VERY NAUGHTY MAGAZINES IN BRANDON'S BAG!" Peter shouted.
Brandon, Peter's arch-nemesis, was the headmistress's son. He was forced to come to the orphanage very often, because his father worked all day, and (Peter concluded) Brandon couldn't be trusted home alone.
The headmistress bolted out of her chair and grabbed the collar of Peter's shirt, pulling him close to her face. He tried not to look disgusted at 1) the smell of her cigarette breath and 2) her hideously ugly face magnified.
"Don't mess with me, boy," she menacingly.
Peter meekly shook his head.
"No, no it's true. He let me borrow something from his bag and I found the magazines in there. I swear!"
Well, what he said was partly true. Peter did find naughty magazines in Brandon's bag. But he didn't ask for Brandon's permission to borrow something from his bag; that would've been the day when Brandon would let him do something like that. Peter simply looked through it himself, and saved them to blackmail or torture Brandon on a special occasion.
He considered saving himself from heat stroke was a special occasion.
The headmistress groaned and ran outside the office, mistakenly leaving Peter alone.
He grinned and shut the door.
He would have at least thirty minutes in the air conditioning, because he hid Brandon's bag and knowing the headmistress, she would lecture Brandon for a while, humiliatingly in front of everyone.
He took off his shirt and threw himself on the headmistress's chair, feeling the full and lovely effect of sixty-five degree air on his bare chest. He closed his eyes and put his feet up on the desk, knocking something over the edge. He reached over to and picked it up.
It was an old manila folder, and paper-clipped on it was his friend Flynn's six-year-old school picture. Peter tilted his head curiously and opened the folder. The first thing he saw was piece of a newspaper clipping.
Infant boy was found abandoned in a forest south of Indiana Central High School…. Authorities claim it was abandoned after the suicide of his young mother…. Now currently abides in Disney's Orphanage for Boys…
These were the only sentences that mattered. Peter felt sick.
With his hand shaking, he moved the newspaper clipping out of the way. What he saw next shocked him.
Flynn had a birth certificate.
As far as Peter knew, none of the boys at the orphanage did. That means Flynn's mother had Flynn in a hospital, and had him long enough for the birth certificate to arrive.
Flynn's mother contemplated abandoning him even after she nurtured him for a few months.
Peter covered his face with his hands.
He tried not to cry. He tried to not to believe that every boy, including him, in the orphanage had awful stories like this. Peter looked at the certificate again, tears slightly blurring his vision.
In the name section, instead of Flynn Rider, was Eugene Fitzherbert.
Eugene Fitzherbert?
And out of the sadness of knowing somebody else's past, Peter laughed.
Twenty-five minutes later….
"Hey Eugene, where'd you come up with the name Flynn, anyways?" Peter asked, grinning.
Flynn, who was relaxing on a beach towel outside, bolted upward and stared at Peter in terror.
"How. The heck. Did you. Know?" Flynn was advancing closer with each word.
"I have my ways. I won't tell anyone if you do my chores for a year," Peter smiled cheerfully.
Flynn looked at Peter with pure hatred. He sighed.
"Deal."
Peter slapped Flynn on the back.
"Good boy. But seriously, where'd you get Flynn Rider from?"
"Shut up and annoy somebody else PP," Flynn rose and grabbed the towel from the patch of grass he was lying on.
"Oh I would, but the headmistress wants me to vacuum cheerios off the carpet. And since you're doing my chores for a year…"
And with that, Flynn punched Peter in the face, and stalked off angrily to clean up cheerios on the carpet.