Disclaimer the First: I, the author, do not own any rights to any Marvel characters that happen to appear in the following story. They are all copywritten. Is that even a word? Anyways, please don't sue me, Marvel. That'd be so embarrassing.
Disclaimer the Second: I wrote this story about 4 years ago and realized I never finished it. Wasn't that good to begin with, so I will rework it. Tell me what you think. Scathing critiques are perfectly acceptable—I'm a grown woman, so treat me like one. Enjoy!
When I was in grade school I got made fun of a lot. My hair was always a mess, my Coke-bottle glasses were always dirty, and I usually made references and jokes that no one got. All the kids in my grade had cable or Nintendo while I had your basic network television and a library card. My teachers would remark to my mom at conferences, "You can tell Lola doesn't watch cable because she's so much more polite!" It made my mom proud to have such a civilized child, but me, I wished I could just have something in common with the others.
As the kids and I got older, the girls would head to the mall and hang out there but I preferred to ride my bike to the park and create adventures for myself. I'd swing on the swings till I got sick, or roll myself down the tiny hill, or just lean against a tree and read a book. I had read Robin Hood, Huck Finn, Alice in Wonderland, and just about all the RL Stine books I could get my hot little hands on. I'd pass my summers away in the park and occasionally go with my cousins to Wisconsin to visit my grandparents, but for the most part it was me, myself and I.
The summer before I began high school I checked out Peter Pan, wistfully remembering how I would watch the Disney adaptation incessantly in Kindergarten. I rode my bike from the library to the convenient store and bought an ice cream sandwich, then continued on my merry way, book tucked under my left arm, treat in left hand and the other on the handle bars. It was a precarious situation, I had to be very careful that I didn't drop the ice cream, or worse, this hardcover illustrated edition that had to have weighed more than my awkward, bony, pre-pubescent frame. I was just about to turn 13 and I still hadn't had my period or my boobs. The only thing that seemed to be growing were my limbs and feet, making me look more like a stork than the blossoming young lady I should have been. I reached the park, carefully rode my bike to a tree far away from the toddlers and babysitters that chattered by the actual play lot, and began to read.
Suddenly, I was flying. Flying, soaring, dipping, swooshing, ally-ooping! I laughed, I shrieked for joy! It was the most wonderful feeling I had ever had, even better than that time my bully of an older cousin jacked himself in the nose on the trampoline! Sure I felt bad afterwards when they said it was broken but oh, he deserved it! I zoomed over people's heads, skirted tall buildings and trees, pirouetted in the sky; I think I even touched a cloud.
Then I became like a lead weight and lost everything I had learned.
"Crap!" I screamed, and hit the ground.
I screamed again and woke with a start. I gaped, bewildered at what had just happened and clutched at my heart, trying to keep it from leaping from my chest. I licked my lips to moisten them but found my mouth was dry. "Well that blew," I thought, and panicked when I realized I couldn't see straight. "Oh no oh no!" I cried and groped for my glasses.
"Here," a voice declared, and shoved a blurry object in my face. My glasses!
"Oh, umm," I stammered and shoved them onto my face. "Thanks, thanks a lot," I whimpered and wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
"You're weird," the 8-year-old girl warily said, and scurried away.
"I know," I groaned and watched her flounce back to her baby sitter. "I know, I know, I know."
"And how was your day, Lola?" Mom asked as she settled into her kitchen chair. She took off her glasses and flipped through the day's mail. I rummaged through the fridge to get out cheese and bread, tonight for dinner it was grilled cheese.
I sighed. "It was okay. Same as usual. Got a new book from the library, Peter Pan. Then I fell asleep under a tree at the park and wigged out cuz I was dreaming that I was flying and then I fell."
"Oh those are the worst," Mom lamented while tearing open an envelope.
"And then I thought I lost my glasses but I guess they just fell off and I freaked out again."
"Oh poor Lola!" she half laughed, half cried and pulled me into a hug. She smelled like the train ride home mixed with her perfume—sweet and strong, like an almond cookie. "Remember when you used to watch "Peter Pan" over and over again? Then you went as Peter Pan for Halloween and that was the same year you got so much candy and wouldn't carry your bag because it was too heavy."
I smirked. "Yeah, I remember that."
"Mhmm, and I said I could help you carry it by eating half of it, and you got mad at the suggestion and stormed off! Too cute, too cute you were."
"Wonder what happened," I muttered and pulled away.
"What's wrong?" Mom asked and put her glasses back on. I scoffed and sulked to my bedroom. "Oh okay," she declared. "Teenage angst."
I scoffed again, "Whatever." It was true, though, it was just the typical teenage angst and I hated it. I hated feeling happy and stable one second and then feeling pissed and diabolical the next. All I wanted was for my period to happen, my boobs to grow and for me to get some damned contacts. Then I'd fly for real.
For real.
That night as I lay in bed with Peter Pan draped across my chest, I closed my eyes and imagined what it'd be like to fly.
"To fly, that'd be so awesome. I'd fly everywhere and then I'd fly over all those jerks in school and show 'em how cool I am," I wistfully thought. Then I groaned at how embarrassing my thoughts were. "Ugh, I'm such a dork." I leaned over and shut off my lamp.
I opened my eyes and felt like I hadn't slept at all. "Maybe I'm sleeping and dreaming all this," I thought. "Must be dreaming cuz I'm pretty sure I don't float," I giggled to myself. I precariously lifted my glasses off the bed stand because I didn't want to make any sudden movements and wake myself. Slipping my glasses on, I turned my head from side to side and let my eyes focus in the dark. I found that I could move freely without waking myself, so I sat upright in midair. "This dream is awesome. Awesome. Seriously." I bobbed up and down in the air, and floated 5 feet to the right towards the window. "I'm doin' it, I'm doin' it! I'm going outside!" I slowly shimmied the window open and thanked the landlord of our apartment for being too lazy to put the screens in. Normally I was put out that he hadn't gotten around to it because that meant I couldn't open the windows for the summer breeze to blow in, but this time it worked in my favor. I slowly willed myself out the window and hovered a few inches away from my room.
The night was cool and a sliver of the moon glowed in the midnight sky. Crickets chirped and a cat meowed, probably Mrs. Jones' tabby, Earl. It was too good to be true. Here I was, having the best dream, even more better than the last because it was so real. "That'd be crazy if I really was flying!" I exclaimed in my head.
Somewhere from the apartment I heard Mom say, "Lola, don't open the window because…Lola?"
I whirled around. "Mom?"
She screamed at the top of her lungs.