"You're just a trendsetter, aren't you," Peter laughed.
He was back to his regular self after I broke up with Max. I tried, I really did, but after 4 months of being the trophy wife I couldn't take it. Plus, he was going to college and there was no way I was long-distancing with a future frat boy. We stayed on good terms though.
"Yeah, he probably heard I was in town and dropped by," I remarked.
Midtown had gained a new student. I think his name was Sam, but he was irrelevant so I didn't care.
"He's watching you, Peter," Ned pointed out.
Sam's eyes were fixated on Peter. Even I was uncomfortable with it.
"That's fucking weird," I whispered.
There's no way he didn't notice us all watching him. But, his eyes didn't leave Peter's face.
"Maybe he's a closeted gay," Ned suggested.
"There's something off about him..." Peter muttered.
The bell rang and Peter and I were off to French. Sam followed closely behind.
"Yeah, so how are you and that girl going?" I asked, loudly.
"What-" I stomped on his foot "-oh we're great. She's great, I mean,"
Sam paused to speak to the teacher. Peter took his place on the opposite side of the room.
"Stark, wave!" Monsieur Monet ordered.
I raised my hand and shook it, lazily. Sam walked and sat across from me. He leaned close and examined my face. I made a point to stay as far back in my seat as possible.
"You're new too," He muttered.
"I've been here for 5 months, I'm not exactly new," I snapped.
"Yeah, 5 months here must be a lot worse than 5 months on Asgard," He smirked.
I laughed, trying to sound cocky.
"I'm from Arizona, dipshit,"
His smirk didn't falter.
"Energy manipulation, healing, and resurrections. Dropped out of Astral Projections, I've read," He insisted.
"Are you mentally ill?"
"No, just a telepathic,"
"So, crazy," I decided.
I rested my chin on my knuckles. He didn't speak another word to me for the rest of the class.
Sam knows. I texted Peter.
I watched his face drop as he read the message.
What? He answered.
I'll explain later.
The smirk on Sam's face had reappeared. As soon as the bell rang, I walked to Peter's desk.
"He knows I'm from Asgard, and he knows about my powers," I whispered.
"How?" He replied.
"I don't know, he said he telepathic,"
The students and Monsieur Monet cleared the classroom, leaving us alone.
"You have to call your dad. What if he works for your mom?" He worried.
A pit formed in my stomach.
"Shit, you're right,"
I gasped when another person stood in front of us. Peter defensively stepped in front of me.
