Peter Pan Syndrome
Again, not one of my strongest installments. The task was to think of a fairytale and recreate it with a modern day twist…..
Whitney stirred in bed, rubbing her eyes.
The noise was louder that time and coming from the window.
She glanced across at her sleeping younger brothers, Jack and Mick, who had crept into her room and made themselves comfy on the futon. They both had their own rooms but somehow thought it was more fun to bunk down in her room. Whitney was starting to get past the point where she found this cute and was starting to get slightly irritated by it.
Curiosity got the better of her and she swung back the curtains.
There, stood leaning arrogantly against the maple tree, swinging his car keys, was Pete.
She opened the window and leaned out.
“Want a ride?” he smirked, jerking his head towards his flash car.
“Where will you take me at this time of night?” teased Whitney.
“Why, Never Never Land of course,” he grinned.
Whitney rolled her eyes, “Sure, I’ve heard that one before,” she then squinted her eyes towards the car, “Who’s that?”
Pete swung round to follow Whitney’s gaze, “Oh – that’s just Belle,” as if on cue, the passenger car door opened and a long, slender leg slipped out, elevating a flowing mane of blonde hair.
Whitney already knew Belle, Pete and she had been best friends since they were children. However, it was hard not to feel a pang of jealousy as this seemingly un-threatening creature sauntered towards Pete and rested her arm on his shoulder. She had such a power over him, as if she sprinkled fairy dust and he was immediately under her spell, “Hi Whitney,” she drawled.
“Hi,” Whitney replied.
As if reading her mind, Belle started fumbling around in her pockets and produced a bag of white powder, “Want some magic dust, Whitney?”
Whitney shook her head.
“Oh come on Whitney, it makes you feel great! If you think happy thoughts it makes you feel like you can fly!” Pete encouraged as him and Belle proceeded to inhale the white powder.
As Pete and Belle began to laugh uncontrollably, Whitney’s curiosity got the better of her. What harm would it do? She had been good for all of her eighteen years and was now starting to get a sense of adventure, a thirst for excitement and danger.
She threw on some clothes then shimmied down the drainpipe. Belle reluctantly threw the bag of white powder at her.
Once they had all inhaled the magic white powder, Pete got them all to hold hands, “Now after three, we are going to run, jump and then fly. Ready….one…two…three…..jump!”
They landed in a heap on the floor in a fit of giggles, Whitney raising her fingers to her lips shushing them.
“Let’s get out of here Pete, before Wimpy Whitney throws a wobbler,” Belle sneered.
Whitney stumbled up, ignoring her insult, “Yeah Pete, show me a good time.”
The trio climbed into the car and made their way down to the local pub, the Pirate Inn. Upon entering, Pete ordered rum and cokes for the three of them and started making conversation with Mr Smee, the landlord.
“Where’s Croc?” he asked, referring to the landlord’s pet dog, named aptly for its snapping jaws.
“Your father took him out for a walk; he is trying to make amends with him after Croc bit his hand.”
Pete laughed, “Only dad would manage to get his hand bitten to pieces by that stupid mutt.”
“Aye, the Captain’s not had much luck when it comes to pets, they are going to have to fit him with a hook if he’s not careful!”
Whitney and Belle sat together in the corner, Whitney stirring her drink distractedly whilst staring at Pete, “Why won’t he ever commit, Belle?”
Belle took a swig of her drink, “Pete? Commit? I don’t think those words will ever go together in a sentence!”
“Not as long as he has offerings like that on a plate,” Belle replied, pointing over the bar. Whitney turned to witness a tall, slim woman with jet black hair and olive skin walk over to Pete. He slipped his arm around her and held her in a long embrace, clearly enjoying it, before ordering her a rum and coke.
“Who is that?” Whitney almost spat.
“That’s Lily Tiger and as long as women like her are around, I’m afraid our very own Peter Pan is never going to grow up,”
Whitney sighed, sulking into her drink as she watched glumly as Pete flirted with Lily. She had heard about these lads, young bachelors who weren’t interested in settling down – they wanted the cars, the money, the women – but not the commitment.
She called it Peter Pan syndrome.
Homework for 22nd June 2011