Of course, Wendy's growing up itself is quite uninteresting to us, since that is not our story. That isn't to say that the story of Wendy's growing up isn't worth telling. No, indeed! Wendy had many adventures in growing up. Though they weren't as fantastical as her adventures in Neverland (and how could they ever be?), they were thrilling and daring and exciting in a different way. For instance, when she got her first long dress, or her Debut Ball. But now Wendy is grown. A large part of her growing up that we have thus far neglected to mention included a young man who has previously been unmentioned in our current documentation. When he left the Neverland, he was known as Slightly. Though a quite fitting name for Neverland, it hardly suited London, which was rather closed-minded as a whole. At Number 14, he was still known primarily as Slightly, and Aunt Millicent (Mother Dearest to him) refused to call him by anything else, though she was the one to suggest that he take a new name for propriety's sake. He had thought on it for several days, then proudly walked into the room where all the Darling family and his Mother Dearest were congregated, playing games, and listening to the wild stories that Wendy made up (more often than not about Neverland and Peter Pan, because part of her knew that Peter still came and listened to her tell them, because he really did love hearing her exciting stories, and especially liked the ones about himself, because Wendy graced over most of his faults, and embellished his good qualities. The night in which Slightly chose a name was such as this, and not unordinary.
"I have an announcement," he proudly stated, receiving no response or reaction whatsoever. Indeed, it was to be expected, because the Darling family was not known to be a quiet family since the return of the three and the advent of the others, and were quite busy being un-quiet. Slightly stood for a moment, stock still, waiting for someone to notice that he was there. Not even a glance. A pout forced its way over his face as he stood there, unnoticed. Onto the chair he leapt, and put his hands on his hips. "I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT," he bellowed over them, causing most of the boys to stop and look up, for the sheer volume of his statement startled them. As the room quieted, his face became proud and gleeful once more, he could wait no longer to tell them of his decision. "I have decided on a name."
"Oh, do tell us what it is! I can't wait a moment longer!" Wendy pleaded, which pleased Slightly, because every boy likes to feel important, especially in the eyes of so wonderful a girl as he thought Wendy to be.
"I have decided that the name everyone shall call me is," he paused, to add a dash of drama, "Timothy Smithers." In truth, he thought this a very respectable name, as well as one which would not likely be replicated by another. Mrs. Darling, on the other hand, found the combination to be somewhat comical, and it took all of her strength not to giggle at him. But, if Slightly would be Timothy Smithers, then Timothy Smithers he would be. And from that time forward, all, with the exception of his Mother Dearest, strove to call him Timothy, and the boys to call him Tim, though in moments of high excitement, some one of them would forget, and call him Slightly, for which he gave them a short lecture about calling a body by his rightful name, and not by the childish nicknames of youth. Thus, Slightly's growing up had begun.
This day, where we find the Darling family some years later, there is no ruckus in the house anymore. The boys are all out being grown up or striving to grow up some more, except for Michael, who at that moment would rather be out frolicking like a child with his chums than toiling away at the schoolwork which was to make him a grownup, something he was working very hard at not becoming, and Tootles, who much preferred to stay in and hear the stories that Wendy and Mrs. Darling would tell to him than to romp about with the others and get bruised and dirty. Tootles was a reclusive boy, and Mrs. Darling didn't mind at all, for he gave her no trouble, and was a charming friend when nobody else was about. Wendy was not in, having made off the excuse that she had some errands to run of a secretive nature, and would not tell a soul where she was going. The boys had ceased to try and follow her, because she would walk and walk, knowing they were following, until they lost interest, and she was free to go to where she pleased, lacking her unappointed chaperones. Today, she had no real errands to run. Nor did Slightly, though he gave the same excuse. As yet, not a soul had suspected, except perhaps now you, dear reader, for I have given no gentle or inadvertent hints for what is going on at present.
Wendy rounded the corner, and there he was, waiting for her, as he always was at precisely six forty-five, every Tuesday evening. "Good day, kind sir," she greeted him, same as always.
"Well, hello, milady," Slightly responded. Even still, it was hard not to giggle through their exchange, because it was so ridiculously grown up, and neither felt that he was fully there yet. Wendy smiled up at him, reveling in the height that he had found over the last several years, and tucked herself into his arms happily. It was these times that she cherished, away from her brothers and parents, and the noise and bustle of daily life. Wendy was young, and quite smitten by the almost-man that Slightly has become, and so she was content to walk with him, and talk about everything under the sun, especially the things they knew the least about.
"Politics today?" Slightly suggested.
"What about politics? How about the state of our zoo in town? It's atrocious! The way the animals are kept in cages. I think that they should keep them all in open pens, and let us all come in and socialize with them. Then, they'll be happier!" Wendy stated, with a knowing nod, as if she was learned on the subject at hand.
"Can you imagine? The animals would eat everyone alive! No child would be safe! Wendy, I think that is the word idea I have ever been told!" Slightly shook his head ruefully.
"No, no, just think of it! If people were allowed in there, to socialize with the animals, they would become less lonely, and therefore would have no reason to attack anybody, because they would be happy, sociable creatures!" Wendy gave a nod and a smile to him, as if he should definitely agree with her, based on said evidence.
Slightly merely let out a laugh. "While we're at it, why don't we dress them in dresses and coattails? Then, they would fit right in with people! Nobody would ever know the difference! I'm telling you, Wendy, there has to be a reason they're kept in cages to start with. It's not cruel, so don't say that. They're just trying to keep everyone safe so that they can come to the zoo."
"So that they can make money off of the poor, defenseless animals, who are kept in confining cages and not allowed to spend time with anybody. Yes, it makes perfect sense!" She punctuated her sentence with a flourish of her hand, as she usually did when she was finished discussing the topic at hand, or had no other arguments to make for her case.
"I can see that you are not going to look at my side at all today, Wendy. That disappoints me, because we usually have such jolly arguments about things." Slightly smiled down at her, feeling somewhat uncomfortable at his height, even as he had been at it for several years already. "Unfortunately, I promised Mother Dearest that I would be in earlier than usual this evening, to help her do some baking for the charity banquet being held by somebody or other—"
"The Ladies in charge of sending aid to the foreign missions," Wendy interjected.
"Yes, that's right," Slightly continued. "So, unfortunately, I must now bid you adieu." Wendy felt her cheeks flush slightly at his use of French, for she had become hopelessly romantic in her almost grownup years. Slightly leaned down, closing his eyes, and made to press his lips to hers happily, when they were interrupted.
"So this is what you two have been at every week, walking and walking so that nobody can find you! I seem to have been lucky enough to kill two birds with one stone this time,!" John exclaimed, striding over to them and grinning. Wendy gifted him with a glare.
"Slightly, I shall speak with you later," she told him, a bitter tone revealing itself, and strode off in quest of the privacy of her own room in the Darling household. John cackled at them, and Slightly walked rather quickly in the direction of his own residence, leaving John to his own amusement at their sake, and both wondering what he would do with his newfound knowledge. This could only lead to trouble, Wendy decided. Everything John meddled with led to trouble; it always had. The accuracy of this statement was in the eye of the beholder, but at that moment, Wendy believed it to be entirely true.