A/N: Hi readers. First update. I'm going to post them as quickly as I can, since they all need to flow with each other. I encourage you to read them. They are much better than before. :)
"Wait, come back!" I shouted waking up from a dream, or more like a memory of Wendy. I sat up. There was a lot of giggling and snickering around me. I looked around. I was in my remedial English class.
"I'm not going anywhere, Peter, so why don't you go ahead and read the next passage for us," the teacher smiled.
I wiped a spot of drool from the corner of my mouth and my face went red with embarrassment. I picked up my book and began reading, frustrated that I still struggled with it.
After class, the teacher, Ms. Smith, asked me to stay a minute and speak with her. I was supposed to be heading to baseball practice, so I hesitated. "You'll have plenty of time to get to practice, don't worry. Although, that is what I wanted to talk to you about," Ms. Smith began as if reading my thoughts. "If you don't get your grades up in my class, I'm afraid you'll be pulled from the team. Surely your coach is aware of your GPA."
"I know, it's just that reading is really hard, and I don't understand the books that you assign," I was growing frustrated.
"I know, Peter. Reading is challenging for many people. But so many people have overcome their dyslexia."
"You don't understand," I said shaking my head. "I don't have dyslexia. I didn't learn how to read until a few years ago. These books are way above what I'm capable of reading."
"I didn't realize. I want you to succeed, Peter. In order to do that, you are going to have to do some extra work. Are you up to it?"
I nodded in agreement as I moved toward the door. "Thank you, Ms. Smith. I should probably get to practice." I walked out the door and down the crowded hall trying to avoid the girls and their incessant flirting. Normally I would be in the middle of it all. I loved the attention that I got from everyone, but I was already late, and I wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone.
After I got home from practice I went up to my room to start on my homework. I felt like I was always trying to distract myself these days. I wrote the date on my assignment and sighed. Four years ago today I left the only place I had, and would ever, call home: Neverland. I left in search of the girl who changed everything. The girl who changed my fate. The girl who had my heart: Wendy.
"Peter! Come down and help set the table for dinner," my foster mother, Gail, yelled. I heard the shuffling of feet as my younger foster siblings ran to hide before Gail could ask them to help as well. I stood up, stretched and headed downstairs. When I decided to come to the Mainland and find Wendy, I wandered around lost and afraid. I was finally found by the police. The police figured I had been abandoned, since I said I had no parents, and off to the foster system I went. I've been to lots of different foster homes. No one wants to care for a sixteen-year-old boy with a "troubled past." Everyone I've lived with has told me that I'm a smart-ass and too cocky for my own good. Whatever.
I've lived with Gail and her husband, Jeff the longest out of any foster home. While they are nowhere near perfect, I got along with them better than any other of the foster parents I lived with. It is hard though being the oldest of the foster kids. According to "the system" the goal is to find families that would want to adopt us. But who wants to adopt a cocky, smart-ass sixteen-year-old boy? If I would have known that I would end up in the foster care system, I would have never left that second star to the right, but I have to remember: I'm here for Wendy. If only I could find her.
When I first left Neverland to find Wendy, I didn't really understand the concept of time. When I reached the Mainland, it was 2009. Times had changed, and Wendy should have been long gone. But something in my heart was telling me that she wasn't dead. Wendy was alive. I wasn't sure how, and I didn't know where she was, but deep down, I knew that she was just as alive as I was.
"Thank you for helping, Peter," Gail touched me lightly on the shoulder and smiled. "You have no idea how big of a help you are."
I smiled back at her. She's was the nicest foster mom that I had lived with. Part of me wished I could tell her my real story. Sometimes I think that she would listen and completely understand, and maybe actually believe me. But I wouldn't risk telling anybody. She would probably think I was crazy and send me away. Just like everyone else.
"I'm happy to help, Gail," I say grabbing the plates out of the cupboard. "You've given me so much."
"Oh, before I forget," Gail chimed. "Tomorrow we have a new foster boy joining us. His name is Sam Slight. It's strange. His story is almost identical to yours: he doesn't remember his past, and just claims to have no parents. Anyway, I hope you'll take him under your wing. You know how these new boys just love you!" Gail squeezed my shoulder as she walked away. "I'm going to get the little ones washed up. Please help yourself to dinner. I'm sure you have lots of homework."
"Thanks, Gail," I called after her as I head back upstairs. Could it be? The possibility that this new boy, Sam, was actually Slightly seemed a bit far-fetched, but his story makes out. I wonder how long he's been on the Mainland, and if he's been searching for something, or someone, just like me. I got to my room, put on my Nikes', grabbed my favorite hoodie, and shoved my head into my green Edison High baseball cap. On nights like tonight, when I can't get Wendy out of my mind, I always head to the beach and watch that second star to the right. Straight on, until morning.