Chapter 3: 3 - insinuating [Episode 1]

Wanda's head turns in the direction of front door after hearing it slam open against the wall and then closed. She isn't too surprised to find no one standing there behind her; she pauses, just listening, potato chips still raised halfway to her open and half-stuffed mouth. The house returns to silence until a low clatter echoes from the basement. Wanda sighs, reluctantly leaving her bag of chips and TV program to instigate. She keeps turning as she left, straining to hear and catch the last bits of the television as she turns to the stairs leading down to her brother's room. She'd call it more of a cave.

Wanda stood at the top of the stairs and held both arms out at the rails, making sure there isn't a chance that he couldn't slip past without her knowledge. She raises her tone, calling his name at the top of the stairs, and immediately the noises below stop.

Right away, she knows he's guilty of something.

Wanda rushes down the last few steps and her eyes narrow. She's expecting to maybe see a flurry of movement flash by—maybe a few papers flutter in the air, maybe something sliding to a different location or crashing to the floor—but what she doesn't expect when she gets to the bottom is for him to be completely still, staring back at her, eyes large and obvious.

Peter is standing, slightly hunched over a small tabletop and completely stock-still, staring back at her from over his shoulder, eyes wide and hair a whirlwind. Something shone in his hand and Wanda's attention changed to that.

"What is that?"

He didn't answer her right away. His eyes shifted, obviously guilty. There's a thick wooden box in front of him that slams closed, the lock on it clicking in place.

The answer then came to her. Her eyes widen in fury, finger twitching, pointing at the piece of jewelry in his hand he tried to cover up. Her mouth gapes open and close in an accusation she couldn't find the words for.

Peter turns to her, folding his hands behind his back. "I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe try using words, that would help."

Wanda soon found her words and she gasps, "you didn't...!"

He raises a hand in surrender. "Whatever you're accusing me for, I didn't do it! I've been good, for once." He tries to hide the cocky smile forming on his face but fails tremendously.

Wanda huffs, becoming angry and stomping across the floor to stand toe to toe with him. Peter's smile diminishes. She grabs his hand and brought it up to both's eye level. A large diamond pin glistened between his fingers.

"Really? You didn't do it? Then who's is this? 'Cause last thing I knew, you aren't graduating in a year." It's a class pin assigned to someone who will be graduating that school year. "Whose is this?"

"I don't know—yours? Some lady who dropped it and left it on the ground? Some guy who was feeling generous?" He speaks quickly, sarcastically. The smile is gone completely now. "Which do you think Marya would believe more?"

Wanda's eyes narrow to dangerous slits. "I think she would believe that your need to "burn energy" and your sticky fingers have reached its limit."

His face falls. "Please don't tell Marya," he whimpers.

Wanda looks him up and down, and he now looks regretful. His wrist lies limp in defeat inside her hold.

It took her a while and some consideration, but she eventually mutters, "ok. Fine." And grunts. "She's gonna find out either way, so I'd rather not be involved in yet another round of both of your dispute." She sighed. She slips her fingers into his hand, taking the pin from his grasp. "But you're gonna have to return this."

Peter sucks in a breath air between his teeth. "What if I told you that wasn't exactly possible...?"

Wanda raises an eyebrow.

As he continues, his words beginning to tumble together due to speed. "...That the guy who had had it wanted to pummel me into the floor—that plus he isn't even exactly going to be in school for some time..." He then rambling on something about football is all she got afterward. He then falls quiet.

Wanda blinks.

"You're still going to have to get rid of it, eventually."

"Eventually is relative."

Wanda notices the small, yet sure grin spreading his cheeks and the dangerous glint in his eyes that arrives. She slides the pin into her jacket pocket, making sure to keep her hand around it less he tried to pick it from her.

"Besides," he continues, "that was going to be our ticket for that fancy dinner Marya's been wanting. Plus you." He pauses before pointing at the hand in her pocket. That mischievous grin of his began to slowly return.

Wanda takes several steps back. "No, Pietro." She would have to sleep with the pin under her pillow tonight, she supposed, knowing he would try to take it from her at any opportunity.

The grin on his face grew dangerous.

"Oh yes, mala sestra."

"Pietro..." Her voice warns, sounding wary. It then clicked to her and she then understood the glint in his eyes and her stomach drops. Wanda's eyes widen. Her grip on the pin tightens. "Stay away from me!"

