Hey, y'all! Sorry this took so long, busy with school and things. Next update won't be up for a while either, but I'm hoping to have to a normal schedule once things cool down.
Wendy ripped open the curtains, pouring bright light into the nursery. Two boys groaned. The oldest turned himself away from the glaring light, while the youngest begged for mercy in the form of an extra five minutes. She tutted as she went to each bed an tore off the covers.
"Come now, boys. You'll be late for school, and you know how cross Ms. Bennett can be."
"Can't we stay home, Wendy?" The youngest begged.
"Oh yes, I do feel a dreadful flu coming on." Insisted the elder.
"Now, John, that is nothing to be making wisecracks about. Be thankful for your good health."
John mumbled something rather impolite as he shoved his glasses onto his face.
"Come now, get ready for class. You know Father doesn't stand for any of your foolishness."
That made the boys move much quicker. John shooed Wendy out of the room as he and Micheal got ready, being in that stage where everything was embarrassing. Wendy went down the stairs, finding her Aunt Millicent badgering the cook about their breakfast. Apparently, the eggs were the slightest bit overdone. Wendy grimaced as she listened to her aunt belittle the poor cook. She had been at the tail end of quite a few of those lectures, and they were rather unpleasant, to say the least.
She walked outside quickly to fetch the paper. The boy who sold them at the shop always dropped one by her house and let her pay her tab at the end of the week. It made Mr. Darling cross to wait the extra fifteen minutes for Wendy to walk to and from the shop to purchase the paper, yet he was cross when it was not on the table in time for breakfast. And most everyone was aware of Mr. Darling's nasty temper.
Mrs. Darling used to be able to quell his tempers, but the poor thing had died years earlier. Wendy hated hearing the women at the shop cluck and gossip about "those poor Darling children left all alone with that man". The only thing she hated more than the gossip was the fact that her father had felt it necessary to bring Aunt Millicent in to teach Wendy about being a woman while she played nanny to her brothers.
She laid the paper on the table just as her father was coming down the stairs. Hurriedly, she scrambled to her place at the table, waiting for him to sit so she might take her seat. She gulped and exchanged a nervous glance with John, Michael was not yet at his chair. Mr. Darling sat down, and the others did the same. As cook served them, the beefy man scanned the table.
"Where is Michael?" he asked gruffly.
"Please, Father, he's still putting on his uniform. He does have such trouble getting his feet through the socks." John supplied quickly.
Sensing her father's annoyance, Wendy leapt up quickly, "Perhaps I should-"
"No!" He barked, "The boy should know how to dress himself by now. He's almost ten, he's practically a man. I will deal with the situation."
He prowled up the stairs, and the two siblings exchanged glances once again. When the shouting began, both dropped their gaze to their plates. Wendy flinched as she heard a loud smat! Followed closely by Micheal's wail. There was another bellow, demanding the boy's presence downstairs. Mr. Darling could then be heard stomping back down to the table. Only a few minutes later, he was followed by a sniffling Michael, who was holding a had to his cheek. Wendy made no comment, though she gave the young boy a comforting smile.
They continued their breakfast in silence, and at the end, the children rose. They thanked cook for the meal, and then left for school. Wendy, as always, escorted the boys to ensure they stayed out of trouble.
Once they were a safe distance away, Wendy crouched down to Michael.
"Let me see your cheek." She insisted gently.
He removed his hand, revealing a large red print where their father had hit him. Wendy frowned, and pushed the hair from Micheal's face. She touched the mark gingerly, judging if it would bruise. The boy winced, and Wendy's frown deepened.
"We'll get you a bandage to cover that up so the other boys won't tease you."
"And make sure to tell them you fell so the teachers won't try to talk to Father again." John interjected.
Michael nodded. Wendy quickly put some bandages on her tab at the shop on her way to drop off the boys. Before they entered the school, she plastered one over Micheal's cheek. She then gave each boy a kiss on the cheek and sent them off to their lessons.
She sighed as she turned to go home. Unfortunately, she bumped into someone.
"Oh! My apologies, I wasn't looking where I was going." She stammered.
