Fayette was not at all happy. Once again she had come home to her parents' screaming, and it didn't seem like they would be stopping any time soon. She went though the kitchen thankful that her parents were in the living room and didn't know she had come home. She grabbed something to eat on the way and marched up to her room to do homework. Perhaps music would be able to drown out the sound of her parents voices.
For as long as she could remember she had only two true friends. Sofia and she had been together since kindergarten and had reached out to her when she had no friends and was too shy to make any. She had been with Faye though the hard times, namely by inviting her over to spend the night since there was always a place open for her, Especially when Faye's parents had been too loud. They had always pulled though for the other. Her other friend was her books. She saw them as her friends even though they were inanimate. She could always rely on them to be constant, they were always there, and at times, she felt that she was a part of the book. In some ways they were just like Sophia, but she was a living breathing person, not something brought to life by imagination.
About an hour later, after Fayette was done with her homework and dinner, her parents had still not stopped arguing. So grabbing her favorite book and jacket, she slipped out of the house and took off down the street.
One thing she liked about living in town was that she could walk anywhere she needed to get. The part in the middle of the town would be vacant by now and she wouldn't have to worry about kids, and the police didn't mind her being in the park after hours either. Actually, they often would drop by and chat if it was a slow evening. When she got to the gate she stopped and just looked in at the open space, the trees, and the playground. Childhood seemed so like a memory from very long ago, forgotten in dusty volumes of her life. This was the one place she could be happy. Opening the gate she walked over to the swings and began going back and forth thinking about what life could be like as she felt the wind fly through her hair.
She took up the book that she had brought with her and looked at it. It was old and worn from being read so many times and pretty much laminated with tape. The binding was duct tape, pages were torn and dog eared where she had left off. She had underlined quotes that she liked and scrawled in notes she found important. Peter Pan was like a Bible to her. When she was young, she would sit and wait for Peter to come whisk her away to Neverland. Now she had all but given up on him. 'I'm too old now' she thought, 'he only comes for children.' Tears streamed silently down her face as she sat staring at her most constant companion. Despair and loneliness both had made her grow up fast. She opened the book to the end, where it talked about how Peter would always come for Wendy's daughters so long as children are innocent and heartless. 'That's why he never came' she thought again, 'I'm not Wendy's daughter, he only comes for those girls.' The tears began again, "lucky girls, I'd give anything to be them." She bowed her head and began to weep. After another hour she decided it was time to go home. She was unaware though that someone had heard her wish and had watched her tears with a broken heart.