Chapter Three: Impact
The very next day, things got weird.
It started innocuously enough; the patter of morning rainfall against the bathroom window was nothing new in Forks. Still, there was a slight crispness to the sound, and when I actually looked outside, I saw the cement walkway that led to Dad's shop gleaming in the light spilling out from the open bay door.
Ice. Lots of it.
Great.
The few times I'd ever actually driven, I'd had little to contend with beyond some rain and the occasional pothole as a result of monsoon season. Ice was well outside my wheelhouse. Still, I doubted Dad would let me skip, to say nothing of the fact that I'd have to face the problem sooner or later.
It was with no small degree of dread that I downed a quick bowl of cereal before pulling on my massively thick coat (thank goodness it was also waterproof) and braving my way out into the glistening morning. Back in Phoenix, weather like this was the stuff of myth; the last recorded snowfall of any significance dated back to the 1930s. Once the sun was fully up, the thick layer of ice coating every surface, branch, and blade of grass would probably be beautiful to behold…from behind a window while snuggled up with a cup of coffee and certainly not going anywhere.
I made my careful way down the steps—Dad had given them a good dusting of salt, which crunched underfoot and provided a lovely amount of traction—and found that the Bronco was not in its usual spot. Had Dad moved it?
"Sonishka!" I heard him call above the steady drone of the rain around me. Picking my way toward the shop, I saw the my noble steed parked and idling. Dad rounded the front, having obviously just pulled it out of the garage. "It was caked in ice, so I parked it in the shop to warm up with the heater and melt it off. There are chains on your tires as well, so you shouldn't slide around very badly. Do you remember how to turn on four-wheel drive?"
"Um…yeah," I said, more than a little touched at this show of concern for my wellbeing. It was completely characteristic of Dad but no less charming, and I made sure to give him a hug before he helped me into my car. The heater was running at full blast in the cab, enhancing the lingering scent of years of Logan's chain-smoking, but it was too blissfully warm for me to care in the slightest.
I made liberal use of the Bronco's four-wheel drive on the way to school, and I was pleased when I rolled into the parking lot to find that I wasn't even that behind schedule. The adverse weather conditions had only tacked on an extra five minutes to my drive. Crawling painstakingly toward a parking spot, I eased onto the brakes so as not to skid, throwing it into Park and taking a moment to decompress after the tense drive.
Forks winters were quite a bit more perilous than I could have ever thought.
My feet threatened to zip off in opposite directions as they hit the ice in the parking lot, but I found myself steadied by the sudden presence of a surprisingly strong grip.
"Careful now," the cool tones of Bruce Banner spoke as he effortlessly held me upright while I regained my footing. "This strange phenomenon is called ice. You don't see it in Phoenix."
"Of course we do," I insisted with a smirk at him. "We use it to keep our drinks cold."
"…Touché," Bruce chuckled. "I saw you pulling in and thought I would see you safely across the parking lot. Unless I'm…"
"No," I told him. "You're…not. I'd appreciate a helping hand. This unusual and alien terrain is so strange and mystifying."
"Alright, you own at least one thesaurus," Bruce said, guiding me slowly away from my car with mincing steps. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Riley watching us with a grin, and I shot her a little wink. "So…if I might continue a conversation from yesterday, apropos of absolutely nothing?"
"Be my guest," I told him.
"Why did you decide to come to Forks?" he asked me. "Don't get me wrong, you certainly improve the scenery."
"Tony told you to say that, didn't he?" I asked.
"He…might have," Bruce confessed with a bashful smile that was unfair in how cute it was. "But…I'm still curious, I guess. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"
That seemed more like Bruce Rogers. Cheesy and corny, not overly cool and suave. I smiled up at him with a quirk of my eyebrow.
"A gal done me wrong," I said in a passing imitation of the "dame" in a fifties noir piece.
"Oh, catfight," he said. "Who won?"
"No one," I shrugged. "I guess…this was the kind of fight no one wins."
"Well, sounds like – "
"Natasha!" someone screamed, and I had long enough to realize that it was Riley, her voice twisted with utter and absolute panic, before a horn blared. Just as I was looking toward the source of the noise, I felt Bruce pull me to him and turn his back toward an oncoming vehicle in a bizarre attempt to shield me from the impact.
In the infinitesimal moment before I was crushed to death, I had enough time to realize that someone had come into the school parking lot with a bit more speed than was judicious, and a sudden attempt at braking had sent him careening toward us with a screeching of tires and squealing of brakes. Realizing that I was certainly about to die, I could do nothing more than freeze in place and panic at my complete lack of any way of stopping the events unfolding before me.
You can make all the plans you want, but the world sure doesn't care about them.
CRUNCH!
The sound of a vehicle impacting an unyielding surface should have been the last thing I ever heard, but as I took a second to ponder that it wasn't at all as calamitous as in the movies—a single muffled sound followed by the tinkling of broken glass falling to the pavement—I realized that I was still alive. Opening my eyes (I hadn't even realized I'd squeezed them shut), I saw a glowing red shimmer inches from my face, and pressed up against it was a nondescript blue van, swaying with the impact before going still.
"What the – "
"Over here," Bruce muttered instantly, guiding me to shuffle a few feet away as the parking lot began to collectively realize that something potentially tragic had just happened. A crowd slowly began to surge toward us, a babble of voices breaking out. Loudest among them was the booming voice of Donald Carter, Bruce's stepbrother who I was given to understand was from somewhere in Europe.
"Bruce!" he shouted as he ran over. "Are you okay! That was a close one, that van…almost hit you!"
