To say that Wendy Smith was pleased to be moving all the way from Australia to Britain was a complete and utter lie.
“Why do we have to go?” She raged to her big brother for what seemed like the eight hundredth time since he had announced that they would be moving all the way to the island.
“Wendy,” Liam sighed, setting a heavy box down and wiping at the sweat on his brow, “Britain is a good fuckin’ chance for us, and we’re takin’ it.”
Wendy crossed her arms and gave a pout, glaring at Liam, who raised his eyebrows, bemused.
“Pouting isn’t gonna help, WenWen.”
“If I pout hard enough, I feel like I could maybe break ya,” Wendy said, refusing a smile that threatened to appear on her face at the nickname. Behind Liam, Kyle, too, set down a box he was carrying.
“Don’t be sad, Wendy,” he said in that everlasting calm voice of his, “I’m sure everything will be just fine in the U.K.”
“I’m sure it won’t ,” Wendy huffed, placing her hands on her hips and drawing herself to her full height, which made a bit of a difference compared to Kyle, who was barely a few inches taller than her, but Liam still seemed to tower above her.
“What makes you think that?” Kyle asked kindly. Wendy wrinkled her nose slightly. Damn him for being so nice and making her actually feel guilty when she protested.
“Because it’s not…” Wendy turned and gestured to the house they had lived in all her life, and all of Thomas’s life, and a majority of Liam’s, as well, “Well it’s...It’s…”
Wendy spun around to face her oldest brother once again, “It’s not home . I want to stay home! I don’t want to go to some snobbish, stinking British town waaaaay up there.”
“I already bought the house and tickets, can’t change that now,” Liam said sternly, but his eyes were still good natured. Kyle smiled at her before turning around and picking up the box again, carrying it to the van. Wendy watched him go with a frown on her face.
“It’s okay, Wendy,” Liam said in a serious voice, and he knelt down so he was eye-to-eye with her. Green eyes met brown, and she jutted her lower lip out as he smiled.
“They’ve got hella good schools there, and I’m sure you’re gonna make a ton of friends, okay?”
“Cark it, Liam, I don’t care about school,” Wendy responded sourly.
“You gotta,” Liam said, before straightening up, “How ‘bout we make a promise, huh?”
“Promise me you’ll try to make some friends, and then I’ll promise you somethin’, how’s that?” Liam asked, sticking his pinky finger out. Wendy raised an eyebrow.
“Really? Is that how we’re gonna do this?”
Liam only smiled back. With a sigh, Wendy held out her pinky finger.
“Fine, I’ll promise to make a friend if you...If you…” She thought, for a moment, what sort of thing she could make Liam to do that could benefit her in some way, before deciding, “If you don’t kiss Kyle in front of me anymore!”
“What? That’s not fair, how is that even a thing?”
“It’s gross , that’s why it’s a thing! I don’t wanna see two people eating each other’s faces off!”
“We don’t do that--it’s more like sucking.”
Wendy narrowed her eyes at her brother before saying, “We have a deal or not?”
Liam studied her before grinning and giving his pinky a little wiggle, “It’s a deal. You make some friends, and I’ll stop smooching my boyfriend whenever you’re around.”
“You better,” Wendy too, wiggled her pinky, before letting go. Liam straightened up, still grinning.
“Ace! Well, we better get goin’ soon, gotta stop for petrol on the way, ‘kay?”
The sky was a concrete gray that seemed to reflect Wendy’s feelings as they pulled up to the house they would be living in from now on, a small thing in Birmingham that instantly made her miss the large, airy hallways of her old house. Crammed on either side were identical houses, with only slight variations such as different curtains hanging in the windows or a rocking chair on the porch. The bleak air made it look even more miserable, or perhaps it was just her imagination. As an artist, she saw this as something to be painted in dark colors, and if she were to add in her family, maybe paint Kyle and Liam in a bright way that was much different from her, Thomas, and the house--the two of them seemed extremely optimistic about it all.
“We’re here!” Liam said unnecessarily as they pulled to the front of it, beaming at it, “Reminds ya of home, doesn’t it?”
“I’m gonna chunder,” Wendy said, only for Thomas to hear. He gave a short burst of laughter that ended nearly as quickly as it started as he gazed ruefully up at the house. Kyle stepped out of the car, stretching his back, before smiling and leaning towards Liam, who quickly shook his head and pointed at Wendy, who was gazing out the window. With a sigh, Kyle turned away.
