Chapter Fifty-Six
✭
My bed had never felt more comfortable.
More suffocating.
At once, being home was the best thing ever — and getting comfortable with my new cage. My bedroom felt strangely alien; things had been moved around, thanks to multiple FBI hands going through it. I kept looking under my bed for my shield only to remember I left it with Natasha, and wondered if it would ever be safe to keep it here again. If the FBI could just bust in here whenever they wanted,
It wasn't until Saturday rolled around did I realize I completely missed Rosh Hashana, which just felt like another small blow after Aunt May refused to promise me when exactly I could go back to school. As with the last time, being stuck at home was a mind-numbing experience.
And now it was even worse, because of the leash that kept me from stepping out past the front lawn. I couldn't even go see my beehives, though Peter reported they were doing just fine in the community garden, where they always were.
May didn't even want me going to temple, which was probably for the best because I still hadn't gotten word from Agent Carter either way whether I could go or not. I wondered how many layers of bureaucratic bullshit my request would have to go through before it could be approved (or denied), and how long that would take. Maybe before I graduate, hopefully.
I did have homework to bide my time, before going back to school. Three weeks worth, which wasn't the worst amount I've had to catch up on; I've been sick longer than three weeks before. And this was from the beginning of the semester, even easier.
But in middle and elementary school, I wasn't registered for AP classes. So there was a whole summer's worth of extra reading assignments to catch up on on top of that which had already started in class.
Its an utter fucking gauntlet to put your brain through. Mind-numbing. Sleep-inducing.
But I couldn't sleep. Not easily, not restfully. So I read and wrote and filled out worksheets.
It was something to do. It kept my mind occupied in something that was a little repetitive, a little familiar, easy to get lost into. Do nothing, and I'd go crazy when the emptiness that came from boredom invited morbid thoughts and dangerous memories I couldn't escape from.
I wasn't completely alone, of course. Still had the box of burner phones in the attic that the FBI somehow completely missed (how they also didn't find Peter's little workshop of spider-related inventions was also a miracle). With one of those, I was texting my friends again, tapping away on the numpad like it was the late 90's again.
Since the little get-together, I haven't had any visitors at Aunt May's request, wanting me to rest and focus before I committed to going to school full time again. It was a way to keep the peace when I got the feeling she wanted me to stay home longer and recuperate. But I was starting my new therapy sessions on Wednesday, and I figured I might as well get back to school on the same day. It wasn't going to get any better anyways. And that first night home was more about food and comfort than relaying information; that's what I got now.
Howie was still going to his private school in Manhattan, though Pepper now served as his interim guardian until Tony Stark returned. He seemed hopeful, as Stark seemed to be actually going through legal channels this time; his laywers might be more expensive than Ross'. He had recovered from his cold well-enough, which I learned only later had come from a very impromptu trans-atlantic flight. May or may not have broken a world-record or two, but hard to verify when "Iron Lad" or "Iron Vetruvian" (Howie insisted on the latter no matter how much of a mouthful it was) was still classified as a vigilante at best and a
Victor "Jonas" Shade, too, was alright, and his secret identity remained safe. Far as the public was concerned, the Vision was some kind of alien robot from space; Ultron's not-evil son thing; or a rogue artificial intelligence (the real shit) that's good maybe. No one would suspect he's a weird-looking kid doing his best to use open doorways at a prestigious high school.
The Maximoff twins were also safe; Wanda and Pietro still resided in the upstate headquarters, but she admitted it didn't feel safe or secret anymore. Their only other option was Avengers Tower,but even that felt too bold. And considering the building was probably being watched 24/7 by the FBI, NSA, and DHS, maybe not the best place after all. The distance meant little to Pietro, of course, but I could sense their unease. And the unspoken topic I didn't dare acknowledge over text or call.
Was there still a team?
I wasn't ready to ask, anyways. Wasn't sure I wanted to. I didn't need to know that answer right now.
Because if it was true, and there was a team, officially or not, I'd be useless to them. I was on a government leash (admittedly not Fort Knox but it'd take me longer than three days to figure out); had no shield; and no concrete, encrypted method of communication to rely on. So much as asking could get them in the same boat as me and I wasn't going to risk that.