The someone was a boy around her age, perhaps a few years older, though it was hard to tell. He looked just as surprised as she did, with a small bit of red growing under his cheeks.
"No, it's okay, girl." He said absentmindedly, turning to contemplate the school.
She looked curiously after him for a moment before shaking her head. She had far more important matters to attend to. She hurried home, not willing to give her father more to be angry about.
She entered quietly, heading straight for the kitchen.
"You're safe," smiled cook, "He left for work while you was out with the boys. Though he did seem a mite put out that you was taking so long. I reckon he'll forget it by the time he gets back, though."
"Thank you ever so much."
"Now, what shall we teach you today, hmm? How about a nice shepard's pie?"
"I'd love to help, but I have to clean, and then I have lessons and tea with Aunt Millicent, you know that."
"Right, sorry, love."
Wendy left the kitchen and dragged herself up the stairs to the nursery to clean up all the books the boys had left out after their secret story time. Mr. Darling's temper flared whenever he heard Wendy relaying to the boys "all that poppycock about princesses and pirates", so the children often stayed up late into the night, waiting for their father to fall asleep. Wendy tucked the books away under the boys' mattresses, that they might pick up from where they left off on The Twelve Dancing Princesses that night.
She then picked up the toys, made the beds, and folded the clothes they had left on the floor. She walked down the hall to her room. There she, again, made her bed and folded her nightdress. She looked out her window, and was surprised to see the boys from earlier staring inquisitively at her home. A shiver ran up her spine.
"Wendy! It's time for your lesson!" Aunt Millicent shrieked.
The boys looked up. She held in a gasp. Not only was the boy looking into her window, but he was staring straight into her eyes. He had a devilishly amused grin on his face, as if he were daring her to do as she was told. She got the impression that he was one who got into a good amount of mischief.
"Wendy Moira Angela Darling, come down here this instant!"
Wendy continued to look at the boy in the street. His eyes flicked to the drawing-room window. Go, he mouthed. She frowned a bit, and he smirked. Oh, what a devil! Later he mouthed again, walking off.
"If you are not present within the next five seconds, I shall tell your father you skipped your lessons."
"Coming! Sorry, Auntie, I must have dozed for a bit!" Wendy stuttered, panicking, as she rushed downstairs.
"A lady does not rush." Her aunt tutted, "That is for boys and men who have work to do. A lady takes her time, and moves with grace."
"Yes, ma'am." Wendy whispered, bowing her head humbly, as Aunt Millicent had taught her.
They began knitting, Aunt Millicent criticizing Wendy's handiwork the entire time.
"No, no, no! Look at that spot right there! There's a large gap, why, it's not even a gap, it's a hole! How do you expect to find a husband if you can't even knit so much as a tea cozy? How shall you knit your infant's blankets? Now unravel it and try again."
Wendy lost more and more of her patience as time went on. Just when it seemed she might burst her Aunt Millicent looked at the clock on the mantlepiece.
"Goodness, me. Is that the time already? Alright, dear, wash up for tea, and afterward you may have some time to spend with some of the other girls in town."
"Thank you, Aunt Millicent."
They enjoyed a lovely tea prepared by cook, and then Wendy left the house with grace and poise. As soon as she was out of vision, she stuck out her tongue at her aunt and raced all the way to the library, erupting peals of laughter all the way. She arrived breathless and pink-faced, and walked straight for the fairy tales. She wanted something on fairies for the boys, as that was their current request.
She knew they were really requesting those stories that Mother used to tell. She knew they wanted to hear Mother tell them to leave cream out for the fairies, and to clap their hands and laugh so the fairy magic might be stronger. She knew they wanted Mother, but all she could offer were some second-rate tales about a Rose-Elf that probably wasn't nearly as true as her Mother's.
But she also knew that if her father ever so much as heard a whisper of those tales, or of the word fairy in general, he would become rabid with fury.
"So we meet again." She heard behind her.
She whirled around to find the devilish face of that boy, grinning at her from above. He looked at her books with an amused grin, as though he found them ironic.
