Youth ➳ Peter Parker

[01] magnolia

Note: first off, Maggie does not have any superpowers. I am also not trying to romanticize mental illnesses. What Maggie has is OCD, mixed in with a few other things. I'm sorry if someone thinks I portray it wrong. I myself have OCD and am simply portraying it from my own experiences. Thank you and I hope you like it xx

Fresh paint. Why did the room smell like fresh paint? It was the middle of January. Who painted their classroom in the middle of January?
 MAGGIE STOOD AWKWARDLY in the foyer of the door, staring down at her paint-specked Converse. "You must be our new student! Come in, dear, no need to be afraid." The teacher laughed, but Maggie didn't think it was funny. She started to walk, slowly but not too slowly, confidently but not too confidently, to shake the older woman's hand.
  They're staring at me. They're all staring. They're noticing how funny I walk. They're noticing my beat-up shoes. Do they think I'm poor? I'm not poor. Please, don't think I'm poor.
  After what seemed like miles of excruciating walking, she finally reached the teacher's desk, and held out her hand for the woman to shake. The teacher- a plaque on her desk said her name was Mrs. Adams- grabbed Maggie's hand, gripping it tightly, shaking it, not letting go.
  I could jerk my hand away. I could be rude. I could grab the chalk from the chalkboard and throw it in her face, throw it on the ground. Then what would they think of me?
  "Your name is Magnolia, is it?" Mrs. Adams asked sweetly, taking her hand away. Maggie could have sworn the whole class laughed at her stupid name.
No one had laughed.
  She felt her cheeks turn a bright red, a blush spreading across her face. "Please, it's Maggie. No one calls me Magnolia." She replied, her voice coming out in a squeak. The teacher nodded, as if she understood.
She didn't.
  "Well, Maggie, you can go sit over there." The woman emphasized the Maggie bit, showing she had listened to Maggie beforehand. She followed the teacher's pointing finger, over to a desk in the corner. It was positioned next to a boy, a skinny one, with short brown hair and a small smile on his face. Maggie made her way to her new desk, and to her new neighbor.
Don'tlookathimdontlookathimdontlookathim.

Maggie looked at him. He met her gaze with warm brown eyes, a welcoming yet awkward smile plastered on his face. She smiled back softly. Maggie waited for the voices to come, to swallow up her brain, drown her normal thoughts in worry.
  But no voices came.
  The boy held out his hand awkwardly. Everything about this boy was a bit awkward. Maggie took it gently, cautiously, as the boy introduced himself.
  "I'm Peter."