Ever thought Peter Pan was just a simple fairytale full of pixie dust, pirates, and adventure, well you thought wrong because it is so much more than that. Of course, I would know about it, for I have experienced a tale like none other than the entertaining and enchanted story of Peter Pan.   

                                                                *           *           *                           

                          Hey! My name is Wendy Darling (ha, like Wendy in all the books and movies). You see I’m going to start me story, it all started about a few months ago. That was when I met my Peter Pan. Well, it was the last day of sophomore year. 

                      

                       I was walking in the crowded hallways. All of the windows were ajar and my hair was practically all over the place. I continued to walk towards the exit of the school, until I saw my friend Christine.

 

“Hey Wendy,” she yelled; trying to get my attention. I walked over to her.

 

“Hey what’s up?” I told her; making small talk.

 

“Well Steve Brook is throwing a party on Saturday; are you coming?” she asked me enthusiastically.

 

            “I don’t think so…” I paused trying to find an excuse. It’s not that I didn’t want to go; it’s just that parties weren’t my priority right now. “Umm, my parents said I had to be home right after school, plus I think I might have to baby-sit Michael.” I said making a phony frown. Michael was my annoying brother; my parents won’t allow him alone in the house.

                                                     

                        Christine gave me a distressing look. “Really? Is that so? Or is it because,” She paused due to fluttering her hands up and down. “You wanted to fly to Neverland?!” She continued to twirl around with her hands in the air.

 

            My friends always did this to me just because my name happened to be Wendy Darling. Plus, I just simply adore the Peter Pan novel by J.M Barrie; I read it all the time. I pushed her jokingly and walked away.

 

“See you later.” I yelled to her grinning.

 

            I carried on walking towards the exit. The wind brushed against my face as I stepped outside. I continued to walk to my house. I passed the ordinary houses that I see everyday.

 

            Now before you jump to any conclusions, I’m not the Wendy from the real Peter Pan book. Look, my family seems to be strangely similar to Wendy’s family (in the book). It’s pretty cool; but that doesn’t mean that I was the actually “Wendy”.

 

            I have brown hair; more like the color of honey. Most people think its brown, but I was notified that it was honey-brown. I have dazzling green eyes; green eyes that my friends keep teasing me with. This is because with the eyes I have; my friends think that they can see Peter Pan in my eyes (though I’m completely flattered; it gets annoying). So I’m really your typical average fourteen year old, but with honey colored hair and bright green Peter Pan eyes.

 

            I reached my house in a matter of five minutes. I walked in; shutting the door behind me. It was pleasant and calm inside. I climbed the steps and entered the living room.

 

            As I walked in, I saw my dad sitting down; looking over a piece of paper. “Hey Dad,” I said as I set my school bag down.

 

            “Shh, don’t talk so much I’m trying to figure out something,” he said to me without looking up. I rolled my eyes; this was typical ‘after-school talk’ with my Dad. I was used to it by now; he is always busy being a banker and all (another coincidence).

 

            I walked out of the living room and entered the kitchen. I took a cup of water and began to drown it down slowly. What a long year of high school; no more “homework” and “tests” for another three months.

 

            I put the cup down on the counter and walked into my bedroom. Without hesitation; I lay on my bed. Ok, now don’t get all jumpy because here comes another coincidence, I have a big window in my room. It has no screen; all you had to do was open it and there would be an immense stunning sky there in front of you (we have a three floor house).

            

                             I was all relaxed when I heard someone open the door. I got up and saw my brother Michael (I know another coincidence) come in.

 

            I pinched my nose shut the moment he entered. “What is that smell?” I asked him sickeningly. Michael just sniggered.

 

            “I haven’t taken a bath for two weeks.” He answered pompously. This was a normal response from me brother; Michael always smells. It was normal for his “kind,” you know seven year olds. In the end, he always reeks.

 

            “So why did you come here; to make me throw up?” I asked to him; trying to not vomit.

 

            “No, I’m hiding from mom, she’s in the kitchen.” he said while smiling.

 

“Get OUT!”

 

            I yelled as loud as I could. I pushed him out of the room and shut my door. Before you say my brother Michael is like the one in the Peter Pan book, he is undeniably not. I would rather have the one in the book.           

