Chapter Two

When Wanda awoke, she found herself tangled in her bed sheets, her silver comforter practically suffocating her. As she pushed it off of her, she noticed Pietro dozing in her dark red beanbag chair. When she attempted to stand and stretch, she promptly fell onto the floor, exhaustion having hollowed out her bones. Pietro woke at the sound and gently helped her back into her bed.

"What happened?" Wanda asked in a small voice. As Pietro tried to gather his words, she felt fear creep up on her, scared to think that she had hallucinated everything, but even more scared to think that it actually happened.

"I don't really know. I was trying to chase after that shithead, but when he called you that, I turned around. It looked almost like something red and glowing came from you, and it just destroyed all the plants nearby. When you collapsed, I ran over to you, but I ran way too fast. It was the same when I ran us home, it took, like, less than a minute. After that, I just put you in your bed and fell asleep."

Wanda pondered this for a minute, trying to come up with any sort of reasonable explanation: there was a flash fire, Pietro just got an adrenaline rush, someone secretly slipped them some acid. But eventually, Wanda realized that there was truly only one explanation.

"We're mutants, aren't we?"

Pietro just sat there, shocked at the statement. The world at large had only begun to become aware of mutants that November, and there was still very little known about them. Despite this, or maybe because of it, a Mutant Registration Act was already being talked about and accusations of secretly being a mutant were being thrown at nearly every public figure. There were even some rumors that mutants were being attacked all over the country, but no one seemed to talk about that a lot, Wanda noted wryly. Being mutant wasn't just a state of being, it was a state of fear.

"We can't let anyone know," Pietro said suddenly, coming out of his reverie, "At least not until we've got it under control."

"Under control?"

"If we just ignore it, we'll just have the same sort of accidents. We need to learn how to use it, so that we control it, instead of it controlling us" he explained.

"Okay…" Wanda agreed cautiously, "But are you sure we can't even tell Mom and Dad?"

"No," Pietro sighed, "you know how they can be. It's not like they're exactly great at helping us with our problems."

Wanda nodded, acknowledging the truth of his point. The Joneses adopted them when they were already eight years old, soon after their mother died. Those circumstances made things…difficult, to say the least. In fact, the Maximoff twins called them Mom and Dad out of sense of politeness and obligation more than anything else.

"So, I'm thinking tonight after dinner we go back into the woods to try to figure this out. That sound okay?" Pietro asked concernedly.

Wanda nodded, lost in thought, and Pietro smiled gently, ruffled her hair and started walking to the door.

"By the way," he said right before he left, "you might want to eat something," nodding to her bedside table, where there was a glass of water and some apple slices waiting for her.

Once she had eaten and gotten some of her strength back, Wanda stood up and went to the full-length mirror attached to her closet door. Even after all that had happened, she still couldn't get Neil's words out of her head. She'd worn a dark purple tank top and dark skinny jeans to school, along with her black combat boots. Plus, on her way home she had been wearing her red leather jacket, which she noticed Pietro had hung up for her. Wanda didn't think she looked slutty. But her top was kind of tight, and she was a size D, but she still didn't think she looked slutty by any standards. Not that there's anything wrong that, it's a stupid, sexist label anyway, she thought.

Eventually she turned her eyes to the rest of herself. Her skin was smooth and clear, she'd gotten past her acne over a year ago. It was fairly brown too, but she liked it that way. It certainly doesn't look like shit, she thought defensively. As for her hair, it was a far darker brown, while also being thick and a bit wavy. Her eyes were dark green and framed by thick black lashes. Most of the time Wanda was pretty happy with how she looked, especially since she looked so much like her mother. But when someone like Neil came along and said aloud the thoughts that still sometimes crept at the back of her mind, she always began to doubt herself. She knew he was just a bigoted idiot, that she shouldn't let him get to her. But all the logic in the world couldn't just turn off this kind of hurt. But dwelling on it would make her feel worse, as Wanda knew from experience. So instead, she just took out her homework from her bag and started working.

