The rest of the evening passed calmly, which Skye was extremely grateful for. The excitement of everything that had happened that day had her feeling tired and worn down, so she appreciated the soft slowness of Phil helping her clean up the mess she had made, a quiet dinner, and finishing her homework under Jemma's gentle cheerleading. By the time she climbed into bed that night, she was more than ready to power down and let a good night of sleep reboot her.
It was May who came in to check on them and say goodnight, and she went out of her way to remind Skye and Jemma of the things she and Phil had told them earlier that evening – that they were special and capable and she didn't care what kinds of labels the school might want to put on them.
"I don't want to exhaust the point," she said sheepishly, "but it's important to me that you both understand how proud Phil and I are of you, and how much we care about you."
"We understand," Jemma assured her. She was curled on her side in bed, watching May intently. Her hand was tucked up near her face, her pointer finger wrapped around the bridge of her nose and tapping lightly. A happy, sleepy, tap, Skye knew.
May looked to Skye, to make sure that she understood, too. Skye's throat felt thick as May turned her gaze on her, so she opted to simply nod instead. She made sure to hold May's eye contact to let her know that she was telling the truth, even if she wasn't saying anything out loud. She couldn't promise that she would suddenly start feeling better about herself all the time, but something about her conversation with Phil had forced some things to click into place. The most important of those things, Skye realized, was that she had to start believing May and Phil when they told her good things. Even when she was having trouble accepting the good thing, she had to know that they meant what they said. They were like Jemma that way – they weren't going to tell her things that they didn't mean.
May seemed satisfied by Skye's nonverbal response and bid them goodnight, leaving the two girls alone in the semi-darkness.
"Do you think you'll be able to fix your computer?" Jemma asked softly, after a beat.
"I don't know, but probably not," Skye admitted. Her heart ached a little at the thought of all of her precious work sitting in a shoebox in pieces under her bed. Phil hadn't let her throw everything away once they'd cleaned it all up, instead digging out an old shoebox with a lid to hold everything. He said she might change her mind about it later on, once she'd had some time to think about everything. "I messed everything up pretty badly."
"Well, the pieces were broken before, and you were able to fix them that time," Jemma offered. "You're good at putting things back together." Skye couldn't help but smile a little at Jemma's words of encouragement. It was so much easier to believe Jemma than anybody else. She had a lot of practicing to do if she was ever going to feel that way about people like Phil or May.
"Are you feeling okay? About everything that Mrs. Hinton said, I mean?"
"I think so," Jemma said, taking her time. "She was nice, and I liked the exercises she had me do. I think maybe I don't have as much to process as you. And I want to do some more research before I decide on my feelings."
Skye had to bite back a giggle at that. It was so typical of Jemma to decide to just choose what feelings she was going to have after she'd done the proper amount of research. She knew that wasn't exactly what Jemma meant – Jemma knew that she couldn't just pick out what feelings she wanted to have, of course – but the idea of not settling on any emotion until you'd fully thought it through and collected all the available data was a very Jemma way to approach something. Skye figured it probably had something to do with the fact that there were times where Jemma wasn't in control of her emotions, like when she was nervous or having a meltdown, times that Jemma didn't like one bit. So, to make up for it, she tried to arrange her feelings neatly all the other times.
Skye wished she could think about her own feelings as systematically as Jemma did. Usually her feelings just came out in a tangled knot of old yarn, frayed string, crooked wires, and sticky shoelaces. Sometimes when she tried to pull on one of the strands, everything just got tighter and tighter and more tangled, and other times, pulling one thread loose made everything else fall apart into a heap. The only in-between was to leave the knot as it was, with everything snared in on itself and nothing making much sense, but Skye wasn't sure that was any real way to live.
The next morning at the melted table, Fitz wasted no time in asking them the question Skye had been sure was going to fly out of his mouth as soon as they saw him.
"So? How'd it go yesterday?" They had told Fitz about having to go see Mrs. Hinton earlier in the week, and he had seemed very curious about what their meeting was going to entail.
"It was all right," Jemma said simply. "It was a little daunting at first, but Mrs. Hinton was very nice."
"I like her," Fitz agreed, pumping his head up and down. "I have to meet with her at the start of every school year to make sure I'm still fine to be in the grade ahead of where I'm meant to be. Usually she just asks me about how I did in my classes the year before, and sometimes she gives me puzzles to work out."
"Jemma had to do some of those," Skye said. She puffed up with pride on Jemma's behalf and grinned. "She figured them out super fast. Like, 'before I even understood the question' kind of fast."
"It was nothing," Jemma blushed. "Just some logic puzzles. Numeric sequences, language decoding, that sort of thing."
"Those are the best ones!" Fitz was getting excited, almost vibrating on the bench. The breath that hung in the chilly air around him gave Skye the mental image of a steam engine pouring smoke and about to combust. She bit down on her lip to keep from laughing at the picture. "Do you remember which ones you had? You could quiz me on them."
