My first class, Fairy-Tale Literature, was taught by Mrs Swellview.

"To be in a fairy-tale," lecturered Mrs Swellview. "You must have some courage. To face what's out there isn't so easy. Imaging you are Peter Pan. You have to learn how to fly, maintain a dozen lost-boys, and defeat Captain Hook.

"When I put it that way, doesn't seem so easy, right? I know. For your homework, I would like you to pick a fairy-tale, and write an essay about being the protagonist and the problems you have to solve.

"I have some fairy-tale books in the back shelves. Feel free to take one to write your essay on. I expect about a full page. You may get started."

I went to the back shelves and searched through all of the books. Only one caught my eye. It had a golden frame around it, and the cover read 'Grimm Fairy Tales'. In small print it said 'the actual endings'.

I flipped it open, and began reading. The book I flipped to was Peter Pan.

"There once was a young girl named Wendy," it read. "Wendy lived in a nursery with Michael and John, her two younger brothers. She would always love to tell stories to her brothers, expecially ones about Peter Pan and Neverland."

It sounded very good, and I kept reading. Once I reached the ending, I thought to myself. Why can't I change the ending?

ZAP.

I looked around. This didn't look much like Mrs Swellview's classroom anymore. In fact, it kind of looked like Wendy's nursery that I saw in the fairy-tale I just read...

"Wendy?" asked a small blonde boy, laying down in a tiny toddler bed, facing me.

I looked around. There was no other girl in the room besides me. "A-a-are- are you talking to me?" I stuttered. "B-b-b-because l-last time I ch-check... my name w-wasn't Wendy..."

The little boy laughed. "What are you talking about? Of course you're Wendy! Are you feeling alright, Wendy? You don't look very swell."

As I listened to him talk, I realized he was talking in a British accent. Am I in England right now?

"Michael, why aren't you asleep?" snapped another young boy, about 6 years older than the first.

"John. I'm just trying to help Wendy! She doesn't feel too well!" the first little one snapped back.

Michael. John. Wendy's brothers. I must be Wendy.

I climbed out of my bed, which I apparently was laying in, and walked over to the dainty pink mirror in-front of me.

I sure looked like Wendy. I had a blue nightgown on, with a pretty blue bow resting on top of my brown curly hair.

"Wendy," yawned Michael. "When will Peter come visit?"

"Peter?" I mumbled. "Oh!" I gasped. "You must mean Peter Pan!"

"Duh," sighed John. "What other Peter do we know?"

"Sorry. Brain Spasm. Michael, I don't know exactly when he'll-" I began.

"Woah, stop. Brain spasm? No such thing," snapped John.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. I wonder how the normal Wendy puts up with him. Jeez, I feel really bad for her.

Someone knocked on the glass window. "Knockity-knockity," laughed a boy's voice, which sounded no older than thirteen.

"STRANGER DANGER!!! STRANGER DANGER!!!" I screeched, and I rushed over to the window.

I hurriedly, without thinking, shoved him out the window, and locked it behind him.

I realized that he didn't fall. He was floating.

The no-older-than-thirteen-boy laughed. "Wow, Wendy. Not so eager to see me again, are you? You normally don't greet me like this every time I come to visit."

I opened the window and pulled him inside. "I'm so so sorry! I wasn't thinking straight. And wow! You can fly! And wait. Who even are you?" I rambled.

The boy had all green on, with a green hat with a red feather sticking out of the left side.

"Um. Guys, is she alright?" The boy gestured the question to Michael and John.

"Wendy," whispered Michael. "Don't you remember?" A sad look was sprawled across his face. "It's Peter Pan..."

"Right. Sorry." I faced Peter again. "You implied you've visited more than once. Is that true? Have you?"

"Um... yes? I visit almost everytime you tell stories about me, yet tonight you didn't. Why is that?" Peter questioned.

"I don't know?" I replied. "Besides. Why does it matter? You know enough stories about yourself I don't hardly know why you need to hear more. There's no point in making you even more conceited than you already are, because no one will gain from that."

"Ooh, someone's in a bad mood today," Peter whistled. "Calm down princess, no one will gain from your terrible, terrible attitude."

I just rolled my eyes in response. "Wait," I smirked. "Princess?"

"Yeah. You're a princess to me, so that's what I call you." Peter smiled.

My smirk turned into an automatic smile. Then my head started spinning. Why am I even here in the first place? Was it because of what I said? Something like 'why can't I change the ending'? Is that why I'm here?

Peter threw a concerned look at me. "Are- are you alright Wendy? You don't look very good," he whispered.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Brain Spasm again." I tried laughing it off, but it didn't work.

"Wendy. Again. No such thing," grumbled John.

I shot a nasty look at John and turned back to Peter.

"Y-you're Peter Pan?" I whispered. My mind just couldn't process everything at once.

"Yes," he whispered, and a giant smirk creeped across his face. "Didn't we establish this earlier? Yes. I am Peter Pan."

I smiled a huge smile. "I've had a crush on you ever since I was seven," I breathed.

"Oh really? Me too," he whispered.

"Ehmehm. Remember us? Still here. Can't this love story wait? I would like to travel to Neverland tonight, and you know me. I hate to be kept waiting, and I'm not very pleasant during that mood either," said John.

"Oh. Believe me, I know," sighed Peter. He tossed a small brown sack at all of us. I caught and peeked inside.

"Pixie dust," he explained. "Just sprinkle some on your head and then jump. And bam! You can fly! Alright guys, since we've gone to Neverland so many times, I believe we all know the procedure by now."

I sprinkled some pixie dust on my head, and jumped off the ground. The weird thing about my jump though, was that I never came back to the floor. I stayed in mid-air.

"Oh Peter," I wailed, "I'm so scared!"

"Here," he whispered. "Take my hand and I'll make sure you won't fall."

I grabbed his hand tightly and floated over next to him. He pulled me out the window, and we started flying towards a star.

"Wow," I overheard John whisper to Michael behind Peter and I. "Wendy sure is acting weird today. Not like Wendy at all!" Then John whistled through his teeth.

I've always wondered how people did that.

"Remember how to get to Neverland?" Peter asked quietly, still attempting to listen to Michael and John's conversation also.

"Of course. Neverland is just past the second star to the right," I explained.

"Right! Well, here we go!" called Peter, as he sped up, right into the star.