Peter, thankfully, did not raise the question with me, though he was the safest to talk to. Spider-Man continued to operate in the wake of Ross' continued outrage. It seemed to amuse Peter more than stress him. Ross remained so unpopular, both online and with real world New Yorkers, that even the Daily Bugle, key nay-sayer to Spider-Man, thought the Secretary was a bit much.
Peter's main job, self-assigned as it were, was to update me on current events at Midtown High. Very normal, very banal. I loved listening to it, being that peripheral without actually having to endure the angst of being involved. Apparently the Homecoming game (and dance) was going to be big this year; after last year everything was thrown off schedule by the Age of Ultron. Principal Strickland remained in power. New draconian laws about cell phones in class. Horrid stuff that almost had me missing school even more.
He knew what I needed to hear.
One of these numbers I'd been texting also belonged to Matt.
He dropped by on Sunday and the only reason I believed he made it through the front door was because he brought an offering of food. That, and his usual goofy charm, was enough to pass muster with Aunt May.
"Matt's here for you!" Aunt May popped into the kitchen to say, as if I hadn't heard the whole conversation.
I was sitting at the table with my laptop — figured I'd be less tempted to procrastinate if there wasn't a bed or a couch nearby — when Matt walked in, holding a tupperware container aloft. "I made snicker-doodles! Too many. Thought I'd share."
"Hi, Matt," I smiled, vaguely baffled. He looked a bit scruffy, curly hair awry and letterman jacket a little crooked on his shoulders like he pulled it on too fast; and too many cookies for a family of twelve? "That's so nice, you didn't have to."
"Ah, well, you know," Matt shrugged, popping the lid and sliding the container towards me across the table. He sat opposite only after I gestured, taking a big breath like he's been in a rush. "Figured you might enjoy them more. My family are my usual taste-testers, and I need someone unbiased. And won't devour anything just because it has sugar in it."
"Is that so?" I said, plucking a cookie from within. As I took a cinnamony bite, I realized the cookie was still warm in the center. The container radiated just a tinge of heat from the cooling cookies. As I chewed, fighting a smile, I wondered just how long Matt waited for the cookies to come out of the oven before heading over here.
In the opposite seat, Matt studied my face, carefully watching for every micro-expression. Not in the creepy way, but with the pale-faced, tight-lipped demeanor of a contestant awaiting Gordon Ramsay's evisceration. "...W-what do you think?"
Of course, Matt didn't know I had the super-refined taste-buds of a super soldier, I could confidently say there were no traces of any poisonous substances, but that was probably not the kind of feedback he was looking for. "Perfect. Just the right amount of cinnamon."
"Hell yeah!" Matt fist-pumped the air, then winced at a distant throat-clearing. "Sorry, Mrs. Parker. But great! You can have them all, if you want. Or, uh, share them with Peter. Where is he, by the way?"
"Working," I said, the usual excuse for Peter's long days out on weekends. Spider-Manning it all day and sometimes all night, too. "You know how he is."
"Oh yeah, live for the grind," Matt nodded sagely. "Once football season is over, I think I'll look for a job, too. Maybe a pizza place. Dad says it'll look good on my resume," As if remembering something, he leaned in and asked, "Hey, so I know you're a little insane wanting to go back to school and all, but if that's the case — is Big Brother gonna let you go to any games or dances?"
Machiavelli, Mr. Appel was not. I knew where he was going to take this line of questioning, and shook my head. From the side of the table, I stuck out my foot, showing off the ankle monitor. "No can do, Wolfman. Outside of regular school hours, this is where I gotta be. I'm still waiting to hear back for Saturdays. I doubt Big Brother is gonna feel merciful about my social life."
"Fucking bummer," Matt said, then called a preemptive apology. "Sorry! But seriously, Mia, that's so f— messed up. So you really can't do anything right now?"
"Nope," I said, tapping the tabletop with my pencil and pasting on a smile. "Bet me going back to school doesn't sound so insane now, does it?"
Matt scratched the back of his head with a grimace. "Guess not." He hesitated, perhaps realizing his chance to ask the question I knew he was going to ask was now moot, and tried to reorient. Coughing slightly, he continued, "So, uh, what are your plans for that night?"
