A/N: The final one is next.

Of the following week, Sherbrooke High is closed. There had been a body discovered in one of the downstairs restrooms, a former student hung by the throat. It made a three minute coverage on the local news channel the next night, and a section in the newspaper obituary is printed days later.

In the first week, the high school is wrapped in police caution tape like present ribbons. Forensics who rule out the death as suicide.

It hasn't been long since Spirit Week ended, and many of the students are anxious to find out what would happen for the remainder of the year, of what event would define this school year, what the senior students would be remembered by and going out with what bang.

Sadistic, really

They surely found out

They all found out what event will mark this school year when the school reopened. That next week, word immediately began circulating as expected, and reportedly, most of the late student's former friends attended the funeral. There are rumors that the restroom is now haunted, and very few—if any at all—dared to enter it. During the first week back, classes are lenient and not many put up a fuss. There are no students sent to the principal's office. No lunch fights, no sports team rivalries. For once, everyone is remorseful, respectful.

It's quiet, un-flustered, improper. It is unorthodox, different. It's out of character.

Wanda almost doesn't return either, even begged her aunt to let her take a sick day. The girl quickly changes her mind, however, when told that she could stay home only if she watches her little sister.

The school lunches haven't changed, unfortunately. Meatloaf is sold four days in a row. The lunch line has grown significantly shorter than and thus less trays are served.

Overall, most carried on normally as if nothing has been different, as if nothing has changed.

And for many, it hasn't.

Spirit Week is over, so everything is returning to normal. Normal, scheduled, and receptive.

After the house party the Friday of Spirit Week, Peter's locker had been filled with notes, threats scrawled in red inside folded pieces of paper. They had been left by Clarice, he knew. Iit had to be. But the notes weren't the worst part of the blonde's rage—word as it that Mckenzie "cheated" with her unofficial-yet-unspokenly-official senior grade boyfriend at the time. MCKENZIE SHABOTZ IS A SLUT had been spray-painted in pink on the blue lockers, "slut" coincidentally covering Mckenzie's locker door.

In his mind, Peter received the softer blow of Clarice's rage, though the wording on her many Post-It notes would greatly beg to differ. It also still does not change the fact that so many knew that he had been the one who had been found with the popular queen's once-best friend. And his ears would burn and he'd fidget because he imagines the stares and the whispers and assumptions and the judgment.

At this point, Wanda is glad that not many know of her and Peter's relation.

And so Mckenzie didn't appear often. Word has it that she would be transferring at the end of the school year. Some ridiculed her for her decision, tearing her down and stating that she is unworthy of her popular queen status, that she is too cowardly, too reckless. And Clarice had been at the head of all these accusation, the source of them all. (It's no wonder why the other doesn't wish to return.)

By the second week, Sherry continues to carry on as her smiling, optimistic self and makes it her duty and her pleasure to have her new redhead friend hooked around her arm all free hours between classes. And Meisha would be spotted by her two mutant friends when in the hallways, being dragged along. She is always anxious, always worried, and only sends small half-smiles to Peter and Ronny until she stops doing so altogether.

CHANGE

It's two months since Spirit Week. Summer break is approaching. Final exams will be starting.

Sometime during the week, one of the gym teachers has their class run the length of the outside track, twice. There's word that they weren't been very proud of a favorite student of theirs who quit running early, grown tired sooner than before. But it's humid outside at the cause of the warmer seasons, and that is the justifiable reason that changed gym classes to remain indoors for the rest of the year.

The police had been called in the middle of that week for a false alarm, but word circled that a student had passed out during lab.

Wanda actively, adamantly avoided Troy Baxter and his new blonde-betty girlfriend. After her aunt found out about the situation from hearing the girl weeping into her bed sheets, the teen had been given a long talk. Marya emphasized that it hadn't been Wanda's fault that it didn't work out, and sometimes this happens; sometimes people aren't as sincere as they seem in the beginning, and those type of people are better to be avoided. And now, the young mutant has to try to abide by that life advice. It's difficult but she tries to return to school with a higher head—figuratively, of course—rolls her hood back just a little more, and speaks up.

