Fourteen
It was her fourteenth birthday.
This one was different, though - the family had moved a few months ago to a large home in the outskirts of London, to make room for the Lost Boys. It was a nice home. Comfortably large without being too large. There was just one problem.
The first night they found out, Wendy was in the nursery reading a story when Michael tugged on her sleeve. "If we move, how will Peter ever find us again?"
Wendy hesitated. She'd been thinking the exact same thing all day. How would Peter find them? There was no way to let him know their new address - she'd already tried and the post office didn't accept Neverland as a valid address, so she couldn't send him a letter. Unless -
Wendy's breath caught in excitement. "I'll leave a letter for him!" She cried. "And it will have our new address in it. And directions to get to our new home, just in case he doesn't know what to do with the address."
The boys all agreed it was a perfectly genius idea. The day before they moved, Wendy sat down on the mattress in her room (her bed and all of her other possessions had been shipped to the house earlier that week), poised a pen over a piece of paper and -
And nothing. Wendy was stuck. What was she supposed to say? This wasn't just another pen pal - this was Peter. She needed her words to work for once, and not to come out all twisted. She glanced around her tiny room, and sighed. Her room, as in, not the nursery. She smiled to herself, as she thought of days spent sword-fighting with John and Michael. And, nights spent stealing away in the night with a mysterious boy who couldn't have been more innocent.
And then Wendy began the letter. It went like this;
Dear Peter,
If you get this letter, that means you have visited the nursery, and have observed that John, Michael, the Lost Boys and I are no longer there. Another little girl might be sleeping exactly where I used to sleep, and there might be another dog who is he nurse. Perhaps you'll mistake that little girl for me and take her to Neverland. If that happens, I am sure you will have plenty of adventures.
We have not grown-up, if that's what you think. The home was much too small for all of us, so we are moving to a larger house on the outskirts of London. It has a large nursery, for the boys, and I shall get a larger room. Yes, I have my own room now. Do not be alarmed. I am still a little girl. I honestly think I might be one forever, even when the rest of me is old and crinkled. When I am five-hundred and seven years old, I will still be a little girl. I promise.
Our new address is three-hundred sixty-two Admiral Street. If you do not know how to read a map to get there, then follow these instructions: fly to the park nearest to my house (it's still quite far away from my house, but it is the closest. It has two huge rocks in the middle, which is how you will notice it). Once there, follow the river upriver until you reach a bridge. Go left, and turn down the first street on your right. My new house is the one with the twin trees in the yard. My window is on the second story, farthest to the left. I do so hope these directions help. I am mostly certain they are accurate.
Do not worry if you cannot find it at first try. Father says I am not good at directions, so it may take you some time. It's just another adventure. Please tell Tinker Bell I say hello, and that she was the loveliest girl I ever saw, and that I am very sorry she was temporarily banished because of me. Please give my regards to the Indians. And if you ever see any of Captain Hook's crew, tell them - oh, I don't know, something horrible. But not too horrible.
I know you promised that you wouldn't forget about me, but I don't think I ever did the same. I swear, Peter, on my life, that I shan't forget about you. Even if I tried, it would be impossible.
Sincerely,
Wendy M. A. Darling
The next day, Wendy folded the letter and placed it into an envelope, on which she wrote To Mr. Peter Pan. For precaution, she scrawled underneath If someone else is to find this, please LEAVE THE LETTER WHERE YOU FOUND IT. It's important. She then closed the nursery window on it, so Peter would find it.
No one else found the letter, and that was why Peter didn't. The woman who bought the house (who, coincidentally enough, had daughter who had just turned twelve) opened the window of the nursery on a windy day, before she could notice the letter, and it was sucked into the open air. It rode the winds.
It wouldn't have mattered, anyway. They had forgotten that Peter couldn't read.