Slightly was the first to wake that morning. Slightly woke quite early every morning, secretly stowing to the rooftop, shooting at pigeons with his bow and arrow. Of course, all of the children knew of Slightly and his habit, but since he never killed anything, they all thought it quite decent for him to maintain that behavior. They were all quite sure that Mr. and Mrs.Darling nor Aunt Millicent would most certainly not feel the same way.
When he awoke that morning, he felt as if he were twenty pounds lighter than when he had gone to sleep. As he opened his bleary eyes, he realized that he was lying on the ceiling! If it is possible that one may lie on the ceiling, I suppose it is just the opposite of lying on the floor. Well, Slightly was doing just that! Of course, he had forgotten how to fly altogether, having been the first thing he had forgotten when he had left Neverland. It gave him such a fright that he fell straight down again, landing square in his bed. He was so shaken at the experience, for, you must remember that he could not recollect flying at all. His eyes welled up with tears, before he swiped them away in a very boyish manner.
"I suppose it was just a nightmare." Slightly muttered resignedly. He glanced around at his cousins, brothers, friends, or whatever you might call them, noticing that all of their beds were empty.
He cringed as he quickly shot a look up to the ceiling, squealed at the sight, and buried his head in his blankets.
"Now I must be dreaming!" He exclaimed, pulling the comforter tight over his head.
"Hello!"
Slightly heard a boyish voice, and thinking he had finally awaken, he pulled the blanket from his head.
"What kind of trick are you playing, Nibs? It ain't funny!" Slightly whined, before seeing that the person he was speaking to was in fact not Nibs, as Nibs was still lying on the ceiling.
"Hello, Slightly." Peter grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "Did you miss me?"
"W-Who are you?!" Slightly squealed again, sounding more like a girl by the minute. "G-Go away or I'll get Nanna!"
"Don't you remember me?" Peter asked the little boy, a hurt look clouding his eyes. "You remember the Lost Boys?"
"I was a Lost Boy once...You...You're..You're Peter!" Slightly exclaimed suddenly, throwing aside his blankets and leaping onto the older boy. "Peter, your back! We've all missed you!"
"Slightly, do shut up..You're too loud!" John complained, before his foggy vision registered the aerial view. "Bloody 'ell!"
John cursed (a rare event for a Darling) before falling onto his bed. His face changed from groggy to purely baffled as he bounced on his bed. It seemed as if on cue, the other Lost Boys awoke, realizing their peculiar situations, crashed down again, once again victims of gravity.
"Peter! Peter's back!" They all squealed at least once, "Peter has returned!"
Wendy, who had become used to the squeals and yells that come with sharing a room with eight little boys, had not yet woke from her blissful sleep. She dreamt, for the umpteenth time, that Peter Pan had returned. When she finally awoke, the nursery was full of laughter and shouts. Eight little boys gathered in a circle, sitting in the center of the floor, laughing as though they had never heard anything so amusing. In the center of their circle was Peter. Wendy was at first baffled as to why he was there, but soon after she thought that, the events of the night returned to her. She was at once filled with joy at the return of Peter, but also with a slight pang of sadness, accompanied by questions of how long would he stay.
"Wendy!" Peter exclaimed suddenly, leaping up (flying up, rather) over the circle of boys and standing on he bedrail. "You're awake! You sleep harder than a croc!"
"Oh? And how would you know how hard a croc sleeps?" Wendy smiled in spite of herself, sitting up.
"I was just getting to that!" He turned and flew as gracefully as he had left back into the center of the circle. "So there I was...Hook on my left, the croc on my right. Both of them, after my blood." The boys oohed and aahed at this point. "I swiped with my sword, and off went Hook's left hand! The croc jumped at me, ready to swallow me whole! I knew what I had to do, so I tossed Hook's hand into the croc's monstrous jaws!"
The boys' eyes were wider than ever at this point, despite that they had heard this story on countless nights in their days as Lost Boys.
"What next, Peter? What did Hook do?" Michael asked eagerly, holding Teddy close to his chest.
"Why, what would you do if you had just had your hand cut off?" Peter made a swiping motion across his wrist. "You'd scream like a codfish!"
The boys laughed at that, getting louder as Peter went on to imitate the howls, leaping from wall to wall of the nursery, his face in a twist of mock-pain.
Wendy, ever the responsible one, giggled to herself. "Peter, Peter, we mustn't wake Mother and Father."
"Wendy, will they let Peter stay? Will they?" Curly asked the older girl, his large brown eyes pleading.
"Yes, can he stay?" A chorus of the phrase repeated, followed with a resounding "PLEASE??"
