WENDY'S POV

When I awoke, it felt as if someone had repeatedly drilled holes in my skull. I struggled to sit up, trying to figure out where I was and why I felt so terrible. With a start, I realized there were a bunch of bodies lying all over the floor.

Oh my God, what happened? I thought frantically, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head. That's when I was overcome with the thunderous sound of unsynchronized snoring. They were sleeping.

I allowed my heart rate to slow to normal as I relaxed into the multiple pillows that were propped behind my head on the couch. I closed my eyes and saw flashes of Peter's face, swimming in the lights and the blare of music and the turmoil of confusion. The smell of sweat was thick on my nostrils as I remembered the swaying of hips and the manic laughter escaping from my own mouth.

"Wendy, you're growing up too fast for me," Peter had whispered before withdrawing his face from mine, his eyes tight with anger. And that was all I could remember.

I glanced around the living room, in search of Peter. He was nowhere to be seen so I assumed he had gone home. I recognized Rufio instantly, though. He was lying in the corner with his arm curled protectively around a case of canned beer. I could almost see a smile on his face as he slept. This made me scowl.

I forced myself to throw my legs over the edge of the couch. My legs felt like mush as I attempted to navigate through the battlefield to get to the kitchen. The room spun as I doubled over the sink and threw up. I wiped the bitter vomit from my mouth and took several shaky breaths to steady myself.

Wincing, I threw a glance at the telephone. I could see the answering machine blinking insistently to let me know about all of the messages I had missed, most likely from my mother. I stumbled towards it, not wanting to push 'play'.

"Good morning," said a flat voice from the kitchen table.

I sluggishly turned to look over my shoulder at Peter. His eyes were hard and cold and a grim line was stretched across his face. It looked as if someone had carved the expression with a sharp steak knife.

"Peter," I mumbled, feeling ashamed.

"Did you have a fun night?" Peter asked frostily, never blinking.

"It wasn't what you think," I managed to get out.

"It never is," he seethed. He started to advance on me and I was too cowardly to look him in the eye. "Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid you were acting last night?"

"No," I admitted. "I don't remember much. Nothing…nothing happened, did it?" I felt a lump in my throat, afraid of his answer.

"You were lucky I came as quickly as I did," Peter hissed. I had never seen him so angry.

"Look, I might have been acting like a complete retard but you have no right to butt into my business," I snapped at him groggily, though I was relieved nothing had happened.

"A 'thank you' would have sufficed," Peter snarled through his teeth.

"Why are you so mad at me? You're the reckless one!" I suddenly realized my fists were clenched and I was hunched as if ready to strike.

"Lower your voice," Peter shot at me. "Besides, it's not my fault if trouble follows me around. It's not like I go looking for it!"

"I want you out of my apartment!" I snapped, my head clearing slightly as I pointed towards the door. "Go!"

Peter's anger evaporated as he watched me calmly. "No," he said.

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "What?" I demanded, shocked. "Leave! Now."

"No," he repeated, as calmly as before. "Sit down." He pointed at the table and waited patiently for me to cross the kitchen. I narrowed my eyes at him as I sat down. "Now, putting all stubbornness aside, I think it's time for you to have the hair from the dog that bit you."

I raised my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Peter frowned at me. "Well, of course, I don't mean that I'm going to serve you more alcohol…I just meant I was going to give you something to clear your head."

When I continued to give him a strange look, Peter cleared his throat and said, "What, you're British…and you still don't know that expression? C'mon that goes back to like…William Shakespeare!"

I groaned and set my head down on the table. "It's too early in the morning for you to be quoting Shakespeare at me."

"Actually…it's nearly ten o'clock," said Peter, glancing at the digital clock on the microwave.

I jumped. "What? I have to get to school! Jeez, I forgot. It's a Monday isn't it?"

"Well you're already hours late so you might as well make the best of it. I don't think any of those guys are getting to school either." Peter nodded in the direction of the people passed out all over my living room floor.

"I need to get them out of here," I said miserably.

"Don't worry about it, I have it taken care of. I took the liberty of using your mother's laptop to look up some remedies for hangovers. I then went to the store and bought like a dozen bananas, honey, and ice cream. After poking around your apartment building, I also scraped up several blenders." He pointed to the grinding instruments lined up along the counter, clogging up all the possible outlets in the kitchen.

I frowned. "You realize that everyone in this apartment is going to kill you when you start making all of that racket."

