Dear Peter Pan (in progress)

Out the window

Thanks for taking the time to read! It's been awhile since I've written a real story, but I'm so thankful to my friend (Kingtween) for getting me back into the flow of things. I hope you enjoy!

We grow up knowing fairytales.
Mermaids, elves and dwarves, talking animals and beautiful princesses. Children around the world affectionately come to know great stories of knights and dragons as people they could see and hear.

I'll come out and say it, my favorite was always Peter Pan. You know, "the boy who never grew up?" Something about the story always fascinated me, though mum calls me obsessed. Now that I think about it, my whole family disapproves of my fascination.

Every now and then I'll write a letter to him, usually as an update on how life's going here in little old America. The most recent one, however, included a lot of details about my home life... a topic I try to avoid. Here's a piece of it:

Dear Peter,
    It's getting bad again. I mean, I'm getting bad again. Mum says I've just been caught up in school too much and I need a break, but I know better. School doesn't make my stomach turn or my heart pound on my already heavy chest. It doesn't cause me to lay in bed and cry, or look out the windows for hours because nothing else holds my interest.
     Sorry for getting off topic. The point is, even though mum refuses to take me to see a therapist, this is something serious Peter, and I don't know how much longer I can take it.
     I just wanted to keep you updated. I hope you're doing well, oh and say hi to the boys for me.
~Holly C.

Yes, I write letters to Peter Pan. No, he never wrote back. Not yet. But after the very first letter, I saw him. Right outside the window of my house, just as I imagined he'd look. Dressed all in shades of green, soaring in the air free as a bird. Oh how I wish I could be in his place! As he winked and flew away, I was determined to one day see him again. Even closer, close enough to thank him for everything he'd done for me.

Where could I start? He's been my best friend since I could barely walk on my own two feet. Peter taught me how to dance, he was there for every birthday and every achievement, and every wish I'd ever made was heard by him. He's my biggest inspiration in everything I do.

But I'm getting tired of waiting.

"Holly!"

It's my mom, calling from the kitchen. "Come get ready for school."

"Yes ma'am," I yell back, the sound echoing through my door and down the stairs until it reaches the huge kitchen down near the living room.

I give a quick glance at the alarm clock near my bedside table. The bright red face gave voice to my worries in bold font: 7:16 A.M.

Crap can't be late again. There's barely time to shimmy into a pair of tight jeans pulled from the bottom of a mixed up drawer, and search quickly in the closet for a school-appropriate top.

Can't show those scandalous lady parts, of course. No belly, no bra, no shoulders, no cleavage.

Settling for a plain yellow v-neck, I sigh as I grab this and one of many bras shoved in the dresser and proceed to put on both items.

Oh the many pains of being female.

Satisfied with my appearance, I run to the bathroom and take care of all my needs in there. Finally, I can get down to breakfast.

My knockoff brand converse smack the wooden steps as I hop down each stair until arriving on the tile floor of the familiar kitchen.

My announcement into the kitchen urges my mother and younger brother to both turn around in sync, just in time to see me shoot a grin and grab a banana before running out the front door.

"Gotta catch the bus gotta catch the bus." My breath is hot as I pant my way down the gravel road.

Soon enough, I reach the bus stop just as the bright yellow piece of junk itself pulls up. Climbing on, I immediately drop the fake grin I had been holding up since leaving the house.

Tons of teenage eyes burn into my skin as I walk clumsily to my seat at the very back of the bus, right beside the druggies and behind the populars. Though by their appearance more like rats and barbies.

Past all the nudges and eager eyes, I plop down and shove my ear buds in.

On goes the music, out goes the world.

Mum says I can't drown out the noise forever, but I sure as hell can try my best, and it's working pretty well right now. Just one more hour of the ride to get over with, then it's on to my next obstacle; school.