"It's a little early to say," I said, finishing my answer for a calculus formula before casting him a wry look. "I'm still waiting to see how school checks out. But given that I'm going to be stuck at home on a Friday evening, probably dinner and a movie."
Peter had yet to report if he'd scored a date yet (it was looking grim) so I imagined it would be just us, maybe MJ and Ned, too, depending on their luck.
"You know, our Homecomings are on different weekends," Matt added helpfully. "If that Friday is open to any invitations."
I pursed my lips, wondering how closely we were being eavesdropped. "Maybe. I'll have to ask Aunt May first."
On the table, Nokia buzzed. I glanced at the little screen. "She says it's okay."
"Yes! I'll bring food," Matt clapped his hands together, rubbing them as if he was already cooking something up in his mind. "What are we watching, by the way?"
"Texas Chainsaw Massacre. One and two." I said, and the blood drained from Matt's face. "What? It's going to be October. MJ and I are having our Halloween movie month."
Whether we watched it together or I was on my own, it didn't matter. I was determined to catch up on all the horror movie marathons I missed out on in my early youth. Admittedly, Matt didn't seem very much like a scary-gross-out-horror guy, so I decided to throw him a bone. "Or we can watch the Scream trilogy. Those are less scary."
"Cool cool cool, no, I can totally handle it," Matt was quick to assure me, with that put-upon male bravado; though he looked significantly relieved at the change of movie line-up. "Whatever you want, Mia. I'll eat the popcorn either way."
It was stupid how much I liked the way he said that.
~ o ~
It was a weird choice to start school in the middle of the week. It gave time for the teachers to talk about me. For the students to talk about me. Maybe thinking that made me self-absorbed. Maybe they didn't think about me at all.
Still. It lingered in the back of my mind, all the way to school.
Aunt May drove me personally, instead of letting me take the school bus. Maybe she thought I might change my mind on the way there, or needed a quick exit should I suddenly realize what a mistake I'd made. And that thought did cross my mind, when we rolled up in front of the school. I knew, if I wanted to, I could just jump back into the car and Aunt May wouldn't ask any questions, just take me straight home again.
But I didn't. I said good-bye, got out, took a step forward. Then another. Passing through the gates.
The final bell hadn't rung yet. There were still plenty of kids hanging out in the quad, busses unloading, cars rolling out. No one noticed me at first. I walked slowly, like a prey animal thinking it might not be seen. But I had only made it ten feet before a few heads glanced my way. Turned away, looked back. Eyes widening. Sleeve tugging. Phone pointing. Whispers.
Eyes. Looking at me.
My heart launched into my throat.
"You got this, Mia," An arm slung around my shoulder, Peter's voice in my left ear as he suddenly propelled me forward. "
"You gotta commit," MJ appeared on my right, vice grip on my arm. "If you look 'em in the eyes, don't look away. Don't even blink."'
"We already did recon," Ned jumped in; not a moment's hesitation from any of them. "New homeroom on the second floor, Mrs. Gilligan, who's a total control freak and probably a fascist. You're gonna love her."
The laugh that came from my throat was both ironic and a little terrifying. My breath was coming short and fast. We made it past the front doors, but inside was even worse. Everyone was so close. Heads turned. I could hear my name echoing even from far away. "Guys, I don't think I'm gonna make it."
"Intervention," MJ announced, and dragged me into the nearest girl's bathroom. "Keep everyone else out."
"Uh, yeah, sure," Peter said uncertainly, glancing at Ned. "Not a problem."
"That'll be super normal coming from us," Ned agreed, giving a baleful thumbs-up.
"Don't care," MJ said, before closing the door on them and locking it. I didn't even know the bathroom could be locked from the inside. MJ checked underneath all the stalls; when she saw me trying to fix the hem of my jeans stuffed awkwardly tight over the ankle monitor, she came back, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me up, "No! You can't hide it, Mia. You gotta own it! Commit!"
"To what?" I asked helplessly. "Being a criminal?!"
"For being a badass," she countered, dropping down to fix the mess I made. I tried to dress lowkey on my first day. Most kids want to show off their tans, their new white shoes, clean canvas backpacks and new phones. It wasn't even cold out, but I still had on the green military surplus jacket, the only thing that actually looked too big on me, with my favorite boots that were silent on linoleum, all dark colors so nothing drew attention. The bruises that would take weeks to fade normally were now yellow and green on my face, with pink healing scrapes on my knuckles.
