The Adventures of Beatrice Bloom

Chapter 1

This is a story that takes place after Wendy had already left Neverland. She and her brothers were probably, happily grown up and had already forgotten how to fly. In those days, it was still common for people on the mainland to walk down the street or to drive buggies. In those days, people were still lacing up their shoes to go outside.

It was quite opposite on Neverland. In those days, most of the Lost Boys didn't even remember what shoes were let alone have them. If any of the Lost Boys did know what shoes were, and if they ever found a stray one in Neverland, I doubt they would even know how to tie it or for what purpose it was used. No, in those days, no one in Neverland wore shoes except for maybe a pirate or two. In those days, everyone flew. Well, everyone flew except for Beatrice Bloom. Beatrice Bloom was a terrible flyer.

Beatrice came to Neverland in much the same way Peter did, in a swashbuckling whirlwind adventure, from being a runaway orphan to becoming the clumsiest flyer of Neverland. Peter, however, became the greatest flyer, whom all the other Lost Boys and Beatrice envied. He had the happiest memories and the greatest pixie dust. Beatrice could not say the same for herself. She was rocky in the air at best. All of her memories were just pleasant, nothing exciting, and she was lucky if she could acquire an ounce of pixie dust, because the pixies didn't want to give dust to someone as incompetent as Beatrice. One morning, while all the Lost Boys were scavenging for gold and taunting the pirates, Beatrice was sneaking her way to the pixie glen in hopes of capturing her own pixie to have an unlimited supply of pixie dust. The pesky little lights were hard to capture, but she had seen it done before. At that very moment, she heard the familiar tinkling sound of a pixie. She scrunched her nose and moved toward the sound. She carefully moved one large leaf where she had seen the silhouette of the little light sitting very still. Beatrice sucked in a breath and quickly cupped her hands around the pixie like a cage. She jumped and whooped in triumph. However, the pixie didn't seem to care and continued to wail a mournful note that was unlike the usual laughing Beatrice heard, and indeed, after peaking under her hand Beatrice saw that the pixie was crying and didn't care for being captured at all.

"Hallo," said Beatrice.

"Hallo," the pixie hiccupped. "What do you want? Pixie dust?"

"Normally, yes, but not right now." Beatrice said. "What's your name? Mine's Beatrice."

"Amanita." Amanita said.

"Why is your name so complicated?" Beatrice asked.

"No more complicated than yours, Beatrice!" Amanita spat.

"Mine isn't that complicated," Beatrice said.

"Yes, it is," Amanita said.

"It doesn't matter if it is or isn't," said Beatrice. "What matters is why you're crying. Your wailing is creating the most—" and then she stopped short of saying mournful. She didn't know why Amanita was crying, and she didn't want to be offensive and hurt her feelings.

"It is indeed the most dreadful noise," said Amanita. She got to her feet and planted her fists on her hips. The bright light that surrounded her began to turn a furious red. "You would be crying too if you were in my situation," she went on, "if you were a pixie and couldn't create any pixie dust, if you couldn't help the Lost Boys fly, and if you couldn't help change the seasons on the mainland. Why, you would be absolutely distraught if you were a pixie without the simple purpose of producing pixie dust."

"I think I do understand," said Beatrice biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling. But the pixie was too angered by her situation to notice her, and so Amanita went on—

"And if you tried to help with the work in the pixie glen, but everyone just pointed their fingers at you and laughed—and if you went go to find Peter and Tinker Bell but they're nowhere to be found (and how does the leader just abandon the Boys?)—and if all there were were angry pirates and Lost Boys tumbling through air—why it—it'd be so terribly disastrous; I just know you—you'd be crying too!" Then Amanita folded her arms and stamped her foot on Beatrice's palm.