A/N: Hey guys, here is an update, and a long one at that, woohoo! I hope you enjoy it!
The next morning-Peter's P.O.V
I woke up by being jumped on by Tinker Belle, who was laughing. I groaned, I mean, I am very grateful I am able to attend school, unlike many children, but it doesn't make it any less boring nor any less of a challenge to get up for it.
I got dressed into my uniform of black loafers, navy blue pant with a matching blazer, along with a crisp white shirt and my silver and dark green tie. Then I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I looked in the mirror and gasped slightly as I saw I had four light lines of dry dirt trailing down my left cheek. That isn't possible! I thought to myself, but smiled, hoping that there was more to that 'dream' than I first thought.
I went downstairs and saw John dressed in the same attire as me with mother combing his hair; she looked up at me and smiled as she shook her head as she smiled warmly at me.
"Oh Peter, your hair is a mess!" She told me and began to drag the silver comb through my hair, pulling my hair back as well when she caught a knot in my hair and I hissed lightly.
Soon both John and I were ready and we waved to Michael and Tink, who waved back from the nursery window, and began walking to school.
In Class
In the last lesson of the day, Mathematic class, I had finished the problem I was working on early and decided to finish my drawing, so I slyly took out the drawing of me in bed with Wendy hovering over me, but I am caught by the teacher.
After lesson, Miss Fulsom calls me over, to discuss the drawing she had confiscated early. She sighs. "Who is this?" She asks as she points to the boy in bed.
"Me," I mumble, looking down.
"Peter, speak properly and stand up straight, if you were brave enough to disrespect my lesson by drawing in it you can be brave enough to explain it who the people are, understand?" I straightened my posture and nodded at her and she repeats her original question.
"Me," I tell her and look at her in the eyes respectfully.
She begins to frown slightly and clears her throat awkwardly but continues. "If this is you in bed, what is this?" She points to the floating figure.
I begin to feel anxious. "A girl." I state simply.
I was told to sit down, that I had a detention for showing inappropriate behaviour.
Miss Fulsom dispatched a letter of outrage to my father that set new standards of prudery, even for her. I couldn't believe how badly these events had transpired. The mail boy she had called for and gave the letter to smirked at me and had a sadistically joyful glint in his eyes. I groaned mentally. This would probably be the last day of my life; my father would kill me!
Third Person P.O.V
Mr Panning had been practicing small talk all afternoon, and now his opportunity had arrived. Sir Edward Quiller Couch, the president of the bank, was a man who enjoyed small talk almost as much as a good balance sheet. He forced himself to combat his anxiety as he walked over and awkwardly attempted to join in with a witty comment, but failed. But then, by some magic, he felt a bit more comfortable! Not by much, but it was good to feel a bit more relaxed and at ease. He managed to string a sentence together that had the small crowd roar with laughter. Mr Panning smiled appropriately and began to converse with a bit more ease about the up-and-coming-ball.
Peter's P.O.V-
I walked as one condemned, with John and Nana by my side, who had kindly waited for me, like family does. I told them what had happened and they both gave me apologetic looks.
"It is very much not fair you get this treatment, it was only a drawing-and you had finished your work!" John argued, using his handkerchief to clean his circular-lensed glasses. I looked at him with a sad smile.
"I know, but I was apparently being disrespectful to Miss Fulsom and perverse with my drawing." I rolled my eyes.
"How can that be? You had only drew what you dreamt last night and, anyway, if you had the chance to be perverse to Wendy Dare, you would have a sword sticking through you!" John snickered and I chuckled and ruffled his chocolate brown, which he soon amended. It was hopeless to try and think of ways to argue what had happen, my father wouldn't care. There's nothing I can do about it, I thought glumly… And then...fate!
The mail boy rode passed us on his bicycle; I gasped and wasted no time in setting off after him.