I didn't look great, not for school. But it was a marked improvement from last week.
"I don't feel very badass," I said, with the same exhaustion that's been following me for weeks now. It felt more obvious now than ever. "I feel like I need a nap. In a cold dark closet where no one can see me."
"You have nothing to be afraid of," MJ said, after she was done rolling up the hem of my jeans. It left my ankle monitor in full view, not even trying to be subtle. MJ grabbed my shoulders again, distracting me from the obvious faux pas by pulling out the necklaces I had hidden under my shirt. The gleam of dogtags, a pocket compass, and a Magen David now gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the girl's bathroom. "You are a mega jacked, six-foot-tall, punk-rock valkyrie."
"Six foot one," I mumbled.
"Really? You're still growing?" MJ made a disgusted sound. "Lucky."
"You're not exactly a small fry yourself," I pointed out, before remembering something, and winced. "Also, I forgot to tell you — I might have invited Matt to movie night for the Homecoming dance."
MJ's upbeat bluster faltered a moment, a flyaway curl falling in front of wide brown eyes as her head jerked back with dismay. "What? You're fouling the sanctity of our movie night?"
"No!" I blurted, a little defensive. "I mentioned it and he asked! And you don't even know if you're going to go yet."
"Well, of course I am!" MJ snapped back, clawing her hands in the air like she wanted to rip something up. Maybe Matt, maybe me. "You really think I'm trying that hard to find a date to a dance you won't be at? Movie nights are sacred! I didn't think I'd be third-wheeling it with your boyfriend, obviously."
"He's not my boyfriend," I said it too fast, it sounded like denial.
"By Homecoming he might be," MJ threw me a wry look. "Don't lie to yourself Mia, I know he gave you those big sad puppy dog eyes and you couldn't say no to him."
"Fine! I'll find others," I offered, already feeling bad. I did kinda offer without asking her first, and it was definitely our thing more than anything else. "So it's not weird."
"Other losers who don't have a date alongside a random star quarterback?" MJ asked with a skeptical eyebrow. She seemed to consider it for a moment. "Sure. Maybe convince your boyfriend to bring that sister of his, Tilly? Keep him in line. But you'll still owe me a bonus episode."
"Seriously?" I totally forgot about Midtown Mysteries. I wasn't even sure if we could still pull it off when I didn't have the allotted time for after-school activities. Which means our usual appropriated closet space on campus would no longer serve our needs. Which was too bad because that place looked great now with our set-up. "We'll need a new space, I can't be here after three o'clock."
"That's fine," MJ sniffed, apparently having thought of this already. "I was thinking your attic."
Given what's up there, I immediately knew that won't fly with Peter. So I quickly said, "I don't think that'll work with Aunt May. Maybe the treehouse instead?"
"Hmm, the treehouse," MJ considered, tapping her chin. "It does have a certain je n'ai ce quoi… give me that bonus episode and we got a deal."
"Done," We shook hands, and for some strange reason I didn't feel so panicky anymore. "Was this part of your evil plan all along?"
"Shut up, you've already ruined my pep talk." MJ smacked my lapels and spun me around. "Go get 'em, tiger."
The door burst open, revealing Ned with his fist raised to knock. He stumbled back into Peter, who accidentally bumped into a small line of pissed-off looking girls who looked ready to tear the two boys apart.
"What are you two creepy freaks hiding in—" one girl snapped, only to be cut off as I suddenly existed in the same space as them. Everyone backed away, not least of which because I towered over all of them. The girl's mouth snapped shut as her eyes went all the way, looked away, back again. "Oh. Hey."
"Hey." I said flatly, remembering MJ behind me. Meet their eyes. Don't blink. That got the whole gaggle of them to back off, giving me enough room to merge into hallway traffic, going at a brisk pace.
"Damn, wait up!" MJ called behind me. "We have the same homeroom again."
"I love it when we share a prison cell."
That got a snort out of her, as the bell rang above our heads, changing the tide of traffic. "Oh, just wait. Mrs. Gilligan is a piece of work. You don't want to test her."
