Chapter Two: Life In Forks

The next day, Bruce wasn't at school. His siblings took their usual table at lunch (this time with Taco Bell bags) minus their number five, and when I sat down alone at Biology, my suspicions were confirmed.

He'd ditched.

It had to be me. Despite Hope and Scotty's assurances that Bruce did indeed miss a day now and then, the timing felt too perfect for my comfort. Even then, there was nothing I could do about it but fret.

Luckily, I was good at that.

Aside from Bruce's absence—which continued for the rest of my first week and into the next—things were going quite well for me. While I wasn't exactly extroverted, I was outgoing enough to spin my classmates' curiosity about their new addition into a small circle of friends and a larger group of casual acquaintances.

Everyone else was largely indifferent to me, a fact with which I was perfectly content.

For the most part, I spent my time with Riley and Hope (unless Monica was monopolizing her time), though Scotty and Luis tended to gravitate toward us at lunch, since their band friend Kurt ate at a different time than them.

I had yet to actually meet the guy, and I was almost a hundred percent sure he was made up for some unfathomable reason.

The Friday after Bruce's disappearance, I made my usual stop at my locker after Bio before heading toward Gym. If I got all of my books and such situated beforehand, I could go straight from the gymnasium to my car, saving myself an unnecessary backtrack before going home.

Of course, given how quickly the parking lot filled up into a veritable traffic jam every day, I was doing little more than spending extra time in my car, fighting my way onto the street.

When I shut my locker door, I jolted as I realized someone was leaning right up against the locker next to mine. It was a scene right out of a movie, and as such it made sense that that someone was Tony Rogers, sucking me into his own personal high school flick.

"Hey," he said by way of greeting. His voice was low and smooth, like a radio DJ's. It was the kind of voice that just begged to be listened to, and from what little I knew about Tony, he had no problem obliging.

"Hi," I said, lingering long enough for him to keep the conversational ball rolling.

"I'm—well, you know who I am," he said, peering over his sunglasses before sliding them off. "And I know who you are, of course. Who doesn't? Do you prefer Nat? Tasha? Natty?"

"None of the above," I said. He had a quick way of speaking, like he was always trying to get to a point that never seemed to coalesce. "I don't like nicknames."

"Normally I'd be opposed to such notions, but in the interest of getting into your good graces…Natasha," Tony said, "it's lovely to meet you."

"Please tell me you aren't hitting on me," I beseeched him.

"Oh—no, no, I'm in a committed relationship," he said, holding up his left hand and gesturing to a ring adorning the ring finger. "Promise ring. Kinda hokey, but there's a certain charm to it, I guess. No, I wanted—what's your next class, by the way?"

"Gym," I said, suddenly remembering that I had a class to be at—right as the bell rang nearby.

"Well, it's healthy to ditch now and again," Tony pointed out lackadaisically. "Especially gym, I mean." He made a vague gesture toward me. "You're pretty…svelte already, look like you jog. Jogging? Yoga? Few laps at the pool? I swear I'm not hitting on you – "

"Is there a reason you're making me late for gym?" I asked him, already exhausted from just two minutes of conversation with the boy.

"I thought you might like to know that Bruce got a pretty bad stomach virus," he said in slower tones. "He's—you know, he gets sick. But he felt bad and he thought that you might think he left because of you."

"Why would I think that?" I asked. Of course, I did, but if there was any ground to such a notion, I might be able to get Tony to spill the beans.

"He—the timing, I guess?" Tony shrugged. "Look, he's coming back. Monday, he'll be here, and the best thing for all of us is to just press on and not make a big deal out of his time off."

"I had no intention of bringing it up when he came back," I insisted.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, good."

"Yeah."

"What are you doing?" a girl's voice called from down the hallway, and I turned to see Carol Rogers stalking toward us. Average of height but with the muscular build of a volleyball player, Carol looked more than capable of snapping the lithe Tony like a twig.

In that moment, she looked ready to do so.

"Busted," Tony muttered with a smirk at me. "Listen, good talk. I'm gonna go get yelled at."

"O…kay," I said. Carol reached us, fixing me with a bald expression.

"I told him to leave you alone," she said. "Sorry about him."

"I'm right here, you know," Tony said.

"And why is that, Tony?" Carol asked him. "Leave the poor girl alone. She doesn't want any part of our family drama."