"Well, I don't know. I am sure they would not mind, but it all depends on whether Peter would like to stay or not." Wendy replied, shifting her penetrating gaze to Peter, who stared back dumbly. "It's Peter's decision."
"I-I...Last one out the window is a codfish!" He rapidly changed the subject, smiling nervously.
He flew to the window, flung it open and flew out into the cold London morning. Shouts of hurrahs followed his leap, and soon Tootles was on the balcony, completely forgetting that he had lost his ability to fly. He jumped out, shouting and hurrah-ing the entire time, only making it a few feet, before gravity took hold of his plump body and brought him down. When he realized that he was falling, he let out a girlish shriek, trying vainly to grasp something to stop his fall.
"PETER!" Wendy cried, hurdling over beds and children to the open window. "Tootles cannot fly!"
Peter, hearing Wendy's cry, dove downwards towards the nursery window. As he turned, he spotted Tootles gracelessly plunging towards the cold, snow covered sidewalk. He immediately lunged downward as fast as his magic could take him. He grabbed a hold of Tootles' ankle, yanking him up to try to stop the soft childs' fall. Tootles was somewhat of a large child, as you may know, and being of the heavy nature that he was, he was much harder to stop. Peter had to put his feet straight out in front of him, as if he were skidding along the ground, and not yanking someone from gravity's grasp.
Tootles nose grazed the snow, his eyes wide with fright. He blinked furiously, trying to shoo away the tears that had formed. Peter lifted Tootles by the ankle, laying him to rest on the balcony, face down in the snow.
"What's he doing?" Peter asked quizzically, noticing the red tinge circling the boy's eyes.
"Why, Peter, you don't know do you? He's crying...I suppose you don't remember." Wendy answered, thinking about what else he might have forgotten.
"Why's he crying? He didn't hit the ground - I saved him!" Peter said, his eyebrows knitted together. "Wendy, that shall be one of your stories! You will understand."
With that statement, Peter sat down in front of her, crossed his legs, and looked at her expectantly. He too had been forgetting specifics of their adventures. He came to the nursery window when his thoughts were at their foggiest, to hear the stories Wendy told about their adventures. He had forgotten tears, although he knew too well what sadness and disappointment were. Though he did not know what fright was. For Peter Pan was never scared of anything. Well, he had only been scared once in his life - when he had thought he had lost Wendy. But he had forgotten the fear, and all that remained of the experience was a deep sadness within.
"Peter, it is nearly eight o'clock in the morning! This is no time for me to be telling stories. We cannot be late for school." Wendy replied, ever feeling a responsibility to the boys to make sure they got to school on time.
"Wendy, where shall Peter go while we are at school?" John asked squarely never one to beat around the bush. "I don't suppose he could stay here."
"Mother and Father shall soon know he is here, so I suggest we let them decide on where he shall go." Wendy said thoughtfully, two fingers resting on her cheek. "Come now, boys, get dressed. School is one of the few things that does not wait on Peter Pan."
Only John, Slightly, and Nibs understood her joke, stifling giggles as they retrieved their trousers and shirts from the closet. Peter, on the other hand, did not understand the joke at all, and thought it rather foolish of them to laugh at something that he did not understand.
The boys lined up, oldest to youngest, retrieving their uniforms from the closet. The uniforms were all neatly pressed and hung, lined in order from the biggest to the littlest. Tootles, being undoubtedly the biggest, was always first, followed by Curly, Nibs, John, Slightly, the Twins, and Michael. They filed neatly in a row, retrieving their clothes and going to their beds. Peter was fascinated by the mechanics of this simple happening, that he had not realized that Wendy had disappeared from his sight.
"Where's Wendy?" He asked, glancing around, peeking under beds.
"She's just behind that partition, Peter." John answered matter-of-factly. "Father and Mother insisted that she have her own dressing room, even if she were to stay in the nursery with us."
Peter was surprised to find what he had thought was a decorative wall to be a folding screen, folded out in a corner, producing a small closeted area for Wendy to change.
"Wendy? Are in there?" Peter flew up above the partition, looking over.
Surprised by what he saw (a half-naked Wendy, if it is decent to say), he was too stupid to avert his eyes, or even to get down. So it is completely understandable that Wendy had shrieked.
"Peter!" Wendy shrieked, throwing her stockings at him. "Don't look!"
The Lost Boys stifled their laughter, as Peter's features turned from their usual tone to a very prominent red. Peter stared dumbly at the flowered papering of the partition, causing the Lost Boys to lose their grip on suppressing their laughter. They burst into a fit of mirth at their leader's ineptitude of the meaning of privacy between girls and boys. Of course, they did not dwell long enough on the reason of their glee to come upon such a reason as that. They merely thought it funny that Peter had seen Wendy changing.
