The rain pouring down around me has pasted my hair and clothes to my body. Today was the worst day ever, first I missed the bus so I had to walk to school, then I realized I forgot my lunch so I didn’t eat, and of course I missed my bus after school too. One last thing, it rained… all day.
My name is Victoria Williams; my friends would call me Vicky, if I had friends. I am completely alone in this miserable world, my mom and dad died when I was two, so my aunt “takes care of me”. My aunt isn't the best caretaker or mother figure; she drinks and smokes and never even looks in my direction, let alone asks if I need anything.
My blonde hair and bright green eyes make me stand out in this dull place where everyone has brown or black hair and brown eyes. The fact that I am twice as smart, strong, swift, and handy as everyone here doesn’t help one bit, nor do the school uniforms. Everyone has to wear white shirts and black skirts or khaki dress pants, but the principal must have thought he was hilarious when she gave me a bright yellow shirt and a purple skirt for a uniform.
As I said before, I am completely alone.
When I get to my aunt's house I unlock the door and walk in, it is a huge house, but it is filled with beer cans and old pizza boxes so it feels very small. I trudge up the stairs and to my room. My walls are grey with black and white polka dots and my ceiling is black with itty bitty glow in the dark dots. I have a queen size bed, flat screen TV, a huge desk, laptop, and an adjoined bathroom. Honestly it’s not my room, it’s just the guest bedroom, but to my aunt I’m a guest that will hopefully leave any day.
This is the only place my aunt isn't allowed to go and is the only place that feels like home, but lately I have been needing my room more and more. I drop my heavy backpack on my dark hardwood floor with a thump and change into dry clothes, then I go downstairs to wipe up the trail of water. After my fun maid moment I work on my homework. Like every night I finish my homework and tiptoe down the stairs to get myself dinner. I walk over to the kitchen and put chips, cheese, and chicken on a plate and stick it into the microwave.
As my nachos are being microwaved I hear the floor creak and panic, my aunt is home and I'm going to get yelled at. My aunt hates when I come down stairs, I stand as tall as I can, which is about three inches taller than everyone else in this tiny town. I hate being weak, which is why I refuse to see my difference as a weakness, only strength. A loud ding makes me jump, but then I realize that it is only the microwave and open it.
I grab my nachos and dash up the stairs and straight to my room. When I am safely behind my door I plop down on the edge of my bed and eat my nachos. When I finish my dinner I glance toward the large bay window and see that it is very dark, I look at my watch to make sure I'm not going crazy, and realize that it is almost ten O'clock at night. I turn off my light, open my window a crack, slip into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and slide under the covers.
That is when I hear the music, a slow, sweet melody that steals my heart. I hum along to the music as if in a trance. I break out of my trance and put my black converses on, then walk to the window, breathing in the sweet summer air. I look around outside and see a boy sitting on the roof outside my window, playing the melody through simple wooden pipes. I clear my throat and call out, “Hi there.”
The boy stops playing and turns around, “Hi, sorry to wake you ma’am I was just trying to see who was listening and the fact that you heard my music is… interesting.” the boy replied. Now that I can see his face I see he is kind of cute, blonde hair, long enough to cover his forehead, green eyes, and a dirty face.
“What do you mean it’s interesting I can hear it? You’re right outside my window. Never mind that, what’s your name?” I question, stepping out onto the roof.
“My name is Peter, and don’t tell me… your name is Victoria.”
“Yeah, and if I had friends they would call me Vicky."
The boy looks confused, “You don’t have friends?”
“No,” I answer, then add, “In this town everyone and everything is the same and, well I'm different and no one likes it."
"I was just thinking, why would a pretty girl like you not have friends?"
I give him a small smile and bite my lip, "You really think--" I stop and study my sneaker. Then I realize that he doesn't look like the people here at all, he looks like me. "Where are you from?" I question curiously.
"Why do you ask?”
"Well you are blonde and have green eyes, so you are definitely not from around here. I was just wondering."
"You are perceptive, I am not from around here." “Where are you from then?”
"I am from a place you have surely never heard of. I am from Neverland."
"So you are from Neverland? Throughout my whole life I have never heard anything so insane and I have heard plenty of crazy things. Good night Peter!" I rant angrily, I hate being lied to, so I turn around to step back into my room.
Peter starts playing his pipes again and I gasp, dropping to my knees and trying to fight against the pull of the music. All of a sudden I see flashes of my life, my mother and father swerving into a tree, being sent to my aunt's house, my first day of school, and Peter sitting on the roof. I gasp again and start sobbing.
"Victoria are you okay?" can feel his warm hand on my back, and can hear his breaths.
I moan, crying, "I... I don't know.”
"Victoria you need to come to Neverland with me. It isn't safe for you to live here anymore.”
"Sure whatever. Take me to your imaginary home in Neverland." I snap, rubbing my now burning forehead.
"I wish you wouldn't do that. It is real and you will love it.”
“Honestly I think you might be crazy,” I mutter, sitting up, “but okay give me a minute. Anyplace is better than this place.” I slowly stand up and gather my phone, sunglasses, wallet, and five outfits of black t-shirts and jeans in my backpack. I look around the room and set my glass statue of a deer that was apparently my mom’s into the bag.
"If you don't mind I want to change my clothes..." I mutter.
"Oh, right." He replies and looks at the fake stars on my ceiling as I change. "Watch this." Peter whispers, points at the ceiling, and makes a circle motion with his hand.
"Whoa... I don't see anything." I snap.
"That's because you don't believe in magic. You must believe or we can't go to Neverland." He gives me a pleading look and I nod.
I sigh and squeeze my eyes closed Just believe I hear his words echo in my head. I believe. I think, warmth spreading through me.
"I believe." I whisper and open my eyes. I look up at my ceiling and the fakes stars are twinkling, and the black paint is mixed with dark purple, I see the Milky Way, the Big Dipper, and the Little Dipper.
"Wow... I... I believe you." I whisper, awed.
“Time to go now.” Peter smiles, reaching over to lightly hold my hand to comfort me. He then adds “You are a Lost Boy now. No... a Lost Girl.”