"Everyone wants to be part of our family drama," Tony countered, though he allowed his sister to drag him away, his voice fading into the distance. "They just don't admit it."

What an odd, odd boy.

…

I made it to Gym just as Coach Rhodes was finishing the warmups. He fixed me with a look as I skulked past him, motioning me closer.

"Miss Romanoff?" he prompted me.

"Tony Rogers cornered me in the hallway, and he would not shut up," I began, and the coach simply rolled his eyes and held a hand up to forestall any more of my explanation (not that there was much left).

"Say no more," he said. "I'll have a talk with him. Go change."

Surprised at how easy the conversation had gone (I'd been expecting at least a short lecture about punctuality), I hurried to the locker rooms and quickly changed into my gym attire. We'd moved on from volleyball and were now spending the week playing two-on-two games of basketball. Riley and I teamed up against Hope and another girl named Darcy (who made no secret of her total lack of anything resembling athletic ability and was the perfect handicap for Hope in a basketball game), though we mostly went through the motions while Hope practiced three-pointers.

"You guys can actually try, you know," Hope said, effortlessly sinking another bucket.

"I tried once," Darcy said, idly drawing on the back of my hand as I watched. "It sucked."

"So, Natasha, why were you late?" Riley asked. Hope went to sink another bucket, but she found it blocked as Riley hopped up and batted it out of the way, sending Hope scurrying to recover it.

"Wow, Riley, nice block," she observed, and Riley shrugged.

"I'm good with bell curves," she said dismissively, turning to regard me with curiosity. "I heard you saying Tony's name. Was he hitting on you?"

"He insisted he wasn't," I said, and Darcy snickered, now doodling her way up my arm with an intricate flower pattern.

"Tony says that to all the girls," she said. "I guess he's got a thing going with Wanda, but he's still a huge flirt."

"Wanda?" I asked. "His stepsister?"

"I know, right?" Darcy drawled. "I know they've got a loophole, but it's still kinda janky to me."

"Ladies, don't you two think you should be helping your partners?" Coach Rhodes asked as he wandered up, and Darcy and I looked as one to see Hope now executing an extremely complicated dribble while she attempted to juke past Riley, who seemed to be in the midst of some kind of dance as she blocked her at every pass. Hope finally zipped by (though I suspect Riley let her through), and we turned back to the coach, who sighed and moved on without comment.

"I get this No Child Left Behind thing," Darcy said, "but if it's basketball, just leave me."

…

As the final bell rang and the hallways flooded with fleeing students, Riley slunk up next to me on the way to the Bronco, both of us pulling our hoods up against the misty rain that was falling over the parking lot.

"So, what did Tony say to you?" she asked.

"Is it that big a deal that he talked to me?" I asked.

"Well…those five never talk to anyone," Riley said. "Like, ever. Tony flirts, but he doesn't have conversations. The others, I don't think they even care that us rabble even exist."

"Tony…told me that Bruce was feeling sick, and that's why he left," I told her. "But he'll be back on Monday."

"He went out of his way to tell you this?" Riley asked. "Why would he go to the trouble?"

"I dunno, why does Tony Rogers do anything?" I asked. "You probably know more about him than I do."

"No, I don't," Riley said with a shake of her head. "None of us do. That's the thing."

We paused next to the Bronco, and I leaned against my car as she turned to peer searchingly at me.

"When the Rogerses first started here, they were this reclusive bunch of rich types that didn't have the time of day for anyone," she said. "It was like they moved here just to rub in our faces that they were better than us."

"That's pretty much how they seem now," I pointed out, and Riley pointed a finger at me.

"Exactly," she said. "You moved here, and you adapted. You found your place, you made friends, and hey. I like you. You seem like a nice girl."

"Thank you."

"But those guys have made no effort to blend or socialize or even come off as like aloof and friendly," Riley went on. "People like them have something to hide."

"So, you think there's some kind of deep dark secret to the Rogers-Carter family?" I asked.

"It's not like… It's just something interesting, I guess," Riley said with a shrug. "Forks isn't exactly rife with interfamily drama or local intrigue. I think the most exciting thing that's happened in the past few years was Scott Lang and Luis Peña ordering all those instruments for the band last year."

