It will be Wendy.

And then crayons will march up and rule the world and everyone will be a part of a rainbow – and that might be a bad thing, sort of, because there will be more things to be racist about, now. (Everybody knows the Purples can't take the Reds and the Blues – those two have always claimed to be the reason the Purples exist anyway, but not in their history books. And not in their present books, either.)

And then we'll have a hard time finding royalty, because the crowns are going to fit nobody's heads – because all we will think about are the feasts and all we feast upon are the chefs, and the chefs are the patron saints of the religion we will call Life – and we will worship whatever throws us high, be it adrenaline or lollipops or cocaine. (But by then, we will find a way to capture the feeling of being in roller coasters and stick it inside lollipops and we will be sure to keep coke as the surprise center.)

And then rain will fall. Raindrops on the car window will double as stars on the sky beyond the glass. And, tell me, if it rained sunshine, then technically sunshine would have to be liquid – and raindrops would be gold, and they would be solar. And the sun is a star, and will still be a star, and that's what we will make sundrops out to be. (And that makes sense. Doesn't it?)

And then we will have a hard time with logic and belief, because the walls of the world we've built will bleed so blackly that all we will fathom is the darkness we created.

And then, when everybody under streetlights and daylight and everybody who has sauntered deep into the night has woken up, we will all realize how terribly difficult it is to play pretend when we have everything to doubt. And even Peter Pan will grab a gun, shoot all the Lost Boys, and then himself, and Captain Hook will finally feed himself to whatever has always wanted to eat him (besides the chaos of death and damage, of course – however, avoiding these two in the belly of a crocodile is sort of difficult).

And everyone will have a hard time pretending, and actors will run out of roles, and children will grow up overnight (shoot up in height and lessen in rationality, actually), and Neverland will implode on itself, and only one person will doubt all of this enough to pretend it isn't happening.

And it will be Wendy.