Mrs. Gilligan was not a teacher I ever had before — she taught one of the regular math classes, not on the AP docket — so I really didn't know, and was now dreading to find out. But whatever little tweaks MJ did to my appearance, it seemed to have an effect. Or maybe it was my resting bitch face. Whatever the case, people got the fuck out of my way.
The whispers didn't bother me so much. For now, at least.
Mrs. Gilligan's classroom was clean and orderly; it appeared she was the type to run her place like the Navy. Assigned seats, even for homeroom. A big sign that said "No Eating In Class" and another below it that said "No Yawning". Which seemed to be a struggle for some of the sleepy eyes I spotted.
My spot, I could tell, was the only open available. Mrs. Gilligan, a woman in her late 50's with broad glasses, marked everyone down as they came in. She stopped me with a raised hand as I entered. "Amelia Fletcher?"
"That's me."
"You're a minute late." She said with a pointed look over her glasses. She pointed with her pen and snapped her finger at the same time. "Sit."
It was all I had not to bristle at being spoken to like a dog. But I bit my tongue and obeyed, shoulders hunched. I slumped down in my seat a little too hard, maybe, because that earned me another look from across the room.
MJ sat two seats to the up and right of me, and shot a look over her shoulder, with a big thumbs down hidden behind her armpit for only me to see. I reflected MJ's expression back at her. Yikes indeed.
Maybe another teacher would have expressed more sympathy at my arrival. I had spotted more than a few looks from faculty that had been standing at their doorways and recognized me. Mr. Andersen from AP English had even smiled and said he was glad to see me at school. But Mrs. Gilligan? I was chopped liver.
Well, I supposed it kept me humble.
I don't know what I expected, really, from a teacher I didn't know. Maybe if I'd been put in a homeroom with one I was familiar with, I would've gotten a softer touch. Maybe a little preamble, some orientation, anything to make sure I was up to speed on whatever's going on. I was definitely treated with kid gloves when I first came to Midtown two years ago.
Nope. Not this time.
But sure, fine, whatever. Maybe Mrs. Gilligan preferred to treat us as adults. We were all seniors, after all. Hell, even Flash was here, giving me a tiny wave when I spotted him. He was not quite as boisterous as I was used to seeing him, perhaps having endured Mrs. Gilligan's homeroom for the first three weeks, had already learned his lesson. Betty was also here, trying to sneak a text message under her desk.
"That better not be a phone, Elizabeth," Mrs. Gilligan called without looking up.
"No, Mrs. Gilligan," Betty flinched and quickly tucked it away, but too late. Mrs. Gilligan pointed to a basket on her desk, again without looking up. It took Betty a second before she groaned and got up, dropping her phone in the basket.
"You can get it back at the end of the day," Mrs. Gilligan said as Betty shuffled back to her seat.
Wow. I cut a glance at MJ, wondering if this was really what I was going to have to deal with for the rest of the year. She could only shrug helplessly in response. There wasn't a lot of chatter, and she was just far away enough that I didn't feel comfortable speaking aloud to her.
There was some reprieve as the announcements came on and the latest President of the AV club listed off the news, including today's lunch menu, and a few birthdays. I was tense the whole time, waiting for him to mention me, and relaxed as we passed into the Pledge of Allegiance without incident. I didn't want any more attention on me than I was willing to bring upon myself.
As everyone stood up to recite the pledge, as they had every school day since elementary school, I remained in my seat.
Eyes glanced at me in surprise and wariness. MJ took one look at me and stayed in her seat, too, an act of solidarity. Even Flash, who usually did his own swaggery version of the pledge, hesitated as he rose up, and was a second late as the words started rolling out.
Mrs. Gilligan looked up, her eyes narrowed. In the middle of the Pledge, she said, "Amelia, Michelle, stand up."
This time, MJ didn't even look at me. Neither of us moved.
Kids weren't looking at the flag anymore. Either split between us or Mrs. Gilligan, who's voice sharpened so abruptly that it cut off anyone speaking, leaving only the PA system still speaking. "Michelle! Amelia! Stand up for the pledge. Now!"
I looked at her. I didn't know why I was doing this. But after being snapped at like a dog, after everything I've been through, looking up at that flag, I wasn't feeling particularly patriotic today. I crossed my arms, slinging a boot up on the horizontal beam of the desk.
