Extra Darling

Chapter 1: With a side of surprise

"Ophelia Darling?"
"Yes, Ms. Copper?"
"Would you please read to us a line from page ninety-five?"
"Of course, Ms. Copper."

It's one fifty-two in the afternoon, and I'm stuck in English class. My teacher, Ms. Copper, is a nasty old lady. Her fringed, grey dress is too tight and looks like it's strangling her body. Her dark, squinty eyes narrow in on me as I begin reading, letting me know that a slip-up will result in a punishment.

We're expected to answer with "Yes Ms. Copper" and "No Ms. Copper" every single time she asks us something. If we don't, we face grave consequences. A ruler on the knuckles is an easy sentence, but it's usually worse than that. My little sister, Wendy, has Ms. Copper the hour before me and she's always getting into trouble. Last month Wendy was caught drawing a picture in her notebook instead of crocheting, like the rest of class. Ms. Copper caught her, of course, and immediately sent a letter home to my Father.

It was a large commotion. My Father was mortified that his own daughter couldn't keep herself out of trouble in school.
"When I was your age, I respected my teachers!" He yelled, nearly alerting the neighbors, "I didn't daydream while they taught for I understood the value of knowledge! You, young lady, clearly do not!"

In Wendy's defense, she was only drawing. I don't think Ms. Copper or my Father should have reacted so harshly to a fourteen year old girl finding crocheting to be boring. It was incredibly boring. But, going against Wendy, she kind of deserved it. Guess what she was drawing? Just guess? Wait, I'll make it easier. Guess who?

That's right. She was drawing that blasphemous Peter Pan again. She simply couldn't get him off her mind. She never stops talking about him. Not that she actually tells me about her adventures, but I overhear her telling John.
"Oh, John. Do you miss Peter as much as I do? I wish terribly that he would return for us." She would whine to him.

Wendy also used him as an excuse for everything.
Why didn't she pay attention in class?
"Peter was on my mind."
Why was she always tired in the morning?
"I was waiting up for Peter to come."
Why did she stop eating carrots, her favorite snack?
"Because Peter thinks all vegetables are distasteful and it occured to me that I agree."

Peter this, Peter that, Peter here, Peter there, Peter everywhere.
At ALL hours of the day.

I can't tell you how tired of hearing it I am. It's constant. And the worst part is it isn't even me she talks about those things to. It's my brothers. They never stop whispering about Neverland, and I am never included.

The bell rang as I was finishing the line from another uninteresting, dead author, signaling the end of class for the day. Ms. Copper nods curtly at me, meaning that I'm allowed to stop reading -- at least for now.

Stuffing my books into my bag, I sigh and lift it over my shoulder, my bag heavier than usual due to the three new poetry books Ms. Copper assigned. If only school was a myth, and instead my days consisted of more interesting things -- like taking walks in the park, or exploring new reading nooks. Now that my siblings don't include me in their games, I've had to find new ways to keep myself busy. I enjoy being by myself, especially as the days grow warmer. My interest in reading hasn't changed, but I have to admit that my interest in genres has. Up until a few months ago, all I read was romance. I dove into the idea of it and spent all my hours fantasizing about true love. But recently, the idea has seemed more and more distant to me. How could I possibly believe in the idea of true love when my own family has indeed stopped loving me?

Usually, my favorite time of day was the end of school. I used to meet up with my siblings at the flag pole by the entrance and we would race home, seeing who could get there the fastest. The loser would have to make the winner's bed in the morning, something we all hated doing. It was a silly competition, but I loved it. Now, I don't speak a word to my siblings as we walk home. By the time I find them outside the school, they're in their usual little huddle. The whole way home, they walk ten footsteps ahead of me, and never once turn around. I see them smiling and laughing, but they never let me in on the joke. Also, they never make their beds any more.