Peter gave me an angelic smile before turning to a big tub of vanilla ice cream. "So, according to the Internet, the bananas help calm the stomach and the honey gives back to the reduced blood sugar levels or something. The milk, which I am borrowing from your fridge and which so happens to be in the ice cream, is supposed to soothe and rehydrate your body...Like water right? Now the bananas, they're the real key to this milkshake. They're supposed to be rich of big words like 'electrolytes', 'magnesium', and 'potassium'."

"And what exactly does this mean for me?" I asked, my voice muffled against the table.

"I'm not entirely sure," said Peter, "but it's supposed to help." He turned to plop the ingredients in each of the blenders. Then he started all of them at once.

I groaned and covered my ears. He wrenched my hands away from my face and said, "No! You're going to listen to that terrible sound and you're going to like it. That's what you get for worrying me sick." I might have felt guilty enough to listen to the sound, but the people half-dead in my apartment didn't feel the same way. One-by-one they were all getting to their feet and lumbering towards the kitchen like zombies.

"What the hell's your problem, you hemorrhoidal suck naval?" Rufio spat at Peter.

"Isn't he charming?" I mumbled, wincing at the grating noise.

"Cool your jets and take a seat," Peter said to Rufio, gesturing towards the kitchen table. "I had the pleasure of meeting you last night, though I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

Rufio stared blankly at him, not moving towards the table.

"Perhaps you were too drunk to remember," Peter suggested. "I'm the one that, uh, gave you that lovely mark around your eye."

Rufio traced his finger along his upper cheekbone, wincing. "You punched me?" he demanded.

Peter smiled, turning his back on Rufio to see the progress of the banana milkshakes. "Only after you tried to punch me."

Rufio sat down at the table next to me and I could tell he was trying to keep the confused look off of his face. "Who is this guy?" he shot at me, gesturing towards Peter. "And why the hell is he using like fifty blenders? That's a sound that could wake the dead."

"His name's Peter Pan," I explained. "He's making all of us hangover remedies."

"I don't need a hangover remedy," Rufio snarled. "I know how to hold my liquor. Just because you can't, Wendy, it doesn't mean the rest of us need to hear your banshee blenders tearing up the place."

"Say that to the girl who puked in my umbrella stand," I snapped at him.

Peter cocked an eyebrow as he turned off all the blenders and turned around to face us. "Looks like I missed a hell of a party last night."

"You didn't see the part where Wendy was dancing like a cowgirl? If I remember anything, I remember that," said Rufio, laughing harshly.

"Yeah…I saw that part," mumbled Peter sourly.

"Wait…what?" I asked, my mouth gaping open. "That's a joke right? Rufio, tell me you're joking. Peter?"

When they didn't answer, I let out a low moan and set my head down on the table again. Peter rifled through the cabinets to find two glasses. He poured out two helpings of banana milkshake and took them to the table.

"I told you, I don't need a hangover remedy," Rufio snapped as Peter sat down.

Peter raised his eyebrows. "This was for me." He took a sip of his milkshake before sliding the remaining glass over to me.

I drank half of mine before offering the rest to Rufio. The cold made my head feel loads better. "C'mon," I insisted. "Just drink it. I'm sure you'll be a lot less cranky. If you like it, Peter'll pour you a glass."

"Like hell I will," Peter muttered under his breath, watching Rufio with narrowed eyes.

Rufio gave Peter an unfriendly smile before accepting my offer. Rufio snorted after one sip. "Whoever made this needs some lessons on using the blender. It's too chunky."

"I think there are more bananas in it than ice cream," I added.

Peter scowled at us. "If you don't like it then don't drink it."

I smiled sweetly at Peter. "No need to get bent out of shape about it. Thanks for the breakfast. Now, I'm going to get into my school uniform and chase out whoever's still sleeping."

"You're still planning to go to school?" Rufio asked with gruff surprise.

I nodded as I headed out through the living room, down the hall, and to the right to my bedroom. There were three guys lying on the floor, snoring. Each of them were wearing a pair of John's boxers on their heads. I sighed as I went to my closet and pulled out a fresh uniform. I would have liked to take a shower, but I was sure there would be someone passed out in the bathtub with marker drawings all over her face or something.

I changed my clothes in the closet and started nudging people awake when I was finished. It took me forever to get the guests out of the two bedrooms and even longer to drag Kim from the bathroom. (I had been right about the marker drawings).

