A wise boy once said that the prettier a girl is, the more annoying it is when she looks at you.

Of course the wise boy was me. I said it shortly after the incident in the meadow.

The girl Margaret was particularly annoying when she looked at me because she made me feel very small. Naturally, I am quite a large boy, with magnificent muscles and rugged good looks, so the feeling of being small is quite uncomfortable.

I was sitting under the willow tree, contemplating life in the fading light when she at last found me there. She seemed to materialize from behind the hanging branches like a cluster of snowflakes. One moment the world is an ugly grey; the next moment there are beautiful snowflakes everywhere. A small shiver ran through me.

"Hello," she said, her voice like sleigh bells.

I felt like I was going to puke. All these happy comparisons my mind was making made me want to stomp on cute little forest animals.

When I didn't respond, she stepped under the tent-like canopy. "I think your name is Slightly," she said.

I grunted in reply.

Hesitantly at first, then more confident she stepped towards me. "I would like it if we were properly introduced," she said, holding out a hand to me. "My name is Margaret."

I got slowly up to my feet so that I wouldn't look too eager, and shook her hand. "Yes," I said. "I'm Slightly." I dropped my hand to my side, and rubbed it against the coarse fabric of my pants, as if that would cure the tingling that had been activated by her soft grip.

"I'm very happy to be here in Neverland," she said, her eyes turning to thin, sparkling lines from her smile. "Everything is so beautiful."

I couldn't stand to look at her anymore. She was so mercilessly annoying that I wanted to scream. I turned from her and stomped out from under the canopy and into the willow grove, not daring to imagine the look of hurt that must have come over her face by my rudeness.

Out in the centre of the grove, a small stream twirled around the trunks of the trees. The stars were beginning to show in the deep blue of the sky, and fireflies danced around to the music of the twilight.

It was all too disgustingly perfect for words.

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself fighting pirates on Captain Hook's ship, far away from pretty girls and sparkling streams and all the other stupid happy things that I had never noticed before Margaret's arrival.

The girl gasped behind me. "Fairies?" she said.

"What, are you stupid or something?" I turned to her. "Those are just fireflies."

She didn't look hurt in the least bit, much to my disappointment. "They're beautiful," she said.

"If you think fireflies are pretty, just wait until Peter shows you the fairies,"

"Oh," now she did look hurt. I refused to ask her what was wrong. Why should I, anyway? I wasn't in love with her. She was Peter's girl.

"You know," she said after a moment. "Peter was going to take me to see the fairies, but he's forgotten."

I made a sound in my throat. Peter was always breaking his promises to girls, and yet they never stopped loving him for it. The fact had never bothered me before, but somehow it was different with Margaret.

There was a long silence. I stared at a point in the night sky to keep from looking at her.

"Would you show me?" she said suddenly.

My eyes snapped down and met hers. The slightest smile traced her lips. I squinted at her, and found that she was not thinking about Peter at all.

I wanted to say, "No thank you, you smell like rotting rabbit brains," but instead my mouth said, "You're really pretty."

Did I just call her pretty? I stood for a minute, horrified at what I had done. Margaret smiled at me, and my stomach rose into my chest. I turned and ran from the willow grove before she could say anything, and I didn't look back.