|A Very Modern Wendy
||[Jan. 26th, 2004|10:51 am]
Sporks at the ready! |
TITLE: Peter Pan: The Next Generation ...um, well, that inspires confidence, I can tell you.
SUMMARY: “Wendy Darling (not the Wendy we all know and love) is sick of her mother's rants and raves about her and never wants to grow up. When the family moves to London, Wendy meets the boy who's in her stories...”
FULL NAME:Wendy Darling (sounds a little familiar)
SPECIES: Descendant of canon character.
HAIR: ”wavy back length brown hair”
EYES:”brilliantly bright blue eyes” - Oooh! Alliteration! And later ”crystalline blue ones.”
SPECIAL FEATURES: Incredible ability at whine.
CONNECTIONS TO CANON: Is Wendy’s great great granddaughter.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: Can tell stories as well as the real Wendy Darling.
At the beginning of the third chapter the author admits “the things that Wendy says is kinda referring to me and my relationship with my mom.” Slight understatement, I feel.
"The little yellow taxi sped across the highway." I’m nitpicking, but this sentence really irritated me. There’s nothing wrong with it, except for the fact that we’re talking about Britain at this point. We do not have yellow taxis. They are black, occasionally white or covered in scarily bright advertisements. We do not have highways. We have motorways. Or A-class roads in the more rural areas.
THE BOTTOM LINE: Incredibly dull, the only connection to Peter Pan is her name. It goes on tediously for three chapters with nothing remotely interesting happening and then thankfully stops before the author has a chance to destroy Neverland. And what was the point in making her an American, except for providing another sign of her Sueishness? (I assume the author is American from her spelling.)
"Happy birthday, Wendy. Even if mum and dad don't remember you can always count on me to." She then skipped out the back door.
Wendy stood up and stared after Amanda. Every year since she was nine, her mother and father would forget her birthday because they were too busy or too wrapped up in anything important to get away. The only person who gave a care about Wendy's most important day was Amanda. She secretly guessed that Amanda was the favorite in the family, her parents (ESPECIALLY her mother) would always give the girl things and pay more attention to her like Wendy didn't even exist. But every year Amanda always managed to wish Wendy a happy birthday and she could never figure out why. In three more weeks her parents would finally remember, but they would give her a crappy excuse for a present. Wendy didn't really care anymore. She just wanted to get away from it all.
She picked up the box again and trudged out the back door to the small red taxi that was waiting patiently in the driveway.
"Where's dad?" Wendy asked her mother as Wendy put the box in the trunk of the taxi.
"He took the early flight out this morning and said he would meet us in the London airport tonight." Mrs. Darling explained. Wendy nodded.
"So explain to me again why we have to take two airplanes." Wendy said rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
"Because we can't take one plane across the country. You should know that by now, you've been to London plenty of times before." Mrs. Darling said irritably.
"Mother, I haven't been there in about eight years. The last time I went I was learning how to ride a bike." Wendy shot back. Mrs. Darling decided to change the subject by pulling lint from her daughter's violent pink and grey lava lamp shirt. Wendy tried to push her mother's hand away. "Mum, please stop. I know my shirt is dirty but I can't help it."
"Your clothes are so retro, Wendy dear. Your shirts are huge and your jeans are always so baggy. Don't you ever want to own a dress or buy makeup and go shopping?" Mrs. Darling asked with..was that hope in her eyes? Wendy, however, was positively disgusted. Buy makeup? Go shopping? Wear a DRESS?! Absolutely not.
"Mum, you know I don't do that stuff! You also know that I REVOLT dresses." Wendy nearly shouted.
"You're going to have to someday, Wendy. You can't be stuck in that..rubbish you call clothes forever," Mrs. Darling said quietly. "And don't shout, you'll wake the neighbors." Wendy's face was twisted in rage, her fists clenched tight, white and shaking. This was the last straw and Wendy had had enough. She was tired of her mother putting down her sense of style, her attitude, what she did and what kind of music she listened to. Mrs. Darling hated everything about Wendy it seemed. Mrs. Darling was so solely focused on her daughter's lacks that she was sometimes embarrassed to be seen with Wendy. Frankly she was sick of it.
"What's wrong with my clothes? I HATE shopping, I HATE makeup and I despise everything and anything to do with dresses. My sense of style is not rubbish and I refuse to change it, especially for you!" Wendy shouted, not bothering to take her mother's words to heart about waking the neighbors. She could care less if she didn't or didn't wake them, they were going to be gone in a few hours anyway. Her cheeks were turning red and angry tears formed in her crystalline blue eyes. She tried to hold them back, not daring to shed one tear in front of her mother. Mrs. Darlings' eyes darted around nervously and said in a deadly calm voice,
"Wendy Darling, I don't care what you say, you're going to have to grow up. Get over this silly fad you're in. You're already thirteen years old and it's time you started taking some responsibility." This time tears spilled over her cheeks and her heart skipped a beat. So her mother HAD remembered. Wendy pushed that thought aside and glared daggers at her mother.
"I WILL NEVER GROW UP! I WILL NEVER TAKE RESPONSIBILITY! I DON'T WANT TO AND I DON'T PLAN ON STARTING!" Wendy shouted at the top of her lungs. She whipped around and stalked to the back of the taxi. She rummaged around in the box, pulled out her cd player and went into the backseat of the car, slamming the door. She wiped her tears away, furious with herself that she let her mother see her weakness.
A boy sat at the very top of the three that Wendy and Amanda were just underneath.