Author's Note: Hey everyone! So this is my very first FanFic (though I've read a ton). I am open for any comments or suggestions (or links to your story). There will be OOCs but I'll try to keep them as close to character as possible. I hope you enjoy! This story came to me during the in-between moment of sleep and wake.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel characters, just my OCs


I sat on the couch, upside down, watching the TV. It was a normal lazy Thursday before school started back up. I had two more weeks before the start of my junior year. My dad walked into the living room and I gave him an upside down smile. He had a newspaper in his hand and I knew he was about to conduct business in the kitchen.

"Remember to turn the TV back to its proper place," my dad said to me.

"K," I replied stretching out the letter to get my point across. I do this often, watch the TV upside down. At first it was hard because the TV was right side up but when I was in 7th grade, my dad and I installed a rotating machine to flip the TV upside down. It was genius, though the only problem was I would forget to rotate it back.

The garage door that led you into the kitchen opened and I knew it was my mom. I put my hands on the floor, kicked off the couch and gracefully did a front flip to land on my feet. As soon as I turned to walk into the kitchen, the rug under me slipped and I fell ever so loudly on my face.

"Check for injuries," my mom yelled from the kitchen. I could hear her put her keys down, unloading herself from work.

This happened to me a lot. I was pretty clumsy and rugs on wooden floors were my enemy. This whole house was my enemy actually, because it was all wooden floors. Except the bathrooms that had tiles and my second bedroom that was a mix of wood, carpet and weird plastic. The house was big but not a mansion. 7 bedrooms; one for my parents, one for me, one as an office and one as my special room, the other three were guest rooms, and we had 4 and a half bathrooms. In total, we had three floors, the 'basement' level was underground and was home to the half bathroom, my special room and what we deemed the entertainment room where I would've brought friends into.

I turned onto my back and started inspecting my hands first. I wiggled my fingers, clear; bent my wrists, clear; moved my arms; clear. I did the same for my legs, so far so good. Last came my face. I didn't really land on it but still had to check. My nose wasn't broken, I'm sure I didn't have a concussion but my mouth tasted of iron. Found it, I thought. I got up and continued my walk to the kitchen.

My dad was sitting on a barstool at the bar top counter, reading his newspaper while my mom was standing next to him. She looked at me and smiled.

"Damage report," she said.

"Vitals are fine, bones are fine, tongue has been bit," I replied. She walked up to me and I stuck my tongue out. She examined it and sighed.

"Give it to me straight doc," I said, "do we have to cut it off?"

"You're lucky," she replied, "you get to keep your tongue." I put my hand on my heart as if I was happy and relieved.

"Take two ice cubes and call me in the morning." We giggled and hugged each other.

"You two act like this was a serious medical issue," my dad said. My mother gasped and pulled me to her.

"How dare you," she said in mock anger, "our daughter could've lost her tongue!"

My dad rolled his good eye and returned to read his newspaper. My mom looked at me and winked. My parents were complete opposites but they loved each other very much. My mom is a surgeon who sometimes works at the children's hospital, especially during the summer time. My father is the headmaster at a private boarding school called SHIELD Academy. One is strict and the other is playful, thank god I take after my mother more than my dad. We have the same curly brown hair, same golden brown skin and the same grey brown eyes. We also have about the same figure; she has a bit more extra weight since she had kids. The biggest difference between us is our height. She has me beat by 2 inches but that doesn't matter because 5'3" is still short. She is part Dominican and those genes came out strong when she was born and when I was too. I look more like a Knight, my mother's maiden name, than a Fury, my dad's last name and ours. My mom went over to him and kissed him on his baldhead. Yep, their love could never die.

"Tell me doc," I said to my mom who rubbed my dad's back, "anything cool happen at the hospital today?"

"Kid came in with his arm bent the wrong way," she replied, "that boy's mother was hysterical but the boy just thought it was the coolest thing ever."

"Wicked," I replied with a smile.

"What about you Mads," she asked, "what did you do today?"

"Upside down TV."

"Ah," she replied, "and you Nick?"

"Research," he replied not looking from his newspaper.

"Any father daughter time?"

"I felt as though it should be rescheduled," I said before my dad could say anything, "I had a bad case of laziness that could not be shared."

She smiled and shook her head. We don't really schedule father daughter time or mother daughter time: my parents aren't that busy. My mom just likes for us to interact as much as possible. She grew up in a household where her parents were crazy busy and literally scheduled family time once a week.

My mom whispered something in my dad's ear that caused him to put his paper down. Both of my parents looked at me, my mom with a smile and my dad with his business face. Something was up.

"Maddie," my mother said, "we have some good news."

"Please don't tell me you're having another child," I replied, "I kind of like being the only child in the house."

"You do remember you have a brother right," my mom said, "you know the one who graduated six years ago?"

"Which gave me six years to be the only child."

My brother, Nick Jr. (I know, amazingly funny!) is eight years older than me; and currently working on his doctorate. He wants to be a physicist. He takes after my dad more than my mom. Honestly it is like he is a clone of my dad except he still has both of his eyes, but he does have my mom's sense of humor. Which is great because I call him Nickelodeon and he calls me Hatter, after the Mad Hatter.

"How do you feel about attending your dad's school," my mom asked.

"Like a visit it?"

"Madeline, I want you to join my Academy," my dad said, "you should have never went to a public school. You're too smart for that. And most of those kids are below average."

"It's because of last year isn't," I asked in a low voice.

"Maddie," my mom said, "we love you and we think this academy will be your ticket to greatness."

"Is it because of last year?"

My mom looked at my dad for help who never took his eye off of me.

"Yes," he replied, "you're already registered and accepted. We'll be moving you in next Saturday. Classes start the following Wednesday."

And with that my dad got up and left. My mom stood there awkwardly looking at me with pleading eyes. Silently asking me to accept this. Grey-brown eyes looked at grey-brown eyes.

"Heh, at least you waited until the end of summer."

I left the kitchen and went downstairs to my special room. It had a reading nook in the corner with books all against the closest wall, an electric piano, and paintings that I've done hanging on the other walls along with art equipment scattered around. It was a messy but it was a contained mess. I sat in my nook and thought about the years to come. I had two weeks to come to terms with a change in schools.