Jemma, of course, remembered them precisely, and she rattled them off for Fitz to work out. He got a kick out of flexing his brain muscles for them, and Skye got a kick out of watching Jemma put him through his paces. By the time he had successfully answered the last of Jemma's questions, they were all grinning and giggling like goobers, having the time of their life.
"So," Fitz tittered, catching his breath and trying to keep a straight face. "So what did she say after your puzzles? Do you get to stay in class with us?"
"Yes," beamed Jemma. "I'm going to tutoring with Skye and I'm getting to learn extra things there, but I don't have to change classes again."
"What kinds of extra things?" Just as Jemma had predicted, Fitz looked a little crestfallen and more than a little jealous at the news that she was getting to learn new things without him.
"I don't know yet. We haven't started. Phil said that he would talk to Ms. Price about it this week and then I could start for real next week." Jemma paused, taking in the pouty look on Fitz's face. "Don't look so gloomy," she soothed. "I already told Skye I was going to save all of my work and share it with you. That way we can learn new things together."
Fitz immediately perked back up. "Really? You'd do that?"
"Of course," Jemma smiled shyly. "What good is learning new things if you can't share them?"
Fitz's eyes were positively dewy at that, and Skye couldn't resist the opportunity to needle her two best friends over how sappy and nerdy they were being with each other.
"All right, eggheads, let's not get carried away," she smirked. "It's just some extra worksheets, not the discovery of a new planet or anything." But even as she said it, she knew it was more than just worksheets for the both of them. It was the discovery of a common language, a shared love for something beyond themselves. It was a gesture of their friendship. If someone had tried to become friends with Skye by giving her extra schoolwork, she would have laughed in their face, but for Fitz and Jemma, it was an invitation to share in something that was deeply important to the both of them.
"Oh, hey, what about you, Skye?" Fitz asked, snapping out of his reverie. "Did you do puzzles with Mrs. Hinton, too?"
"Not exactly." Skye scuffed the toe of her sneaker along the blacktop. She could feel her ears getting warm, despite the chill in the air. She didn't think Fitz would tease her, but she was still on the fence about telling him everything that had transpired with the guidance counselor. "She made me do stuff that was more like regular tests. Reading and spelling and stuff like that. She had me draw some stuff, too."
"Was that to see if tutoring is helping?" Fitz's brow was scrunched up in confusion. "I thought your grades were supposed to show if it was working or not."
"It was more like she wanted to see what things I had trouble with," Skye explained. "She wanted to see what was wrong with me."
"She was trying to understand Skye as a learner," Jemma corrected gently. "That's what she told us."
"Did it help any?"
"I don't know," Skye shrugged. She glanced from Jemma to Fitz and back again. They were both looking at her with solid, warm smiles. They were her friends. She decided that Fitz deserved the truth. "She's thinks I might have learning disabilities, and that's why I'm not good with school stuff. She thinks my brain doesn't work like other people's."
"Oh, well, that's not so bad then," Fitz said, an excited gleam flashing in his eyes and his smile widening. Skye looked at him incredulously.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Fitz told her, "that there's a scientific, biological explanation for why you've been struggling. It means it's not some kind of a moral failing, or a lack of measurable intelligence. It means there's nothing wrong with you, you're just different now."
"Oh." Fitz was saying some of the same things that Mrs. Hinton had tried explaining the night before, but for some reason, when Fitz said it, everything made better sense. Skye wasn't sure if she agreed with him completely, but she at least could see what he meant when he said that her potential new diagnosis wasn't so bad.
"I mean, obviously, there are some challenges that go with learning disabilities," Fitz clarified, on a silent cue from Jemma to soften his words a bit. "But there are ways to accommodate for that, aren't there? Things that can help to balance the scales, right?"
"I guess," Skye said. "I think that's one of the things Mrs. Hinton was talking about. I don't know, I kind of tuned some of it out. She said a lot of things. I didn't exactly catch them all."
"There's no official diagnosis," Jemma added. "We'd have to see a different person for that."
"Which is on my list of things I'd rather have a porcupine as a pillow than do instead," Skye interjected.
"A porcupine would make a terrible pillow. You'd need serious medical attention after getting quills in your face, plus living things don't typically appreciate being slept on," Fitz pointed out.
"Exactly my point," Skye said dryly.
"You know, if you had to use an animal for your pillow, a monkey could potentially—"
"Fitz!"
When Flex Time rolled around that afternoon, Skye, Jemma, and Fitz all found themselves with hall passes to the library clutched in their hands. They had decided at lunch, per Jemma's suggestion, that they would use their Flex Time to do some research.
"Research leads to understanding," Jemma explained. "Understanding is good. Understanding helps you feel better."
"Well, understanding helps you feel better," Skye teased. "I'm not a big research fan myself, but I guess it couldn't hurt."