Peter just steps closer, smiling crazily, fingers raising in front of him and tickling the air.

"I swear to you, vi nakaza." She took a step back, raising a finger at his chest and almost stumbles backwards. "I won't go easy on you!"

"Oh please! Like you can even control your power!"

He then lurks toward her and making her shriek. Wanda flies up the stairs. His echoing laughter seems to mock her.

Running is useless

Wanda glances over her shoulder and sees he hadn't followed. She runs up from the basement and turns the corner to the hallway to her room as fast as she could. She chose the mistake to slow and takes another glance behind her, saw as a blur of gray collided into her side.

Wanda screams, hitting the floor.

When Marya Maximoff returns home, she's welcomed by a sight she neither expects nor has seen in years, though slightly altered and slightly odd.

The woman is met by Wanda in tears on the living room floor as the girl reaches a hand up for mercy, her brother still on top and tormenting her. He zips from her arms to her waist to her feet. Wanda screams, pleading in her mother tongue.

Wanda hates being tickled

Peter had been tickling Wanda for longer than any took account for.

Marya's daughter squirms in her arms, throwing her arms in the air. "I wanna play!"

"Yes. Yes, here." Michelle smiles.

Rainy's frown didn't change; that's the smile Michelle wears whenever she has an idea knowing Rainy wouldn't particularly be accepting to. But then again, the girl is rarely accepting to anything.

"Why?"

"Because you need the help."

"Says who?"

"Says everyone," Michelle exaggerates. She's searching through the many shirts and long skirts that hung in Rainy's bedroom closet. There's a surprising amount of tie-dye that she didn't know the girl owned. "And are you going to be able to be free this weekend?" Michelle looks over a knee-length grey skirt for a moment before tossing it over her shoulder.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

Michelle only smiles. She glances over her shoulder at her friend sitting on the end of her bed. "Yes I do." That large smile is there again. "How long it's been? ...Two years for us? ...You'll thank me later, girl. Trust me."

Rainy isn't going to correct her that they've been friends for only over a full year now, not two. She wouldn't have had a chance to get more clothes if it weren't for Michelle, and honestly, she preferred that the girl had come over.

Michelle tosses several more bad clothing choices over her shoulder.

"No, not that." Rainy calls, seeing a sweater fall among the pile of rejects. She walks, grabbing it from the floor. "Not this one."

Michelle pauses. "Why?"

Rainy hesitates. "Just...not this one."

Michelle raises a brow.

Rainy wouldn't tell her, but that's the last thing she wore before she was changed

And it's the last piece she had of her stolen memories

Michelle sighs exaggeratedly, giving in. Her lime green bangles clatter as she resumes cleaning out Rainy's closet. "Make sure you're free this weekend, alright? Oh, and Sherry Addams wanted to talked to you about something yesterday. She wouldn't stop bugging me about it." Another tie-dye shirt is added to the reject pile. Most were homemade and not by Rainy herself. Luckily, neither parent were home when Michelle arrived.

Rainy mumbles into the sweater. It's curled around her arms that now rested on her bent knees at the edge of her bed. She knew that Michelle planned to take her to the mall. And it isn't the first time her friend spoke of doing it. And honestly, Rainy knew that she doesn't have the most fashionable clothes—that comes with parents who either spend spare money on business or blow it on personal luxuries, getting most as hand-me-downs from cousins or from thrift stores.

But then again
maybe it's because she never spoke up about it?

Either way, Michelle had gotten the gist of it even without knowing the exact details

"What does she want—Sherry?" Rainy asks, watching a collection of hand-me-downs hit the floor.

"I don't know." Michelle shrugs. "She's your friend."

That part is true; Michelle and Sheryl, though both friends of the brunette, were two different people. Both rarely interacted with the other, and Rainy is left to whomever would pull her in their groups for however long that day, if even.

"I didn't ask anything else because I didn't want to be stuck hearing her yammering on and on." The comment is said bitterly and low to where it's easily misinterpreted. "Oh, this is cute!" Michelle holds up a bright green cropped top.

Rainy smirks. It came out quite bitterly. "What's with you and green," she tries to joke. It doesn't sound much like one.

Michelle smiles cheekily. It's her favorite color, Rainy remembers.