When he awoke that morning, he felt as if he were twenty pounds lighter than when he had gone to sleep. As he opened his bleary eyes, he realized that he was lying on the ceiling! If it is possible that one may lie on the ceiling, I suppose it is just the opposite of lying on the floor. Well, Slightly was doing just that! Of course, he had forgotten how to fly altogether, having been the first thing he had forgotten when he had left Neverland. It gave him such a fright that he fell straight down again, landing square in his bed. He was so shaken at the experience, for, you must remember that he could not recollect flying at all. His eyes welled up with tears, before he swiped them away in a very boyish manner.
"I suppose it was just a nightmare." Slightly muttered resignedly. He glanced around at his cousins, brothers, friends, or whatever you might call them, noticing that all of their beds were empty.
He cringed as he quickly shot a look up to the ceiling, squealed at the sight, and buried his head in his blankets.
"Now I must be dreaming!" He exclaimed, pulling the comforter tight over his head.
"Hello!"
Slightly heard a boyish voice, and thinking he had finally awaken, he pulled the blanket from his head.
"What kind of trick are you playing, Nibs? It ain't funny!" Slightly whined, before seeing that the person he was speaking to was in fact not Nibs, as Nibs was still lying on the ceiling.
"Hello, Slightly." Peter grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "Did you miss me?"
"W-Who are you?!" Slightly squealed again, sounding more like a girl by the minute. "G-Go away or I'll get Nanna!"
"Don't you remember me?" Peter asked the little boy, a hurt look clouding his eyes. "You remember the Lost Boys?"
"I was a Lost Boy once...You...You're..You're Peter!" Slightly exclaimed suddenly, throwing aside his blankets and leaping onto the older boy. "Peter, your back! We've all missed you!"
"Slightly, do shut up..You're too loud!" John complained, before his foggy vision registered the aerial view. "Bloody 'ell!"
John cursed (a rare event for a Darling) before falling onto his bed. His face changed from groggy to purely baffled as he bounced on his bed. It seemed as if on cue, the other Lost Boys awoke, realizing their peculiar situations, crashed down again, once again victims of gravity.
"Peter! Peter's back!" They all squealed at least once, "Peter has returned!"
Wendy, who had become used to the squeals and yells that come with sharing a room with eight little boys, had not yet woke from her blissful sleep. She dreamt, for the umpteenth time, that Peter Pan had returned. When she finally awoke, the nursery was full of laughter and shouts. Eight little boys gathered in a circle, sitting in the center of the floor, laughing as though they had never heard anything so amusing. In the center of their circle was Peter. Wendy was at first baffled as to why he was there, but soon after she thought that, the events of the night returned to her. She was at once filled with joy at the return of Peter, but also with a slight pang of sadness, accompanied by questions of how long would he stay.
"Wendy!" Peter exclaimed suddenly, leaping up (flying up, rather) over the circle of boys and standing on he bedrail. "You're awake! You sleep harder than a croc!"
"Oh? And how would you know how hard a croc sleeps?" Wendy smiled in spite of herself, sitting up.
"I was just getting to that!" He turned and flew as gracefully as he had left back into the center of the circle. "So there I was...Hook on my left, the croc on my right. Both of them, after my blood." The boys oohed and aahed at this point. "I swiped with my sword, and off went Hook's left hand! The croc jumped at me, ready to swallow me whole! I knew what I had to do, so I tossed Hook's hand into the croc's monstrous jaws!"
The boys' eyes were wider than ever at this point, despite that they had heard this story on countless nights in their days as Lost Boys.
"What next, Peter? What did Hook do?" Michael asked eagerly, holding Teddy close to his chest.
"Why, what would you do if you had just had your hand cut off?" Peter made a swiping motion across his wrist. "You'd scream like a codfish!"
The boys laughed at that, getting louder as Peter went on to imitate the howls, leaping from wall to wall of the nursery, his face in a twist of mock-pain.
Wendy, ever the responsible one, giggled to herself. "Peter, Peter, we mustn't wake Mother and Father."
"Wendy, will they let Peter stay? Will they?" Curly asked the older girl, his large brown eyes pleading.
"Yes, can he stay?" A chorus of the phrase repeated, followed with a resounding "PLEASE??"
"Well, I don't know. I am sure they would not mind, but it all depends on whether Peter would like to stay or not." Wendy replied, shifting her penetrating gaze to Peter, who stared back dumbly. "It's Peter's decision."