"Look at what it did to this truck!" Carol exclaimed, hurrying along behind him. I watched her approach the back of a completely unharmed pickup truck and "assess" the damage, my eyes going wide when I saw her hands bend and twist the metal as easily as one would crumple a cardboard box. Next to her, Donald was doing the same to the rear fender, pinching it together to look like it had been crushed by an impact. In the few seconds it took everyone else to approach, the damage looked convincing enough that even I wanted to believe that the van had hit the truck instead of a translucent red barrier.
But it hadn't. And as I looked wildly around the approaching crowd, I saw Tony and Wanda observing from a distance.
I definitely wasn't imagining the burning red shimmer in her eyes as she winked at me.
…
The driver of the van had been Kurt (the never-before-seen friend of Scotty and Luis), a tall and gangly boy with greasy-looking black hair and a nose a bit too big for his face. A crew of EMTs had extricated his unconscious form from the driver's seat of his van, though he'd woken just as they had loaded him into an ambulance, screaming in a thick Russian accent about Baba Yaga.
"What's Baba Yaga?" Bruce asked as his siblings were being questioned by the police chief. We had already been asked a few standard questions, but it had been easy enough for me to play the part of the shaken young girl and huddle into Bruce's arms as I'd described how it had "all happened so fast" and "all I heard was this loud noise".
I hadn't at all missed the way he'd exhaled with relief at my testimony.
"It's a witch from old Slavic folklore," I said to Bruce. "She lives in a house on giant chicken legs and eats children that wander into the woods."
"What's with old European stories about children being eaten?" Bruce asked. "That seems to come up a lot."
"How else are you gonna get your kids to behave in the 1700s?" I asked. "Tell them everything's gonna eat them if they don't."
"If that doesn't work, beat them?" Bruce smirked.
"Now you're getting it," I giggled. We fell silent for a moment, the elephant in the room looming over us. I had seen a number of strange abilities exhibited by his family in a very short amount of time, and while one of those abilities had saved my life, I was understandably curious.
"Natasha!" a voice squeaked, and before I could even think of how to broach the subject, I was swept into an astonishingly tight hug by Riley. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Tell me you're not hurt. You'd be in an ambulance if you were hurt, right? Are they sending another one for you?"
"If you squeeze me any harder, I'll need one," I said in a strained voice, and Riley gasped before letting me go.
Had she started working out or something?
"I was on my way to help you from your car since it was so slippery, and then I saw Bruce, so I thought I'd hang back and let you two…you know, chit-chat," she let a hysterical little laugh, and Bruce coughed quietly next to me. "And… Natasha, I was so terrified because you're basically my best friend now, and…"
"I'm fine, Riley," I said, more than a little touched at the elevation to "best friend" status. "Not a scratch on me."
"Riley, why don't you help Natasha inside?" Bruce said. "I think my family's a bit worried about me."
Looking over, I saw all four of his siblings staring over in our direction, the police having left already. I had never really noticed before, but they seemed to be radiating a sort of aura, an almost menacing power hanging in the air around them. Even Tony had taken a break from his usual goofy persona, his expression uncharacteristically pensive as he looked at me.
Despite Bruce's claim, I was sure they weren't worried about him. It was more likely concern for me, or at least what I'd say to anyone asking about what had happened. Only the sheer absurdity of the truth probably kept them from immediately finding some way to isolate me and ensure my silence in some way.
Or was I being paranoid? There was no reason to assume that they would go to such pragmatic means to keep me from blabbing. Maybe they were giving me the benefit of the doubt. They had in fact saved my life; I certainly owed it to them to repay that by not outing them for…whatever it was they were.
And that brought me back to the crux of the matter.
Just what were these kids?
Riley towed me into school, which I was grateful for, as I was completely useless in my distracted state. After once again assuring my self-proclaimed best friend that I was perfectly fine, not in any state of shock, and at no risk of a delayed panic attack, I was left to go to class. There was a bit of a hubbub while I was pestered for details about the incident in the parking lot, but as far as anyone knew, I had only been near the event and had not participated. Thus, I was treated to only a few polite questions about my mental state before being left mostly alone.
Mostly.
"Yo, new girl," Luis said, gliding into the classroom with Scotty close behind just as the bell rang. "I heard you met Kurt."
"…Yeah," I said flatly. "He almost hit me with his car and then called me Baba Yaga."
"Yeah, Kurt's my dude, he's pretty cool," Luis grinned. Scotty sighed as they took their seats, leaning to fix me with a bland expression.
"Is he okay?" he asked with an exasperated look at his friend.
"He got knocked out when he hit, but he was awake when they loaded him in the ambulance," I said. "He probably got a concussion and some whiplash, maybe he'll be sore for a few days."
"Well, on the plus side, you know he's real and not made up," Scotty told me.
"Fair point."
…
I was a minor school celebrity (again) for most of the day as various classmates I was vaguely on speaking terms with asked me different versions of the same few questions. Was I okay? Did I feel alright? How was Kurt doing?
It was a lot less charming than when Riley was fretting over me.
When I wasn't being pelted with well-meaning inquiries after my health, I thought about Bruce and his family. Unfortunately, given the total lack of information I had beyond what I'd seen, I could only turn the few seconds I'd glimpsed over and over in my head. Carol and Donald had some degree of super strength and a fair amount of control over it if they could pummel a pickup bed into looking like it had sustained an impact from a midsize van. Wanda was definitely a powerhouse in her own right, though, with some sort of telekinetic ability capable of producing a barrier that had unwaveringly absorbed the actual impact from the van.
Did Tony have some special power, too? Did Bruce? That went a long way to explaining why they generally kept their distance from everyone else. It wouldn't do to invite unwanted attention, and there was no guarantee their powers weren't a danger if they weren't careful. In fact, there was no guarantee of anything, as far as I knew, only speculation.
