I let my fingers fly across the piano, playing my favorite song. I closed my eyes and imagined faeries dancing to the music in a forest lit just by starlight. My mom put up with my fantasies when I was little, but now she wanted nothing to do with them, always telling me to grow up, and tell me they were ridiculous. But my dad, who always wanted to be a writer, and was writing a book in his spare time loved hearing about my fantasies. He could take me out at night onto our balcony and ask me to come up with a short story, choosing one thing I saw to make the main feature of my story. Then he would to the same. The song ended and I opened my eyes to see my dad sitting in his chair, his laptop on his lap and typing away. He took a moment to pause and look up at me.
"Why did you stop?" he asked me. I shook my head.
"The song's over." I told him. He laughed to himself.
"Of course, how silly of me, well, why don't you play something else? One where you sing too." He told me. I nodded and picked up my guitar instead but stayed on the piano bench and played Stars, by Caroline Lost. I was halfway through the second verse when my mom came into the room, anger pretty obvious all over her.
"Will you stop with that noise!" She demanded. I stopped playing and my father looked up from his computer. "There's never a quiet moment in this house! You two are always making noise! Giving me such a headache!" She kept going on. "Get up and do something useful for a change." She told me.
"Don't speak to her like that." My dad said putting his laptop aside and standing up. "Don't take your stress out on her." He said, trying to be as gentle with his voice as he could.
"No, she needs to grow up and realize that life isn't about faeries or whatever the hell it is she's constantly going on about." My mom yelled at us. My dad always tried hard not to get mad, but I knew it wasn't easy. I never could, but he was so level headed. My mom could be wonderful at times too, but she got irritated or annoyed or stressed so easily then she would end up taking it out on us. My parents began arguing and I stood up and grabbed my coat and slipped on my shoes. I nodded to my dad and held up my phone and slipped it into my pocket. He nodded and turned his attention back to my mom and I left the house. I put my coat on to avoid the autumn chill. I walked for a while until I finally got to my favorite park. I climbed the tree my mom taught me to climb when I was younger. It was the largest tree and back then she had so much fun with me. But as I got older she lost that. She didn't have much interest in a 15 year old it seemed. I sighed and looked out into the sky where the sun was covered by clouds, and I wondered when I would feel wanted, and for the first time in a long while I was alone. For the first time in a long while, I let tears slip from my eyes.
I played the song that felt so familiar on my fingers. I didn't even have to think about it anymore, my fingers placed themselves along my flute as I played. I couldn't remember where I had gotten it, but I could remember what I had once used it for. Curley had used it to get my memory, or at least some of it back. Wendy had tried to play on it but she didn't care much for it. I hadn't visited the main land in a long, long time. Wendy soon after, and eventually, so did John and Michael. She stopped telling stories, and busied herself with the joys and sorrows of grown up life. and me, I remained a 15, nearly 16 year old boy. After that I only went back once. After they grew up. It was on Christmas there. They were all at the Darling's house, which Wendy continued to live in, along with her husband, son and daughter. John was over too with his wife and son, and Michael too, with his newly wedded wife. Mr and Mrs. Darling were there too, as it was Christmas. I had fallen in love with Wendy, but she chose this life, and I had chosen mine. I didn't want to return to London. Return to the east side with my crew, be street picketers again. Our life in Neverland was so much better, but I just wished Fox had lived to see it. To live it. He was one of the oldest of us. He had given so much thought to the future that none of us had ever thought about. He had planned to get a job, get a house of his own, fall in love, get married. And he would have loved the life we had now, but he was gone. My best mate gone forever because I messed up, and trusted the wrong person. I wish he knew how sorry I was. I knew how the other boys looked up to him. So I tried to make life for them as he would have wanted it. I put my flute down and looked out into the night sky and thought some more, until I realized something. It had been ages since I visited the main land. it hadn't felt like so long, but maybe that was because time worked differently here. I jumped up.
"Tink." I yelled and almost instantly she was floating in front of me. "We're going to London."