Twenty-One: Lost it to Trying

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TWENTY-ONE: LOST IT TO TRYING

"Life is not a fairytale. . . Not everyone deserves a happy ending."

- Marvel's Daredevil
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GRETAL THINKS ABOUT ALL THE possibilities of just having this damn envelope. John could find it and fire her and she'll forget about being Athena. (Though, she's doing pretty fine on her own.) It could be a trap and Arachne could slit her throat there and then. She's pretty sure those possibilities could become reality.

And how in the world was she supposed to find this Beckman? No damn address or number. She could imagine Arachne with a smirk, laughing at her. She clenched her fists and stuffed the envelope in her bag, deciding to walk to school today.

. . . .

Gretal thought it was a coincidence. It must be. She froze in place, eyes focused on the plate on the guidance counselor's office. Fuck you, Arachne. She grabbed the door knob, pushing the door open forcefully. Every bit of adrenaline in her buzzed to life as if a switch was just switched on and she tried not to punch the man in front of her in the face. Her eyes trailed to the nameplate on his desk. Mr. Beckman. Maybe it was just a coincidence. No, dammit, it can't be. Arachne is too smart for coincidences.

"Gretal Davidson?" Mr. Beckman said slowly, "I haven't seen you since you punched that kid Jordan in the face." He paused. "His name was Jordan, right?"

"Look, Mr. Beckman, I don't give a crap about that. I'm here for something else." Gretal said with a frustrated sigh.

Mr. Beckman was a man in his late twenties, with short hair and round glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose. He reminded her of a more sadistic and annoying Harry Potter. Beckman spun in his desk chair, balancing a pencil on his nose. Gretal narrowed eyes. She didn't have time for shitty people like this. "Arachne sent me here."

He froze, staring at her. "What?"

"Arachne, as in the spider bitch. She sent me here. To you. To talk. Because... I need help."

He paused, as if waiting to see if Gretal would crack and laugh it off. Then he sighed, a knowing smile on his face. He reminded her of a psycho who had way too much fun with explosives. He rubbed his hands together, as if he knew all the secrets of the world. Gretal clenched her fists. Stop looking so damn smug and answer the question.

"So, you're Athena, huh?"

"I-"

"Y'know," he said with a smirk, "I'd never actually consider you as a superhero. And to be honest, if it was anyone else I would've known who they were immediately. But you just make yourself seem invisible in the crowd, like nothing. Nothing, but trash sitting against the sidewalk in a busy city."

"Wow. Thanks," Gretal said flatly. "Anyways, what the hell are you doing with a super villain? Especially with Arachne."

Beckman shrugged. "Many reasons. I owe her. She saved my life one time."

"That's hard to believe," Gretal muttered.

Beckman grinned. "Don't judge a book by it's cover, Davidson."

"What's with the crap? I asked you a simple question." Gretal pulled out the envelope Arachne had gave her and handed it to him. "Arachne gave this to me. She said you could help me find Gabe Fisher's mother. Now, will you or will you not?"

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