Escaping Maximoff

Uptown Girl

Storms are unpredictable; they start without warning and can last for days at a time. One minute the sun is shining down in scorching rays, and the next, a blizzard is battering your door, threatening to break inside. That's the kind of snow storm we were facing. I stood by the window, one hand clutching the red blanket wrapped around me, and the other lay flat on the frosted glass, so clouded with cold that I could barely see outside. On the other side of the window snow hailed down, pummelling the frozen earth. The cacophony of roaring white noise was amplified by the howling wind which tore through trees so violently I was sure they would be ripped from the ground. In the mountains, the weather was relentless and unforgiving. Despite my hopes that the storm wouldn't last long, I knew better than to assume I would be able to go home later that day. I pulled my phone out of my pocket with my free hand and texted aunt Julie, telling her that I was safe and waiting out the storm at Sam's. I knew she wouldn't worry if she thought I was with the Ridleys, having had to stay there for a week after a storm the year before.

I sighed and flopped down onto the sofa. Bad weather always managed to make me feel downcast, as if the sky was in charge of my emotions.

"Get up, Grumpy, we're going to make pancakes." Wanda waltzed in, grabbing me by the hands and pulling me off the couch. I groaned but let her guide me to the kitchen, rubbing my eyes as we stopped in front of the counter.

"I'm going to be stuck here forever, aren't I?" I huffed, watching Wanda take out all the ingredients we would need for the sweet breakfast.

"If I'm unlucky enough, yes," she joked, making me scoff.

I crossed my arms and leant against the counter. "Don't act like you've ever had better company; I'm the best person to be stuck with."

"Debatable," Wanda hummed, flashing me a playful smirk. I rolled my eyes and looked out the kitchen window to see her garden covered in a thick layer of white. I wondered if I could even have left if I wanted to; the snow was so deep that I thought the doors would have been stuck closed.

The feeling of something hitting my skin brought me out of the daze. I looked down at my shirt, only to find I had been attacked with flour.

"Oh, this means war," I declared, grabbing a pinch of flour from the packet and flinging it straight at her face. Wanda slowly wiped the powder from her eyes before snatching a huge handful. I gulped. "Wait, Wanda, let's talk about this," I pleaded, retreating slowly with my arms raised in surrender. She tilted her head, and I knew for sure I was done for. I darted away, skidding across the cold granite floor to circle the table and keep out of her reach. "Have mercy, please," I begged, my desperation intensifying as her eyes flashed red. I eyed the open kitchen door – my only escape from Wanda's wrath, hoping my plan wasn't too obvious. I missed the widening of her mischievous grin as I made a break from it, letting out a groan when red tendrils snaked around the edges of the door frame and slammed it shut. "Hey, that's not fa–"

My words were interrupted by a cloud of flour hitting my face, making me splutter for air. Wanda's sweet laughter causing my pout to disappear, my competitive edge vanishing as soon as she came over and brushed the flour from my eyes. "That'll teach you," she chuckled, smiling at the mess that was my face.

"Hey, you don't look much better," I joked, reaching up to wipe a patch of white from her nose. It scrunched at my touch, prompting laugh to escape my lips. The soft sound was abruptly disrupted by a loud rumble from my stomach, a bashful look painting my face and a blush spreading on my cheeks.

"Come on, let's go make those pancakes," Wanda chuckled, gently taking my hand and leading me back to the countertop.

My aunt had never trusted any of us in the kitchen after the twins and I had accidentally started a fire (just the curtains, no biggie) while trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches. Since then, I had never set foot near a stove, so when Wanda asked me if I wanted to flip a pancake, I was filled with nervous excitement.

"Don't worry, I won't let you drop it." She winked, subtly wiggling her fingers so I knew there was no chance I could ruin the steaming sweet bread. My hands gripped the handle, shaking slightly as I attempted to flip it. My face morphed into that of horror as it hurtled towards the floor, missing the pan by an impressive amount. Wanda caught the pancake with her powers, winking at me as she dropped it back into the pan.

"Never let me try that again," I said, mortified by my own clumsiness.

"Maybe I will, just to torture you," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. I nudged her slightly after putting the utensil safely back on the stove and stepping away.

Nothing could have prepared me for how delicious the pancakes were, the sweet strawberries and cream we added only intensified the delicious flavour of the fluffy pancakes. "Wanda, you are amazing," I groaned, my hands resting on my full stomach as I leaned back in the chair.

"It was a team effort," she said, taking our plates over to the sink, both clean of any remnants of what could only be described as the best breakfast I had ever had. "Just wait until you try my chicken paprikash."

"What's that?"

"It's a traditional Sokovian dish," she explained, coming back over to the table. "I'll make it for you sometime."

I replied instantly, desperate to eat more of Wanda's home-cooked meals. "Please do!"

She laughed at my eagerness, clearly happy to have someone to share all of her recipes with. I still wasn't entirely sure what chicken paprikash was, but I couldn't wait for her to share a bit of her home country with me, taking any chance I could to find out more about the enigmatic Maximoff.