Hola, watupatchu? (What's up with you?)
Okay, so I'm back for my fourth chapter. I was writing it and I realized that it was starting to drag on and was becoming BORING, so I had to rewrite it.
CHAPTER FOUR
"She thinks you're Peter Pan!" said Michael.
"Talk to her!" said John.
I saw Peter walk into my bedroom dressed as a clean-cut Pierre.
"Oh, Peter! They do not remember you!" I cried in a raspy voice.
"Who doesn't remember me?"
"John and Michael do not remember you!"
"Who?"
"Why, they are my brothers," Peter still looked totally clueless. "They are the ones who brought you upstairs."
"Oh! Those two are your brothers?!"
Suddenly, I remembered something. In the stories about Peter Pan, he can not remember anything. He has a horrible memory. "Oh, Peter! They can not remember you because you can not remember them!"
"Oh," said Peter, still smiling. I do not think he even knew what we were talking about the whole time.
!$#$*&()$%#@#$#$@%$#^&&%$%@%@#&^&#
Peter left, and I quickly changed my clothes and brushed my hair. When I got downstairs, the table was seated for sixteen. My parents were on each end, Michael and the five Lost Boys who stayed with us were on one side, Mr. Le Fleur, Mrs. Le Fleur, Aunt Millicent, Slightly, John, and Pierre were on the other side, and their was one empty seat for me beside Pierre.
(Just to tell you, Slightly is now Sammy, the Twins are Tommy and Timmy, Tootles is Toby, Curly is Carl, and Nibs is Nick.)
The breakfast looked magnificent. There were giant bowls of fruit salads on either sides of the table, sizzling plates of sausage, Aunt Millicent's homemade jams for Mum's homemade toasted bread, piles of poached and scrambled eggs, and of course pitchers of orange juice and milk.
After I had served myself a bit of everything, I started paying attention to what conversations were going on.
"You know, Pierre, I think Wendy fancy's you!" yelled Sammy over to Pierre.
"The way people react to things so violently these days, you would think that we would be starting a world war one of these days!"
"I hope Johnny Oxington doesn't find out that it was ME who put the dead cockroach on his sister's books. I'd get boxed up pretty badly."
"Wendy and I are the only ones who remember?"
"I quickly looked up from my apple jam toast. John and Peter were standing at the side of the table, both having finished their breakfasts.
"What? Why did you not tell me?" I asked suddenly to John.
Everyone stopped talking and eating and stared at me. I forced a false smile and laughed nervously. "G- Go on eating everyone, please excuse me."
I sidled over to Peter and John, grabbed them roughly by their elbows, and dragged them into the sitting room.
"Why did you not tell me that you remembered Peter?" I asked John angrily, but in a hushed voice, so that the other people in the dining room would not hear.
"I don't know!" he moaned. "I just wasn't sure if it was him, and then Michael says he LOOKS like Peter Pan, not IS Peter Pan, and I just didn't know what to do!"
"But- I do not get it," I said softly. Peter was still standing there smiling.
"Don't get what, Wendy?" asked John.
"Michael does not remember our adventures because Peter does not remember him. He does not remember you either. How do you remember, John?" I asked, completely bewildered.
"Well, to tell you the truth, the part I remember best is when- when Tiger Lily kissed me." He was blushing awfully.
And then, it was as if I had just awoken. I knew why John and I could remember. It was because of our kisses. I think it also dawned on not only John, but Peter, too.
I had a feeling that both of us remembered our little thimble on the window.
#$#@^&(^@^*()_)%^%%#$%#$&^*(*^%$^##%@&
We went back to the dining room and sat down. Pretty much everyone was down eating, and the room was filled with chatter. I sat down and began to finish my food. As I was going to the kitchen to put my dishes in the sink, I heard Mum yelling.
I hurried into the dining room and it turns out that the younger boys were fighting over the last sausage. It had somehow managed to get flung at Pierre and had stained his shirt.
"I want all seven of you to go out and play in the backyard," said Mum, as she tried to finish off softly. She didn't want to burst out too much in front of our guests.
Peter and I joined Mum, Dad, John, Slightly, Aunt Millicent, Arnold, and Genevieve at the table once more. "You know, girls are always telephoning our house for Sammy," Aunt Millicent was saying. "It shouldn't be hard for you to find a wife when you are old enough."
"No, I suppose it shouldn't be too hard," said Sammy, sitting tall in his chair. Everyone laughed.
"Well, I heard Jessica Wallaby telling our next door neighbors that Eugene Wallaby, her son, heard our Johnathan bragging about being kissed by a Princess. Now isn't that silly?" said Mum. She has no clue, I thought to myself.
"How do you know he's not telling the truth?" suddenly broke Peter's voice.
My parents were almost in a state of shock for a few seconds, and then Mum said, "How could he possibly have kissed a Princess?" She was smiling amusedly.