At lunch, I was surprised to see the Rogers-Carter table already full; the roads were likely still in bad shape, stranding them at school for the day. They seemed to have packed lunch for the occasion, but far from the brown bag typical of most students, Dr. Rogers and had sent them along with meticulously-arranged individual trays, complete with dividers and utensils. I had no doubt that the food was of the highest quality, likely purchased from some all-natural organic farmer's market in Port Angeles and assembled by a private chef or Peggy Carter herself.
"Has Bruce talked to you at all today?" Hope asked. "I heard you two were getting pretty cozy in the parking lot after it all went down."
"Hope, we'd almost been crushed by a car," I said with a disbelieving laugh. "Adrenaline, endorphins, you…bond with someone over that kind of thing."
"So are you guys bonded?" Scotty asked. "'Cause he's sitting over there."
"Riley, can you use words?" I asked my new bestie, who smirked at me.
"Sometimes the adrenaline rush following a near-death experience can cause two people who have never even met before to experience a feeling of attraction or intimacy due to the extreme nature of their shared moment," she said. "There's no basis for actual romantic attraction, however. It's just the brain misattributing the rush of chemicals to the presence of the other person."
"Thank you," I said with a nod of finality, and Hope snorted at the two of us.
"Look at you two, best pals," she said, though I didn't miss the slight edge in her voice as she spoke. Jealousy? Her eyes darted between us, and I definitely saw a crease in her brow.
The moment was gone seconds later, though, as Luis made his way over in a hurry. Setting his tray down and quickly clambering into his seat, he turned to Scotty with a beatific grin.
"Scotty, big news," he said in a breathless voice, before taking up a rib patty sandwich and beginning to inhale it, biting and chewing faster than I'd thought was humanly possible. Scotty stared at him for several seconds, finally speaking when Luis was halfway through his sandwich.
"Were you…going to tell me the big news, or do I just have to guess while you choke on processed pork?" he asked.
"Uh uh'nna eyu winna vhun," Luis said through a mouthful of food.
"You could've just eaten the sandwich and then told me you had big news and then actually told me the news," Scotty said. "Now I'm watching you eat."
"Uh eh 'ig nooth," Luis said.
"You're all seeing this, right?" Scotty asked the rest of us. "This is a reverse conversation. We are actually achieving less than if we had just never started talking."
Riley giggled at that, hiding a snort behind her hands, and Scotty grinned at her. I noticed another miniscule twitch from Hope, but when I looked in her direction, she was impassive, smiling calmly at me.
That was…interesting.
"So," Luis finally said once he'd eaten his rib sandwich in record time. He paused again, opening the top of his Dr. Pepper and chugging nearly half the bottle.
"Seriously, take your time," Scotty drawled, and Riley let another bubble of laughter. "You know what? I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Maybe you'll be ready by the time I get back?"
"No, you gotta hear the news, dog!" Luis protested. "We…uuurrrrp."
"You're doing this on purpose," Scotty said. Luis let one last smaller belch before launching into his news.
"Alright, so I was at my cousin's quinceañera last weekend, right? And I was talking to my homie Gabriel while we were having some cake. It was red velvet, which you know isn't my favorite, 'cause I'm more of a Funfetti boy, right? But Gabe, he tells me about his sister Topaz, and she's looking fine lately. Like, he didn't say that, 'cause she's his sister, but she was at the quinceañera because she and my cousin go way back, right?"
"This isn't the news," Scotty said with a shake of his head. "You just ate a whole—skip ahead."
"So…Topaz is dating this guy Jimmy from up at the Xavier Institute, and he hangs out with some of the guys out at the rez, the Quileute reservation. And one of these guys is having a birthday party out at the beach in a few weeks. His dad's all like the chief of the tribe, so he's going all out, right? Talking big bonfire beach party, it's gonna be sick. So the only problem is, he wants some tunes, like a band all on stage, right? And I ask Gabe, 'Did Jimmy tell Topaz to tell you to let me know they needed a band?' And Gabe's like, 'Nah, but you should get in there 'cause this is legit, man.'"
"…What?" Hope asked, echoing what I was sure were everyone's thoughts.
"Is this you attempting to tell me that you got us a gig?" Scotty asked.
"Yeah, dude, we got a gig, man!" Luis said with an excitable grin.
"Okay, what you just said there? That's all you needed to say."
"A gig?" I asked. "Like, for a band?"
"You guys are in a band?" Riley asked. "What's it called?"
"We're still working out – "
"Scotty and the Wombats!" Luis said. "Dude, we're on for March fifth, so we got a month to – "
"Actually learn how to play?" Scotty asked. "Luis, I can still only kind of play the drums, you've barely touched your guitar, Kurt plays the clarinet, and Dave hasn't played the piano since he was eleven."
"Who's Dave?" I whispered to Riley, unable to look away from the exchange.
"I've never met Dave," she whispered back.
"You're getting too bogged down in the details, man," Luis said. "This is beloved high school antics we're gonna look back on someday and laugh at, dude! Do you wanna worry about how good we're gonna be, or do you wanna get up on stage and have some fun?"
"…Alright, Scotty and the Wombats can debut at La Push beach," Scotty sighed, and Luis pumped his fist.
"Yeah, man, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout!" he cheered. "Yo, we gotta get real serious about practice, though, dog. You can only like kinda play the drums, I haven't had much time on the guitar, and Kurt only plays the clarinet. Plus, Dave hasn't played the piano in like seven years."
"…Yep, I'm out. I'm quitting the band."
"Nooo!"
…
"I never knew they started a band," I pondered aloud as Hope and I made our way to Biology. Scotty had lingered back to discuss a practice schedule with Luis. "That's really cool. That takes dedication."
"It takes dedication to have a successful band," Hope pointed out. "Knowing those guys, it'll fall apart in two weeks."