Taking their bags into the house, Wendy noted the cracks in the pavement where weeds were growing through, and the crabgrass. This would not be a fun place.
That night, they all slept on the floor in the living room. Wendy refused to explore the place at the moment and Thomas had moodily picked up his book and continued reading, which was so out of place for him that Wendy wondered if they had left his personality behind as well.
“I think this place is gonna suck,” Wendy said when Kyle and Liam had fallen asleep, Liam’s heavy snores filling the air and Kyle’s short, breathy ones.
“Bloody oath,” Thomas agreed, and for a while, neither of them spoke. Then, Thomas turned on his side so he was facing Wendy.
“But it’s a place to start, isn’t it?”
“All the peoples here are probably dills and dags,” Wendy sighed, tapping her fingers on the wood floor, “I already miss everyone back at home.”
Thomas snorted, “Yeah, Sophie sure is ‘everyone’, and she was already acting like a mongrel after the whole birthday fiasco.”
His old figjam personality showed through his eyes as they conversed for a while, and finally, they turned away from each other.
“I think we should give this place a fair go, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?” Thomas said, but his words sounded empty and Wendy knew he missed home just as much as she did, maybe even more so.
The next morning, all their stuff arrived, packed haphazardly into boxes.
“I’d say you didn’t even try if I personally didn’t see you crying about it when you couldn’t fit your boomerang with the houseplants,” Wendy heard Kyle telling Liam. Wendy gave a huff and carried all of her own boxes to the room Liam had said was hers--it was at the front of the house, a sort of circular room, the outside looking a bit like a castle. The window was wrap-around and there was a bench underneath it.
She would’ve liked it, if she weren’t so determined to hate this new house and it’s peeling gray paint and the mocha-colored walls. Liam sure was a dipstick if he thought they would last in this place. Wendy would personally burn it down herself if she had to.
Opening the nearest box, scrawled with “WENWEN’S STUFF :)”, Wendy dug around for a bit before sighing and opening the next one, discarding the package knife as she did so. She found what she was looking for--her sketchbook, and copic markers. Straightening up, she began looking around for a good place to sit, before noticing she had accidentally carried one of Liam’s boxes with her. Deciding she wasn’t going to carry it back downstairs, she called,
There was a thumping sound, and then the door flung open, Liam racing in.
“Yeah? What’s wrong?”
“I got one of your boxes, come get it.”
Liam scratched his head, “You sure? I only used the duct tape with the gummy bears for your boxes, mine have the flowers.”
Wendy pointed at the mentioned box, “I’m sure my boxes aren’t supposed to have ‘Liam’s shit’ on them.”
“Oh yeah, you’d probably be right about that,” Liam said, grinning, and stooped down to pick up the box. He straightened up, balancing it in his arm, and cast a look around.
“I thought you’d like this room best. Whaddya think?”
“I don’t like the color of the walls or the outside paint, the wood floors are creaky and the lights are all old-fashioned,” Wendy said, crossing her arms.
“C’mon, now, don’t be a knocker, I’m just...Tryna make everything work.” Liam’s grin faded and he suddenly looked uncomfortable. They stood there for a few seconds, before Kyle called for Liam, and he shuffled out of the room. Wendy gave a sigh, and flipped open her sketchbook, prepared to sit down on the bench beneath the window, when a voice said,
“Rack off, you whacker!” Wendy screamed, falling backwards onto her rear in surprise. Looking up, eyes wide, she saw a young boy standing there, maybe ten or twelve, with blond hair and blue eyes. He was grinning merrily at her, and only wearing a pair of light blue pajamas.
“What are you doing in my room, you pommy bastard?!” Wendy near-shouted, scrambling to her feet. The door flew open once again, but this time, it was Thomas standing there.
“Wen, what’s wrong? I heard screaming. If it’s a spider, you’re gonna have to call Liam to do that shi-” Thomas stopped mid-sentence, staring at the boy. Wendy pointed at him angrily.
“This guy just snuck up into my room! How did you even get in here?”
“I live here,” The boy said simply, sitting down on the window seat, “Right? And I don’t know what pommy is, but I know what bastard is, and that’s just plain rude .”
“But---nobody was here yesterday,” Thomas looked absolutely bewildered. The boy looked offended.
“I was here, I live here, I watched you guys sleep on the floor! That’s gotta be uncomfortable, you know.”