Now, it were days like this that she had to admit that she enjoyed, that were more relaxing. Rainy has tried—she attempts too hard to appear normal that's awkward—and it were days like this that it's good for her muscles to not have to be on guard constantly. It's when there weren't much to worry about, with more time to herself and less nonsense and drama to dance and lie around.

Rainy didn't get this a lot.

In between school, the time spent with those she calls friends, and being dragged to meetings and conferences by her father's campaign, peace and quiet came rare to the girl. That's probably why she doesn't put up an argue to go and confront the bubbly strawberry blonde the next day at school.

. . .
. . .

Sherry attaches to Rainy's arm as soon as she walks in the school the next day. Before she has a chance to open her mouth, Sherry's already chatting away about some babbling or another, the conversation quickly changing from a planned agenda to stuffed pandas from state fairs given as gifts to what she had for breakfast. Of course at this point, Rainy is barely listening.

The current class is English And Writing, and this class of students in particular is known for being one of the most rambunctious out of them all. That there were more talkative and rowdy students lumped together in this class than others could be thanked for that. It were those in particular who thought it fun to poke fun at the others around and to mock the teacher until his pink face flushes and he's ready to shout.

It's like two sides competing in battle of who could be the larger ass. The class doesn't receive many privileges because of this and rarely any extra credit opportunities. The two opposing "teams" throughout the class included some who considered themselves "big shots," a few who wore black leather jackets, one with neon sneakers, and another with grey hair.

Rainy looks up seeing Mr. Moore walking in the class. He places three large novels on his desk before moving to the podium at the front of the room.

From her seat, Rainy is able to see most of the classroom. Her gaze glides over the room. Almost everyone is talking amongst themselves. Then, her eyes fall upon a pair staring back at her—or in her general direction—from over the shoulder of a boy near the far right corner of the room. He had been placed there by the teacher himself near the beginning of the school year because he talked too much. The boy with grey hair raises a brow at her slightly as he continues talking amongst those near him and Rainy's frown is prominent on her face. Those that boy spoke with chuckle at a joke.

Why is he even staring in her general direction? What is it about her that he has to whisper to them?

Rainy rolls her eyes, trying to make it clear in her body language that she doesn't want anything to do with him, and turns back forward to the front of the room. Sherry is still chatting away in her ear; Rainy isn't listening.

The boy watches Rainy for several seconds more before he too turns forward again, sucking his lip and eyes widening in an unspoken, negative comment.

Wanda shakes her head from her chosen seat in the back of the classroom.

Mr. Moore waits at his podium and the late bell rings. It takes almost two full minutes after for the classroom to begin lowering its voices—or as low as this class would get. Mr. Moore has a very brassy voice so it isn't difficult to talk over the students. He orders for all to get out a sheet of paper and a pen—today the class is going to begin touching on classic literature.

Most in the room either groan or begin complaining. The few who remained silent were Rainy and a girl with brown hair wearing a red hood.

Someone spoke out that they needn't do that again since they already have Juliet, from Shakespeare's work, sitting here with them. It had been meant for Rainy.

"Get into groups and you all will read the passages assigned and discuss the meaning among each other."

The class began to calm.

"And I will be assigning groups to make sure less of you all goof off."

The complaining returns.

Why did every teacher seem to like assigning groups?

Rainy listens silently as Moore's finger points and assigns groups at random. After, he informs the assigned work. After more talking and then taking role-call, desks and chairs screech as the groups came together.

Rainy is grouped with Sherry. And Rainy knew that she is of the few that the teacher liked (but not favored) due to quiet attitude and high performance. This is one of the reasons people call her weak, or a suck-up.

"Well at least we got paired together, right?" Sherry tries, and not waiting for an answer, "I don't know anything about...Lambourough...?" She tries to read the name in the textbook on the assigned page. "Never even heard of anything of these he wrote, have you? I can't even understand a single word here..." She now mumbles to herself, looking completely sullen.

Rainy knew that the other is getting tutored for this but she doesn't speak so. School hasn't been in particularly difficult for her, given that it was the only thing she has a purpose for spending her time on, and that she could never get into anything else.

No matter how hard she has tried

just nope

Rainy doesn't have any hobbies because of her curse

She does everything to keep herself busy so she isn't just sitting, waiting for the day to end

and then she was mostly ordered around by others anyway...

that comes with being without, as she is

Sherry perks up as their two partners approach the two's desks Sherry had scooted together. The strawberry blonde continues with her wide smile as both boys bring a chair to sit across them, one with blonde curls. Sherry's smile widens and her eyes began to sparkle. Rainy looks over from her to the curly blonde boy and to the one with grey hair.

