Extraordinaries • {Peter Parker}

Chapter 9

    I woke to the muffled sound of a television and the calming warmth of a light. Panicking, I sat up, not knowing where I was but I made myself look around. I breathed a sigh of relief, I recognized the yellow walls and the gray and black accents and the sun lamp that sat on a nightstand. My room.

How did I get here?

Suddenly, I was very hot and I realized that I was still in the same hoodie I wore to Jess's party. I was in my skinny jeans too. Why was I still in my clothes and not in my pj's?

I closed my eyes, ignoring my throbbing headache, and forced myself to remember the previous. There was Delmar's. Laying on Jess's bed. Talking to Ned. Peter walking me home.

Peter.

I let out a stream of silent curses under my breath and was grateful my mother wasn't in here to scold me on my foul language. I couldn't believe that I actually passed out right in front of him. Did he know that I was different?

I groaned and forced myself out of my twin-sized, forcing the Peter problem into the back of my mind. My main priority was to find some water. Turning off my sun lamp, I staggered out of my bedroom and into the small hall.

Looking back at my sun lamp, the corners of my mouth lifted. My parents must have remembered to turn on the lamp when they put me to bed. It was a comforting thought: that they actually remembered me instead being caught up with their own problems.
It didn't make up for the fact that my mother completely forgot about me at Jess's house though. I sighed as I thought about how I was never going to hear the end of it from Jess. I could already see her going on and on about how she was right. How that if Peter wasn't there then I would be laying on the cement right now in front of some random person's house. That wouldn't have been an enjoyable way to wake up.

Maybe Jess's power was pre-cognition instead of shapeshifting.

Emerging from the small hall in the back of the apartment, I saw my father sitting on the couch, watching the news. I sighed knowing what it meant. Him and Mom had a fight.

Whenever I stumbled upon dad watching the news, I knew that he barely got done with a screaming match with mom. Thankfully, I was passed out so I didn't hear it this time. And for some reason, watching the news always helped calm him down. Probably because he was able to focus on problems that aren't his own.

Wondering how late it was, I checked the oven clock as I walked into the kitchen. Three-twelve in the morning. It wasn't late, it was early.

"Hi, Dad," I greeted, my voice hoarse. Turning, my dad looked at me. Although his face was expressionless, his blue eyes held plenty of emotion. Sadness and exhaustion.

I didn't really remember exactly when my parents started having problems. It was a slow-burn, I guess. Building up throughout the years until it was a boiling mess. My parents would usually attempt to clean up the mess so my brothers and I wouldn't witness the explosion. But there was always a sticky feeling afterward, no matter how hard they tried to hide it from us.

I didn't understand why they tried so hard to shield us from their nightmare of a relationship. No matter how often they assured us that "everything was okay," their screams and shouts told us kids what was really going on.

At this point though, I had come to terms with the path that my parents set us down and patiently waited for the news that would tear our family apart. Although I knew it was inevitable, I secretly hoped it wouldn't come, for my brothers' sakes.

I had no idea what would happen if my parents got divorced. And I had no idea if I would stay with one parent or switch on the weekends. But I knew that no matter what, I would stay with my brothers. They needed one solid thing in their life. One thing that wouldn't be destructive.