“LIAM!” Wendy raised her voice, calling for her brother, “LIAM, COME HERE NOW!”
“What are you doing?” The boy asked, raising an eyebrow (which, Wendy noticed, was notably thick, just like everyone else in her family).
Liam appeared behind Thomas, looking a bit agitated.
“What is it?”
“I was lookin’ through my stuff, and I was going to draw, but then this freckle showed up and started claiming that he lives here!” Wendy pointed at the boy again, and Thomas nodded. Liam, however, looked confused.
“Uh...What? Thomas, if you’re bothering her, leave her alone for a bit, okay?” He turned to his younger brother, “And you put the wrong tape on your boxes, Kyle is the one with the teddy bears, yours has the crowns on it, and-”
“What? It wasn’t me,” Thomas looked offended, “It’s the lil pom boy here, you see--”
He, too, pointed at the blond boy, who was now giggling. Liam only looked more confused.
“Stop yankin’ my legs, guys, I gotta--”
“There’s a boy right here !” Wendy turned to him, grabbing his arm, “Here, you see, Liam, are you blind?”
Liam only looked confused, and now, even more agitated.
“Look, guys, I know you’re upset about all this, but,” He shook his head, and seemed unable to say anything else, so he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Nice try,” The blond boy laughed, “But nobody can see me, you know.”
Thomas and Wendy stood in silence, before they both broke out in chatter.
“What do you mean--”
“In my bedroom--!”
“I’m dead, that’s why,” The boy said casually, cutting them off, and they both stopped talking. For a long moment, the siblings stood there, not saying anything. Then, Wendy turned to Thomas, eyes wide, and whispered,
“You think he’s taking the coke?”
“Only explanation I can think of,” Thomas whispered back, looking as equally disturbed as she felt.
“I’m right here, you know, and I can hear what you’re saying,” The boy said, sliding off of the seat with a unrealistic grace, “I’m Peter, okay? I’m a ghost.”
“You can’t be, you felt pretty solid to me,” Wendy said, wrinkling her nose at him, “But I guess that might explain why Liam couldn’t see you.”
“Wait, Wendy, you’re not really gonna believe that, are you?” Thomas asked, eyebrows raising, “Maybe he’s just an ocker, right?”
“Really, it’s not that strange if you think of it,” Wendy said, before shaking her head, “What am I saying, it is! But there isn’t another explanation.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow, bemused.
“You’re quick to jump to this conclusion. You've barely heard him speak and you've already concluded he's a ghost! Crazy talk, if you ask me!”
"Well, I didn't," Wendy said waspishly, crossing her arms.
“I’m right here, you know,” Peter said, rolling the sleeves of his pajamas up, “And I can tell we’re going to be good friends.”
The siblings scoffed, but Thomas seemed a bit interested in Peter, a curious look on his face.
“So you’re really a ghost?” Wendy asked, turning to Peter. It was a quick and jumpy decision, sure, but at the moment, it seemed like the only one that made sense. Unless Liam was playing a cruel joke on them and pretending not to see Peter, than she'd smack him so hard his eyeballs would pop out.
“Of course, why do you think your dad didn’t see me?” Peter said, bouncing up and down. The creaky floorboards made no noise as he did so, as if he were weightless.
“He’s our brother, not our dad,” Thomas said, flicking his curly hair out of his eyes, “And if you’re really dead, how come you’re....dead?”
“Tom, you can’t just ask people why they’re dead,” Wendy told her brother off crossly, but Peter looked excited to discuss this topic.
“Died in my sleep, I did. Don’t really know how, or why, and it’s okay, I got over it last year,” Peter waved his hand casually, “First I was really scared, but then I got used to it, you know?”
“No,” Thomas and Wendy said at the same time. Wendy tried to compare suddenly dying and still existing but not really to anything she herself could relate to, but drew a blank. It sounded hard, to be honest. Peter rolled his eyes at their response.
“Whatever, buttheads. The point is, this is my room, but I'm happy to share it with ya!” He hooked his arm with Wendy, who instantly recoiled.
“No, that’s weird,” She said, frowning, “I don’t know you at all! You’re a freaking ghost! A total stranger!”
"Bloody oath!" Thomas agreed, "You're dead and all that, it's a bit creepy. A ghost."
“Yes, but I’m a person, too," Peter said, unhooking his arm from Wendy’s instantly, though there was a look of sadness on his face, "I just thought...Well, you're the first people to be here in a while, and I'm excited to have friends..."
