Waiting for the Stars | ✓

Chapter Four

A/N: Song above is Neverland by Zendaya. I don't know if I have a song to put in the next few chapters nooooooo

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Run, run lost boy

They say to me

Away from all of reality

Neverland is home to lost boys like me

And lost boys like me are free

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"You are a young woman now, Cara, and the silly belief in a flying boy should be beyond you."

"I'm no young woman, Miss Leanne," replied Cara, smiling. "I am but a young girl. You are only as old as you make it." she grinned teasingly in the other woman's direction. Miss Leanne's mouth tightened.

"You are fifteen years of age. Practically ready to be married!" said Miss Leanne through her teeth. "Not a-a—lost girl, or whatever you call it."

"Lost boy," she corrected. "There aren't any lost girls. I would feel quite alone. There aren't many differences between girls and boys in Neverland either, we're all the same." said Cara thoughtfully.

"You are fifteen. Surely, at this age, this nonsense would sto—"

"And anyway, Peter looks at least sixteen." countered Cara. "Really, Miss Leanne, it shouldn't bother you so. My beliefs don't interfere with my studies."

"Looks? Looks?" Miss Leanne rubbed her temples. "You don't mean to tell me that you've seen Peter Pan!"

"Of course I have!" said Cara. "He is real, Miss Leanne. How could he not? How could humans enjoy one perfect moment of youth without Peter Pan?"

"This conversation is over." said Miss Leanne angrily. "You will close your window, or there will be nothing for dinner tonight!"

A flash of anger appeared for a second in Cara's eyes; and then it was gone, as if it had never existed.

"Yes, Miss Leanne." she responded meekly, turning from the woman and hurrying upstairs.

Instead of going to her own room, however, she turned to her mother's.

Margaret Darling lay awake in bed, reading by lamplight. "Good evening, dear." she said tiredly when Cara came in the door. "I do hope you haven't been fighting with Miss Leanne."

Cara shrugged. "I tell her I'll do things, but I don't actually do them. It's not like she notices, anyhow."

"Cara," her mother said in amusement. "What does she want you to do now?"

"She wants me to close The Window." replied Cara, her hands trembling with anger. "How dare she?"

Her mother's smile faded.

"Cara... you don't really still believe in him, do you?"

Cara felt shocked, as if her mother had hit her. "What? Of course I do, don't you? It's a Darling tradition!"

Her mother shook her head. "I-I'm afraid it's just a silly old tale," she said, smiling weakly. "Peter Pan is just a lovely fairy story, like Cinderella or Snow White."

"Except he's not," said Cara, trying to keep her temper in check. "He's real, Mother, I've seen him! He wrote me once, long ago—"

"Cara—"

"—I can show you his handwriting, really, look—"

"Cara—"

"—he wears skeleton leaves, just like you said—"