Origins: Peter before Pan

One

Once again, to London we return; ten years and the old orphanage looked no better than it used to. In fact, if anything, it was worse. The walls were crumbling, the weeds were growing like no ones business, and the very building itself seemed to give off a rather melancholic vibe.

Despite the gloomy, not quite up-to-code state of the building, it wasn't all bland and lifeless. In fact, should we move our view over the fenced-in courtyard, we'd see a place bubbling with excitement and activity.

In one corner, a group of young girls played quietly with some makeshift dolls. In another, young boys and girls played in the sandbox they'd crafted out of abandoned crates and the local sand pits.

Along the edges kids played hopscotch and chanted rhythms while jumping rope.

Then, of course, we have the large space in the middle where the older boys and girls would be playing stickball.

There were two children, however, who rarely participated in the regular activities in the courtyard. In fact, on this day, they were chasing each other between the bases and in circles around the stickball players.

A young boy with fiery red hair and a personality to match, skipped and ran merrily, leading along his friend. The other, a young girl with wild, blonde, curly locks, ran after him as fast as her small legs could carry her, giggling madly.

Let us take a closer look.

"Catch me if you can, slow poke!" The boy called over his shoulder with an impish grin.

The girl squealed with glee. "Slow down! Peter, slow down!" Her small exclamations were hardly understandable through her giggling and panting.

Disregarding her request to slow down, the boy, Peter, as she called him, snickered as mischievous boys do and ran a tad faster.

He soon found an empty spot of grass and dropped to the ground, rolling until the inertia ran out. Within seconds the girl was stumbling over and semi-intentionally tripping over Peter's outstretched legs.

With a victories giggle she exclaimed, "I caught you, Peter!"

"You sure did, Wendy!" He replied, turning to grin at the girl lying on her side next to him. "One of these days, I'll be runnin' and tryin' to catch up with you!"

Wendy rolled dramatically onto her back. "I'll neva' be that fast, Peter," she sighed.

Peter thought a moment. "Well," he said, "with an attitude like that, you'll never get any faster than you already are!" He sat up cross legged to see her better. "You just gotta believe."

Wendy sat up too, a doubtful look on her face. "Believe in what?"

"Why, yourself, silly!" He chuckled.

She looked even more confused. "What about myself?"

Realizing he couldn't get a seven year old to understand what his ten year old mind so clearly knew, Peter had to think for a moment.

Finally, he said, "Just tell yourself you can, and you can!"

"Does it really work?" Wendy asked, eyes open wide.

Peter grinned. "Of course! But only if you really think you can," he cautioned, shaking his finger at her for emphasis.

Wendy nodded solemnly before a giant smile crossed her face.

"Thank you, Peter!" She threw her arms around Peter's neck.

He awkwardly patted her back. As often as she gave him these sudden hugs, he wasn't very accustomed to physical affection.

Without a warning, Peter poked Wendy's side, eliciting a shriek of surprise. When she jumped back with a look of shock, anger, and amusement, Peter simply grinned and took off running through the courtyard.

"Pete-er!" Wendy called out, pouting. When the incorrigible boy just continued to skip away, she stumbled to her feet to follow him.

"Wait for meeeee!"