"Yeah, Luis mentioned that," I recalled.

"He was probably glad for the chance to tell it all over again," Riley smirked. "Seriously, though, I'm not trying to pull you into some dark conspiracy. I mean, Dr. Rogers is one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet, and he and his wife are adorable. I don't really get any bad vibes off any of them."

"Bad vibes?" I asked, and she shrugged.

"Sometimes I get this…feeling about people," she said. "Like a wiggy feeling in my head. It's how I knew Darren Cross was trying to roofie Hope's drink at the dance last year. I just got the feeling he was up to something and kept an eye on him, and now he's expelled."

"That sounds really intense," I said.

"Maybe," she hummed out thoughtfully. "I think I'm just like subconsciously really good at reading body language. But I have to take some pics of the volleyball team for the school paper."

"You followed me all the way out to my car just to chat?" I asked.

"You're fun to talk to," Riley said with a smile, wiggling her fingers in a wave to me. "I'll see you Monday."

"We should hang out sometime," I called after her. "Slumber party."

"I'm so down for a slumber party," she said with a grin. She waved one last time before hurrying back toward the school, and I turned to climb into the Bronco, wondering if it was possible for one person to be so impossibly adorable.

…

The weekend passed in a haze, literally; there was never a moment where the air wasn't at least slightly obscured by a fog of some sort. I got my homework done on Friday night, though all that left was two days for me to fill with chores. Dad didn't exactly live a slovenly lifestyle, though, so other than laundry and a quick tidying of the kitchen, there wasn't much for me to do.

Back in Phoenix, I'd have gone for a walk, maybe checked out an art exhibit or taken in an amateur poetry hour at a coffee shop. There had been no shortage of distractions in the city. Here in Forks, there was little to do that didn't involve nearly an hour drive to somewhere more exciting.

Maybe there was some merit to the idea of a slumber party after all.

"Sonishka," Dad's voice said as he strode into the house around noon to find me dragging a broom over the kitchen floor. "What are you doing?"

"Just cleaning up a bit," I said with a shrug.

"It's Saturday," Dad said, as though I had no idea. "You should be with friends, out having fun. It's a beautiful day."

Well, aside from the haze. It was thirty-seven degrees, downright balmy for Forks in February. I only shrugged again, scooping a bit of dirt into a dustpan and dumping it into the trash can.

"I guess I'm getting a bit hungry," I said. "I could go grab some Taco Bell for lunch."

"That's the spirit," Dad said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Call one of your girl friends, talk about boys or some nonsense."

"Are you worried I'm not getting my daily dose of gossip, Dad?" I asked him, and Dad gave me a rueful smile.

"I'm worried you'll become a shut-in like your father," he said. "The friends you make now could become lifelong companions. There is little more special than such a bond."

I didn't press him for details—the look on his face was entirely too melancholy for me to want to—but I did get my phone out and sift through my contacts to find Riley's number. She hadn't talked her parents into getting her a cellphone yet, so I had to hope she was home.

"Parker residence," a man's voice said after two rings. "This is Ben speaking."

"Oh, hello," I said. "This is Natasha. Um, Romanoff. I'm – "

"Natasha!" Ben said in cheerful tones. He sounded unreasonably friendly, his voice full of a mirth that sounded in constant danger of spilling over into a laugh. "I was wondering when we'd finally get to meet ya! Riley's told us lots about you."

"All good things, I hope," I said, unable to help a smile at just how relentlessly friendly Riley's father seemed to be.

"Nothing but," Ben insisted, his voice faltering a bit before speaking from a distance. "It's your friend, Natasha. …I don't know, I just answered the phone. …Well, hey, maybe she just wants to talk to me, ever think about that?"

I couldn't help but snicker at his antics; twenty seconds of conversation with Ben Parker went a long way to explaining why Riley was the way she was.

Only after I heard a distant shout of "Daaaad!" did he relent.

"Alright, alright, I guess Riley thinks you called to talk to her," he said.

"How rude of her," I observed, and Ben chuckled.

"Okay, here she is," he said. A shuffling sound came over the receiver before Riley's voice spoke.

"I'd like to apologize for my dad," she said.

"He is precious," I said. "Don't apologize for him."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Riley said. "His head's big enough, thank you."

I heard a distant shout, followed by Riley calling into the distance, "I meant you to!"

