Becoming Peter

Chapter 17

Butterflies sporadically explored my body, enjoying my stomach. I grew more and more anxious as I drew nearer to the Dead Man's Tree. What if Peter found out about the stash I created? It was small, not quite enough to get home, but a betrayal nonetheless. I promised I would stay. And I was not the best liar. Everything I have felt was on my sleeve.

After fixing my hair and straightening my dress, I scaled down inside.

Expecting his usual teasing grin, I was surprised to find him sprawled out on his throne fast asleep. Legs dangled over one side and a hand grazed the floor. His mouth was slightly open and a faint whistle blew through his front teeth. He looked younger than sixteen. A small fire carefully placed in a hole in the ground hit his face with dramatic contrasts of orange and black. The smoke trailed straight up through a hole at the very top of the tree. It was close to becoming coals and the orange was fading to grey.

Tomorrow, I thought. Tomorrow I will start teaching him how to fly. If anything goes wrong, I always have Plan B: escape using my collection of pixie dust.

Overcome with exhaustion, I slithered into bed in the next room. Guilt crawled up my throat for taking Peter's bed. I rubbed my eyes and shuffled to the doorway. He hadn't move one bit. Only this time did I notice his shadow was nowhere in sight.

"Peter!" I shouted.

"Huh?" He didn't take his eyes off the sand chair he was building. He had spent nearly an hour working on it as I gave my spill.

The sun was passing on its warmth, not quite burning the skin. The trees swayed gently to the rhythm of the wind. I sighed deeply and inhaled the clean air. It was different from my home. Saltier. Less like pine.

"You need to pay attention. It's just like school."

He still didn't take his attention away from his project. "I never went to school."

"Really?" I sat down in front of him, facing the sea, and started to bury my feet in the sand.

He shook his head. Peter grinned as he sat back on his heels and ran a hand through his hair. Now complete, he gently rested on his lounge chair, hands behind his head.

I had finished my burial. So I sat silently, gazing at the sun.

A few moments later, Peter interrupted the silence. He turned his head to me and said, "Do you want me to make you a chair?"

"I want you to pay attention to what's important." I scolded.

"What's important to you may not be important to me. And to me, this chair and the pretty sky is an important moment to enjoy while it's still here." Peter returned his gaze in front of him.

"When did you get so poetic."

***

Nearly a week passed this way. He simply refused to focus on anything I told him. Everything I had to sit through when I was young. Flying was easy to pick up with wings, but facts were shoved down my throat anyway.

It was time for a new approach. More action oriented. With a lesser chance of distraction.

Three days later consumed by brainstorming and ignoring Peter's whines and needless comments about boredom, I had a foolproof plan. At least, I hoped so. The more I thought about it, the more I doubted it would work. So I pushed the thoughts aside and dragged Peter out one chilly early morning.

Everything was cast in a pale blue while it waited for the sunlight. Dawn was creeping up slowly. A yawn from Peter and shuffling feet was evident enough that it was too early for him. He asked questions the entire way with a throaty voice still infused with sleep. Curiosity peaked, he trailed along right on my heels. The only clue I have him was that it involved something more interesting than lectures.

"Sparkles, I got to say you are more likable than I originally thought." He remarked past halfway to our destination after receiving a determined 'You'll see' for the thirteenth time when he asked where we are going.

"Thank you?"

"I mean... back in the orphanage I had this one friend who was really smitten with this girl and I didn't understand. It was annoying really." He went on. I remained unsure where this was going. "Most of the girls in the other orphanage were snobbish. They didn't like me or my tricks and pranks. I was just having a laugh and they always threw a fit. None of them were kind or likable in any sense. At least, that's what I remember about them. It gets foggy sometimes."

"You seem different." He dropped his gaze to the dirt as he kicked a rock, sending it rolling ahead. "Nicer."

I waited for him to say more, to elaborate. Confusion settled in as to what his words meant through the vague memory. But nothing came and no response seemed right.

"We're here." I stated. "Welcome to Sully's Falls, where you will learn to fly."

"I named the place. Why are you welcoming me?" He said, dumbfounded.

"I was trying to be dramatic. Now shut up and start climbing."

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A little shorter of a chapter, but something really exciting is coming up! I wrote this next part (it will be the next chapter) a while ago and I wasn't sure if it was even going to fit in anywhere in the story. But I shuffled things around so it would just because I liked it so much :D It's really dramatic with a little bit of self-revelation. It shows someone's true nature more clearly. I hope you enjoy it.

ALSO school started last week and so far homework has been awful. I don't know how much time I'll have for writing with the huge buttload of homework. So some updates might be delayed. I'll keep you posted :)

Please don't forget to vote! And leave a comment stating your favorite place you have ever visited. Or wish to visit. I loved going to California, but I always wanted to go to Ireland.