Since Skye was determined not to break the rules of her punishment again, she traipsed over to the nonfiction books in the library and began searching for something that might tell her more about ADHD or dyslexia, while Jemma and Fitz settled in front of a pair of computers. There was a special kind of irony, Skye thought, in forcing the kid who could barely read to be the one to use books to look up information on dyslexia. She couldn't even figure out how the books were organized, each one with a sticker bearing a string of numbers and letters that didn't make a lick of sense.
Eventually she figured out that the nonfiction books were grouped more by subject than by the author's name, like regular fiction books were, and she did her best to find the section holding books that looked like they had something to do with doctors and medicine and things like that. Titling her head so she could look at the books on the shelf, she ran her finger past the spines that held titles like "The Skeletal System" or "What is Cancer?" plus what felt like a hundred more that she didn't feel like trying to (or simply couldn't) decipher. This was pointless.
Frustrated at the fruitlessness of her attempts, Skye drifted back over to where Jemma and Fitz were pecking away at their computers. Just because she couldn't use one didn't mean she couldn't be near one, she figured. Plus, she wasn't getting anywhere looking at the books by herself.
"Any luck so far?" Fitz asked. His eyes were still glued on his computer screen, zipping back and forth as he read at what Skye considered to be a superhuman pace.
"No," Skye grumped, plopping down in the seat next to him. "I don't really know what I'm supposed to be looking for, I guess." She propped her chin up on her fist and craned her neck to get a better look at the screen. "What about you guys?"
"There's some interesting articles about the neurobiology behind dyslexia," Jemma offered. "Your brain is probably fascinating, Skye. I'd love to look at a scan of it." Skye raised her eyebrows at that, but Jemma barreled ahead, barely noticing her. "Some of the articles I found talk about difficulties with phonological processing, like Mrs. Hinton was saying. They also said that there are lots of different strategies to help strengthen your language skills over time."
"I found a website that says anywhere from 10-20% of people in the US have dyslexia," Fitz added. His face lit up as he continued. "One site even said that Albert Einstein was dyslexic. Can you believe it? He was almost kicked out of school because he had such a hard time."
"The E=mc2 guy?" Skye asked incredulously.
"Basically one of the most brilliant minds to ever postulate," glowed Jemma. "Can you imagine where we would be without the Theory of Relativity?"
"We'd be practically in the dark ages," agreed Fitz. "His work revolutionized theoretical physics, gave us an understanding of the relationship between time and space—"
"—helped to explain the law of gravitation and how gravity relates to other natural forces—"
"—ushered in the atomic age, not to mention a new era of astrophysics—"
"—plus his work led to leaps in innovation. We wouldn't have electron microscopes or particle accelerators without an understanding of relativity—"
"Guys, time out, seriously," Skye interrupted, using her hands to make a 'T' shape in front of them. "As cool as you're making all of that sound, I literally have no idea what any of it means."
"The point is, the man was insanely smart," Fitz said matter-of-factly.
"Well, I got that," Skye deadpanned. "I'm pretty sure everybody knows that Einstein was smart. People literally use his name to describe smart people."
"It's a fascinating example of antonomasia," Jemma agreed. "His name's practically become an archetype in and of itself."
"What I'm trying to say," Fitz cut in, slightly exasperated, "is that the man who people think of when they think of smart people was dyslexic, just like you might be, Skye. So you're in good company."
"Oh." Skye paused, considering. "Thanks, Fitz. That's really nice of you to say."
"It's just the truth," Fitz shrugged, blushing a little. "I also found a bunch of very successful people who had ADHD as well, so you don't need to feel alone about that, either."
Skye couldn't help but smile at Fitz's kind gestures. She should have known he would be nothing but supportive.
"I read some interesting things about ADHD as well," Jemma piped. "Apparently there are some theories out there regarding brain chemistry that suggest that in people with ADHD, the brain isn't able to produce or transmit enough dopamine, which causes them to feel woefully under-stimulated most of the time. Another theory attributes it to catecholamine disruption, or to a neurodevelopmental delay, or even to differences in brain size."
"Am I supposed to understand any of that?" Skye teased.
"It sounds like scientists don't fully understand it themselves," mused Fitz. "If there are still so many theories out there. They must still be learning like we are."
"Not exactly comforting information," mumbled Skye.
"There wasn't anything in the books that was helpful?" Jemma asked, tearing her eyes away from the screen in front of her. Skye shook her head.
"I didn't find anything that looked right," she admitted, "so I didn't actually open any, but nothing seemed like it had what we wanted. It doesn't matter, though, because it sounds like you two already found everything we need online instead."
"We should at least check," Jemma said, a little defensively. She was very protective of books and their value as a research tool. Skye chewed on her lip to keep from smiling at how put-out Jemma looked at the suggestion that the internet could fully replace the need for hard-copy research. "Will you show me where you were looking?"
"Fine," Skye conceded. She lost her battle to keep her smile in check and flashed Jemma a mischievous grin. "You don't believe me, but I'll prove it to you that those books won't help us any."