"And I want to bet you that he's going to end up hurting that girl too. He's just trash, draga," Wanda had been told. "You're better than him. Don't ever let yourself be defined by some boy."

Across town, the land lot where the Eccentric Carnival had been is now empty. A full popcorn dispenser and flyers were the only evidence left of its existence. No one since has entered the lot.

Elsewhere as the weekend approached, several tools were reported to have mysteriously vanished from a hardware store. An entire shelf of Hostess snacks disappear from a grocery store a day later.

1

2

3

0

It's been three weeks now and there hasn't been any bizarre outbreaks, no wild assumptions that break papers or made the nightly headlines. Nothing on the news about a suspicious traveling carnival, and nothing about lawsuits made by the Capulets about the carnival—not that Peter is looking for that in particular.

All seem to be well.

Peter returns to school alongside his twin, but she quickly leaves his side to join the crowd to find her suddenly new, suddenly more important group of associates. The mutant wonders the halls of the school with his hands deep in his pockets and inhaling his second McDonald's breakfast biscuit nabbed that morning.

It's been three weeks since returning from the carnival that had disappeared the day after Rainy met with the Wish Granter. There had been a few nightmares Peter experienced, but he successfully keeps them hidden lest he be forced to reveal where he had been that night. It hadn't been much, but the night at the carnival weeks ago, after slipping an unconscious Rainy into what he hoped had been her bedroom, he left with a feeling surging in his chest that's both rewarding and fleeting. But that had been a while ago and doesn't much matter now.

The teen approaches his locker and spins the dial. The school halls are swarming and the hall monitors would be coming out soon. He ducks in time avoiding a flying paper ball meant for the kid a foot away, the thrower having terrible aim.

The halls are abuzz with conversation, of talk about the recent suicide, of the past weekend, of rumors and unfinished homework and mean teachers.

All seem to be well.

Peter grabs a science and history textbook from inside the locker he's finally using and stuffs them into his school bag. When he turns, he's met by the puffed chest belonging to one of the high school's football players. Peter looks up and realizes that this is someone he's seen before, someone who he's seen hanging around Thomas, an old ex-friend of his from middle school.

It's been three weeks that Peter has heard from Ronny and Meisha. Despite, he hasn't tried to communicate to them much. Not yet, at least. He would see Ronny in the hall sometimes, head still bowed and solemn. He would see Meisha still near that smiling girl, that one one who's an apparent friend of Rainy's—Cherry, he thinks her name is. He would see his friends sooner or later. Tough, he can't deny that they all have become somewhat stand-offish and are growing apart, though he wouldn't like to admit it. And he's already cooking a plan to get them back together.

At the lockers before classes began, the mutant shoulders past the ball player that persists on instigating a fight. Peter calls over his shoulder that he'd only wind the other out too easily, that the athlete better save his energy for the next game for when he loses again. The ball player fumes and storms after the mutant who takes off down the hall and into the crowd of students, not quite at superhuman speed but fast enough to get away effortlessly.

It's been three weeks since Peter has heard anything about or from Rainy Capulet. Almost certain now that they are the only ones that knew of the circumstances that occurred late that Saturday night, he begins to wonder if something had happened because of her absence—that she had died, that she had actually become gravely ill like so many thought she is. Had she truly not woken up? Or, whether her folks decided to take their matters elsewhere or perform some legal action? He wonders if she would rat him out and tell that he'd been there during the faux ceremony as well. He wonders if she would blame everything on him.

Surely doing all this with her is a mistake? It has to be. It has to be.

Having been involved is like holding a gun to the mouth

In days passing, the mutant glanced around in the crowds to see if he just happened to catch sight of her, whether it is a glimpse of brown hair, tacky tie-dye shirt, or hear of a rally about a bitter comeback spoken. But there's been nothing. There is nothing. And all around him has become utterly boring.

He begins to worry

That girl, Cherry—he's afraid to approach her now because he sees the way Meisha has become and she appear to be a bit happier too, and he doesn't want to ruin that. And he doesn't want to discuss this with Ronny either—whenever he finally sees him—who too gives off an air of wanting space.