"So, how was school today?"

They had all sat down to a dinner of steak and green beans about ten minutes ago, eating in silence for about ten minutes until Mrs. Jones decided to start off the compulsory Q&A.

"Well, uh," Pietro began, "school was just average, but soccer practice was sort of tough."

"Coach working you hard?" Mr. Jones asked with a laugh.

"Yeah," Pietro chuckled, "he really wants to end the season strong."

"And how was your day, Wanda?" Mrs. Jones asked.

"A boy said that my skin looked like someone rubbed shit all over it."

The table was quiet for a minute after that.

"That's awful sweetheart!" Mrs. Jones suddenly exclaimed, taking Wanda's hand. Mr. Jones just looked uncomfortable.

"And on the way home, he threw a can at my head and called me a slutty Gypsy bitch" Wanda forced out, her voice cracking.

"That's horrible. You'll just have to ignore him." Mrs. Jones responded.

With that, Wanda tore her hand away. "I can't just ignore him, I have to see him every single day! Can't you call the school or something? They only do something when a parent gets involved."

"Honey, that'd probably only make things worse. He'll stop soon enough if you just ignore him."

"Oh, sure, cause that's worked so well over the years!" Wanda shouted. She was about to go on, but then she noticed Pietro's panicked look and realized what could happen. Instead, she ran to the back door and out into the woods. She just couldn't stand how apathetic the Joneses could be. They adopted her and Pietro because they wanted to have kids, but when it came to helping them with their problems, they never did anything of substance. Wanda could still remember her mother Magda, and how she was always there for them. Back when they lived in Transia, Magda did everything in her power to protect her children. When other kids would refuse to let them join in on their games and bully them because of their heritage, Magda would scold both the children and their parents. When a local vender would shout, "Get those Gypsy kids away from my stall", Magda wouldn't stop until he or she would apologize. And when they moved to the U.S. when the twins were seven, it was no different. Maybe that's why it bothered Wanda so much when her adoptive parents did nothing in these situations: it just reminded Wanda of the mother she lost.

At this thought Wanda finally stopped running and looked around. She had run fairly far, she couldn't even see the edge of woods anymore. Her legs and head ached, so much so that Wanda looked around desperately for one of the benches that dotted the paths in certain spots. To her frustration, there were none nearby and she certainly didn't want to go searching for one. But as she still was thinking wistfully of a place to sit, her hands began to glow red. Ahead of Wanda, at the edge of the path, a similar glow began to manifest and quickly enough, it solidified into a plain wooden bench.

"Holy shit!" Wanda whispered.

"How'd you do that?" A familiar voice asked.

Wanda jumped, afraid of being discovered, only to turn around and see Pietro. He gave her a small smile, unsure of her mood.

"Sorry, I would have gotten here quicker but I had to check a few different paths before I could find you."

"How fast were you going?" Wanda asked absentmindedly, still staring at the bench.

"Pretty fast, I was worried about accidently running into a tree or something, but it's weird, I could see just fine," when Wanda just nodded vaguely, he added, "So, how'd you do that?"

"I'm not sure. I was just thinking about how nice it'd be sit down on a bench and then it just started to manifest."

Cautiously, Wanda started to walk toward the bench. It looked innocent, but who knows? It could easily just be an illusion and not be solid at all. But when she outstretched her hand, it touched solid wood. With a sigh of relief, she promptly plopped down on it, relishing the rest. Right after she did so, Pietro joined her.

"So, your mutant power seems simple enough, you have super speed. But I can apparently explode trees and make benches. What the hell kind of power is that?" Wanda asked confusedly. "Maybe it's the power to create change? It kind of reminds me of Harry Potter. Like how before the kids were trained, weird stuff would just happen based on what they were thinking about."

"That makes sense. I guess that's what you should try then." Pietro said, trying to assure her.

