Chapter 1]
(London) Midnight rolled over London, filling every alley with dark shadows. A mist rose from the river. Creeping in thick, drifting coils over the courtyard behind the Darlings house. Peter leaned out the window of the boys bedroom. The breeze ruffling the cropped curls that brushed his forehead. Behind him he could hear the deep breathing of six adolescent boys asleep. The former lost boys were growing up fast. Already they were becoming educated. Some of them no longer were interested in wielding a sword and fighting pirates, but had an intense fascination in modern science, the girls at the school and in the financial market. Peter knew they had all changed. Limbs had grown long and muscular, shoulders had broadened and voices had cracked. Their unruly hair had been cut and they had been taught manners. ]
Peter leaned on his hand, closing his eyes and trying to remember what flying had felt like. He couldn't... He felt suffocated. He didn't understand what the teachers tried to teach him. He couldn't understand the manners. He couldn't stand machinery and buildings and the smog that chocked him and stung his eyes day after day. He wanted to go back. He had tried growing up for Wendy. But Wendy had left for boarding school... He hated London. And the saddest thing was that there was no way back. Tinkerbell had stopped coming to the window to visit.
He turned, eyes lifeless and dejected. He stepped back into the room and padded silently to his bed. The pale moonlight threw shadows onto the walls. Peter stood for a minute, staring at the perfect shadow on the wall. The shadow that never misbehaved, the shadow that mimicked him perfectly day, after day, after day.
He slipped into his bed, drawing the sheets over his still gold tanned face. His time in London had not paled his skin as it had the other lost boys. He sighed and closed his pale eyes, wishing with all his heart that he was back in his hidden den in the tree-tops in the heart of Neverland. Talking with the mermaids and flying.
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(London) Midnight rolled over London, filling every alley with dark shadows. A mist rose from the river. Creeping in thick, drifting coils over the courtyard behind the Darlings house. Peter leaned out the window of the boys bedroom. The breeze ruffling the cropped curls that brushed his forehead. Behind him he could hear the deep breathing of six adolescent boys asleep. The former lost boys were growing up fast. Already they were becoming educated. Some of them no longer were interested in wielding a sword and fighting pirates, but had an intense fascination in modern science, the girls at the school and in the financial market. Peter knew they had all changed. Limbs had grown long and muscular, shoulders had broadened and voices had cracked. Their unruly hair had been cut and they had been taught manners. ]
Peter leaned on his hand, closing his eyes and trying to remember what flying had felt like. He couldn't... He felt suffocated. He didn't understand what the teachers tried to teach him. He couldn't understand the manners. He couldn't stand machinery and buildings and the smog that chocked him and stung his eyes day after day. He wanted to go back. He had tried growing up for Wendy. But Wendy had left for boarding school... He hated London. And the saddest thing was that there was no way back. Tinkerbell had stopped coming to the window to visit.
He turned, eyes lifeless and dejected. He stepped back into the room and padded silently to his bed. The pale moonlight threw shadows onto the walls. Peter stood for a minute, staring at the perfect shadow on the wall. The shadow that never misbehaved, the shadow that mimicked him perfectly day, after day, after day.
He slipped into his bed, drawing the sheets over his still gold tanned face. His time in London had not paled his skin as it had the other lost boys. He sighed and closed his pale eyes, wishing with all his heart that he was back in his hidden den in the tree-tops in the heart of Neverland. Talking with the mermaids and flying.
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