Author's Note: eeee the feedback for this story is so low. D:
Every night I would go to her house, climb into her room where she was waiting for me. We had to be quiet for her brothers and dog were fast asleep. Wendy would bring me scraps of food she managed to save for me to bring to the little boys. We would talk and Wendy told the most wonderful stories. Each night I would return to here her continue, wanting more.
She was only twelve years old yet she reminded me of a good mother. She was nurturing, kind, and understanding. She had a face that made you feel safe, making everything clearer.
"How old are you Peter?" she asked, pursing her pink lips. Her eyes looked up straight at me to be respectful, but I can tell she wanted to look at the floor for she was blushing terribly.
"Fourteen, I suppose," I answered, ripping off a chunk of white bread she had gave to me.
"Do you go to school?"
"No."
Her eyes widened, surprised. She looked like I cursed at her. I wouldn't though. I respected her too much. "What do your parents say about that?"
"I have no parents," I said bitterly.
"I'm sorry," her face was sincere with warmth. I see her whole face twisting, shattering by the words.
"I did but I ran away when I was little." I can feel my body growing numb - at the memories - the pain of fearing when my mother and father came. "They used to hurt me for as long as I remember until I was seven and I ran away. Out the window."
"It must be h-horrible..." she said slowly. "To be alone."
"I'm not alone though." I shrugged. I didn't want sympathy from anyone. Especially from her. She's done so much for me - bring food - give whatever money she had from her pocket - mended my rags so they would be a little presentable. "I'm leader of lost little boys. They all have no family and are out in the streets with me." I swallowed hard. "And I have a friend - her name is Tina but I call her Tink on the fact that she works in a pots and pans factory. She's older than me by a year and she lives in a boarding house with all the workers. She works really hard to afford a doctor for one of my boys."
"She sounds lovely."
"She is, she's like a big sister to me actually. She found me when I ran away and she protects me. We've known each other since I was seven years old. She's really mischievous though. We do many tricks and games to get money from people." I smiled deviously. "Or steal."
Wendy swallowed. "That doesn't sound nice though."
I shrugged. Wendy had no right to judge me. She had everything every little child wanted. "Tink isn't all that bad. Yeah she has a really bad temper but she's just tough because she's looking out for us. She's a really good dancer, dances like an angel. She wants to save up to go to a dance academy." I go on, telling her my life without her, fabricating it to a somewhat lighter version of the truth. I told her I and the others lived in the streets of Never. Never Street is a place where all the homeless people stayed. Never Street was a poor area, a horrible, dangerous place for an outsider. Some of the homeless people I'm friends with but the others I wasn't.
"Peter, can you promise me something?" her voice is small. She's sewing one of the shoes that her father had thrown out and the ones that her brothers no longer fit. She was going to give them to me. It made me adore her even more.
She was such a sweet person.
I didn't know rich people like her existed.
I thought all of them just cared for themselves and the finer things but here was Wendy, a graceful girl with a humble life.
"What is it milady?" I try to be someone she deserved. It saddened me, that I could never have her. We were from different classes and she deserved better.
"One day can you take me to where you live? I want to meet your friends."
I quickly shook my head. "It's out of the question. It's far too dangerous for you."
She bit her lip, pausing before closing the seam. "Please?" she pleaded, firmly. She was relaxed, not losing her temper. "I would really love to."
I bit my lip, crossing my arms. She could get hurt and I didn't want her to know the reality of it all. I told her it wasn't that bad and that it was fun living on your own with the pleasure of deciding what to do. People there were desperate, would easily hurt her for money - for survival.
I wouldn't forgive myself is she got hurt.
"Please?" she grabbed me by the arm. I was unable to pull away from her soft, calming blue eyes.
"Fine," I sighed, caving in.
Her face quickly brightened. "Promise?"
"I promise."
"Where have you been boy?" Tink slapped me.
"Yeah!" the boys all said in harmony.
It was late at night. I hadn't realized that I spent that long with Wendy.
"A kind girl gave me these," I showed the boys a bag of shoes. Even though they were worn out, Wendy cleaned and fixed them as if they were good as new.
The boys awed, going on the grounds of the dirty floor, trying on each shoes to see which one fit. We all stayed in an abandoned warehouse. The warehouse smelled and there were many rats and roaches but it was better than to sleep on the streets like the others.
"Who?" Tink twists her nose suspiciously.