"There's nothing wrong with having a dream," I said. "Besides, even if Luis is a bit…manic, Scotty seems pretty levelheaded. If they listen to him, they might have some luck."
"Did you see the way he was flirting with Riley?" Hope asked. Her tone was playful, but something in her expression told me she was trying to play it off. Someone was a bit sour that the boy previously crushing on her was making motions toward moving on.
"He's a funny guy," I said. "I think she appreciates his sense of humor."
"Yeah, I guess she does," Hope said with a little sigh. "We don't…talk much anymore."
"It doesn't have to be that way," I pointed out as we neared the Biology room. Hope stared at me with a thoughtful expression, though she was saved the trouble of responding by the sound of my name being called over the intercom.
"Natasha Petrovich, please report to the main office. Natasha Petrovich, please report to the main office."
"Huh," Hope said wonderingly with a look at me. "Wonder what's that about?"
"Maybe making sure I'm still okay after my 'traumatic experience'?" I ventured. "Of course they had to do it during the only class I actively enjoy."
"Aw, Mom'll be so flattered," Hope giggled. "See you in Gym."
"Yeah," I waved as I turned, almost walking straight into Bruce on his way to Biology.
"Oh," he said with a small smile. "Hey. How you feeling?"
"I'm…good," I said.
"I heard you getting called to the office," he said. "You're not in trouble, are you?"
"Do I seem troublesome?" I asked him, surprised at my own impish tone. He blinked several times and shrugged in the most endearingly awkward way possible.
"You certainly seem to attract trouble," he said with a smile. "I don't know that you cause it. But I don't know you that well yet."
"Maybe that'll change," I told him. "Hopefully."
"Well…if I'm lucky, it will," he said. "At the very least, we'll have to go over the notes for the lesson today, right?"
"That would be extremely helpful," I said. "But I gotta go, so…"
"See you later," Bruce said.
"Later," I agreed, glad that Bruce didn't seem to be snubbing me. I'd been slightly afraid that he'd try to put some distance between us rather than risk me finding out even more about his family and the strange secrets they all shared. The fact that he was still talking to me so easily was promising, though I wasn't expecting to be let in on the whole story. The fact was, I liked Bruce and wanted to continue becoming friends with him.
The sidewalks between the school buildings were well-salted, meaning I wasn't in any danger of getting abruptly acquainted with the cement during my short but chilly trek to the main office. Above me, low-hanging clouds painted the sky a pearlescent white, a welcome change from the stormy gray that had brought about this nasty weather in the first place.
There was always a certain eeriness to walking the hallways (or sidewalks, in this case) during class. The normally bustling path was empty, leaving a sort of sad emptiness behind. An almost oppressive silence hung in the chilly air, and without the dull hum of conversation around me, I could hear the distant rush of cars, the occasional chitter of some bird still braving the winter air. It was peaceful, in a melancholy sort of way. And it was quiet in a way that was rare back in Phoenix.
Behind his desk, Phil Coulson greeted me with his signature half-smile when I entered the office, and I managed a wave before I was swept into a massive hug worthy of any bear. Dad's cologne filled my senses, mingling with the scent of cigarettes and motor oil as he gave me his trademark squeeze that was just on the edge of too tight.
He'd given me enough hugs over the years that he'd mastered the art of tempering his formidable arm strength.
"Sonishka," he breathed. "I am so sorry I could not be here sooner. I was in the shop and did not hear the phone ring. I only heard about the accident when I checked my messages."
"Dad, it's alright," I told him as I gave him a squeeze back. He dropped me, and I looked up to see nothing but concern in his eyes. As always, the familiar warmth settled into my chest, a subdued but powerful contentment at the fact that I had at least one parent that loved me unconditionally and unequivocally.
"Are you sure?" he asked me. "No whiplash or bruising? I could take you to Dr. Rogers just in case – "
"I was only near the accident," I said, feeling a small pang as I lied to him. It was for the best, I told myself; admitting the truth would only hopelessly complicate things. "I got a little scare, that's all. I'd rather things went back to normal as soon as possible so I can…put it behind me, I guess."
"Well…that is a healthy outlook, I suppose," he said. "How's the other boy?"
"Nothing major, from what I've heard," I told him.
"He'll be back in school tomorrow," Phil said without looking up from his computer screen. "He sends his apologies and asks that you don't put a hex on him."
"I'll have to think about it," I said, meeting Dad's confused expression with a roll of my eyes. "He bonked his head pretty hard and thinks I'm Baba Yaga."
"I think I would notice if our house sprouted legs," Dad chuckled. "Besides, your diet would simply not allow for wayward children."
"Much too fatty," I agreed with a sage nod.
"Well, you seem in good spirits, so I'll let you get back to your classes," Dad said, nodding past me to the secretary. "Phil, good to see you. You're about due for an oil change, yes?"
"I'll be in touch," Phil said with a quick glance and a polite nod at Dad as he left. As the door swung shut, the secretary cleared his throat, and I turned to see him holding a note out to me. "Give that to Mrs. Pym. How have you been settling in?"
He breathlessly shifted topics, making it a little hard to keep up with him. Stuffing the note in my pocket, I shrugged.
"It's been overall positive," I said. "I have a social circle, a best friend."
"Riley Parker," he said. "I see you two in the parking lot sometimes on the way to my car. It's good to have friends."
"Very good," I agreed. "We get along really well."
"Feel like you've known each other for years already?" he asked.
"Basically," I smiled. "She's the best."
"Phil," a voice spoke from behind the secretary, and he turned to regard the upper torso of a man as he leaned out of a door labeled 'Principal'. "The computer's doing that thing again. Code A113-1610?"
