𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗢𝗢 - 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗹

𝟮𝟮. 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗠𝗬 𝗦𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗥

AEI: guess who finally proofread!!!

The thing about The Accords is that nobody actually wants to tell me what they're about. 

I think I sort of know. Maybe. Kind of. Like, I know they're gonna make the Avengers belong to the government, which sounds not-so-good, but I also know that Mr Stark says they might be able to stop people from dying. People who don't deserve to, I mean. All the normal ones, who are just going to the grocery store or walking their dog when bombs start getting dropped everywhere. 

That has to be a good thing, right? Saving good people?

But if The Accords were an entirely, properly good thing, then my dad would want to sign them. 

So, either someone's lying, or they're just not telling me everything. I think it's probably the second one. People never tell you anything when you're little. I think you have to be at least sixteen or something before you can unlock the secrets of the universe. That sounds like a good age. If you can drive when you're sixteen, then you should definitely know at least some secrets. Like how to parallel park without cussing at the steering wheel. 

Nat does that a lot. I don't think she should be allowed to drive in New York. 

Either way, she drives us from the airport to the Accord-signing place, which is in Vienna, but is still pretty hard to drive in, and she does a lot of cussing all the way there as well. I would never use some of the words Nat uses. She can cuss in seven different languages. That's too much bad language. When I was smaller, I used to worry that her tongue would go black and drop off. 

Nowadays, I sometimes wish it would. 

"How was the funeral?" She asks me, in between swearing and swerving. I just stare at my shoes. 

Sometimes, I like to imagine that Nat's something I made up in my head. Like, maybe if I ignore her, she'll disappear. I've tried it before; just thinking very hard about nothingness and squeezing my eyes tight shut, wishing her away, but it never works. When I open my eyes again, she's still standing there, and everything still feels inside-out. 

Today, though, my ignoring skills work a little bit OK, because Nat doesn't repeat herself or get cross or anything. She just stares at me in the rearview mirror like she wants to throw something at my head. Like a tennis ball. Or a grenade. 

Nat is a very confusing person to try and be around. 

I don't really know why I have to go to the signing of the Accords, anyway. I can't sign anything, after all. I just have to sit there in a big conference room while people talk about confusing stuff over my head, and Nat has to pretend not to hate me in public, and my dad has to keep avoiding everything. It must be easier to avoid things when you're a grown-up. You don't have to ask other people to tie your shoelaces. 

Me and Nat are still silent with each other as we go inside the fancy building, and even though she's holding my hand, I think it's just so she can make sure I don't run off or something. It's not like I was going to, but Nat just gets paranoid sometimes. She likes being in control of stuff. Working for SHIELD was good for her. She got to be in control of about a thousand different things, all at once. 

Now that there's no more SHIELD, she just controls me instead. 

Shiny nails digging right into the back of my hand, we get the elevator up to the top floor, and when we come out on the other side, there's a room full of people; all in fancy suits and talking about fancy stuff. It's all in different languages, too. I can understand a little bit of Spanish, an even littler bit of Mandarin, and less Russian than I used to, but everyone's talking fast here. Not even the English stuff makes sense.