"I'll stay here and start looking for information on autism," Fitz called softly as Skye and Jemma drifted away. He didn't want to incur the wrath of Mrs. Bergmann, Skye was sure. She didn't want to either, if she was being honest. The librarian seemed nice enough, but for some reason Skye always felt uneasy around her. Maybe it was the rules about being quiet, which she had never excelled at following, or the fact that librarians always seemed so smart and serious about their books, but whatever the case, Skye had always gotten the feeling that librarians were always just waiting for her to screw up so they could kick her out.
Jemma would probably tell her she was being ridiculous, Skye thought with a smile. Jemma loved librarians, and the feeling was usually mutual. They always got along very well, and Skye almost always made a point to bring Jemma along if she needed to do anything in a library for that very reason.
"So I guess you told Fitz about what Mrs. Hinton said about you maybe being autistic, like her daughter," Skye said casually as she led Jemma over to where she had tried and failed to find any useful books. She hadn't been sure if Jemma was going to bring that up with Fitz or not, but he apparently seemed to already know.
"Yes." Jemma tilted her head to get a better look at the books. "I told him there was a possibility, and that I was waiting to do more research before I decided anything for myself. He said he would help with the research, since we were already looking up things for you."
"That's nice of him," Skye smiled. "He's being really cool about all of this."
"Yes, he is," Jemma said quietly. If Skye hadn't known any better, she would have said Jemma looked a little bashful, but she couldn't see any reason for Jemma to be embarrassed about Fitz being nice to them, so she figured she had just misread Jemma's expression. Sometimes the looks on Jemma's face didn't quite line up with the things she was feeling.
They were silent for a little while, crouched in front of the shelves. Jemma was scanning through the book titles with unwavering focus, and Skye watched her work. She loved seeing Jemma in her element. It was almost like Jemma took up more space in the world when she was feeling sure of herself or doing something that she loved. That thought always made Skye happy, because as far as she was concerned, a world with more Jemma in it was always a better one.
When several minutes had passed without Jemma pulling out a single book, Skye found a triumphant seed start to grow inside of her. She couldn't resist the opportunity to declare victory, even if it was potentially premature.
"I told you there wasn't anything useful over here."
"I'm still looking," Jemma told her, making a shooing motion. The corners of her mouth twitched, so Skye knew she wasn't upset by Skye's stubborn insistence. The challenge had been issued and Jemma was determined to prove Skye wrong. The playful look dissolved quickly into something more pinched looking as she continued to peruse the shelf. Her brow creased.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm just confused as to why the books on neurodevelopment are mixed in with books on pathogens and diseases and things like that. See, they've got a title on Decoding the Brain in between something on muscular atrophy and something on cultivating immortalized cell lines from cancer cells. They shouldn't be together like that."
"Well, maybe they're all mixed together because they have to do with doctors or medicine or something," Skye suggested. She didn't really understand what the problem was, but she could tell that whatever it was, Jemma was bothered by it.
"The 616 section in the Dewey Decimal system includes topics on pathology, diseases, and treatments," Jemma said slowly. She was taking measured breaths, and Skye couldn't help but notice she had started tapping again. She hadn't needed to while she had been researching earlier. "So that makes some sense, but I don't understand why books that have information on dyslexia, ADHD, or autism would be included in that section. They're not diseases. There is no pathology to be studied, because they're not illnesses. They can't be transmitted or caught or cured. I know that. I read it. And Mrs. Hinton said so, too." Jemma's voice was coming faster and faster, a desperate confusion forcing its way out, and there was unmistakable anger snagging in her words. "So why would they be mixed in with books on diseases?"
"I don't know, maybe they made a mistake," Skye said, trying her best to placate Jemma. "Or maybe they didn't have anywhere else to put them, so they just added them to the closest section they could find."
"Maybe my other research was wrong," Jemma said, more to herself than to Skye at this point. "I didn't think there was anything wrong with us, but maybe we are sick. If that's what the books say—"
"Hey," Skye said suddenly, seriously. She felt bad interrupting, but she needed to cut Jemma off before she slipped too far down a rabbit hole that would only lead to her feeling badly about herself. "We're not sick. You heard what Mrs. Hinton and May and Phil all said. They didn't think there was anything wrong with us. Fitz doesn't think so, either. I… I know I said some stuff at first that wasn't so great, and I'm still not sure exactly how I feel about all of this, but you wouldn't let me feel bad about myself for it, so I'm not going to let you feel bad about yourself, either. You don't like it when I call myself dumb, even when I feel like I am, and I don't like it when you call yourself sick. The books must just be wrong, not you, okay?"
"Okay," Jemma whispered. Her shoulders hunched a little, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. The frantic anger that had flared up in her seemed to have dissipated after Skye's scolding, and Skye felt a little bad about making Jemma shrink, but not bad enough to regret what she had said.
