My name is Ella Marie Chase, I live across from Kensington Gardens in London, England. I walked towards a crowd, hoping to lose my two younger brothers, and my faithful watchdog, Nana. I was heading towards the new rose arbor, when I heard whistling coming from a tree. I gave a start as I looked up and saw the tanned face of a boy about my age sitting on a branch. A backpack and skateboard were propped against the trunk; he smiled at me and jumped to the ground with astounding grace and agility. I thought I recognized him, but waved away the thought. "Hello," the boy was cheery.
"Um, hello," I replied, wary of the stranger.
"Don't be scared of me," he said, anticipating my response, "I know you. Well, my friend does. Ella right?" he asked.
"Yeah. Who's the friend?"
"Emily Carrisford," he said offhand.
"Oh, well then, yes, my name is Ella Chase. And you are?" Emily was my best friend, she wouldn't arrange for me to have a stalker. She probably just mentioned me in passing, and he remembered. Emily was to self-centered to care about me sometimes, which could be good.
"Peter," he wasn't paying much attention. "You going to the new rose arbor too?"
"Yeah, want to join me? I heard they have some new strains, imported from India!" I loved roses.
"Ahh, yes, the red ones with no thorns, they sometimes have black streaks on the petals too. Amazing," he seemed genuinely interested. Smooth.
We walked into an old fashioned arbor; inside, rose bush, after rose bush sprang up all around. It was like heaven and the smell; oh. I nearly fainted, I ran to the nearest bush to inspect the blooms. Peter tapped my shoulder and I turned to face him. He held a red rose in his hand. I blushed. "Thanks," I said.
"No problem madam," he acted as if he was a grown gentleman.
Right then, Nana bounded in followed by my brothers; John, 11 and Michael, 6. Michael saw Peter and ran up to him.
"Who are you? Are you my sister's friend? My name is Micheal, and I'm six!" the little boy's boundless energy made Peter laugh a little.
"Hello Michael, I am Peter, and this must be-" Peter turned to my other brother.
"John," my brother turned to me briskly. "In the corner Ella, alone," John was a worrywart sometimes.
"What John," I was impatient to get home for tea.
"Who is this strange boy?" he was quizzical.
"He's in Ms. Elizabeth's poetry class too," I lied. John wasn't paying attention anymore, a strange bug fluttered past and he chased after it. Completely distracted. I returned to find Michael entranced by Peter's fairy-story. Even I wanted to listen. He had a storyteller's voice, it interested me.
"When he thought all was lost, the boy jumped off the side of the pirate ship into the waves… he swam for the shore. He heard the crack of thunder, and looked around; a cannonball was coming straight for him!" Michael gasped in surprise and anxiety, which made me laugh.
"El, you can't laugh at the boy, he's in trouble!" Michael was indignant.
"Well, why doesn't Peter join us for some tea this afternoon?" I suggested. Please come! I thought.
"I would love to join you for tea Ms. Ella," Peter bowed dramatically.
"It would be an honor, Mr. Peter!" I curtsied in return, giggling girlishly.
We set off for the exit, stopping briefly at the tree where I met Peter to grab his skateboard and duffel. On the way home, John inspected the bug he had managed to catch, and Nana sniffed at Peter. Michael was busy telling Peter all about my storytelling, and acting; and Peter was sounding genuinely interested. Especially my Peter Pan stories, which were Michael's favorites. Peter probably only cared because he shared a name with the character. I knew boys, all of them were conceited.
When we arrived home, I put some water on to boil; and headed upstairs to the nursery. Peter followed, silent, I observed him, really looking for the first time. He was about two inches taller than me, with red hair that fell over his eyes. He was tan, unusual for London's weather, and of muscular build. His eyes were blue, and he was wearing loose cargo shorts with a green hooded sweatshirt.
When the water was done, and we were finished with tea; we went to play in the nursery. Peter was the most unusual teenage boy I have ever met, I thought I was the only one in London with an imagination. I was wrong, he was sword fighting Michael, whilst still talking science with John. It was amazing to see him around my family, so at ease. Something inside of me fluttered, my heart and stomach did flips. What is going on? Am I crushing on a complete stranger I met a couple hours ago? My mind was reeling with the slightest possibility.
"Ella, can Peter stay for supper?" Michael was pleading, pulling me out of my silent revelry.
"Ask mother and father when they get home," I said, glancing at the clock.
We played for another hour. All of a sudden a click was heard, followed by the sounds of two people taking off their shoes and coats. Mother and Father were home.