How was it possible, that this boy, appearing not much older than herself, could engage-and intimidate-her in such an intense matter? His gaze froze her, and when she tried tearing her eyes away from his, nothing moved.
It irked her. Peter seemed so intent on making her just like him-cold, hard, skilled-but at the same time didn’t seem to care very much about her either. The way he spoke about things that Cheney found important made them seem less important, as if the topics of conversation were only bits of small talk.
Of course, hope wasn’t something Peter liked to talk about. The boy didn’t need of it, and hope also held the undertone of failures. Peter Pan never failed. He never failed her nor anybody else. He surely had many tricks up his sleeve.
His words easily flowed off his tongue, like he always had the answers to everything, which was something Cheney had begun to believe. “You know I wouldn’t ever do anything that wouldn’t help you, right?” The little girl bit her lip nervously, fearing her mentor’s answer. Like a student never wanted to let down their teacher, Cheney didn't want to let down her mentor. As the youngest and as the only girl, she knew she had much more to prove, to assert her place.
There were times where Cheney wondered what her biggest fear was, whether it was bleeding to death, drowning, shadows, her home, or Peter. She had made it her obligation not to let him down, ever, no matter the circumstances. She knew-believed-the second she stopped proving herself, she would no longer have his support. She’d be just like the rest of them, the Dreamers who were labeled as outcasts because they didn't belong anywhere.
But at the same time, Peter was her friend. Was there a need to fear a friend?
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