I may not be the strongest boy-wait, its man now, isn't it?-out there, but I was certainly fast on my feet. "The letter!" I yelled after him. "Wait, stop!" I saw him peddle faster to pick up speed and I did the same, breathing heavily.
I lose him for a moment, but it doesn't matter, I know his destination, I just need to be faster than him and get there first.
As I ran in the bank after the boy I saw my father talking to someone whose face I couldn't see.
"Father! I can explain." I shout desperately.
The mail boy ran to my father as I tried to catch him first, but Nana burst in and knocked father, the mail boy, and me as well as all of the bank superiors down.
"Ugh" I groaned and coughed as Nana nudged me up and I heard the door swing open and saw John run in, his face red from running.
He looked around, eyes wide and his mouth agape. "What the Heavens happened here, Peter?" He exclaimed and I winced. This wouldn't end well.
My father got excused and was given permission to bring us home a half hour earlier before his shift ended.
He dragged me and Nana, but left John to trail behind, as he had done nothing wrong. I stumbled a few times to keep up with his pace whilst looking at the ground.
When we got to our home, he opened the door with force and dragged us up the stairs and into the nursery, where Michael was reading with aunt Millicent and mother showing Tink how to knit. My father let go of me but kept his grip on Nana.
They jumped when my father exclaimed, whilst dragging Nana around, "I have been humiliated! No! I must become a man that children fear and adults respect! Or we shall all end up in the street!" He was seething and Tink was cowering slightly whilst Michael and John were frozen in fear and surprise from the outburst.
"George, not so loud." My mother said softly as she got up and walked over to his side to comfort him.
"George, the neighbours will hear." Aunt Millicent tutted at him.
"Let them hear! Let the whole world know!" He exclaimed, not lowering his tone, but not making it any louder. "This is not a nurse, this is a dog." He ripped Nana's bonnet off as everyone gasped. He turned his attention to me. "Tomorrow, Peter, you begin your instruction with Aunt Millicent. It's time for you to grow up, you cannot stop it." I knew I had wide eyes filled with fear. My breath hitch and I felt sick.
That night- Peter's P.O.V
I saw my mother shut the nursery window and lock it to stop us from hearing Nana's mournful barking.
"Mother, can anything harm us after the night-lights are lit?" Michael and Tink asked at the same time as they snuggled into their beds.
"No, precious darlings," She said with a smile as warm as the candles. "They are the eyes a mother leaves behind to guard her children." She had lit the final night-light.
"Mother, must you go to the party?" I asked her, wanting her to stay with me on this Winter Friday's night.
"Please, Mother." Michael pleaded in a sad voice.
"Yes Mother, you don't have to go. Father can go by himself." John told her confidently.
My mother shook her head. "By himself?" She asked as if it was a rhetorical question "Your father is a brave man, but he's going to need the special kiss to face his colleagues tonight." She told us softly.
"Father? Brave?" I asked, scornfully.
My mother's expression became a bit sterner as she defended my father. "There are many different kinds of bravery, dear Peter." She began. "There's the bravery of thinking of others before oneself. Now, your father has never brandished a sword nor fired a pistol, thank heavens, but he's made many sacrifices for his family and put away many dreams." She told us in her storyteller voice, which put me at ease almost immediately.
"Where did he put them?" Tink asked sweetly.
"He put them in a drawer." Mother said in a excited whisper. "And sometimes, late at night, we take them out and admire them. But it gets harder and harder to close the drawer. But he does. And that is why he is brave."
She looked deep into my eyes and I use her doing that to send her the message 'I forgive father' and my mother smiled and nodded, showing me she understood.
Third Person P.O.V
"And remember, every cloud has a silver lining." Aunt Millicent said joyfully as Mr and Mrs Panning departed for the party.
"Oh no, it's snowing. We'll catch our death." Mr Panning said hurriedly, looking for any excuse not to go out of his comfort zone.
"Better death than gossip. You will enter that drawing-room with your head held high." Aunt Millicent instructed him, eyes narrowed, telling him he had no other option.