"Awasellyoo."
"What?!"
"I was telling the truth," said John, who was blushing crimson. "She was an Indian named Tiger Lily. You can believe whatever you want, but I tell you, she kissed me!"
*CHANGE P.O.V.*
Everyone, excluding Slightly, Wendy, and I, just looked at John strangely, then shrugged it off.
Soon, everyone had drifted off into conversation again, and I had finished my milk, and, for some reason, wasn't sure what to do with my hands.
Truthfully, I wanted to hold Wendy's hand. It was just lying there innocently on the table.
But then everyone would know.
Slowly, I slid my hand under the table cloth, and rested my hands onto Wendy's little knee.
*CHANGE P.O.V.*
I was absolutely shocked. I'd never had this happen to me. I widened my eyes at him. I folded my hands on the table.
Peter started stroking my knee lightly, and slowly started raising his hand higher and higher. I could hardly breathe, and when I did, it was short, nervous breaths.
Pretty soon, the top of his hand (meaning the part nearest to his arm, not his fingers) was less than an inch away from my hip. When one of his fingers moved towards the inside of my leg, I flinched, and quickly brought one of my hands to his, to remove it. Instead, he grabbed my hand in an instant, had his palm on the top of mine, and was softly stroking it.
This was too much.
"Bathroom! I need to go to the-
But, I had already left before I had had time to finish my sentence. I used the downstairs bathroom, and washed my face in the sink. Why was this happening to me? Am I supposed to feel so wonderfully sick, and ticklish? I don't know.
I went back to the kitchen and sat down, and Peter smiled down at me.
I heard a catcall-like whistle, and Sammy tried to look innocent, but we knew it was him. Aunt Millicent glared at him, but Arnold said, "I saw you two staring at each other."
Peter smiled and said smoothly, "Well, how could I not? She has such a beautiful face; I could just stare at it all day!" John rolled his eyes, but I saw him blushing like mad.
"Oh, Peter!" I mumbled into my hands, rolling my eyes. I looked up to find everyone looking at me, obviously puzzled, except for Slightly and John, who were looking at each other nervously. "Oh!" I said quickly. "I mean Pierre- not Peter." I shot a strange half nervous half guilty look at Peter.
I excused myself, not wanting to get into anymore trouble. I was surprised, but I do not know why, that Peter followed me...
#@$@(*^#%@#@&(^#%@#%#$^
I know, I know, I'm evil, cliffie, yea, yea...
I want five reviews for the next chapter.
Okay, so I'm back for my fourth chapter. I was writing it and I realized that it was starting to drag on and was becoming BORING, so I had to rewrite it.
CHAPTER FOUR
"She thinks you're Peter Pan!" said Michael.
"Talk to her!" said John.
I saw Peter walk into my bedroom dressed as a clean-cut Pierre.
"Oh, Peter! They do not remember you!" I cried in a raspy voice.
"Who doesn't remember me?"
"John and Michael do not remember you!"
"Who?"
"Why, they are my brothers," Peter still looked totally clueless. "They are the ones who brought you upstairs."
"Oh! Those two are your brothers?!"
Suddenly, I remembered something. In the stories about Peter Pan, he can not remember anything. He has a horrible memory. "Oh, Peter! They can not remember you because you can not remember them!"
"Oh," said Peter, still smiling. I do not think he even knew what we were talking about the whole time.
!$#$*&()$%#@#$#$@%$#^&&%$%@%@#&^&#
Peter left, and I quickly changed my clothes and brushed my hair. When I got downstairs, the table was seated for sixteen. My parents were on each end, Michael and the five Lost Boys who stayed with us were on one side, Mr. Le Fleur, Mrs. Le Fleur, Aunt Millicent, Slightly, John, and Pierre were on the other side, and their was one empty seat for me beside Pierre.
(Just to tell you, Slightly is now Sammy, the Twins are Tommy and Timmy, Tootles is Toby, Curly is Carl, and Nibs is Nick.)
The breakfast looked magnificent. There were giant bowls of fruit salads on either sides of the table, sizzling plates of sausage, Aunt Millicent's homemade jams for Mum's homemade toasted bread, piles of poached and scrambled eggs, and of course pitchers of orange juice and milk.
After I had served myself a bit of everything, I started paying attention to what conversations were going on.
"You know, Pierre, I think Wendy fancy's you!" yelled Sammy over to Pierre.
"The way people react to things so violently these days, you would think that we would be starting a world war one of these days!"
"I hope Johnny Oxington doesn't find out that it was ME who put the dead cockroach on his sister's books. I'd get boxed up pretty badly."
"Wendy and I are the only ones who remember?"
"I quickly looked up from my apple jam toast. John and Peter were standing at the side of the table, both having finished their breakfasts.
"What? Why did you not tell me?" I asked suddenly to John.
