Chapter 5--Taking the Elevator

A swooping sensation filled Wendy's stomach as something seemingly caught the back of her pants and hoisted her upwards.

So this is what it feels like to die...

She opened her eyes slowly and tilted her head to the side. Peter floated above, grinning madly. Wendy looked down. She was hovering a good thirty feet from the ground. She swallowed and gasped, dropping downwards.

Wendy screamed. Peter yelled after. "Think something happy!" he called.

So she did.

And she floated again. It was so simple, a couple of happy thoughts, some fairy dust, a very tall building...

"Having fun?" asked Peter, swinging down beside her.

"If you call disgustingly sick feeling in your stomach fun, then yes, I suppose I am," Wendy retorted.

Peter, not seeing the blunt sarcasm, grinned wider. "Ah yes, I see you've gotten the hang of it," he said cheerfully, raising again.

Tinkerbell circled his head, jingling away and glaring at Wendy.

Pumping her legs furiously, Wendy pushed herself upwards, past Peter and Tinkerbell, to the roof of the building. When she reached there she was out of breath. Gasping heavily as her feet touched the solid rooftop, Wendy collapsed on the ground, happy to rest her legs. Peter rose slowly, effortlessly, and lay down beside Wendy.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

Wendy glared at him, still slightly red in the face and sweaty. "What do you mean 'what am I doing'? I'm exhausted!"

Peter laughed as if Wendy had made a very good joke. "That's 'cause you did it the hard way," he said. "All you do is think a happier thought and the higher you will raise. For example," Peter stood up, his hands on his hips. "Neverland," he rose five feet, "Beating Hook," he rose ten feet, "Princess Tiger Lily," he rose twenty feet, "Wendy," he rose forty feet.

Wendy stood up quickly and rushed for the door of the roof.

On the elevator ride down her head burst with thoughts. Peter liked her more than a porn star? What did that mean? Was she slutty? Was she too made up?

Then again, she thought soon after, Peter is so innocent; he doesn't know what's good and what's bad. He just likes what he likes.

And when she pulled open the doors to get to the street, she wasn't at all surprised to see Peter, sitting casually on the bench in front of the building. What she was surprised to see was Nathan, sitting beside Peter, tlking coldly with him.

"So, you're Wendy's cousin?" he asked smugly.

Peter nodded. "Yes, I'm from Missouri."

"Really," asked Nathan, sounding bored. "Whereabouts in Missouri?"

"Oh," Peter thought for a minute. "I live in the bottom of this great big tree that's in the middle of Missouri, which I think is really Wendy's code name for Never—"

"Peter!" Wendy cut Peter off hurriedly. "Nathan, what are you doing here?"

Nathan, once again looking attractively uninterested, answered lazily. "Actually, I was just passing by and I saw your darling cousin here. I just thought I'd be good and have a bit of a chat with him. He said you were taking a ride."

Nathan raised his eyebrows. Wendy's cheeks flushed. There was something about the way Nathan had said 'darling' that made her uneasy.

He's catching on, she thought. He knows.

Nathan and Peter stood up at the same time. For a good thirty seconds they sized each other up, Peter not doing a very good job at it, as he smiled goofily in the process. Eventually Nathan turned away and Peter followed them.

"How long will your cousin be in town?" he asked, that same iciness in his voice.

Wendy shrugged. "I'm not sure."

For a while they walked in silence, Wendy scarcely aware of Peter hovering behind.

"We asked the restaurant owner about the flying thing," said Nathan after sensing the discomfort in the air.

Wendy's pulse quickened.

"They said it must have just been a spark from the kitchen. He sees no other explanation. Unless, he says, there are such things as fairies or pixies, which I seriously doubt."

Peter gasped. Wendy clapped her hand to her forehead.

Wendy could hear Tinkerbell jingling frantically.

"What do you mean? There are such things as fairies! Say it!" he demanded, poking Nathan roughly in the chest. "Say it!"

Nathan looked at Peter funny and then to Wendy. "Has your cousin forgotten his medication or is ths just supposed to be his sense of humour? I don't find it very funny."

Wendy didn't answer, Peter continued to poke Nathan in the chest.

"I will not say it!" exclaimed Nathan, haughtily. "There is no such thing as—"

Peter clapped his hand over Nathan's mouth. Nathan's blue eyes grew wider. A muffled ranting sounded from behind Peter's digits.

"Peter," sighed Wendy. "Let go of Nathan. Let's go home."

Nathan glared after them, his hair slightly ruffled and his face pink.

"Oh good," said Peter loudly. "You mean the fat man will let me in the house now? Maybe I can sleep on the window thing again. I hope that thing won't get my foot," he said fondly, looking down at it. "I only have one foot, you know!"

"No you don't Peter, you have two feet," said Wendy dully.

Peter looked to his other limb. "Would you look at that? I do have another foot!" he beamed up at Wendy. Wendy kept walking.

End Chapter

Sorry it took so long to update, I really didn't know what to write. But I wrote this all in ten minutes, and that's why it's kind of short. I hope you don't mind, but I hope you do review!

Shoutouts:

C.M. Higgins—school doesn't start for me until next week! I'm celebrating the freedom! Tomorrow (Friday) I'm going to see The Count of Monte Cristo!

Lizzie Presscott—why can't your brother review? Is he embarrassing? I like to laugh too! Please, let him review if that's why!!! (Does he read this? I only know two guys who even know what fanfiction is)

Girl With the Evil Computer—I haven't decided whether or not to write in the Lost Boys yet. I'm working on it. they may or may not make an appearance.

BendyStraw—sure, crap flies! If you throw it, at least. Yeah, how come they call hamburger a hamburger, there's no ham in them!

Itey!Muse: maybe they had ham once?

Charile!Muse: no, they're made of beef, dubstuff!

Spitzer!Muse: what's 'dubstuff' mean?

Charlie!Muse: sorry, tuypo, I meant 'dumbstuff'

Itey!Muse: don't be mean!

Spitzer!Muse: Charlie's always mean.

Me: Charlie's the smallest one! Stand up to him you wusses!

Spitzer!Muse: but I'm gay!

Itey!Muse: and all I can do is play with my suspenders!

Me: never mind. My muses can't stand up to a ten year old.