Wendybird

The Orphanage

"Wendybird, Wendybird, Wendybird!" he declares loudly in a singsong voice. Peter is the most maddening boy in the Neverland orphanage. He seems to believe he was born to be the trickster of this world. What a child. I've known him my whole life. For unknown reasons to me, I was chosen as his victim this year. I would give anything to get away from him. Sadly though, the staff at the orphanage think it's amusing how he treats me. They permanently matched us for evening duties. They thoroughly enjoy seeing what tricks he has up his sleeve.

In the past week, Wendybird has become his pet name for me. One of the girls he nicknamed Curly, has a crush on him. She'll practically do anything for him to glance her way. She's been jealous of our pairing since the first day. She doesn't seem to care that he's never kind to me. Instead she's green with jealousy that I get to spend every night with him.

One morning after writing, I foolishly left my journal on my night stand. When I returned over lunch, it was gone. By that evening Peter had a special new name for me. I usually kept a journal to pen down my dreams and inspirations. My latest dream was exhilarating and had to be captured before my feet touched the floor. I dreamt that I was a blue bird. I knew the color because I could see my brilliant blue wings spread wide. It was magnificent to fly swiftly into the future with no hesitation or thought. The dream held something my life lacked in total, magic.

When Peter made it clear he had my journal, I didn't react. I decided if he had it, perhaps he could benefit from my writing. The shallowness he reveals everyday could use something substantial to fill it. I knew instantly that it was Curly who stole the journal though. No boy in the orphanage would dare to enter the girl's quarter. The staff had strict rules and punishments for breaking those rules. If a girl or boy was caught in the wrong quarter, they lost everything on their bed. For one week, they had to sleep with nothing but a hard mattress. So, in the end, I lost my journal and he gained my deepest thoughts and desires.

In the past year since the pairing began, Peter's tricks have ranged from tripping me into a freezing pot of water, locking me in the pantry overnight, and destroying the most important thing to me. The evening he destroyed my treasured dress was when I first cracked. I always keep calm during our chore time. Regardless of what he does, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. The night he destroyed the dress was quieter than usual. I should have been alerted of his mischief based on the silence. We had been given sowing duty, so I focused my attention on my bin. I didn't look at him or pay any attention to his cutting or ripping. By the time I stood up for a stretch, it was too late. He held up my precious blue dress and said proudly, "Do you like my adjustments to it?"

My lips quivered uncontrollably. I could feel the floodgates about to burst from my eyes. I wondered if there was any goodness beyond his dark greens eyes. All I could see was the blackness of his pupils. The blackness filled my mind. I dropped my head into my hands and began to sob uncontrollably. The dress had been a gift from the girls in the orphanage. They made it for birthday from the prettiest materials we had. I had never felt so loved. When I wore the dress for special occasions, I felt beautiful. We rarely had a moment worth celebrating, but we found them. The staff did their best to keep us miserable, but we would always win. Yet, in that moment, with my dress destroyed, I felt they had won.

I felt embarrassed to be crying. I turned on my heels but let strands of auburn hair guard my wet cheeks. I hurriedly ran from the room and went straight to my bed. The loss of my dress weighed deeply on my spirit. At this point I knew Peter must have known just how much. Beyond my tears, I dumped my pains into my journal. The same journal Peter now held in his possession.

Tonight we're on sowing duty for the first time since the dress incident. After his little "Wendybird" tease, he sits down beside me feeling very clever. There's odd moments when he looks at me and innocence radiates from him. I can't explain it because he's the furthest from innocent. Yet, as he gives me his grandest grin, I find myself smiling back.