After making sure everyone had gotten a decent portion of banana milkshake, we sent them all out the door. Only Kim, Rufio, Peter, and I remained.

"What happened to Zandra?" I asked, glancing around.

"She went home early last night," said Kim, stifling a yawn. "She didn't want her dad to kill her."

"I think Ryan bailed early too," said Rufio, sounding annoyed. "I don't know how he got home 'cause I still have the keys."

"Cool," I said, "then you can drive me to school."

Rufio stared at me. "I'm not going to school!"

"Well you can drop me off on the way home then," I suggested.

"I can take you," Peter offered.

"You don't have a car," I pointed out. "Rufio does. He can take me. Besides, you've done enough and this is my idea of a 'thank you'. You know…for the milkshake and stuff." I hesitated and I could tell he was waiting for me to continue. I sighed and said, "I'm not good at apologies…But I'm sorry. Okay, Peter?" I offered him my hand for him to shake. He didn't touch it. "Friends?" I prompted.

Peter narrowed his eyes at me. "You're a horrible person, you know that?" He mimed ripping out his own heart and stabbing it with a butter knife before finally shaking my hand in agreement.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said. "I know. I should probably be burned alive, but I don't have time for that." I turned to Rufio. "This is where you come in. Take me to school. Please?"

Peter started muttering crossly to himself as he went around the kitchen finishing the half-drunken milkshakes every guest had left. Rufio's dark eyes were fixed on mine as he said, "Twenty bucks and we have a deal."

"Twenty bucks?" I demanded, outraged. "That's more than cab fare!"

"Then maybe you should take a cab," Rufio suggested stonily.

"I'll take you," Peter insisted, pulling me up from my chair by the armpit. "C'mon, you can piggyback me all the way there. Or we can take the bus. I'll pay, alright?"

Rufio didn't like the fact that my favor was leaning towards Peter so Rufio said, "Alright, I'll take her. For free. C'mon Wendy, I haven't got all day."

"Kim, you coming?" I asked my friend as I started after Rufio, his hands laden with what was left of the audio equipment. I made sure I had my key and cell phone in the pocket of my uniform vest.

"Nah," said Kim. "I think I'll take the day off. I'm grounded when I get home anyways."

"Really?" Peter asked Kim. "You want to go do something?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

I raised my eyebrows but decided not to comment. Instead, I said, "Well Rufio and I are off. Just make sure one of you locks the door on the way out, alright?"

Peter and Kim nodded, still sitting at the kitchen table as I closed the door behind me. Rufio and I walked in awkward silence to the elevators; we would have to take a detour to the parking garage. After we left the garage in Rufio's notorious girlfriend-smashing Chevy, I peaked into the rear-view mirror at the apartment building to see Peter and Kim exiting out onto the sidewalk. I could see that they were laughing. Mouth set in a straight line, I focused my eyes dead ahead and said nothing at all.

--

PETER'S POV

"You've got a little something on your visage there," I said to Kim, pointing vaguely at her face.

She rubbed at a marker drawing that looked roughly like an eggplant, a frown contorting her face. All she succeeded in doing was smearing it into something unrecognizable. "Did I get it?" she asked hopefully.

I sighed, realizing it was useless. "Yes," I lied.

She sat next to me on my bed as we both watched cartoons. Slightly had joined in and was crunching noisily on chips from his seat on the floor. I couldn't help but notice how many times Kim glanced down at him. I coughed inconspicuously into my sleeve and remained silent, only to bust up laughing at a dumb comment made by Patrick the starfish.

The show went to a commercial and I saw Kim turn to me from of the corner of my eye. I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her to say something.

"Do you like Wendy? Like honestly and truly?" Kim asked, her chocolaty-brown eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"'Like' totally," I said, flipping my hand at her.

She ignored the fact that I was poking fun at her as she went on, "Because I can help you get her."

My eyebrows skyrocketed. I was intrigued, to say the least.

"If," Kim continued, holding up a finger, "you do something for me."

I held up a hand to stop her. "I won't kill anyone." I debated inwardly. "Assault, maybe."

My words were greeted with an awkward silence.

"That was a joke," I informed her.

"Ohhh," she said, flashing me a smile. "I get it. Haha! You're funny, Peter."

How could this airhead be friends with my beloved Wendy? I was surprised Wendy had the patience for her. I cleared my throat and allowed her to continue.