"Forget the books for now, okay? Think back to the other research you already did. What did that stuff say? How did that stuff make you feel?"
"It was okay," Jemma acquiesced. "The things I learned about dyslexia and ADHD were interesting. It sounded like your brain was unique."
"You said you wanted to look at scans of it," Skye teased gently.
"I think they'd be beautiful," breathed Jemma. She looked up, and a smile danced across her face. "I only just started reading about autism, but it sounded like there were distinctive developments in the neurobiology with autistic brains as well. They'd probably have some fascinating scans, too."
"See? Not all bad," Skye said comfortingly. She bumped her shoulder into Jemma's playfully. "Just focus on that stuff. Trust your research. Trust your gut."
"Did you know that the human gut has over 100 million nerve cells that all communicate directly with the brain?" Jemma asked. "That's why people attribute their intuition to the stomach. It's a highly sensitive organ that's incredibly neurologically active, especially during times of emotional distress."
"I did not know that," Skye said, biting back a laugh. "I just thought it was because stomachs are notoriously honest body parts."
"Stomachs can't be honest, Skye," Jemma said seriously. "Science can be, though. Good science doesn't lie."
Less than two hours later, Skye had traded the middle school library for the high school one, and she traipsed through the doors, dreading what might greet her on the other side. She had been nervous to start tutoring those few weeks ago, but Natasha had made the whole thing seem like it might be bearable. Now she was facing the prospect of tutoring without Natasha, and the same feelings of nervousness and unease that she had felt on that first day were seeping their way back into her stomach.
Jemma was beside her, as usual, tapping lightly.
"Ready?" she asked, as they picked their way past tables and towards where Ms. Price was waiting for them.
"I guess I have to be," Skye muttered, before they reached Ms. Price and her crisp, but still pleasant, greeting. Jemma took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
"Good afternoon, girls," Ms. Price nodded. "Skye, since it's Wednesday and Natasha isn't here, I've spoken with another tutor about working with you today. Jemma, I've spoken briefly with Mrs. Hinton from your school and with Phil about your new situation. We'll take the rest of this week to develop a plan for your time with us, if that's all right with you." She paused and waited for Jemma to nod. "Excellent. For today, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind working with me personally for a little while. We've never used the tutoring program to provide extra enrichment work before, so I'd like to get a sense of your interests and ability levels to help us figure out exactly what kind of work would be best for you to do in the coming weeks. How does that sound?"
"Fine," Jemma said meekly. Skye knew Jemma would probably never say a word of dissent to Ms. Price. The woman was nice enough, but she was still incredibly intimidating.
"Very good," said Ms. Price, with a snap of pleased finality punctuating her tone. "Skye, you can use your regular table. Raina is already there waiting for you." Skye felt the blood drain from her face, and she wheeled around to see the dark curls and shining eyes of Raina, sitting in Natasha's seat, waiting expectantly. Against her will, a small squeak escaped from her throat. This was exactly what she had been hoping to avoid with Natasha gone. Natasha had told her, and Bobbi had told her, they had both warned her. Raina was bad news.
Beside her, Jemma's eyes were enormous with fear. She knew about Natasha and Bobbi's warnings, too, and now they weren't even going to be able to take on Raina together.
"Come with me, Jemma," Ms. Price instructed, guiding Jemma away from Skye. "Skye, let's get to work, okay?" Skye nodded numbly and felt her feet carry her over to the table. She watched as Jemma drifted listlessly behind Ms. Price, casting worried glances back Skye's way every few steps.
As Skye arrived at the table and took her seat, Raina smiled broadly, but it did little to calm Skye's nerves. She was briefly reminded of Claude, a cat that had skulked around one of her old foster homes and who always got a hungry, triumphant look on his face right before he pounced on an unsuspecting bird. With a shudder, Skye realized that she might be the bird in that scenario if she wasn't careful.
"Hi Skye," Raina said silkily. "I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Raina. I'm glad we're going to get to work together today."
"I remember," said Skye stiffly. She wasn't trying to be rude to Raina, but every inch of her body felt like it was vibrating with a resounding red alert, and it took every ounce of concentration she had to keep all of the pieces from shaking apart into the atmosphere. There just wasn't room in her brain for politeness when the alarm bells were ringing so loudly.
"Is everything okay, Skye? You seem nervous." Raina poked her bottom lip out a little in a look of pitying concern, but Skye kept her gaze fixed on Raina's eyes. Those hadn't changed. They were still lamp-like and esurient, like they were searching every corner of Skye's heart for morsels of information to consume.
"I'm fine," Skye told her, dragging her copy of Stargirl out of her backpack. "We should probably just get started."
"Okay," Raina agreed. The intensity of her gaze softened slightly, and she turned her attention to Skye's work. "It says here that you usually practice your reading, then switch over to math or science if you have time."
"Yep." Skye cracked the book and stared hard at the page. Anything to get Raina's focus onto something else.