He is misinterpreting it all

But Peter doesn't ask about it, because he isn't looking for Rainy, and it isn't like he cares, anyway. That would be stupid. That would be absurd, bogus, deranged.

He isn't.

It's Friday and school has been cancelled.

Not really, but under his personal proposition it is.

To be more direct, it's Friday and Peter is skipping school. His twin would be annoys with him, he knows, and his aunt even more but that holds little effect or persuasion for him. It's already late in the afternoon and the final bell would ringing in the next approaching hour and students would finally be released from classes. So far, he's been wondering town alone, headphones on full volume.

When awaking too late to catch the bus that morning, he called to Wanda that he's had been getting dressed and would meet her at school when truly it's just going to be him and his thoughts for today.

He doesn't feel like attending. He's too impatient, too short-tempered, operates far too quickly, and decides that it's just going to be a "Me Day."

Rainy Reptile

Rainy Capulet is cold-blooded, and as a joke, has been compared to lizards and reptiles

Along with her offish personality

"Don't take this the wrong way but you're as cold as ice with an attitude like a cactus," Peter told her once

He groans, runs a hand through his grey hair then readjusts his baseball cap before anyone could see his abnormally premature hair color.

Dark clouds are rolling forward on waves out in the distance. The boy cranes his head back, watching, ruminating. It's mid afternoon on a Friday and he is almost certain that there shouldn't be as many kids at the park as there are. He came here as a pit stop after lunch ended and from visiting five fast-food restaurants across town for brunch. Reassumed that this had been a safe place to come.

Sometimes he comes here so he can be alone, where he feels like he's the only person in the world, where adversity doesn't exist and time isn't an issue.

A one-year-old kid pushes his twin down the slide when the latter takes too long to go down. Their mother comes running when the child lands face first in the softened wood padding.

To Peter's right, there is a stoked bike rack. Flexing his fingers, he debates whether he truly needs one.

that the chapter with the reptile has started

Looking at it the other way around,

perhaps this episode wouldn't have had a beginning

if it wasn't for that incident.

He probably stays there minutes longer, considering. He isn't sure. He isn't only thinking about stealing a bicycle.

Then, Peter's head snaps up hearing a familiar voice.

"I didn't know this is where the unfortunate come to gather. Be careful, you don't want to infect everyone else here with your type of luck."

He sees Rainy approaching down the sidewalk. School must be over now.

"And what kind of luck would that be?" A brow quirks, lip twisting unhappily.

"Hmm... The small, minor...mundane kind."

He growls. "Remember that I didn't have to rescue you from that place, and I could have left you at that carnival."

"And do you want a medal for that?" She holds that reply without any value, and shuffles the small bag hanging from her shoulder—it looks odd and out of place on her. "You don't usually hang around little children, do you? That would be a disappointment to know that you are a pervert. For the sake of your safety here, you aren't one, are you, Maximoff?"

He scowls. Rolls his eyes. Sneers.

black pause scene

"I remember there's a quote I read once that said: The only thing that matters in your life right now is time. Use it wisely or you'll forever regret the waste. I thought it's kind of good. It reminded me of you, you know—you're always hyper-energetic, always going fast like you don't have enough time."

He pauses, shrugs. He isn't going to object. "Sure. But—what are you doing here?"

Peter is leaning against a semicircle jungle gym, hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans, wearing a band t-shirt, frowning. She notices that he often frowns.

"At a playground, same as you."

"Aren't you a little too big for playgrounds?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Another pause. He glares.

"I thought you were dead."

"I thought you were a menace."

Glare.

Children struggle to spin each other on a merry-go-round. Two of the swings are taken; the third's occupant jumps off midair. Neither teen sees how he lands and are staring—glaring—at each other instead.

Peter changes positions, leaning against his side now instead of his back. Crossing his arms, he huffs, looking the girl up and down. "So why are you here, really?"

"I was threatened by my mother that I either explain where some of her marijuana had went or go do yard work. I convinced her that she ate it all some time ago during one of her highs." Really, Rainy stole it, selling the drugs to pay back some of what she gave away to the conman mutant from Balzani's Carnival.