"Well…I'll go into the specifics later," said Kim. It didn't escape my attention that her eyes flicked briefly to land on Slightly. I understood her idea at once; Kim would help me get Wendy if I helped Kim get Slightly. Well, that would be easy. I could just command Slightly to go out with her.

"Don't bother," I said cheerfully. "I get it. When do you want to start?"

Kim sighed in relief. "As soon as possible."

Despite my urge not to, I switched off the TV, much to Slightly's unhappiness. "Get out," I growled at him. Scowling at me, he slunk out into the living room to leave me alone with Kim.

"Okay," said Kim. "The best way to get to Wendy's heart is to like…like things that she does."

"Did you just use 'like' twice in a row?" I asked, impressed.

She blinked at me.

"Sorry," I said, grinning at her apologetically. "Do go on. What does Wendy like?"

"You're going to need a pen and paper," she advised me.

I acted quickly to acquiesce to this. I then looked up at her expectantly, a pen poised in my itching fingers.

"Her favorite song is Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations," said Kim as I scribbled away on a piece of paper.

I paused to let out a rough laugh. "Are you serious? That's oddly fitting."

Kim ignored this. "She hates scary screamy music. U2 is a good choice and same with all those British bands she didn't let go of when she came to America," she added, rolling her eyes in a judgmental sort of way.

"Favorite movie?" I prompted.

"10 Things I Hate About You," said Kim. This time she looked as if she approved. "She's in love with Heath Ledger, may he rest in peace. She thinks the most romantic scene ever was where he did the whole song and dance for-" Kim trailed off after seeing my confused look. I had never seen the movie, though the title also seemed fitting for Wendy.

I looked down at my notes and scrawled, Watch chick flick. R.I.P. Ledger. "What else?" I asked.

"She's strongly against the American version of the show 'The Office', and will only watch it if it's on BBC. Her favorite color is light blue. She can't dance and she can't sing and she gets pissed if you try to make her. I suggest not taking her places where singing and dancing are involved." Kim gave me a meaningful look.

"No wonder Wendy didn't like our first date," I mumbled to myself. Raising my voice, I asked, "What is her ideal date?"

"May 11," Kim replied.

I stared at her before I started laughing. "No, I mean…A date. As in, if I took her on a date!" However, curiosity got the best of me. "What's so special about May 11?"

"It's her birthday," Kim explained, looking foolish. "Sorry about that. Um…well no one's ever taken her on a date besides you…and I don't think you count. But I think she'd like doing something that she'd do with her friends anyways. Like a movie or shopping or something. Food. But nothing too drastic. Oh and she really likes barbeque-flavored Fritos."

I scribbled away, nodding wordlessly. I then paused long enough to say, "It kind of feels like I'm a stalker or something."

Kim didn't deny this. Instead, she demanded that I share some information about Slightly. I sighed. "Kim, there's really only one thing you can do. Hand him some food and he'll fall for you instantly."

The slightly Asian-looking girl watched me, shocked.

I handed her a bag of half-eaten Cheetos. "Try it," I insisted. I then called loudly for Slightly.

"What?" he asked, sounding bored as he poked his head through my doorway.

Kim silently handed Slightly the Cheetos.

The blond boy perked up instantly, flashing Kim a wide smile. "Thanks," said Slightly. He wandered away, munching thoughtfully. I knew he was secretly thinking about how great Kim was.

"And there you have it," I said, waving my hand dramatically after my friend as Kim hastened to follow him. "He's obviously bananas about you." I don't think the food reference was a coincidence.

I glanced over all my notes, knowing how difficult this was going to be. I sighed loudly to let everyone know how unhappy I was. When no one asked about my predicament, I sighed even more loudly and even threw in a painful groan. Again, silence. Jeez, why wasn't anyone concerned about me?

I stood up, throwing my notes down on the bed and I stomped out into the living room. Most of the lost boys were snickering amongst themselves.

I suddenly saw why. My mouth fell open as I caught sight of Kim and Slightly making out on the couch. Slightly's hand was still in the Cheeto bag. I scowled as I went back to my room and slammed my door behind me angrily.

Life was so unfair.

--

A/N: Okay, I kinda stole Wendy's character from myself because of the whole favorite song and favorite movie thing. And plus BBQ Fritos were made by angels. XD anyways, thanks for reading and please review.