                               I looked around the room; it was all quiet; just the perfect time to read Peter Pan. I went into the living room and brought my schoolbag into my room. I took the book out and threw my book bag back on the floor.  Now, unlike most people I like to read out loud; I get more into the story.

 

             “The lost boys circled around her.” I recited from the book. I loved reading this part. Just as I was about to continue, my door opened for the second time. It was none other than my other irritating brother John (I know another coincidence, but don’t bug me about it too much).

 

            John stood there looking at me without saying a word. “What do you want?” I asked him annoyingly. He could be such a… a… a “Smee” sometimes. (FYI if no one knows, “Smee” is a character from Peter Pan).

 

John finally spoke.

 

            “Wendy, who are these lost boys you speak of?” He began to smirk at me. “Are they your boyfriends?” He began to laugh. I glared at him.

 

“GET OUT!”

 

 I screamed for the second time that day. I took a pillow and threw it at him. 

          

He ran out.

 

             Now that wasn’t similar to Peter Pan. In the book, John is a smart and intelligent boy. But no, I’m stuck with a meddlesome, annoying, and irresponsible brother. I put the book away. There was no way I was going to continue after that incident.  I was getting a bit sleepy. It being a hard day and all, I dozed off.

                                               

                                                            *          *          *

                       

                         I didn’t know how long I had slept, so I got up to look at the clock. I thought I was dreaming when I opened my eyes because above my bed I saw none other than Peter Pan flying.

 

            My eyes grew wide as I looked up at him. He flew away from me, noticing I was awake. I quickly got out of bed. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. “Who… what… how…” I gibbered. I did not know what was coming out of my mouth at the time.

 

             He simply flew down and bowed. He wore leaves all around his body. Vines kept all the leaves in its place.

 

            He didn’t say one word. He just stood there watching me intently. “You’re not, no, you are not Peter Pan.” I said to him. I had gone insane. “No you’re not, no, I’m just dreaming.” I ended up singing a tune that went like ‘I am dreaming, yes I am, there’s no way you’re Peter Pan,’ and so on. After a while my voice went quiet.

           

                         The “Peter” wannabe was silent too, but he still looked at me. He was studying me fixedly. I finally plucked up the courage to speak.

 

“Who are you exactly?” I asked him.

 

“Peter,” he paused. “I’m Peter Pan.” He took one low bow.

 

            I simply froze; Peter Pan was in my bedroom. I still was in complete astonishment. I got up and curtsied to his bow.

 

“I’m Wendy Darling.”

 

            The so called “Peter” walked up to me. He had dirty blonde hair and piercing green eyes like mine. His skin was a bit tanned, but it looked good on him. Dirt and other fragments were around his fingernails.

 

Knowing how the book went, I asked, “Why are you crying?”

 

Peter just stared at me confusedly. “I’m not crying” he said, “What gave you that idea?” 

 

            He had a hoarse but sweet voice. He reminded me of one of those boys in my school. The ones that were on the football team. Peter was just a little less buff then those guys.

 

He continued to stare at me with raised eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

 

             “I’m sorry; it’s just that in the book, Wendy asks Peter why he’s crying.” I said to him answering his question. I felt very stupid afterwards. I was acting like one of those twelve year olds, wanting a fairy tale to come to life.  

 

“Well I’m NOT crying!” he answered once more.

 

            Just by the sound of his voice, I knew I wasn’t going to get along with him all that well.

 

            “Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the tree this morning.” I remarked. He still didn’t understand.

 

“You have a nasty temper.” I explained.

 

            Peter had a smug expression on his face. “What do you mean? I have a GREAT temper!” He told me etching on the word great. He began to fly around my bedroom a few more times before coming back down.

 

            “Thinking highly of yourself isn’t very attractive.” I muttered. No response came; he just gave me the same smug expression.

 

            “You know, you look really old.” I said interestedly. He was taller than I pictured him.

 

“I’m not old!” He answered.

 

            I scowled. What a Peter Pan; he was rude, arrogant, conceited. I wonder what other quality he had to show me.

 

            “So you’re Peter Pan,” I began trying to make conversation. “You know, I love the books about you.” I said. I know I was just inflating his ego, but it was something to talk about.

 

“Books?”

 

He was starting to get on my nerves.

 

“Yeah, a book. The things you read.”

 

            I didn’t get a response. He just kept on staring at me. He seemed so intimidating. For five minutes straight, we stood there with him just watching me.