"Should I call back later?" I asked, and Riley sighed with a small giggle.

"No, my dad is just a gigantic dork," she said. "What's up?"

"My dad seems to think that Saturdays should be spent hanging out with friends and creating memories to treasure someday," I explained.

"I've never heard of such a concept," Riley said. "Can I assume you'd like me to be one of those friends?"

"Well, not to diminish your importance to me, but you and Hope are pretty much my entire social circle," I said.

"You are too sweet," Riley said. "I'll give Hope a call, and you can come by here? Do you remember how to get to my place?"

I'd given Riley a ride home a couple of times over the past week—the guy that drove her bus was notorious for leaving at precisely 3:20, with or without a full deck.

"Yeah, I'll be there in…seven and a half minutes?" I guessed.

"I'll be timing you," Riley cautioned me.

"I'll try not to keep you waiting," I told her. "See you in a few."

"Bye," she sang back before hanging up, and I hurried upstairs to grab my keys and purse.

It seemed I had a date.

…

The Taco Bell in Forks was a recent addition, having been built sometime between my last visit and my recent relocation. That seemed to be a trend, I noticed; as I drove the Bronco down the main drag of the town, I saw several fast-food restaurants that almost certainly had to be competing with each other for clientele. Still, it was hardly unusual for such places to spring up en masse in a small town such as Forks, surviving inexplicably in spite of an apparent total lack of demand.

"You know, there's a theory going around that the Rogerses bribed all of these franchise restaurants to move into town just so their kids would have something to eat for lunch," Riley said as we pulled into the Taco Bell parking lot.

"I'd believe it," I told her. "I don't think I've ever seen them eat cafeteria food."

"Well, Dad got an Arby's out of it, so I'm not complaining," Riley said with a shrug, pointing toward the back of the parking lot. "There's Hope's car."

I parked next to a beat-up Honda Accord that was almost certainly as old me; like most of the younger generation in Forks, Hope had likely inherited her first car from her parents. Emerging into a light drizzle, I heard a fwump from the other side of the Bronco as Riley unfolded her umbrella, hurrying around the front to shelter me from the rain.

"I know you Arizona folk don't deal with rain that much, but that's no excuse to catch pneumonia," she said.

"I deal with plenty of rain," I said, hunkering next to her as we crossed the parking lot.

"Yeah, during monsoon season, when it's hot and gross," Riley smirked. "Forks rain comes with a real risk of hypothermia."

"You researched the weather of my home state?" I asked her.

"I make it a point to learn things about my friends," she said loftily. "Also, I spend an unhealthy amount of time on the internet, especially when I can't sleep."

"A brain like yours is probably hard to shut off sometimes," I observed, and she rolled her eyes as she folded the umbrella back up before following me into the restaurant.

"You have no idea," she grumbled.

One thing that I had learned in the short time I'd been friends with Riley was that the girl could eat. At lunch, she easily packed away as much food as Luis, a trend she followed with gusto when placing her order to a bewildered Taco Bell cashier. Despite the fact that she planned to consume a Grilled Stuft Burrito and nachos, three crunchy Tacos Supreme, cheesy fiesta potatoes, and a caramel apple empanada, I was fully confident that she wouldn't gain a pound from it.

She was only lucky that she was criminally adorable.

My order was significantly more reserved, as this was my first venture into the world of fast food in some time. A simple soft taco with a side of fiesta potatoes would be easy enough to jog off later.

We both filled our cups with the new Mountain Dew that was exclusive to Taco Bell (and was quickly gaining a cult following) and went to join Hope, who waved us over to a table in the corner.

"Keep a girl waiting much?" she asked with a smile, her eyebrows shooting up at the amount of food on Riley's tray. "Good lord. Did your tapeworm get a roommate?"

"His name is Hank and he's going through a rough patch," Riley answered in a deadpan tone as she smothered one of her tacos in hot sauce. The girl had to have an iron digestive system. A meal like that would have seen lesser contenders on the toilet for days afterward.

"No basketball stuff this weekend?" I asked Hope, and she checked her watch.

"Got a game in…four hours, actually," she said. "You guys should come and watch. If you want. No pressure."

"I get so antsy at games," Riley huffed before taking a massive bite of a taco. "I' make'f me reffleff."

