Grown-Up.... Not The Right Choice! ~~Peter Pan~~

Chapter One!

The young girl glanced sadly out of her wide window at the old buildings across the street. They were worn out and musty, but had an elegance to them. The light of the moon illuminated the buildings perfectly. She quickly glanced at the clock and sighed. It was already 11:00 pm and there was still so much to do. The young, 14 year old girl was over her head. She grabbed her to-go-cup of latte that she had grabbed two hours earlier and took a quick sip. She grimaced in distaste before going to the other side of her 'office'. The office was what she called the room beside her bedroom. It held a desk, a large lamp and a table that held a micro-wave and a stereo. She quickly placed the latte in the micro-wave as she thought about all that she still had to do.

The buildings across the streets were about to be torn down. There was only a week left. Her and her two friends, Marco and Alejandro, had decided on trying to stop them. Each of the three children had very important things to do with this project, but the girl's had her up all night. She was to write a letter to the major. She was a skilled writer for 14, and many had said that they were surprised on the fact that it was ideed her who had written the peice, as it was written as an adult would. This was why the three had decided that Genvieve would write the letter.

The fact was that the buildings had been there for years upon years. Many families had lived there before the last. The last family. This was what caused for no soals to dare enter the place. They had been a wonderful family. The Darlings. Genvieve only remember the childrens' names. There was Wendy, the oldest, Michael, the middle, and John, the baby of the family. They had been a wonderful and normal family for that time-span. Silk dresses for Wendy, beautiful cotton shirts for the two boys.

Then a certain night came. The mother had put her three children to bed par-usual. Then when she woke up, none of them were there. She spent day and night searching for her children. The police were looking as well. Then one day, weeks, even months after, the three showed up. Wendy and Michael were much the same, although quite different in ways of happiness. But John was much much different. He acted-out much more. He was a well mannered child before the few weeks. But after he came back he was much more wild and un-tamed. He would yell and scream. He ran around outside and came back in, head-to-toe in mud and had a fit whenever someone tried to clean him. He wouldn't go to sleep at all. He would hit, kick and punch Michael while he would pull Wendy's hair. His mother couldn't control him, nor could his father.

Then poor John became horribly ill. He had a horrible fever. He was pastly white and always was with a dry mouth. When he could talk, he rambled on about fairies and ticking crocodiles and much of the sort. The mother desperatly called the doctor and he tried to get ther in time. Sadly, he did not. A terrible fate lied for John. He continued to insite to his parents about the fairies and had convinced himself that he could fly. Just as the doctor got to the door, John escaped the grasp of his parents, ran to the window and jumped. He was on the top floor at the time, so when the doctor and parents got there, John had faded and was no longer with them.

Genvieve was snapped out of her sad thoughts at the noise of her baby sister bawling. She waited for a moment before hearing her father's drunken snores. Gevieve groaned as baby Delilah's cries grew louder. She quickly rushed to the small room diagonal to her office and picked Delilah from her small bed. Genvieve rocked Delilah and stroked her beautiful red hair. Soon Delilah had stopped crying and looked up to Genvieve with her wide blue eyes.

Genvieve smiled slightly down at the baby girl. Delilah giggled. She quickly layed Delilah down on her bed and kissed her forehead. Delilah's eyes closed quickly and Genvieve snuck quietly out of the room. She sighed as she thought of what would happen when Delilah grew up. She would be a heart-breaker for sure. While Genvieve still waited for her mother's good looks to slightly brighten up her bland appearance. She had medium length straight brown hair that wouldn't curl if it was dried up paper. Her eyes were a light, mocha brown and looked like poop. Her lips were wide and pale pink while her skin would stay snow white for life. She couldn't tan if she was painted! Either she was snow white or cherry red, there was no in between.

She snapped out of her thoughts and looked at the clock again.

It was now 11:30 and her latte was probably cold again. She opened the micro-wave that she hadn't taken the latte out of and felt the cup. It was slightly warm. She took a sip and smiled slightly. It was still semi-warm. She quickly sat down at her desk and read through the typed out letter again. She sighed and quickly took a sip of her latte before typing some more well thought out words into her planned letter. She had many responsibilities the usually kept her up this late. Usually she was up until about 2:00 am because of taking care of Delilah, homework, her father. Most of the time her father stumpled into the house, drunk at 11:45 ish and Genvieve had to help him into his room or help him grab what he wanted. She usually got a smack or to from it, but she tried to keep him as quiet as possible as to not wake Delilah. This usually didn't work and Genvieve had to put her father to bed then try and calm Delilah down. This usually took about half an hour to completly stop her crying, which held the time for 12:15 ish. Then Delilah was hungry, or cranky, or wet herself, or pooped, or wasn't tired. Dealing with this usually meant that Genvieve had to take a few hits from Delilah to get her and bed and had to sing. By the time Delilah's eyes closed it was almost 1:00 am. Then Genvieve usually had homework.

Tonight was a better night. Her father came home at 10:30 grumbling about how the bar-tender kicked him out for a fight. He had come straight home, slapped Genvieve across the face two or three times then crashed on the couch. Ten minutes later he awoke, screamed at Genvieve for leaving him there, made Delilah cry, yelled at Genvieve to 'shut that baby up', slapped Genvieve once more then fell onto his bed and didn't get back up again. By 10:45 Delilah had fallen asleep again and Genvieve got to work. She didn't have any homework and was glad to get time to work on the letter.

Genvieve shook her head out of the night's events and took a few gulps of her half empty latte. She typed more on the letter before sighing. She didn't have half her mind focused on the letter and would probably erase half of what she wrote tomorrow. She quickly saved her work and gulped down the rest of her latte.

Genvieve silently stretched and trudged silently to her room. There she yawned quietly and stripped out of her eccentric outfit which consisted of a red, low-cut tee-shirt that had 'Music is the soal' written on it in cursive letters, white booty shorts with black leggings, many rubber bracelets that held names of her favourite saying and bands, and a head-band that held a polk-a-dotted bow. She quickly placed the worn clothes into her hamper and put on her pyjamas. Her pyjamas were more mens clothes than pyjamas. She had a small pair of red plaid boxers on with a large grey muscle-shirt. They had belonged to her father, but did not fit him anymore.

She yawned once more before laying in bed and gazing up at her painted roof. It had small blobs of yellow paint, which represented stars. A huge splatter of white paint in the middle was supposed to be the large full moon. There were also many splatters along the wall in different lengths and shapes that represented many different objects. Genvieve quickly looked away to avoid thinking of the topic of her mother. She reached over and turned out the lamp. She glanced at the clock which read 12:05. Genvieve grinned to herself.

This was the earliest she had fallen asleep in a long time!