Chapter 1

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The phone rang, Dylan had called me. He was a sweet guy and all, but I hung up on him every time. I kept on drawing him, the boy who was friends with the stars, Peter Pan. My obsession started in 2nd grade when I saw him in my room. He was smart and kind, he chased his shadow when mom and dad were out. Mom knocked on my door, "Darling, Dylan called," Oh god, what did he say, "He said you stopped picking up his calls. Reason?" Ugh, he likes me mom.

            "Oh, we got in a little fight, but I'll call him back now." Mom left my room, probably feeling accomplished. I dialed the phone number, glancing at the photo of Peter and back at the phone. "Hey, Nitya. Do you want to hang out, I'll be at your house in a few." He hung up before I could answer.

He was coming over now? I brushed over my hair. I had shaved the side and put the rest over my eye. I donated fifteen inches over the summer and I missed it so much. I swiped everything off of my desk and shoved the photos of Peter Pan and Tink and all of the Lost Boys into a drawer filled with even more drawings. Mom answered the door, "Oh, hello, Dylan. I haven't seen you in so long! Are you staying for dinner, love?" Mom's dinner was the best. She had an English accent mixed in with her Indian background from living with my dad and all of the other Englishmen that were in her old village. My dad left for war in Afghanistan last year and he comes back every once and a while. She would always make meals for him.

            "You know I'll always say yes to you, Ms. Basu." I heard him run up the stairs. "Hey, Nitya," He sat down on my bed. "Uh- you haven't been picking up my calls."

            "Yeah, sorry about that. I was drawing."

            "For a week?"

            "No, I'm-I'm sorry." He looked at me. "I was drawing you this and-" He cut me off.

            "All you do are these stupid drawings and you never realized that I am still here, Nitya, I'm human and I-I like you. And I can't live with myself being alone and unnoticed" He slammed the door behind me causing the bolts to quiver.

"Wait, you're my friend! I'll miss you! No!" I couldn't do anything but cry. He meant so much to me and I let him go. This is what it's like to be older. Do older people go through friends faster than a train? I don't want to grow up. I crumpled up my drawing. You did this. Peter, you did this. I sobbed into my pillow.

            I heard a soft tap on my window. It was probably just another bird, but I heard the tapping again. I got up, whipped my tears and opened the window. "Hello?"

A boy had jumped up. "Hey! Up here." The boy had waved down at me and jumped into my window. "The name's Peter Pan. Are —er- these drawing of-" He held up the one of him and the lost boys.

             "Yeah. You visited me when I was younger and I'm all grown up now, I guess."

            "No, you're not. You can come to Neverland with me."

            "Peter, not now. Oh! Your arm is all ripped up. Come here, Mom will sew up your arm and-"

            "Mom?" Peter looked as if he had never seen a mother before. His eyes were old, decades old, but his face was young. He himself was a lost boy, he was lost between time and words and feelings. I didn't want to give him a home, but all lost boys find their way.

            "Well, you can sleep in my room. I'll be on the couch" Mom walked into my room.

            "Er- Mari Jaan? Who is this?" Ugh, I forgot about mom.

            "Just my friend Peter." Peter shook her hand. Mom nodded, murmured some Indian curses, and brought some food up. He poked the food and ate the vegetables with a yuck-kind-of-a-face. We went off to bed talking about the adventures he had.

            "And you can fight Captain Hook with me and the lost boys."

            "I won't be a Wendy?" He looked at me strangely.

            "No, we already have a Wendy, her name's Sarah."

            "Oh, what about Tigerlily or the mermaids? Have you dated anyone of them?" We both giggled as Peter leaned back in his chair.

            "No, Tigerlily had gotten engaged to the next chief and mermaids aren't my type." I smiled. It was funny how you could relate to Peter even though he was talking about silly stories. I fell asleep first, yet woke up last. 

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