"You are so charming," I told her.

"Fankf," she said with a smile.

"Well, you don't have to come," Hope said, though her tone was obviously tinged with disappointment. "It is kinda dull."

"I don't have any other plans," I told her. "I can go."

"Oh, we should call Scotty and Luis – "

"No," Hope said flatly.

"I bet they'd love to come and cheer you on," Riley went on with a grin.

"I am not dealing with those…buffoons," Hope said with an air of absolute finality.

…

"This is so exciting, man, school spirit!" Luis rambled on. "Which team are we?"

"…The ones with our school's log on the jersey, Luis," Scotty told his friend with a disbelieving expression. "Is this real? Are you some hysterical hallucination I'm having?"

"I ask myself that question way too often," Riley said, not looking up from her notebook which was open across her knees.

It wasn't the greatest cheering section, but at least we were here for our friend.

"Do you come to Hope's games a lot?" I asked Scotty.

"Nah, it…bothers her, I guess," he said. "Ever since the whole thing with Darren Cross at Homecoming last year."

"I heard he like…tried to drug her or something," I said.

"You know, I was her date to that dance," Scotty told me.

"Oh… I did not know that," I said. "You and Hope?"

"I honestly think she felt bad for me," Scotty said with a wry smile, brushing a lock of hair from his face. "My dad was…back in jail, and… Well, it was a whole dramatic thing. Anyway, she'd just broken up with Darren, so I asked her if she needed a stand-in so she could still show up to the dance and have that experience, you know? I told her, you know, not a date, just a guy helping a girl out."

"That's really sweet," I smiled. "You weren't trying to catch her on the rebound, just helping out."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Until Darren tried to… I mean, I knew he was kind of a dick, but wow. So, I did what any sane guy would do and beat the hell out of him."

"My boy Scotty's not afraid'a nobody," Luis said with a grin, grabbing Scotty by the shoulder and giving him a shake.

"It wasn't my proudest moment," he said with a shrug. "I got detention for like a month and things with Hope were just weird ever since then."

"Why would they be weird?" I asked.

"I think she thought I was taking things too seriously between us," he said. "I mean, I think anyone would wanna beat a guy up after finding that out, you know?"

"No doubt," I said.

"But she's…you know, Hope's independent, I guess – "

"She's got a proud streak a mile wide and didn't really appreciate being saved by a big strong man," Riley cut in, still not looking up. "She kept saying Scott should have stayed out of it and let her handle herself, that she wouldn't have let herself get roofied. I told her she was being dumb."

"So she was just embarrassed and has issues accepting help," I concluded, and Riley nodded.

"Basically. It's something her coach has a huge problem with, too. She always takes the shot, never goes for the pass."

Looking back over the game in progress, I saw that Hope now had the ball and was dribbling it across the court, only to be stopped by a girl from Black Hills. As if to demonstrate Riley's point, Hope took a quick glance around—and while I didn't know basketball, I thought a couple of her teammates looked pretty open to a pass—before simply taking nearly a half-court shot.

To my shock, she sunk it flawlessly, nothing but net.

"Can't argue with results, I guess," I said.

"I do," Riley said with a pouty look. "I ask you to roll a die nine times in a row, and each time it comes up six. What are the odds you'll get a six on the tenth time?"

"Same as every other time," I said, and she nodded with a pleased smile.

"Exactly," she said. "You're not talented at getting sixes, you're just really lucky. I know it's not exactly the same principle here. The game does take skill, but sometimes the world doesn't care how good you are at something."

"Sometimes it just wants to smack you in the face," I agreed.

"One of these days, Hope's gonna roll a one, and I'm worried about what it'll mean for her."

…

Hope went out to a celebratory pizza party with her team—one which Monica insisted was "team members only" despite the presence of a few boys among the group. As we rode home in the Bronco, Riley groused that "jocks only" would have been more appropriate.

Still, the two of us had plenty of fun. My room boasted its own TV, and Riley showed me her Gamecube and introduced me to the wonders of video games. While she plugged away at some Pokémon game on a device she referred to as a "Gameboy SP" (Nintendo clearly had a theme going), I sank several hours into a game known as Animal Crossing.

It was…fun. Whiling away the hours as my room grew dark around us, the glow of the TV the only source of light. Animal Crossing had a pleasing soundtrack, and the game was just the right level of engaging while still remaining easy for a casual such as myself.