Little did they know that, high above the highest clouds there was a girl, around twelve, watching the parents intently. When the parents had left the street and the aunt shut the front door and lock it. The girl smirked as she noticed a bright golden light hover in front of the nursery window, which magically opened and the ball of light zoom in.
The ball of light flew about carelessly until it reached the drawer containing the shadow. The girl from the clouds entered the nursery and followed the light to the drawer. The light turned out to be golden dust, which, when it stopped surrounding the figure inside, turned out to be produced by a small, male fairy-a pixie, to be exact.
She looks at the pixie and grinned. "Okay Ter." The pixie gave her the thumbs up. "One, two, three!" She pulled the drawer open and saw the shadow fly out on to the wall. The girl grasped at it, reflexes faster than lightning. "Come here you! I got you!" As she fought with her shadow, she jumped on to the table, accidently shutting the pixie in the drawer. "Ugh, must you be so darn in… income… Uh… Oh! Incompetent!"
Aunt Millicent heard the noise and ascended the stairs, and is unnerved by the strange shadow on the wall whilst the girl hides for the moment, all the while glaring and showing her shiny white pearls that are her still-baby teeth in a snarl, showing her hatred of adults. She observes the children and leaves.
The girl came out of hiding and tried to stick her shadow on with a block, but it doesn't work. She threw the block at his shadow then curls up in a ball at the foot of a bed and begins to sniffle. By this point, she had woken Peter up, but she didn't know this, and he was slowly crawling to the foot of his bed
"Girl, why are you crying?" The boy's voice startled her and she gasped in surprise and, on instinct, zoomed up in the air and lead flat against the ceiling.
Peter looked at her, mesmerised and he saw the girl calm down slightly and slowly float down to the carpeted floor. "You can fly!" He exclaimed in a whisper grinning broadly and the girl simply nodded as she bit she lip and an awkward fashion, then decided to give a curtsey to the boy, although she didn't look much like the kind of girl that would curtsey. She wore her long brown hair in pigtails tied up by brown string, her hair still had leaves and twigs stuck in it still, and she also wore a tribal headband (like the ones in those paintings of tribal women, Peter noted) that was blue and had a peacock feather of multiple blues attached to it. She also wore a single-sleeve dress made out of turquoise leaves with silver dots that appeared to be stitched together with thin jungle vines, for the one shoulder-strap, and many upon many of thin strings of strong-looking tree sap-there was a rip, however, on the hip, showing she wore undergarments of the same material. She wore no shoes, so her feet were bruised in places, and still had dirt on her tanned skin. Peter noticed last the belt fashioned out of vines entwined together and the sheath attached to it… Holding a knife.
Peter thought it best to be polite and bowed in response, having gotten off his bed by now.
"What is your name?" He asked her, hoping it was her more than anyone could hope for anything.
The girl looked unsure as she crossed her arms. "What is your name?" She countered.
Peter cleared his throat before answering, "Peter Martin Arthur Panning." He smiled, whilst she frowned a bit and he was certain she mumbled, 'What a boringly long name!'
In the end she shrugged it off and smiled cockily as she answered his question. "Wendy Dare!" She grinned a bit more as she saw his eyes light up.
"Where do you live?" He asked her eagerly.
"Second star to the right, then straight on till morning." She answered with a tone that said 'Pretty obvious, isn't it?'
"They put that on the letters?" Peter asked, both confused and intrigued.
"Don't get any letters." Wendy stated simply, sounding bored.
"But your mother gets letters." Peter told her.
"Don't have a mother." Wendy stated with the same tone of boredom on the topic
"No wonder you were crying." Peter said with a sad face and sympathetic voice.
Wendy looked confused and quite angry all of a sudden. "I wasn't crying about mothers!" She exclaimed defensively. "I wasn't even crying! I was sniffling! But if I had been crying, it would've been because I can't get the shadow to stick."