They read for a while, Raina acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was taking place. She was patient as Skye sounded out the words she didn't recognize, and while she didn't make it quite as fun as Natasha, or help Skye practice spelling the words she stumbled over, there wasn't anything glaringly wrong with the way Raina ran the tutoring session. The antsy, prickly feeling in Skye's arms and legs didn't go away completely, but she couldn't help but feel somewhat lulled by just how normal Raina was acting.
"'What was wrong with the name your parents gave you?'" Skye read aloud as they neared the end of their scheduled time. In the book, the character Stargirl had picked that name out herself. It was something Skye appreciated about the character, but some of the other kids in the book didn't share Skye's sentiment, it seemed. "'Stargirl tren…turned slowly to Jen…Jennifer. She smiled. 'Nothing. It was a good name.' 'What was it?' 'Susan.' 'So why did you drop it?' 'Be…because I didn't feel like Susan anymore.' 'So you just threw out Susan and named yourself Stargirl.'" Skye paused and cocked her head to one side. She didn't think she had ever read a book where a character had done something so identical to something Skye herself had done in her life. She had ditched the name the nuns gave her as soon as she realized she could. She had thrown out Mary Sue and named herself Skye, because she didn't feel like Mary Sue, just like Stargirl hadn't felt like Susan. Of course, the big difference between the two of them was that Stargirl had replaced a perfectly good name given to her by her parents, whereas Skye had shed a name she hated and that hadn't come from anyone who cared about her.
"Skye? Did you lose your place?"
Skye snapped back to attention and realized that she had stopped reading a while ago. Raina was watching her expectantly.
"No," Skye shook her head. "Sorry, just thinking about the book."
"About Stargirl's name?"
Skye blushed, shrugged. How had Raina known that? "I guess so."
"It's a pretty name," Raina said dreamily. "I think it's interesting that she chose it herself. Sometimes I've thought about picking out a new name for myself, but I think mine suits me. Do you like your name?" She paused for a minute, giving Skye a long look. "It's a nice name, although I don't know if it quite fits you."
Skye scowled. "It fits," she grumbled. "I picked it out, so it fits."
"Oh, I didn't realize," Raina said. Somehow, despite her words, Raina didn't look surprised by this information at all. She didn't sound it, either – her voice oozed with a casual coyness. The hairs on the back of Skye's neck stood on end. "I guess if you picked it, then it must fit. What was your name before? It wasn't Susan, was it?"
"Mary Sue," Skye admitted. The name tasted like vinegar on her tongue. "That's what it says on all my school forms."
"Not that name," Raina said, almost breathlessly. "I know about that one. It's on your tutoring file. I meant your name from before before. Your real name. The one your parents gave you."
The air around them felt laced with electricity, like the air right before an enormous bolt of lightning splits the sky. Skye suddenly found it very hard to draw air into her lungs, but as uncomfortable as she was, she couldn't tear her eyes away from Raina. Words tripped out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying.
"I don't know. I don't have one. I don't have parents, either," Skye said quietly. "The nuns gave me my name when I was a baby. Before that I was nobody, I guess."
"I don't think that's true at all," Raina hummed. "I don't think you were a nobody. I don't think you were nameless, either."
"What are you talking about?" Skye asked, her eyes narrowing. Raina wasn't making any sense.
"I'm talking about you, Skye. I'm talking about your parents."
"My parents?"
"I know you've been looking for them. I know about that little trip you took last week." Raina paused, arching an eyebrow, like she was daring Skye to contradict her information. When Skye didn't respond, Raina continued. "What would you say if I told you that your father is out there looking for you, right this very minute?" she asked. Her tone was hushed – excited, but still barbed with the hooks of knowing superiority. A rushing sound was building in Skye's ears. There was no way. It was too much to hope for. Raina had to be lying. Bobbi and Natasha had said not to trust her.
"I would say you're nuts," Skye said defiantly, jutting out her chin a little. "My parents left me at the orphanage when I was a baby and they never came back. I've tried to find them, but they're not out there. You're wrong."
"I'm not," Raina smiled. It was that smile like Claude the cat, again. Insatiable in its victory. "I know your father, Skye. He misses you. He wants to see you."
"Stop lying," Skye hissed. Her face felt hot, and she raked her eyes across the library briefly to see if anyone was paying attention to them. Dread knotted up around her throat when she realized that no one – not Ms. Price, not Jemma, not any of the other kids in the library – noticed the exchange taking place between the two of them.
"It's true," Raina insisted. "I can prove it to you."
"I don't believe you. You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know anything. Not about my parents, not about me—"
"I know plenty about you, Skye," Raina interrupted. "Your father told me about you. About how he had to leave his little girl at the orphanage, even though he didn't want to. About how he wrapped you up in the blanket from the hospital you were born at – the same hospital you tried to go to last week. I know about how you never stayed with a foster home for long, and I bet I know how you feel all of the time. Like there's an empty space carved out in your heart where your parents should be. You're angry, because you've been passed around all these years. You're not sure anybody cares about you. You feel like the whole world overlooks you, because it's easier for everyone else if they can just pretend you're not there. You pretend like it makes you tougher, but deep down, it just makes you afraid. Afraid that you don't matter. Afraid that no one is ever going to see you."