 

            “Um, if you don’t mind me asking but can I give you a... thim-,” but Peter cut me off.

 

            “Let me guess; a thimble right? Well don’t trick me because many ‘Wendy Darlings’ have tried to give me thimbles and I never let anyone of them, so don’t bother.”

 

The whole room went silence.

 

“Except the real one,” he added breaking the silence.

 

          I stood there thunderstruck. All the information beat my body unsympathetically. So he is the real Peter Pan, he did kiss the actual Wendy, and there seems to be more than one Wendy Darling.

 

            I stood there dumbfounded looking out at the sky; clouds sheltered it. “So, you mean that there are more ‘Wendy Darlings’ in the world?” I asked bemusedly.

 

            Peter continued to stare at me, “Forget it.” Without taking another look at me, he lifted his body and was about to fly away. 

 

“WAIT!” I called out to him.

 

He turned around to face me.

 

            “Why are you leaving?” I asked him; trying to make him stay. Would he seriously fly away?

 

“You’re not Wendy!” he exclaimed.

 

Did he mean the genuine Wendy?

 

             He flew back onto the floor. I walked over to him. “Listen, I don’t know what you mean by that, but if you sit down maybe we could talk about it.”

 

            I thought Peter had read my thoughts because he sat on the floor and began to cry. I smiled; now this was more like the book.

 

            “Why are you crying?” I said as I sat down beside him. He stood up at the sound of my voice.

 

“I wasn’t crying!” He snarled at me, “There was something in my eye.” He exclaimed.

 

So it’s true; Peter Pan didn’t like to admit that he cries.

 

            “Oh really,” I asked him; sarcasm in my voice. Peter just stood silently. There weren’t really tears coming down his face; just water in his eyes.

 

 “Well, I’ll never find Wendy.” He said suddenly.

 

            I guessed that he was still attached to the first Wendy Darling. “I’ll never find her,” he said softly. “I’ve searched every ‘Wendy Darling’s’ house around the world and… and…”

 

            I never got to hear what came out next, because his voice descended until there was no sound coming out of Peter mouth.

 

            I felt partly bad for him, but at the same time I held in my laughter. He was so desperate to find his “Wendy” that he searched the world.

 

“Um, Peter,” I said calmly. “I think Wendy died along time-,” Peter cut me off.

 

“NO!”

 

“Peter,” I began as I slowly stood up. I reached my hand out to touch his face, but I slowly withdrew it. I felt sorry for him; I leaned in to kiss him. I knew Peter wouldn’t let me, but it was worth a shot.

 

“Oooh, I heard someone say by the door. I turned my head away from Peter; there stood John looking at me about to kiss Peter Pan.

           

            “Oooh,” John repeated staring at me. “Wendy’s got a boy in her room and he’s wearing leaves.” John began to laugh; he was so immature.

 

            “Shut up!” I hissed at him. It seemed like it was getting late; I looked over to the clock. It read seven; Mom and Dad were having dinner at the moment. If they walked into the room they’d see Peter. The door opened. Oh no, I thought to myself. 

 

But it wasn’t my mom…

 

It wasn’t my dad…

 

It was…

 

“MICHAEL, get OUT!” I shrieked as I saw my other brother. His jaw dropped as his eyes lay on Peter. This was just great; my two brothers were in my room gazing at Peter Pan.

 

            “Wendy, why do you have a Tarzan in your room?” Michael asked still glancing at Peter.

 

“He is not Tarzan!” I told him.

 

Michael and John ran out of my room to get my parents. “Come BACK!” I yelled but they kept going. My heart began to race as I saw them walk out of my room; what was I going to do?

 

                                                        *          *            “

"Wendy?” My mom said as she entered my room.

 

“Uh hey mom,” I said awkwardly.

 

            “Michael and John said that Tarzan was in your room.” she told me while examining my room. There was nothing new except the moonlight coming from my window.

 

“           Well Mom, there’s really no one here; you know how kids imaginations run wild,” I said to her. My mom looked at me and walked towards the door.

 

“OK then, but don't do anything wrong Wendy Darling,” and with that she left.

 

I           let out a large sigh I opened my closet door. Peter was buried under my jeans. I picked them up and found him sleeping; I shrugged. I guess he was tired. I shut the closet door and headed back to my bed. I crawled into it without any further movements and wondered what adventures laid ahead.