Principal Tyler Hayward looked like he had been a jock a long time ago, and even with a head full of graying hair, he still had a fresh face that was complimented by a strong jaw. After graduating from Forks High School, he had gone into the Air Force, spent some time overseas, and come back home to earn a teaching degree before climbing his way up to principal of his alma mater.
All of that apparently amounted to very little in the face of technical difficulties, however.
"I don't know that code," Phil said, standing from his desk (he was shorter than I'd expected) and giving me one last nod. "I've gotta take care of this. And you're due in Biology."
"Thank you, Mr. Coulson," I said, gathering my backpack and heading back out into the chill. As I neared the Biology building, I withdrew the note from my pocket, consulting it more out of idle curiosity than anything. It looked like Principal Hayward himself had signed off on it, and he didn't seem the type to forge any sort of connection with his students if he couldn't even be bothered to get their names right.
"'Natalia Romanova'?" I muttered to myself as I mounted the stairs. "Slaboumnyy durak."
I paused at the top of the stairs, wondering for a moment at my sudden unconscious use of Russian. I was conversationally familiar with the language (enough for a friendly chat with Dedushka during his visits), though I never really dropped into it unprompted, and certainly not in any self-reflective circumstances.
Shaking my head, I dismissed it as a result of the very Russian-sounding name Principal Hayward had tacked me with, unwilling to deal with any more weirdness today.
The class was being guided through a PowerPoint presentation by Mrs. Pym, who took the note from me and simply gestured me to my seat without looking at it. I was fast becoming one of her favorite pupils due to this class being the only one to really consistently challenge me with new material, and I continued the trend by almost immediately raising my hand to offer an answer to the question on the next slide.
"Boy, you don't waste any time, do you?" Mrs. Pym said with a smile at me. "Alright, Natasha, what is it called when binary fission takes place in a multicellular organism?"
"Fragmentation or fissiparity," I replied, and the teacher's smile widened.
"Someone did the reading assignment," she said proudly. "Very good."
"Glad to see you weren't expelled," Bruce said quietly as Mrs. Pym went on with her presentation.
"After a near-miss in the parking lot?" I asked. "I'm a walking liability suit. It was a pretty cut-and-dry bribery."
"Good grades or just cash under the table?" Bruce asked.
"Oh, I'm perfectly capable of getting good grades on my own," I informed him archly.
"Of course, how silly of me," he said with a grin.
We fell silent while Mrs. Pym showed a short video clip to the class, and I rested my chin in my hand, propped up on my elbow and turning to peer at my lab partner. Bruce looked thoughtful, staring ahead at the projector screen with unseeing eyes while mulling over something in his head. Undoubtedly, he was just as pensive about the events in the parking lot as me, wondering how to approach my newfound knowledge of his siblings' (and potentially his) strangeness.
Whatever conclusion he reached, I didn't hear about it even as class was wrapping up and I was on my way to the door. Of course, it was a lot to mull over, and he could hardly go into full disclosure without some sort of family meeting.
I wondered if Dr. Rogers would be upset at his children for risking their cover. It was doubtful; everything Dad had told me about the man suggested he was nothing less than compassionate toward everything and everyone. He'd likely even be proud, if a little concerned about me spilling something. Hopefully my efforts today wouldn't go unnoticed and maybe put them at ease. I briefly considered stopping Bruce and outright telling him his secrets were safe with me, but by the time I reached the hallway, he was gone. Instead, I allowed myself to get swept along with Hope toward Gym.
It seemed to be a day for self-reflection; Hope was uncharacteristically quiet as we walked, though I had my suspicions about what was eating her, and they were all centered around the girl currently speeding toward us with a beaming smile on her face.
"Natashaaaa," she sang as she hurried over. "I just asked Scott to the girls' choice dance!"
"Woah, really?" I asked with a smile. "That's awesome. I bet you two'll have fun."
"Wait, you asked…Scott?" Hope asked as we walked. "Scott Lang?"
"He's the only Scott we know," Riley said dubiously. "I dunno, I thought it'd be fun."
"If you think so," Hope said with a shrug, and Riley raised her eyebrows, glancing at me with a questioning look. I only shrugged, not wanting to escalate anything to "girl drama" levels.
"So, you should totally ask Bruce so we can double date and I'm not like…freaking out not knowing what to do," Riley insisted.
"Riley, Bruce and I have had maybe three conversations," I told her.
"Yeah, which is enough to establish chemistry and a rapport, and then the dance is the big first date where you figure out if a real relationship is gonna work!" Riley persisted as we crossed the gym.
"For someone who's bad with talking to boys, you've got the whole relationship itinerary figured out," I pointed out.
"I can know the theory without being able to put it into practice," she said. "Like Will Smith in that one movie."
"Hitch?" I asked. "I kinda wanted to go see that."
"It looks cute," Riley agreed. "That could be our second double date?"
We'd reached the locker rooms (Hope had pointedly picked a spot to change far from her usual one next to us), and I looked over to see Riley's head poke out of her gym shirt with a look of such open hopefulness that it was simply impossible to say no.
Poor Scotty.
"I guess I can ask Bruce," I said, "but there's no guarantee he'll say yes."
"Oh, I'm sure he will," Riley said with a giggle. "There's something about you two, it's like… I dunno, I saw you in the parking lot, and I got this vibe."
"You and your vibes," I said as I stepped into my gym shorts. "That really is a whole thing with you, isn't it?"
"Hey, I felt some super bad ones right before that car almost hit you," Riley said. "That was pretty awful."
"Well, everything turned out alright," I assured her with a gesture at myself. "Not even a scratch."
"As the best friend, I'm allowed to freak out for at least one day," she said. "Even on a near-miss."