"Speaking of, how'd it go? With your folks and all? Did it roll over nicely or...or what?"

"Do you remember when I said that they were a deadbeat and a liar? That hasn't changed. They also don't really need anything else to worry about."

Oh.

black pause scene

"Which reminds me. Maximoff, is there anything you want for me to do for you? After the situation with the Wish Granter and everything, this can be a sort of return offer." She's sitting on the bars of the semicircle jungle gym now, slightly looking down at him, slightly above eye level. "I can only take one request, but it can be anything. I remember that you don't like money, correct?"

"Now I didn't say that though."

"Then what would you like as payment? That's the decent thing to do, isn't it?" She is still having trouble with such things. "I'm still trying to get accustomed to all of this."

"All of what? You're acting like it is something...drastic..." He stops at realizing his words, remembering the situation. Of that suspicious man in the robes with the unnerving glint in his stare. Of the woman with three eyes. The odd, haunting tapestry pictures. "Um..."

"Having feelings," Rainy responds. She looks to her palms, opening and closing them, feeling her skin pull and contract, the sensation still needing adjusting. "Having emotion."

"Say, did you ever get your all memories back? Are they the right ones? The guy didn't flake, did he?"

Rainy pauses, thinking. "I think so, that they're all back."

Well that's a relief.

He sees that she's still wearing that locket necklace and became suddenly curious about the picture inside, but refrains from asking—from asking yet. The golden heart locket is terribly scratched.

Pigeons coo loudly in nearby trees. Rain clouds roll in from the distance.

"So, what is it that you'd like me to do for you? The Wish Granter is content with just money. But for you, it can be anything."

The teen blinks. "A-anything?" He scuffs the heel of his shoe against the ground.

Peter is extremely selfish, so Rainy has no idea to watch what she offers him.

The boy feels the tug of a terrible smirk pulling at his lips.

"Really. Anything is acceptable."

He has to take a moment to think. From his time spent, he knows that this girl can be tricky. Sometimes the things she'll say will be like a double-edged sword, and he doesn't want to be hoodwinked. Doesn't want to fall prey to any deception.

"No matter what the wish, I will give it," Rainy lays the offer out. "But, you're limited to only one. Whether it's world-domination, popularity, a high reputation, or idolization. All are acceptable."

She would end up feeding his ego

"You really think you have enough power to do that?"

"Of course."

He scoffs. "Such confidence," is muttered to himself, sardonically. He steps back as she slides to the ground. Her forehead maybe vomes to the top of the bridge of his nose.

"But truthfully, I'd prefer to hear a more personal wish because it's easier." She turns, strolling to the right.

"Easier?" He follows her, venturing further into the park.

"Easier to grant," she clarifies, side stepping a toddler.

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Anything, really. Anything you'd want?"

He huffs. It's really a tempting offer, but—

"Look, I'm not some sleazebag like that conman from the carnival—-"

"You're right. You're your own category of laziness."

Peter ignores the insult. "-—So, and I really don't have a preference for payment."

Rainy tilts her chin up. "Ah, so you have a wide variety of secret obsessions instead that you're into? Or kinks? I surely thought that you were as inexperienced as you let on. I think I'm feeling...disappointed?"

"That's what you're disappointed about?!"

She shrugs. "I suppose I just don't like being wrong."

That makes sense.

"Well I'm not some pervert," he feels as if he should clarify for good measure.

They take a seat at the edge of the park, sitting on the elevated black dividers keeping the mulch and wood chips in perimeter—Rainy sitting lightly, Peter plopping and quaking the dividers slightly.

An airplane flies overhead and out of sight, the sound resonating through the area.

He scratches his hair underneath his hat. "Say? Rainy? Even if there is some kind of arrangement that's made, I think us just...being..." He searches for the right words. "...This...associates— whatever this is you want this thing to be afterwards—it's going to be difficult. So, no. Stop. I don't want favors. I never go through with them anyway."

She's silent. Watches him fidget, stare out into the park. A squirrel scampers past their feet.