She stares in almost annoyance as the second lazily drags a chair and flops at the front of her desk. The boy with grey hair bit the inside of his cheek, looking on at the strawberry blonde in annoyance. The way he had brought the chair made it clear that this is the last place he wishes to be.

Rainy would have kicked him in the leg.

"Well, I'm Sherry..." She places a hand on her chest, clearly enjoying this.

A social butterfly is an understatement about Sherry's openness

Rainy doesn't realize she's glaring—and at the boy in front of her—until she's thrown of balance by Sherry nudging her. The boy before her is focused on anything but the group. He looks to the clock, his own watch, the windows at the side of the room, eavesdropping on a nearby group, at Sherry's hair and Rainy, that the blonde beside him is a wannabe preppie, a fake imitation.

"What's your name?" Sherry folds her hands under her propped chin. It's as if she only has eyes for the blonde across from her.

Unlike her, the boy only glances up as he searches for the assigned page. "Uh, Ed," he answers.

The other beside him sighed loudly. His neck lolls over the back of the chair, and all eyes turn to him. He doesn't notice it right away, and when he does, he straightens his posture a bit.

A bit.

"My name's Peter." He waves sarcastically before puffing his cheeks and rolling his eyes, turning his attention to something else.

Rainy wonders if she should pick him in the leg or tell that she couldn't work with him.

"Okay~ And this is Rainy. Everyone knows each other—good! Now, does anyone know what the heck this even means?" Sherry tries to break the awkwardness unsuccessfully.

Ed looks up at her, brows furrowing.

She becomes nervous. "O-or if no one does, w-we can try and figure it out...?"

He raises a brow.

The teacher speaks up then. "Everyone, you have the next fifteen minutes to come up with an interpretation and share it with class."

Sherry volunteers to speak. Ed explains his interpretation of the assigned passage reading. Both girls scribble notes on paper as they read, since Ed had already...until a finger-less gloved hand comes down on the top of Rainy's. Her pencil pauses but doesn't look up.

Peter is staring at her.

Rainy would have grown annoyed. She only looked up when hearing: "you were in Trevelyan's class last year, weren't you?" His voice is low, obviously not wanting the others to hear. Ed maybe; because it isn't like Sherry would have paid enough attention to anyhow.

Rainy eyes him, expression completely inexpressive.

"Yeah you were..." Peter remembers. He has an elbow folded under him on the desktop. He is leaning over her desk as well but neither a paper or pen of his own is nearby.

"What's it to you?"

"We were in the same class."

"So?"

He puckers his lips in thought.

She doesn't comment.

"You remember m—-" He breaks off, then decides to go with instead: "you remember that?"

She hesitates. "No. I don't remember that at all." She goes back to writing, missing the shock and then disappointment that flash across his features for a millisecond and then he covers it up. "My memory doesn't exceed prior to this year. Before that, nothing." She speaks so calmly, as if this is just a normal conversation over breakfast or morning coffee, not something supposedly secret he's trying to hint at her. It doesn't click to her that it is.

"Is that how you got that burn on your arm then?" He tilts his chin. "Doesn't look like something from a fire burn..."

Her eyes dart in his direction.

If she could, she already would have started to not like him not one bit. The tension in their group spikes.

"Why would you want to know any of this anyway?" Her eyes shine almost dangerously. She notices his brows beginning to arch downward as she turns back to her paper.

Peter doesn't look away. "Because—-"

Ed interrupts then, calling for their attention to be directed toward the work, and "can your bickering and ass-wiping wait?" Peter retorts with a comment about panties up someone's ass and cooling jets.

Ed's cheeks flush. Rainy can't tell if it's from embarrassment or anger, and Sherry is left looking back and forth from both boys, somehow completely lost in the conversation going on around her.

Peter doesn't speak up at all during the rest of class that day. But before leaving, he did hold Rainy's gaze once more and gave a slight, sly grin.

She would run into him two days later, totally unexpected.

THE TENSION SPIKED

She probably wouldn't like that smile he had given her if she could.

A/N: Follow and Favorites only give a very vague ideas of people's thoughts. So please let me know what your think! Was it bad and crappy? Was it too long and obnoxious? Was it just ok? Don't hold back your words, please! Don't forget to review.