"You can't be from Neverland!" screamed Wendy loudly.
Peter looked at her funny and cocked his head to the side. "Why not?" he asked.
"Because I...'cause I..." made it up. But of course, Wendy didn't tell him why. She didn't want to disclose to this odd flying boy that she was insane. "Never mind," she said instead.
Meanwhile, having grown bored of chatting with Wendy, Peter rose from the ground and circled her room slowly. "You know," he said, clearing his throat importantly. "You didn't do a very good job wallpapering in here." He pointed to a few of the many posters Wendy had tacked up around her room.
Wendy sighed. "It's not wallpaper, they're posters!"
Peter surveyed them and pointed to a picture of 50 Cent. "Is this you?" he asked.
Wendy looked shocked. "No, it isn't!" she exclaimed, wondering where he was going with this.
"Then why is he on your wall? I most certainly don't have pictures of anyone on my wall!" Tinkerbell chattered wildly in Peter's ear. Peter laughed.
Wendy looked taken aback. "Well, that's you," she told him huffily. Peter sat on the ground again and stared up at the posters. He pointed to one of Justin Timberlake and opened his mouth to ask a question.
"Do you want me to get that off your foot?" asked Wendy quickly, not wanting Peter to begin interrogating her wall decoration again.
"Oh!" Peter looked at the wastebasket on his foot. "Yes, that would be nice. This strange creature seemed to have attached itself to me. I've tried beating it but it has very high endurance." This explained the reason the can seemed to have bent and dented to roughly the size of Peter's foot.
Wendy sighed and took hold of the wastebasket with both hands. With a sharp jerk she pulled it off and Peter was staring at her, while rubbing his foot frantically. "That hurt! You hurt me!" he accused.
Wendy didn't even bother. "Just go to sleep," she demanded. "You can be mad at me in the morning." She tossed the wastebasket into the hall and shut the door. She flicked off the light.
"Wendy?" whispered Peter.
"Mmm?" Wendy was only half listening, being carried to her previous dreams already.
"Where should I sleep?" Wendy was suddenly very aware of Peter hovering above the foot of her bed, watching him intently. She sat up and hit her head on his.
"Would you look at that!" exclaimed Peter to Tinkerbell, rubbing his forehead. "She's hurt me again! I don't think she likes me very much!" Tinkerbell jingled cheerily, waving her hands at Wendy.
"Just sleep on the window cushion," demanded Wendy, pointing to the cushions along her window that were the size of a small bed. Peter flew over, threw off the pillows, and lay on the bare wood.
"This is quite comfortable, thank you," said Peter sincerely. Wendy rolled over and ignored him. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Tinkerbell settle down in her jewellery box, making a nest out of Wendy's necklaces. At the moment Wendy was too tired to care.
The Next Morning...Wendy woke with the most peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. Half awake she stumbled out of bed and down the stairs to the breakfast table. Her father was reading The New York Times, as he did every morning, and her mother was humming as she prepared the bacon.
"Did you have a good sleep Wendy?" asked Mrs Darling when Wendy sat at the table.
Wendy sniffed tiredly and nodded. "Yes, wish it were longer though."
Her father chuckled from behind the paper and her mother scooped the bacon, grease covered, onto a plate.
Mrs Darling walked to the steps and called up. "Michael! John! Breakfast is ready!"
Upstairs a very audible thumping was heard as well as a scrambling of feet coming from the boys' room. They ran down the stairs and skidded into the kitchen.
"What's for breakfast Mom?" asked John, sitting down at the table.
"Eggs and bacon sweetheart." She smiled and placed the plates of eggs on the table.
"Thank you very much," said a voice from the doorway. Everyone in the kitchen swivelled around to face the speaker. Mr Darling lowered the paper slowly.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked, glaring at the boy. Very suddenly he looked from the boy to Wendy. "Who the hell is he?" he asked her.
Wendy swallowed a mouthful of eggs. "I don't know."
The boy smiled as if it was all a very good joke. "Yes you do! You're Wendy and I'm Peter!"
Wendy glared at him. Mr Darling looked slightly sick.
"Nice to meet you Mr Wendy!" exclaimed Peter cheerfully.
"I don't know you," repeated Wendy again, through gritted teeth.
Peter looked confused. "Sure you do, I spent all last night in your room. Remember? I came in the window and got a wastebasket stuck on my—"
Mr Darling slumped over in his chair, hitting the jam jar on the way down. Mrs Darling screamed, Wendy buried her head in her hands, and Peter just blinked mildly.
"What's wrong with the poor man?" asked Peter. "Has he fallen on his head?"
Wendy wanted to strangle him.
==
Mrs Darling, with the help of John, Michael and the strange boy, lay Mr Darling down on the couch in the living room. She mopped his brow with a cool washcloth and waited for him to recover. When he did the first thing he said was:
"Where the hell is that boy?" He eyelids fluttered and it was clear that he still felt slightly dizzy, but he managed to sit up and peer around the room. Floating in the corner was Peter.
Wendy sat quietly on a loveseat, her eyes darting from Peter to her recovering father, afraid that he would kill the Neverland native.
"You, boy!" demanded Mr Darling of Peter. "Come here right now!" He thought nothing of Peter floating in the corner because he concluded that it was probably just his vision being set out of line.
Peter hovered over and lowered himself to sit beside Mr Darling. "Yes?" he asked happily.
"What were you doing in my daughter's..." he stopped. No, he didn't want to know the answer to that. Instead he asked, "What's your name?"
"Oh, sir, my name's Peter Pan." Peter smiled and leaned backwards. John and Michael sat up straighter.
"Did he say Peter Pan?" Michael whispered to John. John nodded dumbly.
Mr Darling, not hearing his sons talking, continued. "And where, boy, do you live?"
Peter's smile grew wider. "You ask the same questions as Wendy!" he exclaimed. "She asked me just those things last night when we met!"
Mr Darling looked like he was going to throw up. "You only met last night?"
Peter nodded his head. "Yes, you see. The window was open and I came in."
Mr Darling shot a look at Wendy. Wendy sunk further into the shadows. "Where did you come from?" asked Mr Darling.
"Oh, a wonderful place called Neverland!" Peter floated several inches from his seat remembering it, as if Neverland were truly that amazing.
Mr Darling tsked. "Don't you give me this codswallop about some namby-pamby Neverland! I'll be damned if there is such a place!"
Peter was taken aback. He didn't believe in Neverland? How bizarre! "Sir, there is a Neverland! It's up there!" Peter pointed to the window and out to the Empire State Building. "Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning!"
Mr Darling's eyes bulged. "That's a load of nonsense and I won't stand for such a lie in my house! If you won't tell me, I'm sure my daughter will!" But before he could ask Michael had shouted:
"But Dad, there really is a Neverland!"
Mr Darling fainted again.
End ChapterThere you've got chapter two put up and all. I hope y'all liked it...heh heh, 'y'all'. Please review! Thanks!
Shoutouts:
SmartassLeprechaun--that sounds like a book review 'take on a classic story'. Thanks!
C.M. Higgins--you sure love the balls and bats. Exclmation points, I mean.
HittingTheHighC--I didn't intend for it to be interpreted that way, but think what you must.
audrey!--good. I'm glad you think it's funny.
Yolei1--Peter doesn't seem like the swearing type. I had ot mess it up.