"Associates..." She takes it all in, mentally, rationing, tasting the title. "If you put it that way, you have a point. You're right. It would be rational, I suppose..."

He blinks, shocked, stunned. He's right!?

"Hey are you thinking ok? Did you get your brain scrambled? Are you the same Rainy I know?"

She stares at him silently with a look that is not quite questioning, and not quite un-amused. "No, I'm perfectly fine." She then points to his face but he's still stunned yet holding a grin. "But don't go around claiming that I'm just some agreeing maiden. That was a one-time occasion, so don't expect it often."

He blinks, astonished. His lips still inch at the start of a smile.

red pause scene

Some time later, the two migrate to one of the benches stationed near the edge of the playground. There aren't many people left now; three families have already come and gone.

Peter leans back on his arms. Rainy cross her legs. He looks the other way, inhales deeply through his nose, convinced that he's losing his common sense.

"Maybe I came off too brash—-" she begins.

"You very often do."

"-—But honestly, is there anything you need help with, Maximoff? And tell me if I'm wrong..." She looks at him; he's looking the complete opposite way. "Something that's bothering you?" Rainy watches his foot tap the air rapidly.

"No."

"I'm not a very good talker so I can't say it very well, but my intention of wanting to help you are sincere."

He turns slowly, meeting her gaze.

"Hmm..." There's a noticeable space in-between them. And he considers the possibility of revealing out loud... He considers it, goes against it. "Say, if I do tell you..."

"Oh, what is it?" She noticeably perks up, but catches herself and mellows back down. Peter's brows immediately arch and his eyes widen. "Try telling me about it. You'll feel better if you just talk instead of bottling it in. That's what they say, at least, anyway."

Peter's look is still one of bewilderment. "Umm..."

That's the most expression he's seen her have and it's...unusual, almost strange. He's been caught off guard. He hadn't been ready.

So expressive

Is this normal?

He looks out at a small child getting stuck in the middle of the monkey bars. She falls to the ground, scrapping her knees, and screaming. Peter decides that it wouldn't hurt much to tell Rainy.

He begins by in-taking a deep breath. "I had a fight with my sister. Well really it's an argument but—-you know."

"Oh." Pause. "That seems like something I can't help with very well." She hears him sigh loudly, almost a groan. "But for the time being, why don't you go ahead and tell the rest of your story?"

"For the time being," he mocks under his breath. It isn't like she's really going to listen, he reminds himself. She probably is just going to take it and tell everyone back at school. Start up more rumors, drag him further through the mud. Revenge. Hatred.

He glances at her again. She's giving a small smile he thinks is aupposed to be reassuring. He isn't quite sure how to take it.

Peter sighs.

"Your sister is that girl in the red jacket at school? She doesn't talk much, does she? She's the one whose been hanging around another associate of mine, right?"

"Yeah, Wanda's a basket case. She's weird. She won't really like you—if you think you're someone with authority, I mean." Or anyone popular, he doesn't add.

"I think we kind of met before." She means the confrontation about a month ago with Wanda Maximoff approaching her, seeming randomly. Though she isn't going to get into that. "But what's the story of what happened?"

He scratches his temple. He's nervous. "There isn't really a story," he lies. "She caught me coming home late and for the last few weeks she's been demanding to know where I had been. When I told her, she got angry. She didn't like it. We had an argument and I left."

"I see."

The pigeons in the trees fly off in a flurry.

"That's a pretty complicated problem."

He scoffs. "It's not that complicated. Wanda's always on my case. She doesn't like anyone, really."

"No, I mean the situation, not the person. Is she your younger sister?"

"Oh." He shrugs, trying to make it a smaller concern. "No, she's—" He hesitates. "She's my twin." He watches Rainy's brows rise from his peripheral. "Yeah. Well...maybe it's because it's just...maybe it's just me being petty, getting all upset by something she said, yeah."

Rainy leans back on her palms, feeling the warm concrete under her hands. "No. I think it's pretty rational."

He humph-s.

She turns her head to the left, her hair falling from one shoulder as she watches him staring up at the sky. The clouds are approaching closer. It's going to rain. "I'm afraid to say that in regards to your pettiness, there's nothing I can do really, even with my abilities."

