Author's Note: Hello! I started this quite some time ago... I've been extremely busy lately, but I really do want to keep working on this... Whether or not there's a huge interest. Apologies if I don't update quickly, I'll try and update on my profile when I think the next shall be posted. Hope you all enjoy! :) And this is the first story I've written in quite some time. So comments, criticisms, compliments, whatever are encouraged!
"Boy, why are you crying?"
I remember being little with my mother reading Peter Pan to me every night. I would refuse to sleep until she read at least part of it to me. I learned to read at an early age just so I could read it all to myself when she wouldn't. I don't think anyone, my mother included, ever understood why I loved the story of Peter Pan and Wendy so much… Perhaps even I didn't understand it. I would insist on having a blue ribbon in my hair and would constantly have blue as the primary color in my wardrobe when I was younger, just as Wendy in the movie had. To this day my favorite dress is a blue one. I would dream of going to Neverland all the time, I even had a window in my bedroom that I would leave open at night for Peter to come through. Mother would always close it though when I fell asleep. I was always so mad at her for that. I was on the second floor, no one was going to put that much effort into getting up would be my argument. One night, everything changed.
We lived in a fairly quiet neighborhood, full of families in each house. Almost every house looked the same with a few adjustments. I was nine years old and we had just had some new neighbors move in next door, not that it ever really meant anything to me. I was in my bedroom with the window open and I was reading Peter Pan when I heard someone crying. I walked over to my window and saw the new neighbor boy in his room across from mine, his window open as well. I was about to close my window, annoyed at this distraction from my favorite story, but I stopped. I observed him, he seemed to be about my age, with dusty blonde hair.
"Boy, why are you crying?" I asked him.
He sniffled, looked up and saw me. His face went from embarrassment to anger.
"I wasn't crying! And don't call me boy," he retorted.
I smiled softly. "Sorry… My name is Diana. What's your name?"
He eyed me before replying in a short manner, "Pete."
"Your name is Peter!" I gasped with wide eyes. "Just like Peter Pan!"
"It's Pete, no er! I don't know who Peter Pan is. Sounds dumb," he snorted.
I saw a flash of red. Never in my life had anyone spoken badly of Peter Pan to me. I was not about to let this cry baby get away with that.
"I'll have you know that Peter Pan is the bravest that there ever was! One day he's going to come take me away to Neverland. We're going to fight pirates together. You won't be invited" I said smugly.
"I wouldn't want to go anyways. I doubt that he's THAT brave," Pete retorted with an eyebrow raised.
"I can't believe you've never heard of Peter Pan. Where are you from?" I asked bluntly.
"I'm from here, just not this part of town. But our old house burned down while we were visiting my Grandma. So, now we're here. My mom keeps saying that we're really lucky we went to visit Grandma or else we could've gotten hurt."
"Oh. I'm sorry your old house burned down."
"Whatever. My room here is bigger here anyways."
There was silence for a while. I looked up at the stars, once again wishing I was in Neverland. The whole time I was very aware that the new boy was staring at me.
"How old are you?" he asked suddenly.
"Nine. You?"
"Ten. So I'm older. And I say you're too old for stories of pirates and stuff."
"I think you're too young to be saying that. Why ever would I want to stop reading and believing in these stories? I don't think you can ever be too old for stories."
"Whatever."
There was silence again. This time I really observed him. I couldn't really see his eyes, but there was something about the way he looked at me, at things. He seemed too serious for our age. There was something different about him. He was very different from what Peter Pan should be like.
"So you don't know about Peter Pan? Really?" I asked in disbelief.
"Well… I do, but I just never really heard the whole story. I've seen part of the movie," he said shrugging.
"The movie is good, but the book is just wonderful. You really should read it sometime. I read it all the time, it's been my favorite since before I can remember. I was reading it before your sniveling interrupted me."
He smiled. "Read it to me."
"Now?"
"Yes, now."
I looked at him and he seemed serious about it.
"Well, it's getting kind of late… Plus this whole time we've had to kind of whisper yell. I don't want to read like that."
He nodded in agreement and looked around. That's when he noticed, we both noticed, a tree between our houses. It was tall and thick and just the right distance between our houses for someone to climb upon and reach the other side. Sometimes things just work out in the right way.
"I'm coming over," he said as he ran to turn off his room light then climb out the window.
"Be careful!" I gasped as he reached for the tree. "Don't hurt yourself!"
He grinned at me as he got into the tree. "Oh come on, I'll be fine. My name is Peter, right? I can be like this Peter Pan of yours."
I blushed as I moved so he could climb in.
"Hi," he grinned at me.
"Hi," I said softly.
He walked past me and sat at the foot of my bed. "Well, you gonna read to me or what?" he asked softly.
Just then there was a knock at the door.
"Diana?"
We looked at each other with wide eyes. I pointed for him to hide under my bed and threw the comforter off to make sure he wouldn't be seen.
"Yes, Mom?" I said as I opened my door.
"Everything okay? I thought I heard something up here…"
"Oh, everything's fine. I was just walking back to bed and dropped Peter," I said, referring to my book.
"Oh, alright! Well Dad and I are going to sleep, so we'll see you in the morning. Don't stay up too late with Peter and don't forget to shut your window, night honey."
"Night Mom," I said as she hugged and kissed me. Then my Dad came over and I said goodnight to him as well.
I closed the door and shut off the ceiling light and turned on my desk lamp, so there wouldn't be as much light under the door. I waited a bit until I knew my parents were in their room which luckily was a ways from mine.
"It's safe now," I giggled.
Pete crawled out and grunted softly. "This better be a good story. I wasn't expecting to spend my night this way."
"How were you expecting it to be?"
He looked away and didn't answer. So I sat on my bed and patted it for him to sit next to me. We settled in and got comfy and I started to read quietly.
"All children, except one, grow up…"
