FOSTER CHILD | PETER PARKER

xiii.

FOSTER CHILD | ACT ONE
scene thirteen : sugar cubes

ISLA LAZILY  sat against the kitchen counter bored out of her mind as she watched Scott try to control the ants. Everyone was growing increasingly frustrated as the clock ticked, they were running out of time and Scott barely learned to control the ants despite him desperately attempting to communicate with them for almost two hours.

Isla did offer to control the ants for Scott during their break but Hope overheard and didn't hesitate to block all connections from the ants to Isla which meant no more ant maids for Isla but she didn't mind as much, she wouldn't get bit by that one ant anymore.

"You can do it, Scott, come on." Hank encouraged Scott from the other end of the room.

One of the ants flew away and Scott threw off his earpiece in frustration.

"They're not listening to me." Scott fumed, the earpiece clanking as Scott threw it onto the table.

"You have to commit, you have to mean it. Hope dropped her arms from her shoulders. "No shortcuts, no lies."

Hank sighed. "Throwing insults into the mix will not do anyone any good, Hope."

Hope turned to look at Hank. "We don't have time for coddling."

"Our focus should be on helping Scott!" Hank growled, pointing his finger at Hope.

Hope stared blankly at Hank. "Really? Is that where our focus should be?" Hope picked up the earpiece and firmly placed her hands on the sides of it. She concentrated on the ants, instructing them to put the sugar cubes into the teacup.

Isla watched in amazement as an overflow of ants made their way up the table, and leaned down to take a closer look at the ants. When she noticed that the room was slowly getting dimmer, she looked up, her mouth hanging ajar at the abundance of ants shielding the light bulb.

She caught Hank's worrying gaze for a split second, one which sent chill's down Isla's spine.

"Hope!" Hank roared.

Hope snapped out of her trance. Her flickered between guilt, anger, and sadness. Her eyebrows knitted as she took heavy steps towards Hank. Hank only looked forward, ignoring Hope's burning gaze.

"I don't know why I came to you in the first place." She grumbled. Her heels sounded throughout the house as she left, leaving a shaken-up Hank behind.

"We can't do this without her." Hank uttered out.

Scott and Isla briefly met eyes before Scott rustled out of his seat.

Isla got up from the floor and stretched. She moved towards the cabinet, pulling out a large bottle of Brandy. One that she may or may not have taken a sip or two out of during her 'princess locked in a tower' days.

"Want some Brandy?" Isla joked, shaking the bottle in her hand.

"Put that back where it came from." Hank sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Fine." Isla shrugged, taking a sip from the bottle discreetly before putting it back. "I guess being a party pooper runs in the family."

Hank nodded in agreement, watching Isla as she bustled around the kitchen, ever-so-comfortably rummaging through his kitchen as she looked for a snack to eat.