His bright brows draw together. "How about a little encouragement," he snaps.

"Sorry, I'm being brash again, aren't I? But it's rather obvious, and in regards to your pettiness, there's nothing I can really do, even with my abilities," she repeats in a lighter tone.

He sighs again. Why is he still here again?

Peter leans up and crouches over his knees. The other watches him pick up a random wood chip. "You probably think it's really lame—me—for being bothered by such things." But Peter thinks at a much quicker pace than she, and can easily overthink. In the matter of seconds of his pause, he raises his head and is already considering the worst. A few seconds later, he appears to becoming angry. "Why are you even still here? Why don't you go off with your popular friends or that new boy you'll be hanging out with? Why do you keep coming here, acting like you actually care?" His arm thrusts into the air, the words spoken through clenched teeth.

Rainy watches him quietly, calmly. She waits until he has calmed and, looking down at the ground, begins to speak again.

"I hardly do. Think of it as lame, that is. It's the type of lame you get from receiving an obscene fortune from a fortune cookie. Or from believing that one can actually make all your hopes and burdens go away. It's completely understandable but at the same time, it won't get you anywhere without affirmative action."

His voice muffles, "you use a lot of high quality words."

"And to think about it, your type of lameness is like those cookie fortunes. The ones that don't state that anything bad is going to happen, but nothing specifically good either. Like this one from a Chinese restaurant I went to two days ago. It said: You won't be as happy as you think in the beginning, after don't hurry to build your house. If you do so, it will be grants. The cocoon of happiness will unwrap, and you will have nothing to worry about."

He doesn't speak. She must have a really good memory.

"That really is lame," he sulks.

Shrugging, there's a hint of grin on her face. "But you also look like the type who would be caring towards his sister. And I can't deny that adds a bit of brownie points towards you. You're also kind of charming. I see how all the girls fall for you."

He wonders if that is sarcasm again.

It partially is.

Peter groans.

Rainy giggles.

Peaceful

HEARTS

Neither of the two of the mutant trio have heard from Ronny since he's suddenly gone M.I.A. Neither Peter nor Meisha have spoken with him—they have seen him, passing by in the halls but haven't made a conscious effort to communicate. Because now, Peter has a new set of issues to deal with and to understand, and Meisha—

Where is Meisha?

The young redhead stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror of her home. She is gripping the edges of the guest bathroom counter, the corners digging into her palms and tinting them a flushed red. She is gritting her teeth, her lips pulled back as she watches her red-orange hair, loose and billowing around her on its own, swaying outward in all directions as if floating, as if she is submerged underwater. Her hair dances and twirls about her as her eyes turn a more brighter, predatory color. She snarls, groans, tears gathering in her eyes.

The second voice in her head commands, vociferates. Covets. Invades.

The girl sobs.

She's locked herself inside for the past—ten?—twenty?—fifteen minutes. She isn't quite sure.

She is afraid. Whenever the voice returns, she would become utterly, completely taken over by fear. She would feel powerless, victimized, violated. She's never sure what would happen if she were to listen and she never wants to find out if she would obey—not again. She doesn't want to repeat that horrific incident two years ago at her school. Most times she feels guilty about hurting that boy and leaving him wounded on the tile floor. Other times, she feels that he deserved it.

Meisha's eyes are tinting a bright amber color. She snarls into the mirror, feeling fear, feeling control slipping.

Only when her mother calls from the living area down the hall, snapping the young mutant back to reality and making her jump, does Meisha's shoulders fall and she is able to gulp down a breath as the voice in her head fades, submerges, and finally quiets. Her hair falls limp again, tickling the upper-middle of her thighs; it falls back into the curls her mother styled it into, and she wipes at her face, hopes that her puffy eyes wouldn't be too noticeable as she steadies and steels herself before stepping out the bathroom door.

Meisha is always anxious, nervous, and stressed.

They will be having family over soon for a get-together her mother planned.

As the mutant exits the bathroom, she hears that some of them have already arrived.

Meisha forces a small, polite smile.