Disclaimer: ok you know how it is. i don't own peter pan. i own my own characters. bada-bing, bada-boom.

a/n: so very sorry it took me FOREVER to update. my peter pan creative juices have been flowing pretty slow lately. well enjoy and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!!!!

Chapter 3: Crime and Punishment

A few good things actually came out of Edgar's and my little…spat. One, Edgar got the snot beat out of him…literally. Another was that the wine and other refreshments that had fallen on me during the chase ruined the pink, poofy dress. The most splendid one of all was that, if I was lucky, Martha would never let me attend the ball again because my behavior at this one.

However, I could not ignore the bad feeling I had in the pit of my stomach as my brothers walked me down a long hallway to my father's office. We were not even halfway down the hallway yet and I could hear Martha's screaming, crying, and cursing in the office.

"Way to go Jette. You've really made her mad this time," Michael said, stating the obvious.

I ignored him. It was always like him to say something like that; whether he meant to or not.

"But I have to say those were some bloody good shots!" John added in. I smiled. He could always say something to make everything seem better.

We had reached the door now. John knocked and immediately all sounds from inside stopped. I shuddered. No, this was not going to be good.

*****

Edgar was in there, too. He had tissues stuck up his nose and a steak pressed against his eye. What a perfect way to spoil a perfectly good steak! I thought angrily to myself. We both sat in front of my dad's huge red oak-wood desk. He did not look happy in the least bit.

"Now," my dad started. His suddenly loud voice startled me a little. "Martha has informed me of…ahem…both of your behaviors at this ball, but mostly of yours, Jette." His eyes were terribly cold. I looked down at my feet. I heard Martha sniffle and looked up. I could tell the tears she had been crying were as faux as her "oh-so-expensive" fur coats. She knew her nephew got what he deserved. She just didn't want to admit it. I lost my temper.

"Did she also tell you that he's the one that started it? That he's the one who grabbed who broke, my Ipod. Did she tell you th-" Edgar cut me off.

"Oh, big whoop! You can just by a new one. I'm sure "daddy" will pay for it." He mocked. I got up out of my chair quickly, making him scream and run behind Martha.

"That's right! Go and hide you little wimp!" I yelled.

"I'm not a wimp!" he protested.

"Oh really? Prove it."

"Fine. I will."

"Good. We'll prove it right now." I said walking towards him, cracking my knuckles. He, again, cowered behind Martha and whimpered like a lost puppy. I chuckled, proving my point. "See I told you that you were a wimp."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Stop it right now!" my father bellowed. I jumped and Edgar ducked behind Martha again. His face was red with anger but turned to Martha and said semi-calmly, "Darling, can you please leave me and Jette alone for a while?" Martha simply nodded her head and scooted Edgar out through the door. "You two, too." He said, pointing at John and Michael. There was looks of disappointment on their faces but the left quietly through the door.

The door finally clicked shut. Silence…horrible, tense silence. About a minute passed before my father finally spoke. "Jette," he started, "I'm terribly disappointed in you." It seemed like he wanted me to answer back but I kept my mouth shut. He sighed. "I don't know what to do with you anymore, Jette. Mouthing off to Martha, daydreaming during school, tackling and punching Edgar? What happened to you?" Again, I said nothing and he sighed. "I have no choice…" he paused. I looked up at him. "I'm sending you to live with your great-aunt in London during the summer and after the summer is over you are to attend boarding school down there as well."

"WHAT!?!" I slammed my arms down on the armrests. "YOUR SENDING ME DOWN TO LONDON TO LIVE WITH SOME 100 YEAR OLD LADY THAT I HAVE HARDLY EVEN SEEN IN THE 15 YEARS I'VE BEEN ALIVE?!"

"She's 84 actually and-"

"LIKE IT MATTERS! I DO NOT WANT TO GO TO LONDON! I WANT TO STAY UP HERE, IN YORK, WHERE I HAVE FRIENDS AND ACTUALLY KNOW PEOPLE!!!" I shouted angrily.

"You are going to London and that is final! No further discussions! Now leave!" he fumed pointing to the door.

"Bu-" I protested.

"LEAVE! NOW!" He shouted.

I stomped out of the room and slammed the door as loud as I could behind me. I half ran to my room, angry tears spilling onto my cheeks as ran. I got to my room and slammed that door as well and locking to make sure no one bothered me.

I fell onto my bed, face first, and cried my heart out. After about a half an hour, I calmed down and started to think the situation over. London couldn't be too terrible. Maybe I could make the best of it for me. I hadn't done something for me in a while. Yes. London would be my escape.