"I-I...Last one out the window is a codfish!" He rapidly changed the subject, smiling nervously.
He flew to the window, flung it open and flew out into the cold London morning. Shouts of hurrahs followed his leap, and soon Tootles was on the balcony, completely forgetting that he had lost his ability to fly. He jumped out, shouting and hurrah-ing the entire time, only making it a few feet, before gravity took hold of his plump body and brought him down. When he realized that he was falling, he let out a girlish shriek, trying vainly to grasp something to stop his fall.
"PETER!" Wendy cried, hurdling over beds and children to the open window. "Tootles cannot fly!"
Peter, hearing Wendy's cry, dove downwards towards the nursery window. As he turned, he spotted Tootles gracelessly plunging towards the cold, snow covered sidewalk. He immediately lunged downward as fast as his magic could take him. He grabbed a hold of Tootles' ankle, yanking him up to try to stop the soft childs' fall. Tootles was somewhat of a large child, as you may know, and being of the heavy nature that he was, he was much harder to stop. Peter had to put his feet straight out in front of him, as if he were skidding along the ground, and not yanking someone from gravity's grasp.
Tootles nose grazed the snow, his eyes wide with fright. He blinked furiously, trying to shoo away the tears that had formed. Peter lifted Tootles by the ankle, laying him to rest on the balcony, face down in the snow.
"What's he doing?" Peter asked quizzically, noticing the red tinge circling the boy's eyes.
"Why, Peter, you don't know do you? He's crying...I suppose you don't remember." Wendy answered, thinking about what else he might have forgotten.
"Why's he crying? He didn't hit the ground - I saved him!" Peter said, his eyebrows knitted together. "Wendy, that shall be one of your stories! You will understand."
With that statement, Peter sat down in front of her, crossed his legs, and looked at her expectantly. He too had been forgetting specifics of their adventures. He came to the nursery window when his thoughts were at their foggiest, to hear the stories Wendy told about their adventures. He had forgotten tears, although he knew too well what sadness and disappointment were. Though he did not know what fright was. For Peter Pan was never scared of anything. Well, he had only been scared once in his life - when he had thought he had lost Wendy. But he had forgotten the fear, and all that remained of the experience was a deep sadness within.
"Peter, it is nearly eight o'clock in the morning! This is no time for me to be telling stories. We cannot be late for school." Wendy replied, ever feeling a responsibility to the boys to make sure they got to school on time.
"Wendy, where shall Peter go while we are at school?" John asked squarely never one to beat around the bush. "I don't suppose he could stay here."
"Mother and Father shall soon know he is here, so I suggest we let them decide on where he shall go." Wendy said thoughtfully, two fingers resting on her cheek. "Come now, boys, get dressed. School is one of the few things that does not wait on Peter Pan."
Only John, Slightly, and Nibs understood her joke, stifling giggles as they retrieved their trousers and shirts from the closet. Peter, on the other hand, did not understand the joke at all, and thought it rather foolish of them to laugh at something that he did not understand.
The boys lined up, oldest to youngest, retrieving their uniforms from the closet. The uniforms were all neatly pressed and hung, lined in order from the biggest to the littlest. Tootles, being undoubtedly the biggest, was always first, followed by Curly, Nibs, John, Slightly, the Twins, and Michael. They filed neatly in a row, retrieving their clothes and going to their beds. Peter was fascinated by the mechanics of this simple happening, that he had not realized that Wendy had disappeared from his sight.
"Where's Wendy?" He asked, glancing around, peeking under beds.
"She's just behind that partition, Peter." John answered matter-of-factly. "Father and Mother insisted that she have her own dressing room, even if she were to stay in the nursery with us."
Peter was surprised to find what he had thought was a decorative wall to be a folding screen, folded out in a corner, producing a small closeted area for Wendy to change.
"Wendy? Are in there?" Peter flew up above the partition, looking over.
Surprised by what he saw (a half-naked Wendy, if it is decent to say), he was too stupid to avert his eyes, or even to get down. So it is completely understandable that Wendy had shrieked.
"Peter!" Wendy shrieked, throwing her stockings at him. "Don't look!"
The Lost Boys stifled their laughter, as Peter's features turned from their usual tone to a very prominent red. Peter stared dumbly at the flowered papering of the partition, causing the Lost Boys to lose their grip on suppressing their laughter. They burst into a fit of mirth at their leader's ineptitude of the meaning of privacy between girls and boys. Of course, they did not dwell long enough on the reason of their glee to come upon such a reason as that. They merely thought it funny that Peter had seen Wendy changing.