Only in Neverland (under revision)

Home Sweet Home

It seemed Peter had stopped breathing and his eyes glanced from my face to any other spot in the room. I waited a couple of seconds for everything to move just the slightest, so this wouldn't feel as much like a dream. When it didn't, I carried on. "If you go back, you'll only continue getting yourself into trouble. But this time, there won't be a girl and her siblings—sibling—to save you from your doings. This time their will only be fairies and animals. And while they may save you most of the time, maybe one time they won't. And maybe that one time will be the time you really die. Not the time you play pretend or get rescued, but the time your life comes to its final stop."

"I'd rather die a boy, from having too much fun or too many adventures, than die an old man only having worked at a boring job my whole life."

My eyes dropped to my feet and when they finally returned to his face, I asked, "Do you really mean that, Peter? Think about what you're saying."

"I've already thought about it," he stubbornly put his response, not even with two seconds delay.

"No. I don't think you have. Remember how you left last time. I know you briefly thought about staying, becoming part of a happy, loving family. Yet, you still left. And look where it got you! You lost a great friend in Wendy, you almost lost your life, and now you're willing to lose our friendship, too. Please at least try to reconsider." At a certain point I realized how I was begging. I didn't want our adventures and time to be for naught. I knew that if he stayed here, my life would be in the least a little less boring. In the very least. Even if it sounded selfish, it was true. "Not to mention that we've planned to call you our half brother, as we did at the hospital."

I looked deep within his eyes, to his core, hoping and pleading for him to say he would stay. I thought of other ways to get him to agree: manipulation, reverse psychology, threats, bribery, imprisonment. And the list only went to worse places from there. I could sense Angela standing off to the side, praying for the contrary.

 But my inner requests had to have beaten out hers. 

"Yes."

My joy put me into temporary paralysis. I suppressed that joy, not wanting my hopes risen too high. "Yes... what?"

"Yes, I'll stay," he said, shrugging his shoulders, like he hadn't just sent me through the roof with glee.

"Oh, Peter!" I ran to him, thrusting my arms around him, and squeezing with all my might.

"Gwendy, you're going to kill him. And just after you convinced him to stay," Angela pointed out, monotonously. She clearly neither approved nor disapproved of my actions.

I released my intense hold and stepped away, running about the room. "We'll have so much fun here! You'll see. When we combine our forces, we're sure to create adventures fit for this world."

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"Wake up. Now! Do you hear, boy?" I could hear Father yelling in Peter Pan's bedroom just across the hall. This bedroom, in actuality, was a storage room we had somehow managed to bring up to suitable bedroom standards.

Today was a Monday—the hardest day for us to wake a sleeping Peter. He never wanted to go to school, especially not upon rising this first day of the week. I sighed, feeling sympathy for my father. Never had his daughters put up so much of a fight, and every six out of seven days he had to do this. Five times for school, one time for Sunday mass.

I was dressed in the regulated navy blue and white uniform, ready to walk out of the house, and hurry to Angela's and my bus stop. I became impatient and stormed into Peter's room. I turned to my father. "The trick is pouring ice water on his head." I saw the mound of sheets rustle. "I'll go get a bucketful."