“Well--It’s still Wendy's room--Our house, we bought it, you know--” Thomas stuttered, not knowing how to response to Peter's sudden change of attitude.
“I see,” Peter mumbled, backing away from Wendy and Thomas, “I see...Well, but...But... It’s my home too! I should be able to stay in my room!”
“This isn’t our home, it’s our house,” Wendy said, a bit savagely as she glared at the blond boy, “There’s a difference, you know. And if I wanted an ankle biter in my new room, I would’ve gotten a dog.”
“You’re not very nice, are you?” Peter asked in a voice that suddenly took on annoying superiority, even though it was clear that Wendy was older than him by at least two years.
“Not to kids who just appeared in my room and claimed they were a ghost, no,” Wendy turned to Thomas, who looked half amused, and half concerned, following the conversation intently, “And what are you still doing here? Don’t you have your room to unpack?”
“I was going to stay and analyze this ghostie, but of course, sister mine,” Thomas said with a dramatic flourish, “I want a bikkie, too, want one?”
“No, I’m good.” Wendy pointed to her open door, “Get out.”
Thomas bowed dramatically in an exaggerated manner, snickering as he did so, which caused Wendy to huff and nudge him with her toe, “Seriously, out, you figjam bludger.”
"You're no fun, WenWen," Thomas said, opening the door, "And if you keep calling me a figjam bludger, the insult is going to lose...Well, the insult within it."
And finally, he exited the room. Wendy closed her door and faced her room again, only to see Peter giggling silently, hand over his mouth, looking as if the entire conversation had made him go into silent hysterics.
“What’s so funny?” Wendy asked crossly, putting her hands on her hips.
“You guys talk funny.” Peter giggled, "Bikkie? Fiigjam? What does that even mean?"
“Shut it,” Wendy said, sitting on the floor cross-legged, balancing her sketchbook in her lap,“Don’t you have a toilet to haunt or anything?”
“No, not really,” Peter said as Wendy slipped a pencil out from the rings of her sketchbook, flipping open to a random page, “This is my room, the place I died and all that. I’m rather attached to it. I call it my own country and everything. I walk into other rooms and pretend I’m invading other countries.”
“You’ve got problems.” Wendy muttered as she pressed her pencil tip to the paper.
“I am dead.”
Wendy crinkled her nose once again, and Peter crinkled his back. They sat in silence for a few minutes, distinctive thumps of boxes being dropped over and over again coming from downstairs. Finally, pencil sketching out light marks on the paper, Wendy asked,
“So, do you stay here all the time, or…?”
“I can visit other places in the house, and if a family lives here, I can attach myself to a person and travel with them within a fifteen mile radius,” Peter waved his hands airily, “Trust me, I’m a pro at this, I experimented. Banged the doors, shouted 'boo' and everything. I'm an expert.”
“You don’t look like one.”
“‘Don't judge a book by it's cover, dear WenWen," Peter said once again with that voice that irked Wendy so.
"Don't call me that."
"Whatever. Three families have lived here since I died, none lasting all that long. I know things.”
“Were you...friends with them too?” Wendy asked, leaning her back against the mocha-colored wall and shifting her legs into a more comfortable position, not really knowing what she was drawing, but instead letting her pencil do all the work.
“Well...The first family came in a few months after I died. I was still all sad and emotionally unstable then, so all I did was cry in the attic and throw things. They moved out after only a month.” Peter explained, "I wasn't a happy dead person."
“I’d move out too,” Wendy said, imagining being a small child hearing bumps in the night, clutching her pillow, terrified, "Hearing noises at night isn't a good thing."
"I suppose not, no," Peter agreed.
"What about the second family?"
“By the second family, I was a bit more okay, and sometimes I talked to the woman who lived here when she was sad and totally unaware that her boyfriend was cheating on her, but she moved out, too,” Peter continued, turning his head to peek curiously in one of Wendy’s open boxes. Wendy noted that his voice got quieter when he said this, eyes distant.
“There’s a third, right?” Wendy asked, leaning forward, and flipping her sketchbook shut, deciding she didn't really feel like drawing after all, “You said there was a third family, right? What were they like?"
“Yeah, the Galantes, they were pretty nice,” Peter said fondly, “They lasted the longest--five months. They had a son older than me, Raivis. He cried a lot and was sad a lot of the time, alone, but I talked to him sometimes, and he was actually really very friendly... But then…”
Peter suddenly looked uncomfortable, and opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and shook his head. He was silent for a few moments, before looking up and asking, “Anyways, what do you think of this room?”