That was Riley's take, at least.

Only when I heard Dad tromping upstairs after another visit from Logan (who had greeted me with a gruff "Good to have ya back, kid.") did I realize that it was past midnight and probably a good time to think about going to bed.

"Hey, Natasha?" Riley asked once we were both settled in for the night, and I looked down from my bed to see her curled up in a nest of blankets on the floor, still playing her game. She looked up at me with a small smile illuminated by the light from the screen. "I'm really glad we're friends."

"Oh," I hummed with a smile right back. "Me too. I've never really…had a friend before. Not the kind that comes over and hangs out and spends the night, at least. This has been a lot of fun."

"Creating cherished memories," Riley said with a wry grin. "I know what you mean, though. Hope's great, but…she's a jock, you know? We used to be best pals in middle school, like… I'd spend the night at her place almost every weekend, talk science and stuff with her parents. But out of nowhere she hit a growth spurt, shot up over a foot in like one month. The gym teacher said she should try out for the basketball team, and..."

"And the rest is history?" I asked.

"She started hanging out with Monica, and well… You've seen how she is."

"Basketball, all day every day," I sighed.

"After that, things were just…never quite the same between us," Riley said. "She became a school friend. Today was the first time I've seen her outside of school since…Christmas break, I think. I thought maybe we could rope her into the slumber party, but she had her game."

"Have you talked to her about this?" I asked, and Riley shrugged with a noncommittal noise.

"I don't wanna sound clingy or needy or whatever," she said. "You should never have to fight to keep someone in your life. If they wanna stay, they will."

It was a good point, though I couldn't help but wonder if Hope was even aware that Riley was nursing some emotional wounds. Perhaps, to her side of things, it was as simple as two friends drifting apart. I was tempted to go to Hope and air Riley's grievances for her, but I would just as likely embarrass Riley. Clearly, she was opening up to me by telling me all this, and I would hate to betray her trust by meddling.

"Well, I have no plans of snubbing you anytime soon," I insisted. "The day I become a jock is the day I want you to commit me to an asylum."

"Hey, I'm already worried," Riley giggled. "After all, you go jogging."

"Not all of us can annihilate half the Taco Bell menu and not gain a pound," I huffed at her. "Some have to work for their trim physique."

"What if I started jogging?" Riley asked. "Maybe I could join you on your after-school jaunts."

"That'd be fun," I smiled. "Be careful, though. If you lose too much weight, you'll disappear."

"Oh, like I haven't heard that before."

…

On Monday, Tony waved at me from the Rogers-Carter table during lunch, gesticulating pointedly at the newly-returned Bruce as if to say "He's here, I wasn't lying!". I waved politely back while Bruce yanked Tony back into his seat and Carol scolded him.

"Well, Tony wasn't lying," Riley said as we sat down at our usual table.

"Can someone be a manchild if he's still under eighteen?" I asked.

"I bet we could make an exception for Tony," Riley pointed out, spotting something over my shoulder and smirking. "As well as a few others."

"Ayo, new girl," Luis said as he and Scotty sat with us. "How was the slumber party? Did you play some video games? Have any super meaningful conversations and bond over a new mutual understanding of each other?"

"That's…exactly what we did," I said.

"Those kinds of slumber parties are the best," Luis said, nodding sagely as he bit into a cheeseburger.

"Every time I think I've got you figured out, you say or do something that redefines everything I think I know about people in general," Riley told him.

"Thanks," Luis said with a vacant smile.

…

Bruce smiled at me as I took my seat next to him in Biology, nodding in greeting.

"Welcome back," I told him.

"Thanks," he said. His voice sounded a bit rougher, like he was recovering from a sore throat, and he did indeed look a bit paler, more drawn. Perhaps he really had gotten sick, and the timing was simply a bizarre coincidence.

Perhaps.

"Are you feeling better?" I asked.

"Much, thank you for asking," he replied. "I'm sorry I flaked on you before. You're new here, and I kind of left you hanging."

"It wasn't that big a deal," I insisted. "My old school back in Phoenix covered a lot of this stuff already, so I'm a little ahead of the curve."

"Phoenix," he said. "So, this is a pretty drastic change for you."