"Fair point," I shrugged. Hope bustled past us, snagging up Darcy and shanghaiing her into partnership for the class, it seemed. Riley rolled her eyes, turning to me with a longsuffering look.
"Jealous much?" she asked. "Like she has any room to get mad."
"Maybe this is a wakeup call for her," I said.
"Knowing Hope, she'll double down and start hanging out with Monica more out of spite," Riley grumbled.
I didn't know Hope especially well, but I didn't doubt the assessment either.
Hope diligently avoided us for the whole class, and Riley just as steadfastly refused to "give her the satisfaction of a response", focusing completely on learning how to bump, set, and spike for the volleyball unit. Gym passed mostly in that manner, with Coach Rhodes approaching at one point to ask if I was okay or needed to rest at any point. I assured him that I was perfectly fine, repeating the tired line that I had only been near the accident and not actually part of it.
Hopefully everyone would be over it and moving on to the next topic of gossip by tomorrow.
Outside of the gym, I bade Riley farewell as she hurried off to catch her bus, making the trip to the Bronco at a more sedate pace. What an unusual day it had been, I found myself musing as I waited for Luis's ancient brown van to pull by. Scotty waved at me from the passenger seat, and I raised a hand back to him as they sped away while blasting Luis's iconic Lac Cucaracha horn.
It was a staple of the after-school parking lot scrum.
As I neared my vehicle, I realized the day wasn't quite done with its strangeness; Bruce Rogers leaned against the Bronco's tailgate, smiling in a way that Tony had obviously instructed him to do so. The intended effect was most likely winsome but landed closer to handsomely dorky.
It was cute enough for me to reflexively smile back at him, however.
"Hey," Bruce spoke, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Hey, so…do you wanna get…food with me?"
"Get food with you?" I asked.
"Like dinner or…well, like dinner," he said. "There's a pizza place here in town that's really good. I mean, I've never eaten there, but I hear it's good. From…people…"
"The Home Slice?" I asked. "Dad's taken me there a few times. They don't really have much of a dining room."
"…Oh," Bruce noised, his face falling as he attempted to recover. "Well, we could…"
"Dad and I would always get a pie and some breadsticks, and then we'd go to Tillicum Park and sit on the tailgate of his truck while we ate," I said with a nod at the truck. "Hop in."
"Um, okay," Bruce stood and hurried around the passenger side. As I made my way to the driver's seat, I saw the rest of his siblings clustered around the ostentatious BMW I'd passed by on my first day. Of course it was Tony's. As they saw me catching sight of them, Wanda waved at me with a toothy smile, and Tony shot me a single upward nod. Donald and Carol looked to be involved in a discussion about who could pulverize a car faster, judging from the way they were flexing and comparing biceps.
Well, this didn't appear to be Bruce sneaking away from his siblings in an attempt to warn me against his overcautious family and send me into hiding. Maybe I was about to hear the ground rules for being privy to the family secret.
I climbed into the driver's seat, and the Bronco was rumbling to life seconds later. As a blast of music blared from the speakers, I hastened to turn the volume down with a sheepish look at Bruce.
"Sorry," I said. "I was…singing on the way to school to distract myself from the ice."
"The Beatles?" Bruce asked.
"I have very eclectic music tastes," I told him. "I think next on the CD is a Linkin Park song."
"Mom loves the Beatles," Bruce said. "Not so much Linkin Park."
"Dad calls it metal noise," I said with a smile. "Parents, am I right?"
I navigated us out of the parking lot, finding that the roads had been liberally salted over the course of the day and weren't nearly as treacherous as this morning. Forks being as small a town as it was, we were at the pizza place before John and Paul had finished asking Prudence to come out and play. Bruce was quiet for the ride, though I heard him humming along with the song.
"You know, Ringo isn't in this song," he said. "He'd left the Beatles while they were recording it."
"Ringo left the Beatles?" I asked, parking the car but turning to peer over at him.
"Paul was trash-talking his drumming in 'Back In The USSR'," Bruce went on. "And Ringo'd had enough, I guess. The White Album was their roughest patch."
"You sure know your Beatles lore," I said.
"Like I said," Bruce grinned, "Mom's a huge fan. Give her a chance, she'll talk your ear off about John, Paul, George, and Ringo."
"What about Stuart Sutcliffe?" I asked with an arched eyebrow.
"Wooow, she'd love you," he said, letting a husky chuckle that I decided was very pleasant to listen to.
We climbed from the truck, and Bruce led the way into the pizza place, even holding the door for me like a perfect gentleman. Inside, the minuscule dining area was empty, though I knew most of the clientele preferred to call in and pick up their orders. I ambled to the counter and asked for a large pepperoni pizza and parmesan breadsticks, jumping a bit when Bruce leaned over my shoulder to slide a credit card across the counter once our total was given.
"And a Dr. Pepper," he said.
"Make that two," I added.
While we waited, I gave Dad a quick call and left a message on his answering machine to let him know that I was out with a friend. The last thing he needed was any reason to think I'd gone skidding off the road to my doom.
"Fancy cellphone you have there," Bruce observed as I pocketed the device in question. "Motorola RAZR?"
"Yeah, only the best from Mom," I said wryly. "Not for my sake, of course. Gotta make the other moms jealous."
"Well, if you benefit from it, it's not so bad, right?" Bruce said with a shrug, and I hummed noncommittally.
"I guess I'd rather have a Mom who…cares," I said. "I'll take a crappy brick cell phone or even none if it meant she actually liked me."
"You said a gal done you wrong," Bruce remembered. "I'm guessing…"
"She got involved with some bad people," I said. "Some guy named…Sytsevich, I think. Not important. I never got pulled into it, but when she got busted…"
"Your whole life went sideways," he said.
"Luckily, I still have Dad," I said. "And luckily, he's the greatest. I don't know what I'd do without him."