Everyone stopped talking and eating and stared at me. I forced a false smile and laughed nervously. "G- Go on eating everyone, please excuse me."
I sidled over to Peter and John, grabbed them roughly by their elbows, and dragged them into the sitting room.
"Why did you not tell me that you remembered Peter?" I asked John angrily, but in a hushed voice, so that the other people in the dining room would not hear.
"I don't know!" he moaned. "I just wasn't sure if it was him, and then Michael says he LOOKS like Peter Pan, not IS Peter Pan, and I just didn't know what to do!"
"But- I do not get it," I said softly. Peter was still standing there smiling.
"Don't get what, Wendy?" asked John.
"Michael does not remember our adventures because Peter does not remember him. He does not remember you either. How do you remember, John?" I asked, completely bewildered.
"Well, to tell you the truth, the part I remember best is when- when Tiger Lily kissed me." He was blushing awfully.
And then, it was as if I had just awoken. I knew why John and I could remember. It was because of our kisses. I think it also dawned on not only John, but Peter, too.
I had a feeling that both of us remembered our little thimble on the window.
#$#@^&(^@^*()_)%^%%#$%#$&^*(*^%$^##%@&
We went back to the dining room and sat down. Pretty much everyone was down eating, and the room was filled with chatter. I sat down and began to finish my food. As I was going to the kitchen to put my dishes in the sink, I heard Mum yelling.
I hurried into the dining room and it turns out that the younger boys were fighting over the last sausage. It had somehow managed to get flung at Pierre and had stained his shirt.
"I want all seven of you to go out and play in the backyard," said Mum, as she tried to finish off softly. She didn't want to burst out too much in front of our guests.
Peter and I joined Mum, Dad, John, Slightly, Aunt Millicent, Arnold, and Genevieve at the table once more. "You know, girls are always telephoning our house for Sammy," Aunt Millicent was saying. "It shouldn't be hard for you to find a wife when you are old enough."
"No, I suppose it shouldn't be too hard," said Sammy, sitting tall in his chair. Everyone laughed.
"Well, I heard Jessica Wallaby telling our next door neighbors that Eugene Wallaby, her son, heard our Johnathan bragging about being kissed by a Princess. Now isn't that silly?" said Mum. She has no clue, I thought to myself.
"How do you know he's not telling the truth?" suddenly broke Peter's voice.
My parents were almost in a state of shock for a few seconds, and then Mum said, "How could he possibly have kissed a Princess?" She was smiling amusedly.
"Awasellyoo."
"What?!"
"I was telling the truth," said John, who was blushing crimson. "She was an Indian named Tiger Lily. You can believe whatever you want, but I tell you, she kissed me!"
*CHANGE P.O.V.*
Everyone, excluding Slightly, Wendy, and I, just looked at John strangely, then shrugged it off.
Soon, everyone had drifted off into conversation again, and I had finished my milk, and, for some reason, wasn't sure what to do with my hands.
Truthfully, I wanted to hold Wendy's hand. It was just lying there innocently on the table.
But then everyone would know.
Slowly, I slid my hand under the table cloth, and rested my hands onto Wendy's little knee.
*CHANGE P.O.V.*
I was absolutely shocked. I'd never had this happen to me. I widened my eyes at him. I folded my hands on the table.
Peter started stroking my knee lightly, and slowly started raising his hand higher and higher. I could hardly breathe, and when I did, it was short, nervous breaths.
Pretty soon, the top of his hand (meaning the part nearest to his arm, not his fingers) was less than an inch away from my hip. When one of his fingers moved towards the inside of my leg, I flinched, and quickly brought one of my hands to his, to remove it. Instead, he grabbed my hand in an instant, had his palm on the top of mine, and was softly stroking it.
This was too much.
"Bathroom! I need to go to the-
But, I had already left before I had had time to finish my sentence. I used the downstairs bathroom, and washed my face in the sink. Why was this happening to me? Am I supposed to feel so wonderfully sick, and ticklish? I don't know.
I went back to the kitchen and sat down, and Peter smiled down at me.
I heard a catcall-like whistle, and Sammy tried to look innocent, but we knew it was him. Aunt Millicent glared at him, but Arnold said, "I saw you two staring at each other."
Peter smiled and said smoothly, "Well, how could I not? She has such a beautiful face; I could just stare at it all day!" John rolled his eyes, but I saw him blushing like mad.
"Oh, Peter!" I mumbled into my hands, rolling my eyes. I looked up to find everyone looking at me, obviously puzzled, except for Slightly and John, who were looking at each other nervously. "Oh!" I said quickly. "I mean Pierre- not Peter." I shot a strange half nervous half guilty look at Peter.
I excused myself, not wanting to get into anymore trouble. I was surprised, but I do not know why, that Peter followed me...
#@$@(*^#%@#@&(^#%@#%#$^
I know, I know, I'm evil, cliffie, yea, yea...
I want five reviews for the next chapter.