"It's definitely…the complete opposite of what I'm used to," I admitted with a shrug. "But maybe that's for the best. What I had before…wasn't really working, I realize now."

"Sometimes life hands you exactly what you need, even though it's not at all what you wanted," Bruce said, and I found myself a little impressed at the sentiment.

"That's very poetic," I said.

"My dad's full of those," he said with a chuckle. "Tony calls him the Human Fortune Cookie."

I laughed at that, and Bruce smiled along with me. He had a pretty smile, and I found myself appreciating the way it made his eyes ever so slightly squint.

Soon enough, Mrs. Pym had another girl distribute some slides, and the day's lab was explained. We would be examining onion root cells and identifying the various stages of cellular mitosis. I'd done a very similar lab back in Phoenix, though with white fish blastula. I had a fairly good memory in general, and I was sure one look at a slide would likely be all I needed to identify the particular stage.

Hopefully things got more interesting next quarter. School tended to be more engaging when I was actually learning something.

"Well…ladies first?" Bruce asked, and I couldn't help a giggle at how sweet he was being.

"No, go right ahead," I said. "I've…actually done this one already. Back in Phoenix, I guess my old school was a bit ahead of the game."

"Well, could just be they do the lessons in a different order," Bruce said. He fixed a slide into the microscope, peering at it for all of half a second before scribbling down the answer as anaphase. "Care to check my work?"

Obligingly, I leaned in and took a look at the slide myself. It was indeed anaphase, to my eyes at least.

"You really seem to know your stuff," I said, referring to how quickly he'd nailed the answer.

"This may come as a shock to you, but I'm a bit of a nerd," he confessed in a flat tone, and I made a show of gasping theatrically.

"Say it isn't so," I said.

"I've always been fascinated by biology," he said as he graced me with another grin. "All of these processes, these natural wonders happening on a scale we can barely comprehend, you know? But they pile on top of each other and multiply and compound, and before you know it, tangible change is taking place right in front of you. A baby grows into a toddler then a child and an adult, or a plant blooms and then produces fruit. All because a bunch of cells performed a single basic function. It's…well, it's just really amazing to me, I guess."

His face colored a bit as he seemed to realize that he'd gone off on a bit a tangent, his eyes meeting mine and then darting away. I could only smile back at him. Biology and the other sciences had always been nothing more than a school subject to be learned and passed to me, but the way Bruce Rogers's eyes lit up when he talked about it, his voice fervent and excited at the wonders of nature, well…

It was just plain adorable.

The rest of the class passed fairly smoothly. Bruce and I were one of two tables to correctly identify every slide, and I got a bonus lesson on bioluminescent moss and fungi that grew locally, courtesy of my lab partner. Gone was the anxious boy from my first day, and in his place was a shy but sweet nerd with an infectious passion for nature and all its intricacies.

I wanted to listen to him talk for hours.

"Anyway, sorry for talking your ear off," he said as we exited the classroom. "I know it's…kind of a dull subject – "

"No, it's really not," I insisted, giving him another smile. "Plus, it's fun to just…listen to you talk, I guess. You're so passionate, it's kinda cute."

"…Oh," he said with a dubious blink.

"But, um…gym class," I said with a gesture over my shoulder, realizing that I'd just called Bruce Rogers cute to his face, which was rapidly turning red.

"See you tomorrow," he said in a gruff-sounding tone before turning and hurrying away.

"Jeez, what did you say to him?" Hope asked, appearing at my shoulder as we headed for gym.

"I may have called him cute," I confessed, and Hope's eyes went wide before she let a singular laugh.

"Oh, that poor boy," she said. "A regulation hottie like you calls him cute. His little heart, oh no."

"He kept talking about biology and science and stuff, and he's so into it that it was just…Hope, it was so cute," I said.

"He is kind of 'nerd hot', isn't he?" Hope observed with a thoughtful expression. "Not really my type, but I could see you two hooking up."

"I've never heard the term 'nerd hot' before," I told her, and she smirked.

"I just made it up," she said. "I like it, I think I'm gonna use it from now on."

"Who else is nerd hot?" I asked as Riley ambled up and simply took a quiet place at my side. Her nose was once again buried in a book, and once again, she was navigating the hallways effortlessly in spite of that. "Okay, I guess nerd hot can be a thing."