“It’s bog standard, but I’ll fix it up,” Wendy said, not missing how uncomfortable Peter looked, but didn’t say anything about it. She traced a circle on the dusty floor, noting the buildup of dust on her finger. Wiping her finger on her shorts in disgust, she looked up at Peter once again.
“So...You’re really dead, and all? Carked it, snuffed it, whatever you want to call it?”
“And you can only leave when you’re attached to someone?”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded, picking up a pencil that had fallen to the floor when Wendy had minutes before. Wendy shuddered a bit, thinking of a dead person's ghost following her everywhere she went. She'd never have another peaceful moment.
“I hope you didn’t attach yourself to me.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think it works that way,” Peter said brightly, beginning to trace patterns into his arm with the pencil,“No, I can only do that if they’ve opened up to me and stuff. At least, I was only able to do that with the woman and Raivis, since they actually opened up to me, but I haven’t been able to leave any other time.”
“Oh,” Wendy said, suddenly realizing something, “So being a ghost gets really lonely, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it does, but I've come to expect it,” Peter said, setting the pencil down before admiring the light-pressed marks he made in his arm; a recurring pattern of flowers, “I should publish a novel, really. 'The True Struggles Of Being Dead', by Peter Kirkland.”
“Yeah, that’d be true ghost writing,” Wendy murmured, suddenly feeling remorse for the boy, “Well, uh...I wasn’t going to let you, but you can still sleep here and stuff. Just...Not close to me.”
“I already planned to,” Peter said with a shrug. Wendy got to her feet, tucking her sketchbook under her arm. Peter followed, rolling his pajama sleeves down.
“But it’s only because I feel sorry for you, okay? No other reason, don’t be getting any ideas like my figjam brother, thinking so highly of himself…” Wendy trailed off, eyeing the walls and the window seat, “I oughta start decorating.”
“So you’re cool with it? Just like that?” Peter asked, eyes widening, before he jumped up and down, excitement evident on his face, “Yeah, you should! Can I help?”
“I don’t think I need help, it’ll be easy. Piece of piss and all that,” Wendy said, bending down to retrieve her package knife from the floor. The corner of Peter’s lips twitched, and he smiled at her.
“I still think you speak funny.”
“Don’t patronize me with a knife in my hand, you ratbag.”
Chapter 3: Chapter Three
As the week progressed, having Peter around became surprisingly normal. He normally stayed in her room, where she spent about half her time, and even then he didn’t bother her. Thomas thought it was highly amusing, having a ghost for a roommate, but Wendy always told him to screw off when he tried making a joke about it.
In fact, she rather enjoyed being able to do whatever in her room without being bothered by anyone, until….
“Knock knock,” Kyle said, coming into her room with Liam in tow, “Hi, Wendy!”
“Hey,” Wendy said, taking her headphones out of her ear, looking up from her sketchbook, “What is it?”
“Remember that promise we made a week or so ago?” Liam asked casually. Wendy nodded, and beside her, Peter looked interested, setting a magazine he had borrowed from Wendy down.
“Well, it’s been a week, WenWen, and I’ve missed at least fifty seven perfect opportunities to start smooching on Kyle, and you’ve yet to actually get out and attempt to make a friend,” Liam said, “So we’re going to confiscate all your drawing stuff for the rest of day, and you’re going to go out and meet new people.”
“What?!” Wendy cried, feeling scandalized.
“It’s was Liam’s idea,” Kyle said, pointing at him.
“Betrayal,” Liam hissed, scowling at his boyfriend.
“You both betrayed me,” Wendy hissed, getting to her feet. Liam pointed at her nose, before bopping it and saying,
“We had a deal.”
Peter laughed, and Wendy threw her shoe at him.
This was how Wendy ended up on the corner of the block, getting as far away as she could from that detestable house and angrily sulking. Peter, unable to leave the house unless attaching himself to someone, had went off to bother Thomas (or something).
The sky was pleasantly blue, but Wendy wasn’t feeling the love, and almost hated the pleasant breeze on her skin. School would start in a week or so, and she wasn’t prepared for it. If Wendy hated her new house so much, she’d hate her new school even more.