"Stop," Skye said. Her voice lacked the oomph she wished she could convey. She wanted to cover up her ears and block out everything Raina was saying. It scared her just how accurately Raina had pinned her, but she couldn't let Raina know that she'd exposed some of the most secret corners of Skye's soul. "Just stop talking. You're wrong. I'm not afraid."
"Now who's the liar?" Raina said with a mirthless smile. "I'm right, and I know it. You know it, too. The thing is, Skye, you don't have to feel like that. Your father wants to be with you. You matter to him. I can help you meet him."
Indignant anger bubbled up in Skye's chest, and she glared at Raina. What was wrong with this girl? Why would she say stuff like that? Why would she dangle something that Skye had longed for so cruelly in front of her, when there was no way it could possibly be true?
"I can tell you don't believe me." Raina was almost flippant, now. Like nothing about their conversation really mattered that much to her. Like it wasn't important whether or not Skye listened to what she had to say. Somehow, that made Skye even angrier. "When you're ready to listen to the truth, you know where to find me."
"I wouldn't count on that," Skye snapped. Raina laughed, a fluttery laugh, but one that had hidden edges to it, like shards of glass tumbling across the floor. Before Skye had a chance to react, Raina had reached out and caught Skye's wrist tightly in her own hand. Skye tried to jerk her arm away, but Raina held fast. With her other hand, Raina pulled out a pen, uncapped it, and began to draw on the back of Skye's hand. Skye wriggled, but Raina was stronger than she looked.
After a minute, Raina finished and released Skye's arm. A doodle of a flower marred the skin on the back of Skye's hand.
"What's wrong with you?" Skye demanded. "You can't just grab people like that! You can't draw on them, either."
"Consider it a clue," Raina smiled slyly. "Cal's always been a fan of treasure hunts. When you've driven yourself crazy trying to figure it out, you'll come find me. I have more answers for you, Skye."
The anger that had been collecting in Skye's ribcage surged again, and before she knew what was happening, she was on her feet. She opened her mouth to shoot off a caustic retort, but someone else beat her to it.
"Everything okay over here?"
Skye whirled around and was greeted by the heavenly sight of Bobbi swinging forward on her crutches. There was something fiery crackling in Bobbi's eyes, a kind of fierceness that Skye hadn't seen in her foster sister before, but that strangely didn't look the least bit out of place on her face.
"Bobbi." Skye hadn't meant to sound so relieved, but she couldn't keep the desperate gratitude out of her voice. Raina was too much to handle on her own.
"Phil sent me to come find you," Bobbi said quietly, drawing even with Skye. "It's past time to go." Without thinking fully about what she was doing, Skye closed the distance between them and tucked herself into Bobbi's side. Something about Bobbi felt strong and safe to Skye, and she was feeling vulnerable after her conversation with Raina.
"I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting," Raina said with saccharine sincerity, turning her attention to Bobbi. "You're new, aren't you? I've seen you hanging around with Russian Red and her soccer pals."
"If you mean Natasha and the rest of my friends, then yeah," Bobbi said tersely. "They told me about you. I think you better leave Skye alone, now."
"There's no need to get so riled up, Bobbi," Raina tisked. Skye felt Bobbi bristle beside her when Raina used her name, and Skye immediately regretted saying it out loud a moment ago. "Skye and I were just doing some work with her reading. We took a break for a little chat, but there's nothing nefarious going on here. You know, I didn't realize the two of you were connected."
"Why don't you just mind your own business, all right?" Bobbi snapped. "Come on Skye, let's get Jemma and get out of here." Bobbi nudged Skye with the leg of one of her crutches, prompting Skye to grab her backpack and book.
"You're going to wish you hadn't interrupted our conversation," Raina said darkly. "I don't appreciate people cutting in rudely or people who try to tell me who I can and can't talk to."
"If only I found your vague threat more intimidating," said Bobbi icily. Skye raised her eyebrows. She could get used to having tough Bobbi around. Maybe this was the version of Bobbi that she had told Skye and Jemma about – the one who didn't take any hassling from kids at school or on the soccer field.
Bobbi steered Skye towards the library door, collecting a confused and immediately antsy Jemma from her table on the way. As they left, Raina called out a final reminder to Skye.
"I'll be here when you're ready for some real answers, Skye," she said. Skye wished her words didn't fill her with such a deep sense of dread, but something told her that, despite Bobbi's best efforts, she hadn't seen the last of Raina.
"Are you okay?" Bobbi asked, once they were out in the hall with Jemma. Jemma overlapped her with a concerned "what's going on?"
