Chapter 4
Claire's P.O.V.
I stood in the shower, allowing the warm water to massage my paint-blotched skin. Even though I'd only been living with my Uncle for a day and a half, it felt like we've lived together for much longer. He was very easy to get along with, and not at all like the parental figures who raised me most of my life. He could relate to things on my level as a teenager, and understood exactly how I felt about our abnormalities. Sure, I could always talk about my superhero powers with my Dad--Mr. Bennett that is, but it wasn't the same. He didn't know, he could he, if he didn't have any powers himself?
Once I climbed out of the shower and wrapped my body in a towel, I peered at my reflection in the mirror. The blue paint was gone, of course, but I couldn't help but think about how much happier I felt in general here.
Peter lay on the couch watching television once I came into the living room, and he glanced up when I sat down on the large, overstuffed chair off to the side.
"Better?" He asked, once he glanced in my direction, and I smiled.
"Yeah," I replied. "did you order pizza?"
"Sure did." Peter stretched his arms over his head, and sat up. "Should be here in twenty minutes. And don't worry, I ordered extra cheese and mounds of pepperoni," he added when I started to open my mouth.
"Thanks," I laughed. "so what are we watching? Anything interesting?" I hugged my knees to my chest, my eyes focusing on the screen.
"Just the news."
I raised an eyebrow, amused. "So far it's boring?" I asked, and he shook his head.
"So far." he tossed the remote into my hands, and I smirked.
"You need a pet," I announced after a few minutes of silence, and Peter stared at me, stunned by the sudden change of topic.
"Excuse me?" he asked, and I looked at him with a smile.
"I could see you with a dog or a cat. That would make the place perfect, really." I hopped up from my seat and joined him on the couch, smiling.
"Did you have a pet before?" he asked, and I fiddled with my thumb ring.
"Well, not mine officially, but my Mom had a dog named Mr. Muggles." I dont know why, but it was weird not hearing the little puff ball of a dog yapping as he circled my feet whenever Mom would go out.
"Mr. Muggles? What kind of a name is that for a dog?" Peter laughed, and I had to smile...it was pretty silly. Mom treated Mr. Muggles like a third child, and I remember begging them for a dog or cat of my very own.
"I still dont know," I admitted, and Peter looked down at his lap for a moment.
"I'd love to get you a pet, but that's one weakness I've always dealt with," he replied. "I'm pretty allergic."
I stared. "Are you serious?" I asked, my eyes wide.
"Oh yeah." Peter managed a small laugh. "I remember Nathan had this big golden retriever when we were kids, and when I couldn't stop sneezing, we had to get rid of it."
"That sucks," I replied, frowning a little. "so I guess no pets for us. Maybe a goldfish?"
Peter laughed. "If you're that determined to have a pet, sure. Just no weird names like Mr. Muggles, okay?" he ruffled my hair, and I swiped at his hand.
When pizza arrived a short time later, the two of us sat watching "Batman Begins", amused by how clear cut the media made the fine line between superheroes and villains to be. In our world, sometimes you never knew who might be around the bend.
After dinner we watched another movie, and Peter tucked me in. I opened my arms and he gave me a hug, before heading towards my bedroom door.
On Sunday, Peter took me to buy school supplies, something I never took much joy in doing. Not that I hated school, persay, but ever since I discovered my powers it seemed so...boring.
"I never liked school much myself," Peter admitted, watching as I chose notebooks and folders, boxes of pens and pencils.
He took me on a tour of the city, considering we didn't have much time for that when I first moved into the apartment. We had lunch at one of the local deli's, and tried to keep our topic of conversation as normal as possible, because as I said, we had no clue as to who might be around the bend.
Peter brought me to the pet shop after we had ice cream later that afternoon, and encouraged me to go in. "Can you handle it?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder with concern, and he squeezed my shoulder.
"Get yourself a fish," he answered, handing me a couple of bills, and I gave him another hug.
"Thanks," I whispered, "I won't be long."
He insisted I take my time, and I wandered through the miniature shop, cooing over the puppies and kittens grouped together in boxes.