"I guess I can't help but feel grateful that everything went the way it did," Bruce said apologetically. "Or else…I'd never have met you."
"That's cheesier than the pizza I just ordered," I said, smacking him lightly on the arm and earning another low chuckle.
This boy was going to be trouble.
…
"There is something we should probably talk about," Bruce said one our pizza had been brought out to us piping hot and smelling delectable. Outside, steam coiled out of the box into the chilly afternoon. Maybe I'd have to rethink my idea of a tailgate picnic.
"We could drive to Tillicum Park, just hang out in the car and eat," I said.
"I guess it's a bit cold for a picnic," Bruce grinned.
"Maybe slightly," I said with a smirk right back, passing the pizza box to him. We piled back into the Bronco, and a five-minute drive later, we were pulling into the parking area of Tillicum Park. Of course, the place was deserted this time of year, but I had spent many a summer day here with Dad, going on picnics, shooting the occasional fireworks for Independence Day, and otherwise frolicking as only a child is able.
I felt a fond ache at the memories, wondering if I was already becoming the sort of jaded cynic that wishes for simpler times. Given my generally bleak outlook regarding the future, perhaps that ship had already sailed.
My melancholic musings were broken by a slice of pepperoni pizza looming in my vision, and I jolted as Bruce began to laugh.
"Sorry, you looked a little lost in thought, so…sneak-attack pizza," he said.
"Pepperoni is the stealthiest pizza," I said with a sage nod.
"You'd think it'd be cheese," Bruce shrugged. "No extra weight."
"The pepperonis are a sound dampener, though," I said. "They allow for quieter movement."
"Alright, before I get distracted assigning RPG scores to pizza toppings," Bruce said, "I wanted to…enlighten you about what happened this morning. With Wanda and Donald and Carol. And all of that…business."
"You don't have to tell me anything, you know," I insisted. "I mean…I know enough that I can tell Wanda saved my life. So…you don't owe me any explanations."
"That's what Carol said, too," Bruce said with a wry smile. "But I know what it's like to only know some of the truth and not understand the rest. It may seem tolerable now, but once you've had a chance to process all of this, you'll start to wonder. It's better to just spill it all now and let you process it all as once cohesive thing."
"That's…something I wouldn't even have thought of," I said. "But yeah, that's pretty spot-on."
"That's Mom again," Bruce told me. "She's pretty smart."
"So your parents know about…this," I said.
"That's why they took us in," Bruce said. "Mom met Donald and Wanda when she was stationed in Sokovia, and Dad took me in after some…unpleasantness with the United States military."
"…Oh," I said, taking a ponderous bite of my pizza while I tried to think of something to say to that. So whatever Bruce's deal was, it was dangerous. "What about Tony?"
"Tony doesn't really have any…strange abilities like the rest of us," Bruce said. "Dad took him in because he promised Tony's father he'd look after him if anything ever happened."
"What did his dad do?" I asked.
"He was the founder and CEO of Stark Industries," Bruce said.
"Tony is Tony Stark?" I blurted, and Bruce nodded with a little chuckle.
"I find it kind of ironic that that's the thing that got a real reaction out of you," he said. "Not super strength or the US military."
"I guess it's just a little weird that he's out here in Forks instead of doing rich-boy things in Beverly Hills," I pointed out.
"Fair point," Bruce conceded with a nod. "And he could go back, I guess, if he wanted. But I think he kinda likes it here. The anonymity, for one. And he has Wanda."
"And you," I said. "You two seem real close."
"Before we met Mom, it was just me and Tony and Dad," Bruce said. "My biological dad…died when I was just a kid. He was a scientist, brilliant but…not a fan of the scientific method or silly notions like safety or procedure. He was obsessed with gamma radiation. He thought there was some hidden mystery to it, a way to harness it and unlock the secrets of human potential."
He paused for a moment to take a bite of pizza, and I remembered the slice I was holding, quickly finishing off the last couple of bites myself. Unable to think of anything to say, I just waited for Bruce to continue.
"He definitely unlocked something, but it wasn't what he intended," he said. "One day, there was a meltdown at his lab. A 'cascade failure', they called it. The details are sketchy, since the whole place went up. All I remember is the sound. Everyone was talking, laughing, normal day. Dad brought me around sometimes, showed me the lab. I thought it was so cool, couldn't wait to be a scientist just like him. Everyone was really nice to me, but like…I'm the boss's kid, of course they're gonna be. And then the sound. The alarm going off, and everyone just gets quiet. The radio was playing 'Come As You Are', by Nirvana, the air conditioner was humming. The alarm goes off, and a phone rings. Dad goes and picks it up, listens for a bit, and he starts telling everyone to get out, evacuate. But it's too late."
"Oh…" I reached toward him, thought better of it, and just picked up my drink to take a sip.
"Dad turned to me, and the look on his face…he knew we were all dead," Bruce said. "And that's the last thing I remember. I woke up two days later in the Montana countryside."
"How did you get to Montana?" I asked. "Where were you before?"
"The lab was in Ohio," Bruce said. "The…Big Guy must have dug me out of the wreckage and run off to Montana."
"Who?" I asked. Bruce fell silent, and I took the opportunity to take a drink of my Dr. Pepper, starting in on a breadstick. All of these dramatic revelations were making me hungry.
"He calls himself…Hulk," Bruce said, shuddering as he mentioned the name. "I try not to say the name that often because it feels like it brings him closer to the surface. I call him the Big Guy. He's…me. Or I'm him. I turn into him."
"You turn into…?"
"This huge, green…thing," Bruce went on. "A monster. Made of pure anger. I don't know how it happened, I don't know why the gamma explosion didn't just kill me like it did everyone else. But instead it turned me into…him. Now he's always there, waiting for me to slip, to lose control."