"Nice choice. Big believer?" He asked drily.
"Sir, I do believe it is basic manners to introduce oneself to a lady after interacting with her on multiple occasions. I also don't believe polite people typically lurk outside the homes of strangers." She huffed.
He raised his brows, his amused grin growing wider.
"Well, then. My name is Peter, pleased to meet your acquaintance, Ms-"
"Darling. Wendy Moira Angela Darling."
Something flashed in his eyes. Was it guilt? But what could he possibly be feeling guilty about. But that cocky smirk soon reappeared onto his face.
"Would you like some help with those?" He asked, pointing at the stack of books in her arms.
"Oh no, it's quite-" But he was already taking them.
He flipped through one of them, snorted and put it back.
"What was that for?" She asked, reaching for it.
"Completely wrong. Fairies don't give people dreams. They put the dew on the roses in the morning and make sure the seasons come and go at the proper time."
Wendy felt a pain, remembering all the times that her mother used to tell her the same thing.
"And they're born of an infant's first laugh." She said to herself quietly.
"Exactly! Why, you're practically an expert so why don't you believe?"
"Excuse me?"
Before he could answer, chimes could be heard. Wendy looked at the clock and gasped.
"Three o'clock? Forgive me, Peter, but I must go and meet my brothers at the schoolyard."
"Allow me to escort you."
They walked together, and Wendy finally took in his strange appearance. She had been far too distracted by his face to notice his clothing, but now that she saw it, she wondered how she did not note that first. He was dressed entirely in skeleton leaves, with shoes made of buckskin. She decided she wouldn't bring it up, it wasn't polite, after all. They reached the schoolyard, and her brothers dashed out to meet her. They stopped when they noticed Peter.
"Wendy, who is he?" Micheal asked.
"John, Micheal, this is Peter. Peter, these two are my brothers, John and Micheal."
"Might we take a walk in the park? I have something I'd like to discuss with you."
The followed, curiously, though they had been frequently taught that curiosity lead only to trouble. They went to the flower garden, an area that Wendy and her mother used to frequent. Wendy ignored the familiar stab to her heart when she thought of her mother.
The Darling children listened to Peter as he explained who he was and where he came from. They were already quite familiar with his story, as he had once been quite the recurring character before bedtime. He explained how the fairies were dying off mysteriously, how the island (even the Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up) was aging, but most importantly, he explained his mission. How he was tickling infants yo ensure they laughed and produced as many fairies as possible, and helped the fairies reach Neverland safely. How he was visiting children who didn't believe to save the fairies who were dying of disbelief.
"Which brings me to why I'm here with you. To convince you, permanently. You keep changing your beliefs, and we need you to stay firm believers, maybe clap your hands for them once in a while."
Wendy exchanged a nervous look with her brothers.
"Peter, it's rather hard for us to state that we believe in fairies."
"Why? It's just a simple belief, the proof is everywhere, you know."
"Yes, I realize that. It's just... our father."
"Your father?"
"He doesn't like fairy talk much, and he gets rather... upset whenever we discuss it. He makes us reassure him that we don't believe."
"Oh." He seemed to be thinking hard. His face brightened, as though he were coming up with an ingenious plan, "Come with me."
"Sorry?" John asked.
"To Neverland. Your father won't be able to do anything about you believing in fairies there. Micheal, John, you two can join the Lost Boys, it'll be a riot. And Wendy! You can be," he thought again for a bit, "You can be Mother. The boys are always saying how much they want someone to tell them stories, and I bet you know a few."
"Neverland! Can we, Wendy? Can we can we can we?" Micheal gushed, tugging on his sister's hand.
She looked at her brothers and thought on it. She did feel it would be wrong to run out on her family, but it would get Micheal away from their father. It would save John from having to hear the cries of his siblings, or having to utter a cry himself. She could share stories about their mother and reminisce and finally mourn her properly.
"Certainly. We must pack for our trip. Peter, do you think it would be possible for you to come to the nursery window at ten o'clock?"
"If you show me where it is, I can be there."
She smiled as she walked home, the three boys following in her wake.
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