"I could sew it on for you." Peter offered, he had seen his mother do it many times and she had, in private, taught him a thing or two about it in case of an emergency with clothing. Wendy nodded in agreement to the idea and Peter went and got a needle and thimble from the drawer "This may hurt a little." He informed her and Wendy began to bite her lip, determined to be strong.
He sewed it on, ignoring those small screams of horror that definitely weren't Wendy and shrugged them off.
He had finished and now needed to cut the thread. "Might I borrow your knife?" He asked and Wendy reluctantly complied. "Thank you."
"Oh, the cleverness of me!" Wendy exclaimed, examining her now-attached shadow and looking proud of her.
"Of course, I did nothing." Peter said sarcastically, smiling, but Wendy didn't pick up on the sarcasm.
"You did a little." She admitted, smiling at him, now floating in the air again.
"A little." Peter deadpanned at her, and then thought of a way to get back at her. "Goodnight." He climbed back into bed and closed his eyes.
Wendy looked at him, shocked. She bit her lip again and thought. Then she smirked deviously, a selfish plan being made in her mind. She knew Peter more so than he thought she did, and she knew how big (although nowhere near as big as Wendy's) his ego could be at times, so all she had to do was play that to her advantage.
She slowly climbed on to his bed and whisper, sounding so genuine she surprised herself. "Peter… One boy is worth more than twenty girls.
"You really think so?" He asked, hopeful. Playing right into my hands now, eh? Wendy thought and mentally smirked.
"I live with only girls. The Lost Girls." She beamed with pride as she named them. That explains why she looked at me with such curiosity last night. Has she seen a boy my age before? Peter asked himself. "They are well named." Wendy told him
Peter sat up straight, accidentally knocking Wendy. "Who are they?"
"Children who fall out of their prams when the nurse is not looking, children that die before they're ten years of age, or, girls under the age of ten that crave adventure with such passion they find I find myself at their house and they come with me." She explained in a soft voice, as to not awake the other children, only just remembering their presence.
"Are there boys too?" Peter asked, just to make sure.
"Boys have no reason to fall out of their prams. They are given the world on a silver platter, girls are treated as inferior." Wendy explained with a displeased look
Peter halted for a moment. She did have a point. He smiled at what a strong person she was, then he thought of something polite to do, what did his mother tell him to do after talking to girls at parties? "Wendy, I find it perfectly wonderful how strong you are! I should like to give a kiss." He said, smiling shyly.
Wendy held her hand out the wrong way, palm upwards, and looked at him expectantly.
"Don't you know what a kiss is?" Peter asked, confused.
"I shall know when you give me one." She replied innocently.
Peter smiled and took the thimble off his little finger and gave it her.
"I suppose I'm to give you one now."
Peter shrugged. "If you like."
He inclined his face, but Wendy gave him an acorn.
"Thank you." He tells her as he walks to Tink's small vanity table and gets some string and uses it to make the acorn into a charm on a necklace, then puts it on. "How old are you, Wendy?"
"Quite young. Not old. What does it matter?" She shrugged the question off and Peter decided to make it his personal mission to figure her age out.
"Don't you know?"
"I ran away. One night, I heard my mother and father talking of what I was to be when I became a woman. So I ran away to Kensington Gardens and I met Ter."
"Ter?" The term was unknown to Peter.
"Terence. He's my fairy-well pixie, to be precise." Wendy grinned.
"But there's no such thing as a f-" Peter began to say, but was cut off by Wendy, eyes ablaze, covering his mouth with her hand.
"Don't say that." She hissed. "Every time someone says that, a fairy somewhere falls down dead. And I shall never find him if he's dead!"
"You don't mean to tell me there's a fairy in this room?" Peter was astonished.
"We come to listen to the stories. Like the one about the prince who couldn't find the lady who wore the glass slippers. What happens after he finds her?" Wendy asked.
