Chapter Excerpt from my story Let’s Never Grow Up


This is from Chapter 2 of my story Let’s Never Grow Up. Leave a comment if you want me to upload more or to read more, right now! Just click the link here to see my Wattpad Listing, http://w.tt/1plXJA9

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I didn’t see Peter for four days but this wasn’t worrying. Sometimes he’d be gone for a week and come back bearing gifts through my open window. It was Thursday and I knew he would show when we were to meet up. I took two trains to get here, Neverland. I take the second path to the right and follow it until I see a sign saying “Morning”. Sure enough, there’s a pair of legs dangling from a the big spiraling Oak tree, scuffed jeans and beaten up Converse’s. He’s making a leaf crown whist balancing precariously on the thin branches. The tree reminds me of him, always flying off in different directions, never staying put. Peter eyes me up.

“Wendy.” he says bluntly putting on his leaf crown.

“Peter.” I say trying to imitate him. “Why haven’t you been to school?”

“Didn’t feel like it.”

“Come on Peter, don’t be like this.” I say, “To be honest, I think your boys are feeling lost without you, Peter.” I smile.

“Ha ha, very funny.” He frowns at me, “I tried to run away but I didn’t like it so I came home.”

“That’s not fair, you said if you ever went away you’d take me with you.” I glance up at him. “I wonder what Nancy will think.” I giggle. Peter pats the space next to him, obligingly I manoeuvre myself up the tree. Peter holds on to me for the first three times I fell. I perch myself on the branch, letting my legs swing far up above the ground, this almost feels like flying. There’s a squirrel in Peter’s lap eating acorns. I lift one up, “I like this one, it looks so intricate and beautiful.” Peter smiles.

“What did you do this week?” He asks me, playing with a bunch of acorns in his hand, sorting them into rows.

“I went to school, you nut-job.” I laugh.

“Your jokes will be the end of me, Wendy Moira Angela Darling.”

“Either that or your frankly unhealthy consumption of cheesy crisps and snacks.” I tell him, swotting his arm, “Not my jokes.”

He pulls a packet of cheese crackers out of his pocket and pops on in his mouth. “Nah, never ever in Neverland would that happen.”

He traces the scar on the back of my hand. It’s long and goes from my wrist to the bottom of my middle finger. It’s faded into a silvery white but he still knows exactly where it is. “Now, I wonder how this happened?” Peter grins.

“Well, I’ll tell you, being the wonderful storyteller that I am. When I was nine, I met a boy in this exact forest,” I motion to the trees, “There was a boy sitting in this tree, alone, crying.”

“I was not CRYING! I was affected by the high pollen count.” He huffs.

“Anyway, I asked you “Boy, why are you crying.” And then you asked me my name because you didn’t want to tell me what was wrong.”

Peter holds up my hand, “You said, “My name is Wendy Moira Angela Darling.””

“Then you asked me if I wanted to sit with you, and I said yes, you tried to help pull me up but I slipped and caught my hand on a sharp branch and it cut me from my wrist up to my middle finger.” I say.

“Then we became friends.” Peter declares putting his arm round my shoulder and awkwardly slapping my back.

“That was the end of uninterrupted sleep and healthy eating.” I slump back against the tree with a dramatic flourish, wiping a fake tear from my eye.

“Hey! I bring much more to the table than that, amazing humor, a handsome and charming sidekick to ward off all of the boys and I make a mean brownie.”

I laugh. “I do agree with the brownie part but the humor and handsomeness, eh, not so much.”

Peter glares at me and then swings down from the branch and hits the ground with a satisfying clunk. He puts his arms up in the air, “Are you coming down, Darling?” I tug on his arms and leap to the floor.

“I’ll see you next week, if not before.” And as if he’s angry, he turns away and walks briskly away from me down the winding forest path.

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