It was at this moment Wendy felt as if she were being watched. Scanning the area with her eyes squinted suspiciously, eyebrows quirked, she looked for any creepers who were spying on her. She didn’t like that. It’s not like she was doing anything right now, so why would someone be watching her…?
Unless they were just being a creep.
Getting to her feet, Wendy scanned the area once again before calling,
There was a long silence, with the distant sound of buzzing cars in the background, before a girl with long silvery hair leaped down from a tree in the yard closest to her.
At least, Wendy thought they were a girl before getting a good look at them. Their face was youthful, but with a stronger jaw and nose than most girls Wendy knew, as well as their flat chest and utter lack of any curves whatsoever. His hair was in twin braids and he wore simple khakis, a vest, and a button up shirt.
“Who’re you?” Wendy demanded, stomping up so she came face-to-face with him. The boy regarded her silently, before tapping her nose and saying,
“I’m Alex. Do you like art?”
Wendy glanced down at her paint-spattered jeans and shirt that said I Belong In A Museum With the Rest Of The Art and asked,
“Gee, what gave you that idea?”
“I like art,” Though his face held a neutral expression, his eyes were wide with earnest. His accent wasn’t British, which Wendy appreciated, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. Alex suddenly looked left and right, before a look of horror dawned on his face.
“Wait, you’re still innocent! Don’t let them find you!” Alex shouted, taking Wendy’s hand and forcibly dragging her along the sidewalk. Wendy gave a sputter of surprise and shouted angrily, trying to yank her hand out of his grip.
“Let me go--you bounce--” Wendy tried kicking his pale legs, but Alex just gave her a sideways look before saying,
“I’m trying to help you. Don’t want to ruin art. You’re art, ‘cause you’re still safe. But if Marco and Hugo and the others get to you…”
“Who are they?!” Wendy asked angrily.
“Thank you, this answers every question I’ve ever had, ever,” Wendy said, before crossing her arms stubbornly, and they came to a stop. “Come on, tell me, who are Marcus and Hugh?”
“Marco and Hugo,” Alex deadpanned.
“I don’t care what they’re names are. Who are they?”
Alex stared back at Wendy with blank eyes. With a sigh, she uncrossed her arms and extended her hand, remembering that she was supposed to be making friends . With a dignified cough, she said,
“I’m Wendy Smith. You are?”
“Alex Edelstein,” Alex examined her hand with a raised eyebrow, as if he’d never seen a godforsaken hand before, “I live here.”
Wendy’s hand stayed there until Alex tentatively reached out, and after a moment, he shook her hand. Instantly, Wendy’s hand jumped to his elbow and she yanked him close to her face, eyes narrowing.
“Now tell me who Mark and Huge-no are.”
“Marco and Hugo.”
“What ever .”
“Did you make any friends?” Liam asked excitedly when Wendy trudged into the house.
“Yeah, one,” Wendy answered, holding out her hand expectantly, “Another art kid, weirdo named Alex. Can I have my stuff back?”
“Hey, hey, I said rest of the day. You have family to talk to, remember?” Liam said, pointing a finger at her.
“He’s right, you know,” Peter said from behind him, shrugging his small shoulders.
“Shut your stupid face,” Wendy snapped. Liam raised an eyebrow.
“If you want your sketchbook back, you have to be a lot nicer than that,” he chided, before ruffling her hair with a smile, “C’mon, WenWen, we’re going to play Scrabble. Come with us!”
Wendy peered behind her oldest brother to see that Thomas and Kyle were already sitting at the table with the box in front of them. She gave a groan and reluctantly agreed to join them, and Peter smiled widely.
“I wish I could play,” he said ruefully as Liam exited the room, humming to himself, “All I can do is watch you doodle.”
“I don’t doodle,” Wendy said defensively, “Anyways, what did you do when I was gone?”
“You know, most people are a little more freaked out than you are about living with a dead child,” Peter said casually, not answering Wendy’s question. Fine. Not like she cared all that much anyways.
“I’d prefer if you were as mean as cat’s piss, you’re just plain annoying,” Wendy said, “And if you’re trying to be scary, you’re definitely not.”
“Scaring people isn’t fun. I’ve tried before.”
“Whatever, you dag,” Wendy said, and she left Peter behind as she entered the room. Behind her, she heard Peter call,
“I won’t bother the person who makes the most innappropriate word first for three whole days!”
Thomas smirked at this, and Wendy glared down at her own letters. Damn. Two more and she would’ve had blowjob .
Oh, well. She could still try.