LXXXVII. Pebbles
Peter sat on the dock skipping smooth pebbles across the lake.
He hadn't seen the baby yet.
He hadn't been invited to see the baby yet.
Not that he would have gone anyway. He was busy nowadays, busy with his new friends who actually appreciated his company. But he would have liked to be asked.
Sure, he still had lunch with Moony sometimes, but the truth was - and he'd always known this - they were only friends with him because they couldn't get away from him at school.
"But now I have real friends," he muttered, and he threw another pebble.