"Wendy, he found her and they lived happily ever after." He told her, smiling confusedly. How did she not know the tale of Cinderella?
"I knew it." Wendy smirked victoriously but then shrugged. "Doesn't matter I don't like those stories much, the ones that tall girl tells you. I prefer yours! They are much better, filled with strong girls and adventure!"
Peter felt very flattered. "Wendy, I should like to give you a thimble."
"What's that?" Wendy cocked her head to the side like a child.
Wendy began to back away, eyes wide, as Peter began to lean towards her, but his head was suddenly dragged back with force by his hair. "Terence! No!" She told him off. Terence began making violent gestures and chattering.
Wendy almost looked apologetic. "He's not very polite. He says if you try to give me a thimble again, he'll kill you."
"Oh, and I had supposed fairies to be charming." Peter frowned at the fairy, who stuck his tongue out at him as Wendy began to walk to the window. "Wendy, don't go!" He told her.
"I have to tell the others about Cinderella. I may not like the story much, but the others love it." She shrugged.
"But I know lots of stories. Stories I could tell the girls." He blurted out, surprising himself.
Wendy flicked Terence away from her. "Come with me then Peter; come to Never Land." She told him.
"I cannot fly." Peter admitted.
Wendy laughed happily. "Great! I can teach you. I'll teach you to ride the wind's back, and away we go, Peter, come with me!"
"Could John, Michael and Tink come too?" At the mention of another girl, Wendy beamed and nodded excitedly. Peter ran around the room and woke them up "John, Michael, Tinker Belle!"
John woke with a start. "I didn't do it!" He slurred.
"There is a girl here who is to teach us to fly!" He told the children excitedly.
John sat up and grabbed his glasses, then studied the girl. "You offend reason, mam."
"Mm-hmm." Michael and Tink agreed.
Wendy smirked cockily as she began to levitate, hands on her almost non-existent hips.
"I should like to offend it with you." John amended excitedly.
"You just think happy thoughts, and they lift you into the air! It's easy." Wendy told them.
John began to bounce on his bed. "I've got it! Swords, daggers, Napoleon! Woohoo!" The three younger siblings jump off their beds and crashed on to the floor.
Wendy snapped fingers in remembrance, grabbed Terence in mid-air then shook him above the heads of the three Pannings.
Tink and Michael giggled loudly. "Peter, watch us! Puddings, mud pies, ice cream, never to take a bath again!" They fly out of the window, followed by John.
Nana barks outside, escapes the confinements of the rope tied to her collar that was attached to a tree and set off to find Mr and Mrs Panning, and Wendy blows fairy dust on Peter's face.
"Come away, come away to Never Land." She whispered, smiling, her blue orbs sparkling.
"Oh, what about Mother?" Peter asked, only now realising what was going on.
John flew on to the window sill. "Father?"
"Nana?" Tink asked.
Wendy smiled. "There are mermaids." She said in a dreamy tone.
"Mermaids!" Tink gasped.
"Indians." She told them tauntingly.
"Indians!" Michael's face lit up.
"Pirates as well ya know."
"Pirates!" John grinned. Hook, line and sinker, Wendy thought.
The three flew to a near-by roof and Wendy turned to Peter, tenderly grabbing both of his hands, not understanding why his cheeks began to flush at the same time. "Forget them Peter, forget them all. Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown-up things again."
It was at this moment Mr. and Mrs. Panning, accompanied by Nana, burst into the house.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Aunt Millicent ran into the hallway. Sounding worried when she saw their panicked expressions on the parent's faces and joined them as they ran up the stairs in a hurry.
"Never is an awfully long time." Peter said, not sounding like he would regret the decision of going and never growing up, though.
Wendy smiles a smile no boy over ten can resist, still holding his hands, and Peter smiles back, for the moment completely under her spell.
Now, it, admittedly, would actually be delightful to report that they reached the nursery in time, but, alas, then there would be no story.