"But I wasn't trying to make that bench or kill those trees. So how am I supposed to keep it from happening all the time?"

"You'll just have to practice. I know you can do this Wanda," Pietro replied, putting his arm around her, "And I'll be right here to help you."

Wanda sighed and turned her attention to the bench. Gently, she placed her hands on the wood and imagined the wood turning into gold. She concentrated incredibly hard on the image, to the point where her head began to ache. But to her frustration, nothing happened. Maybe I should start smaller, she thought. So instead, she picked up a small stick from the forest floor, this time trying to make it disintegrate like she did with the trees. She tried to ignore her brother, who by this time had begun speeding around, practicing his turns. Due to her heavy concentration, her face was all scrunched up. I must look ridiculous. After a few minutes of enormous effort and no results, she called out to her twin, "I swear, this is impossible. I'm concentrating as much as I can but nothing's happening!"

Pietro slowed to a stop and said, "Well, um-maybe that's the problem? Maybe you're trying too hard. Try just doing what feels instinctual."

Wanda bit her lip and nodded. Once again, her turned her eyes to the stick, but instead of concentrating fiercely as before, she tried to clear her mind. Then she began to search for that energy she had felt inside herself when she demolished those trees and even when, she realized, she had somehow made that bench. Once she went searching for it, she found it easily. It rose up inside her, surging to her hands. The glow, she registered distantly, it was more than that. It moved over her hands, bits of it looking as if it were scarlet arcs of electricity, other spots looking like veins of fire. The overall effect seemed to be a marriage of fog and flame. The same glow had taken hold of the stick and with barely a thought, Wanda caused it lift up off of her palms. She then closed her right hand into a gentle fist, paused a moment and suddenly opened it while twisting her wrist a bit. The stick was ripped apart from its very core, leaving only the smallest pieces of wood dotting the area to suggest what had happened. The glow had disappeared from Wanda's hands, which she now stared at in astonishment.

"Do you know how you did that?" Pietro asked quietly, walking away from his spectator spot and up to her, gently placing his hand on her head.

"I think so," Wanda began, "It's like you said about instinct. Like, when you pick something up from the ground, you don't really need to think about it or concentrate on it. Your body just knows what to do."

Pietro nodded and then asked, "Do you think you could put it back together?"

His sister looked around at the small grains of wood and hesitated. But then she took a deep breath and called upon the force that rested inside of her. Very slowly, each of the grains took up the same glow as before. Wanda started to move her fingers in a sort of delicate, almost swirling gesture and the grains languidly levitated upwards. They subsequently started to gather before her, fitting themselves together like the pieces of a puzzle. When it was repaired, Wanda felt the change she had wrought solidify inside of her and let go.

"You know, when you do that, you're eyes turn red." Pietro mentioned.

"Really?" Wanda asked with a laugh, "Like, my entire eye, whites and all, or just the iris or something?"

"Just the iris, it looks pretty cool actually."

"Well now we both look like freaks," she teased, alluding to her brother's silver hair. "Listen, I'm gonna go back to where I made all of those plants disintegrate and see if I can fix it. I don't want anyone suspecting anything. You should stay here and practice though, I don't want you to get hurt by me doing something large-scale."

"Excuse me?" Pietro scoffed, "I'm not about to let you do that alone! What if you pass out again or something? Besides, I can get us both there much quicker."

"Alright." Wanda relented with a sigh, knowing that fighting him on this would be useless.

With that, Pietro picked up his sister and ran them back to where this chapter of their lives had begun. When he let Wanda down, she surveyed the damage, noting how this part of the woods took the appearance of a dead clearing. She plopped down at the center of it and let the energy rise up in her. The overall process was the same as it was with the stick, only this time it took around twenty minutes. As each minute ticked by, as each branch and leaf reformed, Wanda could feel herself starting to tire. But her mutant energy kept her going until the task was complete. When it was done, Wanda had just enough time and energy to stand up and admire her work before she fainted once more.