"I'm fine," Skye told them both. "Raina was… she was just messing with me. Saying stuff to get under my skin."
"What were you two talking about before I came in?" Bobbi wanted to know.
Skye paused, considering her answer carefully. She didn't really want to lie to Jemma and Bobbi, especially after everything that had happened the last time she'd hidden the truth about an antagonistic conversation in the library, but she wasn't sure she knew how to explain exactly what had just happened between her and Raina. "Nothing, really," Skye said with a shrug, not meeting anyone's eyes. "We were doing our reading like normal, and then we were talking about how Stargirl picked out her own name, and how I picked out my own name, and then… I don't know, things just got a little out of control, I guess."
"She seems like a real piece of work," Bobbi grimaced. "Natasha was right about her."
"I didn't mean for the conversation to get away from me like that," Skye confessed. "She just kept saying all the right things to keep me talking, even though I knew I shouldn't." She flicked her eyes over to check on Jemma, who was watching her fretfully.
"I don't understand why she's so interested in you, Skye," Jemma said softly. "She didn't even know you until a few weeks ago."
A part of Skye wanted to reveal what Raina had said to her – about her father, about her past. It couldn't be true, of course, but for whatever reason, Raina wanted to talk about those things with her. She had promised herself that she wouldn't keep things from Jemma anymore, and now that Bobbi had come to her rescue and seemed to not still be mad at her, Skye figured she owed Bobbi that same promise. She knew she should open her mouth and tell them everything, but something gummed up her throat and left the words trapped somewhere in her ribs, like bits of leaf and twig that got tangled up in a cobweb until they shriveled up and died.
Maybe it was the fact that she didn't want to give any more credence to Raina's outlandish theories. Maybe it was because she was still embarrassed at how easily Raina had been able to wrap her up in her coils. Maybe it was because, as much as she hated herself for having to admit it, there was some truth buried in some of the things Raina said. She was angry that nobody seemed to care about her, and that she had been passed around like a hot potato for so many years. She was bitter about the fact that, at least until now, people had been more than content to shunt her off to the side, to ignore her and pretend like she was invisible, just so that she wouldn't complicate their lives.
More than anything, more than she ever wanted to admit, she was afraid. Of so many things. Of being alone. Of being overlooked for so long that she eventually just vanished into oblivion, with no one to even notice that she had disappeared for good. She was afraid that the reason no one had ever wanted her around had much more to do with the fact that there was something deeply flawed and unfixable embedded in her very bones, the fact that she was bad and wrong and unlovable, than anything else. She was afraid that all of the good things that had been piling up in her life recently – Jemma and May and Phil and Bobbi and Fitz and Natasha – were going to be taken away from her at any minute, just as soon as she finally proved that she wasn't worthy of having them.
She knew, somewhere in her head, that things didn't have to be like that, but the knowing in her head didn't always put up a very good fight against the feeling in her heart. She knew that Jemma loved her, for example, but she still couldn't help but feel alone sometimes. She knew that Phil didn't think she was broken, and that May didn't think she was bad, and that Bobbi thought she was worth protecting, but that didn't help her shake away the gnawing, queasy doubts that always lurked around in her head, waiting for someone like Raina to come and wake them back up. She also knew that she should just tell Jemma and Bobbi the truth about all of the jumbled-up things that were careening around in her thoughts, but she still couldn't find the words.
"Hello? Earth to Skye?" Bobbi waved a hand in front of Skye's face to get her attention. Skye blinked hard and realized that they were all still standing in the hallway, and that Jemma and Bobbi were looking at her expectantly.
"Sorry. What?"
"Are you sure you're okay?" Bobbi asked, knitting her eyebrows together and studying Skye's face. "You're all pale looking."
"Did Raina say something bad to you?" Jemma was copying Bobbi's expression. Her eyes bore the unasked question, wondering if this was going to be like what happened with Ward.
"It's fine," Skye said numbly. "It wasn't even true. She was just making stuff up. I'd be stupid to believe her."
"Whatever she said, you can't take it seriously," Bobbi warned. "Natasha said Raina twists stuff up all the time. Plus, she shouldn't even be talking to you like that. If she tries to mess with you again, Skye, you have to let us know. I'll take care of her, okay? Me and Natasha both. We'll keep her away from you as best we can."
"You mean it?" Skye was surprised at the ferocity with which Bobbi was now speaking. The fire that Bobbi had conjured in the library when she was going toe to toe with Raina seemed to have returned.
"I mean it. She's my problem now, not yours. Got it?"
"Yeah," Skye said, a small smile curving upwards despite herself. "I got it."
A longer one! And a bit of a rollercoaster :) I'm chipping away at the third chapter of the burst, so hopefully it will be up soon. Now that Raina's in the mix, things are going to be heating up before too long... although we do have a little bit of a reprieve here and there, including the next chapter, so never fear! Thank you all again for sticking with me and for reading! I'm so happy you're here :)