Chapter Fourteen

6 Years Later

Pietro

He sat on the gym's bleachers, shuffling his feet impatiently. Waiting had never been one of his strong suits, a fault he credited toward his super speed. Still, he knew the coach wouldn't be arriving for quite some time. He just wanted to beat Daniels to the gym to show the coach who the more dedicated of the two was.

Tryouts for the Junior Varsity and Varsity teams had gone well, Pietro thought. Everyone that had showed up had played well for the most part, well, not as well as him, but that was beside the point. In his mind, there was absolutely no way he was going to be put on JV with those other losers. Plus being Varsity would mean more time away from home, away from the men and woman that sent his sister away. Six years had past, and he still couldn't move on from that. He didn't even want to begin to think about what Wanda was going through in that moment. No, it was better to pretend like she was dead, or better yet, never existed. Except that she did.

Pietro rolled his eyes when he saw Daniels and his gang come into the gym. "Already here, Maximoff?" one of the boys, Pietro couldn't remember his name, questioned.

"Yeah, what of it?" Pietro replied with a raised eyebrow. He didn't have time to deal with stupid people like that guy. Or anyone for that matter. Friendships were pointless and always ended, or at least that's what he told himself to feel better about no one ever really talking to him, or wanting to be around him, or really wanting anything to do with him.

"Alright, gentleman," the coach said when he entered onto the floor. "Take a seat." Pietro watched as the others sat as far away from him as seemed possible in the space. "I wanted to congratulate you all on how well you played during tryouts, but as you know, there's only a few spots available on each team. Anderson," a tall, dark-haired boy looked up and over at the coach. "Varsity, as usual." He continued going down in alphabetical order by last name. "Daniels," Pietro glanced over at his arch-rival. There was no way the kid had made the Varsity team, no way in hell… "JV. Dress Varsity, though." Pietro rolled his eyes and waited for his name to be called. "Maximoff," he glanced at the coach. This was it, the time he'd finally beat Daniels… "JV. Dress Varsity."

"Excuse me?" Pietro raised an eyebrow and stood up.

"You heard me," the coach said. "JV."

"But I'm the fastest one out there!" he protested.

"And nowhere near a team player, which Varsity needs. Maybe next year. Either you play JV, or you get off my court."

"Fine," Pietro grumbled and sat down in discontent.

He came home late that night, as was per usual. He never bothered with the bus, after all it was far too slow for him. Besides, he had way better things to do after school than to stay at home with her.

"You're late," Django said, arms crossed. He and Marya were standing in the kitchen, the latter of the two looking worried sick.

"So what?" Pietro responded. His attitude and ego had gotten far worse after Wanda had been sent away, something Django and Marya frequently pointed out to him.

"So we've been worried sick about you," Marya said sternly.

"Do I look like I care?" Pietro raised an eyebrow. He shot them a look that practically dared them to do something about it.

"You'll watch your tongue," Django responded.

"Whatever," Pietro sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm going to my room."

"No," Django argued. "You'll stay down here with us until we've sorted this out."

"Sorted what out?" Pietro questioned. "I was late, big whoop. Not like it's the first time it's happened."

"Which is why you're grounded," Marya replied evenly.

"Grounded?" Pietro repeated. "You can't do that."

"You're under our roof, our rules," Django replied.

"And since when have you ever enforced that?" Pietro countered. "Whatever. I don't have to stay here and take this. Or if I keep it up will you just send me away like you did her?" It had become an unspoken rule that Wanda's name would not be spoken in the house, or anywhere really.

"Pietro…" Marya sighed, but the boy had already run off.

"He'll be back," Django said. "He always is."

"I know," Marya sighed. "I know."