"A very kind girl," I repeated, rolling my eyes. Tink hated any girl around me that wasn't her. She's a big sister like I said and she likes to watch over me.
"The same girl that said that gave you blankets?" Tootles asks.
I nod.
"I want to meet her," all the boys quickly said with awe. They were so easily thankful for things. They wanted to show gratitude.
I shook my head. "Sorry, but it would be too dangerous bringing her in a place like this."
They pouted while Tink smirked with relief.
The next night I come earlier than usual, around ten to see her.
All I've been thinking for the past few weeks was her. How she smiles and laughs - how her eyes sparkle. But I knew I could never have her. It was the unwritten rule in society in London. I'm not worthy enough. I climb up to her room, waiting for silence to enter.
"WENDY!" I hear her father scream. "It's time for you to grow up! Stop filling the boys with foolish nonsense!"
"Father," she keeps herself levelheaded. She's smart not to talk back to her father. "All I'm doing is just telling them bedtime stories."
He scoffs, laughing coldly. "Your marks have been dropping while you spend your time wasting about coming up absurd stories about a flying boy and a fairy. You have to stop having your heads in the clouds! It's about time you grow up!"
Wendy snapped. "All my life I've been growing up! I always doing what you tell me - being a good girl - watching my brothers. Not living!" she screeched. My skin tightens, shocked to her erratic behavior. This was very Un-Wendy like of her. "I've been responsible and have to be a third parent to my brothers and taking pointless classes -
"Not another word," he threatened. "Or I'll send you off to boarding school."
"No!" I could hear her tightening her dainty fists.
There was a loud sound.
I gasped, slowly peeking in the window.
Her father slapped her.
Slapped her on her pretty face.
Her eye was getting quickly black, bruising from the action. Wendy was on the ground, covering her face, covering her tears.
Her brothers are still, on their beds, pale from what had happened. I never seen a man hit a girl before. It was the worst sight I ever saw and I killed a man before. Hitting a girl was shameful. Unforgivable.
"It's time for you to grow up," her father said firmly, leaving the room - slamming the door.
Her parents left in the car. Probably to go to some show for they were all dressed up.
The children stayed in the room with their nurse dog.
"Are you okay Wendy?" Michael, the youngest boy ran to her first. He comforted her, hugging his older sister. He was frightened from what had happened.
John helped her up.
Wendy quickly wiped her tears, a smile trembling on her face. "I'm fine," she forces herself to carry on.
"What's going to happen?" Michael jumps into her arms, hugging her tightly. "I don't want you to go."
"Whatever happens," she looked at the both of them. She was being brave but I know she was scared. "Everything's going to be alright," she hushed them, using a soft sing song voice she used when telling her wonderful stories. She puts her brothers to bed. She sits on the ground, next to her dog Nana, facing them. "Now who wants to hear a story?" she pats her dog's head with care.
"I do!" the boys said eagerly, quickly forgetting what had happened.
"What about?" she chuckled.
"About Peter Pan. The flying boy," John says. "The part were you left off about him discovering the Lost Boys."
Wendy smiled. "You see Peter Pan takes care of little boys that are suffering. He doesn't want anyone to suffer the same pain he had when he was just a baby. When the parents aren't looking, he takes them out of their cribs and prams and steals them away."
"To where?" the boys both asked, listening intently. I smiled, listening as well.
"To a place called Neverland."
"Neverland? What is that?" Michael asks.
"It's a place the good souls go that have bad lives. Neverland is place where there is not a care in the world. People don't work or go to school. They just spend their days having fun - have amazing adventures," she cooed. "Peter Pan is the leader there, fighting off villians such as Captain Hook."
"You mean the bad man from my dreams?" Michael grins.
I laugh to myself. Wendy told me Michael has nightmares of a tall, pale menacing man with a hook for a hand that comes lurking to kill children.
"Mhmm," she tries to hide her laughter. "Neverland is a wonderful place but it's dangerous there. There's pirates and mermaids and Indians and fairies."
"It's sounds like a scary place," John gasped.
"It can be but if you have Peter Pan as your leader it isn't. Neverland is a wonderful place. It's a place of fun and time is still there. No one grows old in Neverland."
"Can you take us?" both of the boys asked, pleading.
She chuckles to herself. "One day Peter Pan will take us to Neverland."
"You think so?" John asks.
"Yes. He takes all the sad, lonely children there."
