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CHAPTER TWELVE The Girl and The Ghost
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THE EMOTION BUILDING through Cecelia threatened to show in the cracks on her face. With every twitch of her lips, a scream came close to releasing, and every time she blinked, the tremors shooting through her nearly showed in her eyes. It was so difficult—nearly a Herculean effort—to keep her face neutral, a blank slate, to pretend she was paying attention to what was in front of her instead of constantly replaying the events of just a few hours before. It required taking cues from the others—every time they laughed, she laughed. Every time they frowned, so did she.
The Olivier family was having a movie night. Usually, Cecelia would have protested that they'd already spent the day watching movies, and Come on, she had homework to do, but today she'd said nothing, just curled on the couch (it was a tight fit—even with Alex sitting in his bean-bag chair and Eva on the sofa, they were crammed together) and let the Studio Ghibli movie binge continue. Apparently, Alex, Jules, and Eva had watched Princess Mononoke without her—something Mom had vehemently protested ("That movie's too violent for an eight-year-old!"; Jules argued that he'd seen worse)—so now they were on My Neighbor Totoro. Dad had picked it because, besides Ponyo, it was the most family-friendly of the bunch.
Cecelia wasn't focused on it, though. Not that she didn't know every beat of the movie—she'd actually watched it in one of her foster homes, and quickly grown addicted. In fact, just based on how much time had passed, she could assume that they were at the part where the girls and Totoro grew the ginormous tree. Instead, she was thinking of the afternoon's revelation—Spider-Man has been a lot closer to you than you thought—and the second bombshell Toomes and Uncle had dropped on her at the warehouse.
There was a deal tomorrow. Probably, either Toomes or Uncle had told her that weeks ago, which was the reason they'd all been making so much tech lately, but she'd forgotten about it. Fortunately, it was after school, so Cecelia wouldn't have to miss anything, and on the Staten Island Ferry. Mac Gargan, the client's name was. Sometimes called himself Scorpion. Apparently, he had a big project coming up, and needed as much as he could get his hands on for it.
Perhaps Cecelia shouldn't have expected much of her uncle, especially after he'd called her in today, but regardless, she'd been aghast when Uncle told her that she had to come. She'd nearly died yesterday. Spider-Man might be working with someone on her Academic Decathlon team. And she already had a mission to try and figure out who Spider-Man was.
Still, she didn't complain. Not because she didn't want to—in fact, she was nearly bursting with all of the complaints that nearly freed themselves—but because she'd been reminded that her opinion was worthless. If she complained, Uncle would just punish her again, and maybe this time, he'd do worse than just a beating to her face.