"So if you get angry, you turn into a big green anger monster?" I asked. "And I'm guessing he proceeds to break stuff?"
"That seems like his sole reason for existing," Bruce sighed. "Evidently, his favorite phrase is 'Hulk smash', usually yelled. A lot."
"You don't remember when you're…like that?" I asked.
"Not much," he said. "I get vague…impressions, images. The longer he's out, the less control I have."
"Does this have anything to do with your 'heart problem'?" I asked him, even doing the air quotes.
"This is my heart problem," he said in amused tones. "If I break 200 beats per minute, he's coming out. I have a monitor built into my watch. If it even gets near 120, I hit myself with the tranquilizer."
"When's the last time he…made an appearance?" I asked, and Bruce paused to take a contemplative drink.
"A little over a year ago," he said. "Right before we moved to Forks. We were living in Eastview, New Jersey. Quiet little town, peaceful. Dad was looking to make a life there, after he married Mom. Tony and Carol and I were actually getting along with Donald and Wanda. Tony and Wanda were really getting along."
"I bet that was a scandal," I muttered, and Bruce let a snort.
"I think the only reason it was allowed to happen was because trying to keep them from each other would have just made things worse," he said. "So Mom and Dad just set a few ground rules about public behavior and keeping things PG-13."
"Have they kept to these ground rules?" I asked knowingly.
"Wanda makes sure they do," Bruce grinned. "Hard to push your limits with a girl that can zap your brain."
"So Wanda's…what, exactly?" I asked. It seemed the whole conversation was me probing and prompting Bruce to exposit another winding explanation about his family and their associated weirdness. Bruce didn't seem to mind, and I wasn't about to complain; there was something mesmerizing in the way he spoke, the husky tenor to his voice.
"Wanda's…weird," he said with a light shake of his head. "She definitely has some sort of telekinesis, and you saw that she can produce an extremely solid energy barrier."
"That's why I'm still here and not an obituary in tomorrow's paper," I said.
"Apparently, she has a bit of…mind control, I guess," Bruce said. "She doesn't really like to use it that often, but she's had to from time to time. It's really easy to pack up and leave town when you can make everyone forget you ever lived there."
"I'm assuming that would have been me, if there had been less witnesses," I said. "Zip-zap, suddenly the cover story is all I remember?"
"I'm glad we didn't have to do that," Bruce said. "I don't know if I would have been able to face you if we did."
"I certainly wouldn't have enjoyed that," I told him. "I quite like talking to you."
"Well…I like talking to you, too," he said with a warm smile. Our eyes locked for a moment, and I found myself unable to look away from how intensely green they were. Having heard his story, I wondered if they'd always been that way or had changed from another shade after his Hulk had settled in. I supposed it was a small but positive side-effect, if that were the case.
That green was indescribable.
Bruce's watch chimed, and I heard him gasp before the passenger door was suddenly thrown open as he flung himself from the car. Shocked at his sudden absence, I hastened to follow, making sure the doors were shut before rounding the car to approach him.
"What's wrong?" I asked, stopping when he held a hand out, palm toward me.
"A-ah, I need you to give me just a moment, please." He was a few yards away from me, taking slow deep breaths that misted before him in the frigid air. All around, the trees were quiet save for the occasional creaking crack of ice as the branches sagged under the additional weight. Again, the primordial silence of Forks was all-encompassing, swallowing up secrets and hiding them from the world.
And this was an incredible secret.
"Did I do something wrong?" I asked, hating the timid way my voice wavered. My feet felt rooted to the spot even as some unknowable instinct in the back of my head screamed at me to run, that this boy was dangerous in ways I couldn't comprehend. At the same time, I simply couldn't bring myself to leave the heartbreaking sight of Bruce Rogers in clear distress, not when I was far too quickly growing rather fond of him.
"You didn't do anything, I promise," he insisted. "I think prolonged eye contact was just a little too, uh…intense. You seem to have that effect on me."
"I do?"
"It's why I left the first time I met you," he said, slowly working his way back over. "You're…I dunno, something about you makes my heart go nuts."
"From any other boy, that would be a really lame pickup line," I said with a shaky laugh, and Bruce cracked a little smile.
"Well…you just need to understand," he said. "If this feels like it could be…unsafe. If I can't rein it in or start to slip up… I might have to leave. The Big Guy, he'd rip a little town like this to the ground. I don't wanna be responsible for that, I'd never be able to live with myself."
"So…why the pizza date?" I asked. "I mean, it's been awesome. I love spending time with you. But if I'm…bad for your heart, why push it?"
"Well, for one, I love spending time with you, too," Bruce said with a smile. "I wanna get better at this, though. I'm tired of…being afraid of him. Of all people, Donald told me something that stuck with me pretty recently. That fear is just anger that doesn't have a direction. I wanna conquer it. I won't be taking any risks, but I'd still like to push myself, if that makes sense. I hope it makes sense."
"I think it does," I told him. "And I'm glad we both agree that…we like spending time together."
"Hopefully we can do a lot more of that," Bruce said.
"Maybe…at the dance?" I asked, feeling my heart thud. How strange to get so nervous about something comparatively normal after the things that had just been revealed to me. "It's girls' choice. So I'm asking you."
"You want to go to the dance with me?" he asked, sounding unduly shocked at the idea.
"Is that so bad?"
"Well, no, no," he hurried to assure me. "I just… I can't really dance all that well."
"Then I'll teach you," I said, stepping closer, "if you think your heart can take it."
"I'll definitely need to have plenty of my tranquilizers on hand," he said with a nervous smile. "But…yes. I'll go to the dance with you."
Well, Riley would be pleased, in any case.