Disclaimer: All the characters you know and love are J.M. Barrie's and it is based on the
excellent book/movie Peter Pan.
"You won't forget me, will you?" the thirteen year old girl asked.
"Me? Forget? Never." replied the boy, rather cockily.
And that was the last I saw of him. My adventures with him have faded and seem like a
dream when I look back upon them. Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up. He was probably off
having some adventure of sorts right now. Little bugger.
I, on the other hand have spent all my time growing–three years to be exact. I reached for
the comb on my vanity, and my brushed past the fancy pink invitations Aunt Millicent had sent
out over a half a year ago. She was an eccentric women, utterly obsessed with the Victorian Era
(dresses, antiques, and even values). Naturally, the invitations were decorated in Millicent's
tastes.
The Darling Family cordially invites ____ to the Coming Out party of Miss Wendy Moira
Angela Darling.
John and Michael had had a good laugh about that, they knew I hated parties...at least the
formal ones. I'll bet they weren't laughing now–the party was as formal as the invites, which
means my dear brothers were tied and starched within an inch of their life. Nice.
Sadly, I too became subject to Aunt Millicent's wrath. She had decided that all ladies
worth marrying wore corsets. Mad old bat. I love her to little pieces, but this lady needs a reality
check. This is the 21st century!
So here I was, sitting at my vanity, turning bright pink from asphyxiation. At least if I die,
I'll have a 20" waist. My gravestone will read, "She died skinny."
"Wendy, darling?" they was a soft rap on my door and Aunt M's nose poked through the
crack of my door.
"Yes, Aunt Millicent?"
"The guests have arrived. O, you look wonderful darling! I love your cosmetics. You
must tell me where you buy your blush."
Inwardly groaning, I faced her and smiled, "I not wearing any blush, Aunt."
"O...well. It's a bit cooler in the ballroom. There are a lot of eligible young men out there,
I heard the Duke of Barrington's son, Derrek, is here tonight. Please be on your best behavior," I
could see the warning glint in her cheery eyes.
"I shall try, Aunt," I gingerly took her hand and allowed myself to be led into the death
trap...ballroom.
~two hours later~
Can this party get any more boring?! I met "Derrek" and (surprise, surprise) he wants to
become the richest man on the earth. Yeah, him and every other millionaire's child in this room,
which is everyone. I'm sorry to disappoint you Aunt Millicent, but Derrek has a major body odor
problem. There will be no Mrs. Wendy Barrington anytime soon.
excellent book/movie Peter Pan.
"You won't forget me, will you?" the thirteen year old girl asked.
"Me? Forget? Never." replied the boy, rather cockily.
And that was the last I saw of him. My adventures with him have faded and seem like a
dream when I look back upon them. Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up. He was probably off
having some adventure of sorts right now. Little bugger.
I, on the other hand have spent all my time growing–three years to be exact. I reached for
the comb on my vanity, and my brushed past the fancy pink invitations Aunt Millicent had sent
out over a half a year ago. She was an eccentric women, utterly obsessed with the Victorian Era
(dresses, antiques, and even values). Naturally, the invitations were decorated in Millicent's
tastes.
The Darling Family cordially invites ____ to the Coming Out party of Miss Wendy Moira
Angela Darling.
John and Michael had had a good laugh about that, they knew I hated parties...at least the
formal ones. I'll bet they weren't laughing now–the party was as formal as the invites, which
means my dear brothers were tied and starched within an inch of their life. Nice.
Sadly, I too became subject to Aunt Millicent's wrath. She had decided that all ladies
worth marrying wore corsets. Mad old bat. I love her to little pieces, but this lady needs a reality
check. This is the 21st century!
So here I was, sitting at my vanity, turning bright pink from asphyxiation. At least if I die,
I'll have a 20" waist. My gravestone will read, "She died skinny."
"Wendy, darling?" they was a soft rap on my door and Aunt M's nose poked through the
crack of my door.
"Yes, Aunt Millicent?"
"The guests have arrived. O, you look wonderful darling! I love your cosmetics. You
must tell me where you buy your blush."
Inwardly groaning, I faced her and smiled, "I not wearing any blush, Aunt."
"O...well. It's a bit cooler in the ballroom. There are a lot of eligible young men out there,
I heard the Duke of Barrington's son, Derrek, is here tonight. Please be on your best behavior," I
could see the warning glint in her cheery eyes.
"I shall try, Aunt," I gingerly took her hand and allowed myself to be led into the death
trap...ballroom.
~two hours later~
Can this party get any more boring?! I met "Derrek" and (surprise, surprise) he wants to
become the richest man on the earth. Yeah, him and every other millionaire's child in this room,
which is everyone. I'm sorry to disappoint you Aunt Millicent, but Derrek has a major body odor
problem. There will be no Mrs. Wendy Barrington anytime soon.
