Wendy lay under her covers in the nursery, waiting for her brothers to fall asleep. She knew they were always sleeping by the time the moonlight fell on her doll house - indication that it was about midnight - and she knew she didn't have much longer to wait.
She waited until only a few more minutes passed, but it could have been hours, for however long it seemed to take.
Finally, she decided she could wait no longer and kicked the blankets off, revealing a pair of John's breeches on her thin legs, and also one of his long-sleeved shirts, but her own jacket atop of it, a blouse underneath both. On her feet she would wear a pair of her own shoes, as neither of the boys' would fit her dainty feet properly.
If she was running away, it was most certainly not going to be in a dress.
Slinking out of bed and dropping to her knees, she reached under her bed and pulled out a small shoulder bag; a knapsack, done up with strings, set it on her pile of blankets. Inside she'd stashed some more of John's clothes, a few of her own, and some prized possessions.
Stepping over the floor in her socks, she went to Michael's bed first, leaned down and kissed his sleeping cheek, ruffled his hair. Over to John's bed, and she kissed his forehead, smiled at him. She was so fond of her brothers, and that fact made it that much harder to leave them, but she was going to, no matter how much.
"I won't forget you," she whispered aloud to them, going back and heading for the door.
With luck, she could kiss her parents good-bye without waking them.
Out the door, down the hall, into their bedroom. Easy enough. Creeping to her father's side of the bed, she kissed his cheek, whispered her good-byes to him. Sadly, she made her way to her mother's . How could she leave her mother?
No, Wendy shook her head, ignoring the thought. If she can leave her father and her brothers, then she can leave her mother as well. Of course it would hurt. Love always hurts someone.
"I love you, Momma," she kissed the woman's cheek, then silently ran from the room.
Picking up her bag from her bed, she replaced it with envelopes. One for mother and father, one for Michael and one for John.
Sighing, she cast one last look around the room where she spent so long telling stories and play-fighting with her brothers. She didn't really have friends, just school chums, so she never had anyone else come in here. Except for...
One time, her mother insisted she bring home a friend from school, and she did. A fair-haired girl named Grace who was terribly shy. They stayed in the visiting room, having tea and talking about little things. Wendy had never liked Grace very much, but she did talk to her after that, and Grace was the closest thing she had to a friend.
Now she finally crawled out of the window, sat on the roof, looked at the moon-lit street below.
If she wanted to, she could jump. Jump and land face-first on the stone streets, then she wouldn't have to decide who she wanted to be with.
Just as she was beginning to seriously consider it as an option - even going so far as to think how far the jump would be and how much it would hurt if she lived through it - when she scarcely heard someone land beside her.
Looking up, she saw the sweetest smile on a boy she'd ever seen in her short life.
"Peter!" she gasped, as if surprised he had come at all. Truthfully, there was a little piece of her that worried he might not show. But she was also thrilled to see him - now she could go with him. Jumping to her feet - oh, the thrill of danger! -
"Wendy, careful!" he caught her by the arms as she stood, and they grinned at each other. "Are you ready to come away with me?"
His voice was a mere whisper - the offer, fantastic. She couldn't turn it down.
"How could I not be?" Wendy smiled once more at him, and he took her hands, kissed her cheek, and they flew off, to start a new life together; second star on the right, and straight on 'til morning.
Besides, of course, Peter.
It's all the same for me, underwater
There's nothing much to see, underwater
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