My answer was short and sweet, and rang a little too loud in that small room. "No."
No one was speaking now. A couple coughed or covered their mouths to hide nervous smiles, unsure if this was funny or scary.
Mrs. Gilligan's glare burned into me, identifying the instigator immediately. "Explain yourselves,"
I met MJ's gaze; she raised her eyebrows as if to say You started this. And I did, in fact, have an explanation. So I raised one shoulder, dropped it, keeping my arms folded."The Pledge of Allegiance is an act of blind patriotism and indoctrination, which I am categorically opposed to."
Maybe Mrs. Gilligan had the right of it. We were all adults. I was going to be eighteen come February. And as an adult, I felt like making some adult decisions. Deciding what I was willing to put up with today. And to be quite frank, I was sick of this shit. Sick of being told what to do. What I should and should not be loyal to, beholden to, when it did not serve me in turn. I knew I was done. I was making this choice and I wasn't backing down. I didn't fight for my life; hurt my friends and family against my will; watched dozens of girls be taken advantage of and slip through the cracks; and almost die at the hands of a goddamn Nazi just to be told to stand up for a country that had failed me.
My entire summer had been a living fucking nightmare, and now I had come to the sudden realization that this didn't matter anymore. Why even bother at this point? I didn't know why I had done the Pledge for as long as I had, but I definitely felt I should have stopped a long time ago. Maybe this would have always happened, if I always got Mrs. Gilligan as a homeroom teacher.
My answer fell upon a silent classroom. The Pledge was over at this point; it took a second for the silence to kick in, and the others started sitting down, a few looking uncertain. Like it might look like they were siding with me and MJ.
"It's school policy to stand up for the Pledge." Mrs. Gilligan reminded me, her tone tense. This might be her attempting to be patient with me, the traumatized runaway, the prodigal girl returned. "Tomorrow, I expect you and everyone else here to stand up for it."
"I won't be doing that." I said, feeling my heart flutter. Talk back to a teacher? It was both stupidly mundane for someone like me and all that I've done; but also kind of exciting. I couldn't remember if I'd actually done that before. I liked my AP classes so much I wasn't exactly pegged as a problem student. Just a weird loner, maybe. But a problem? That's what I was going to be from now on.
"You don't have to say the words," Mrs. Gilligan said. "But you must stand."
"I won't be doing that, either."
She inhaled sharply. "Amelia, its school policy, and if you don't comply—"
"It isn't, actually," I cut her off, extra fun. "It's my First Amendment right not to stand up for the Pledge, for any reason. It's also established in the Student Bill of Rights by the New York State Department of Education."
That got a few ooo's from the class, a hint of rising dissent. Mrs. Gilligan's eyes flicked across the room, before narrowing back on me. "Detention, Amelia."
"For what?" I demanded, losing my tone of feigned politeness.
"You were a disruption to the class," she snapped back coldly.
"I didn't do anything!" I threw out my hands, trying to fight back against my own rising anger, trying to stay cool even as I protested, "I was just sitting here! You're the one who interrupted —"
"Two detentions," She said. "Do it again, and its three, and you know what comes after that. And if anyone else feels similarly, you may also join Amelia after school. Does everyone understand?"
A low hum of assent. Mrs. Gilligan nodded, as the first bell rang to start the next class. "Good. Amelia, I expect to see you after school, and we can discuss your behavior further."
I caught myself breathing too fast again, as I grabbed my bookbag and shot to my feet. First day of school and I already got two fucking detentions. Two! Three and it's going to be a suspension.
MJ looked a little shook up, but at least she didn't get punished like I had. She threw me a sympathetic look as we walked out the door. "You know, Mia, when I said not to test her, I didn't mean it as a challenge. Did you plan to do that?"
"Uh." I puffed out a great breath of air, my shoulders sagging. "Not exactly."
"Oh," MJ looked disbelieving. "So you just knew all that fundamental rights stuff off the top of your head, huh?"
"I had some free time this week."
"Well, you're gonna get a lot more of it now," She pointed out as we charged ahead. "Your aunt is gonna love this."
I cringed. What a fantastic first day of school.