"I really don't want to get my hair cut." I crossed my arms and waited for the hairdresser to come back with her pair of sheers. I sat, staring at my face in the giant mirror, not wanting to lose my yellow locks.

My mother glanced at me from behind her magazine and smiled. "It will look so much better if you do." She went back to reading.

I scowled. "No it won't. And I'm not getting bangs, either." I kept my eyebrows raised at her. I really wasn't. There was no way I was letting her destroy my hair again.

"You'll do as I say," she replied in a tone that said "you always do". I frowned and went back to staring myself down in the mirror. My green eyes looked angry, and I didn't like how it looked.

Peter was sure to hate my hair. He liked it long and curly. We matched. Two years ago, in fifth grade, his mom made him cut his hair and it looked terrible. It looked better when it was spiked. It made his almost-red hair look cool and wild. He was a wild boy, after all.

I barely ever saw Peter anymore. He was my best friend, but he was definitely around a lot less often. His mom worried a lot, but she never said anything to me about it, even though I knew. It was like Peter didn't even know her anymore, like she was only his mother in the stories he told the kids in the orphanage.

That's where he spent most of his time these days; with the parentless children. They were like his own, older and younger, but all the same, they were his. I'd seen them before. They all liked me, and they were all boys. He didn't go and see the girls because he felt a better connection to the guys.

It was weird, though, how they all flocked to him when he showed up, like he was the leader. And the games they would play! It would get crazy sometimes. They'd play battle and jump from bed to bed, from room to room, and I would sit in a corner and watch, giving out the battle plans Peter made.

And I was his right-hand girl. He'd always say, "Come on Bell!" And we would pretend to fly around the room. He didn't know about the big secret, but I'll get back to that in a minute.

As I was thinking about all this, the hairdresser came back with the sheers and began snipping away at my mother's direction, with me glaring at her in the mirror. She ignored me.

Anyway, I thought to myself. What had I just been thinking? Oh yeah…

Peter, back when I went to the shelter with him, would always ask for the glitter I brought with me. It was my own mix, and again, I'll explain it better later. But it made him feel happy. It made them all happy, and nothing could stop them once they sprinkled it on there noses and jumped around.

So, about my secret. I'm sort of a pixie. Not a little tiny one. That only happens when they fall in love with humans. There's some kind of rule that says a pixie will shrink when she tells a human she is in love with him. But that's not all. If and when she leaves her parents, she will become tiny. And a human could also turn her small by trying to save her.

There are many ways I could shrink, so I never told anyone about my little issue. Not even Peter.

And my glitter is actually…pixie dust. When I fly (with actually wings), it falls off the wings. My wings are like those of a butterfly. If you touch them, the dust will come off, but it's different because I'm still able to fly. And they make other people able to fly. The dust is pure magic.

That's why I give it to the "Lost Boys", as Peter likes to call them. I give just enough to make them happy. And Peter loves it. His boys are his own, and when they're happy, so is he.

But for a while now, he's been really distant. More so than usual… I wonder why that is… All throughout our childhood, he's hated his foster parents. Maybe finally he's snapped and run away, only coming out to see his boys.

I don't blame him. His father is pretty horrible. He's never home and doesn't care. I swear, it's like an on going battle with those two. And his mother is very needy.

I suspect that it's partly my fault that he is never around anymore. I barely ever listen to his crazy ideas about the stars. He had a dream one night about a year ago, and he's been obsessed with aliens and other planets. He and the boys play all the time. It's a world they've created, a place where they can never grow up and be like the people that gave them all up at birth.

They never want to be old and grabby. They never want to have their own kids. They never want to have rules or jobs. They never want to have parents.

Never Never Land.