"Are you looking for any breed in particular?" The owner asked, noticing my interest in the puppies, and I gave him a sheapish look.
"Oh, sorry," I apologized. "I actually came in for goldfish."
"I see." The man seemed disappointed, and I glanced towards the window where Peter stood reading the newspaper. He was completely oblivious, which was fine with me at this point.
"I couldn't get a dog if I wanted one...Uncle's allergic, and I'm living with him now," I explained, and the owner understood, bringing me straight to the goldfish section. I couldn't remember the last time I had a fish...probably when I was five or six, and won it at a carnival.
I selected one after a few minutes of grazing, and was given the proper technique of how to care for my fish. "If you are ever able to get a dog for yourself, we'll be here," the owner promised, and I smiled at him, clutching the plastic bag in my hand.
"Thanks," I replied, and after paying him for the fish, the food, and the bowl, I met Peter outside.
"All set?" He asked, and I lifted the bag so he could get a better look.
"Yeah. I think I'll let you do the honors for a name," I added, and Peter raised an eyebrow.
"You trust me that much?" He laughed, and I stuck my tongue out.
"How hard is it to name a goldfish?" I asked, and he rolled his eyes playfully.
"True," he replied. "Hmmm. Let's get home and I'll think about it on the way."
I agreed, and the two of us continued walking, reaching his place within a half hour. Peter helped me set up the bowl, and the two of us sat at the kitchen table watching as my new little friend swum in disgruntled circles.
"Munchkin," Peter decided, and I nearly choked on the soda I'd taken a sip from a few seconds before.
"Are you serious?" I asked. "and you kept going on and on about my Mom's Mr. Muggles?"
Peter snorted. "Well, anything's better than that," he agreed. "Munchkin. I don't know...that keeps going through my head. Probably because it's my nickname for you." he winked, and I gave him a horrified expression in response.
"Munchkin?" I exclaimed, and immediately leapt up from my chair, capturing my Uncle in a tackle from behind. He laughed, and managed to twist my amrs behind my back after a couple of minutes.
"Do you give up?" he asked, and I gritted my teeth, knowing he couldn't hurt me whether by accident or on purpose.
"Sure," I replied, and he released his death grip, hugging me afterwards. "I still can't believe you think of me as a munchkin."
"Could be worse," Peter replied, and I had to admit he was right.
"Munchkin...huh. I'll admit, that's one I haven't heard before. I usually get Clairebear from my Dad, or dorkface from Lyle...but munchkin." I shrugged, and Peter smirked.
"Okay, so is that the fish's name?" he asked, and I nodded, peering at the bowl again. I swore the fish knew what I was thinking, because it directly returned my curious stare, and I swore I saw a little fin flap in a wave.
"I'm not letting you near the stove tonight," Peter announced once we settled in for the evening, and I prepared my backpack for school the next day. I wondered how I would fit in with a New York City crowd, considering I was from out in the boonies of Texas.
"Oh?" I glanced at him from the living room couch, and saw Peter setting the table for dinner. "I'll stand by for a crisis, then."
He laughed, and continued what he was doing.
The two of us had dinner, and sat enjoying each other's company afterwards. "Not a bad cook," I admitted. "you don't give yourself enough credit."
Peter shrugged, and I looked at him again.
"Are you going back to work for the hospital once I start school tomorrow?"
He was quiet again, and I hoped I hadn't hit a bad note. "Probably," he replied. "I'll need something to do when you're gone all day."
"It won't be that bad," I teased. "both of us need normal lives for a while." It felt strange saying that, considering I fought against what my Dad considered a "normal" life for me.
"Probably not," Peter agreed, yawning. "I'm sorry, I'm exhausted. I think I'm going to hit the sack early. Will you be okay alone in here?" He asked, and I raised an eyebrow with amusement.
"I'm sixteen," I replied. "of course I'll be fine alone. What time are we getting up?"
"I'd say set your alarm for 6:30," he replied. "and come wake me if I'm not already up."
I promised to do that, accepting a hug and a kiss on top of the head. I watched as Peter disappeared into the master bedroom, and shut the door behind him.
Feels good to be normal, I thought, leaning back and flipped open a book.
