Idiosyncratic || Peter Parker ||

||20||

 

The overwhelming sounds of the sea of people congregating in the bleachers and the track field echoed through the school grounds, today was the day. Today was the Track Tournament, the very tournament Isabelle had been training for since she arrived at Midtown. The overbearingly loud conversations muffled in her ears as she paced around the track with her team, she tried her very hardest to push away the pain. 

Yesterday had been one of the worst of the days, as she spent a considerable amount of it hunched over and trying not to vomit. She had tried to 'take it easy' as Tony Stark instructed, however, she also reminded herself of something her family had always mentioned, her old family before being shoved into a group home. That was, 'when the going gets tough, the tough get going,' a cliche saying, but it was enough to help her push through the pain at least until this tournament was over and done with. 

This morning when she woke up - if you could count shutting her eyes for five minutes as a feasible amount of 'sleep' - her bones ached and burned like she was on fire as if someone was trying to quarter her like the old medieval torture methods. She considered calling Peter, telling him that she couldn't physically move herself to be able to do this track tournament, however, she didn't want to the let the team down -literally- by not showing up. Despite the grunts of pain she vocalised as she sat up and changed and even walked, she still decided to try and get through it just for today.

Peter walked with her to school, he didn't dare mention how tired she looked, in fact, he didn't dare mention anything to her as they walked together. Isabelle was in her own head, but she appreciated Peter keeping his distance because that's all she wanted to be, was to be left alone while she focused on keeping back whatever horrors bubbled in her stomach. 

On the field, Midtown's track team adorned their signature royal blue shirts to represent the school and stood out in a sea of reds, yellows, whites and green. All teams were warming up in their own way, some schools were doing stretches to limber up, others were running on the spot to warm their legs up or they were simply standing around trying not to focus on the nerves. Isabelle was one of the few who wasn't doing much in the way of warming up, she was far too busy talking to herself in her head, focusing on her breath and managing the pain. 

Usually this would ease somewhat of the pain away, however, today just wasn't her day. Her eyes searched the bleachers where she saw Ned and Peter eagerly watching in anticipation as the tournament had started to begin. "Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to the sixteenth annual track tournament held here at Midtown School of Science and Technology, for those of you who don't know me I am Principal Morita and I welcome each and every one of the participating schools for coming out here today-."

Isabelle drowned of the sound of Principal Morita's voice as she kept her eyes trained hard on the ground in front of her. "hey you don't look so good -- not going to vomit on us again are you?" Flash tried to jokingly shrug off upon seeing Isabelle's appearance, she didn't laugh, she didn't even crack a smile, she didn't even find it funny at all. It was as if she quite literally couldn't muster any form of emotion - not today anyway.

"Bite me, Flash." She snapped back, not even dragging her drowsy eyes up to glare at him which she would've done any other day than today. She wasn't in the mood for much interaction, she didn't want to talk or touch anything which was an oddity in itself. People surely picked up on her behaviour but simply labelled it with nerves controlling her actions for the day. "-And our first event to kick off today's tournament is the one-hundred-metre sprint... So if each team could get their pairs respectively in order and at the starting line in the next five minutes we can officially start."

The teams start to break up, murmuring amongst one another and Coach Wilson ushered the Midtown Track Team over. "This is it, everyone, you've all trained long and hard to get us through this... Doesn't matter if we win ourselves a trophy or not, you all worked hard, you all accepted our newcomer Isabelle -- as long as we kick Newtown High's asses I'll be happy... now go out and have some fun." Coach wasn't great at the patriotic - inspirational speeches but it got the job done, enough to rev the team up. 

Isabelle stood in the side lines for what seemed like forever, she focused long and hard on keeping composure and holding herself together as the track races moulded together along with the time. Her event was the very last event of the day concluding at one P.M, and - thankfully - the only one she was to be participating in. The sixteen-hundred-metre track event was the longest, over taking the relay in length and it was one of the hardest given the distance required to run. 

It wasn't until now, lining up in her lane beside Flash did she fully acknowledge how many people were spectating the event. The bleachers were full of what seemed like the entire school of Midtown, student's parents flocked to see their children excel well at the event and even entire other schools were present to cheer on their team. Isabelle braced herself, tucking backwards in her starting position sniffling as she watched the starting pistol raise high in the air. Swiping the back of her hand on her nose she looked down and saw black goo smudge on the back of her hand. 

There was no turning back.

The pistol fired with a startling bang, signalling the team's runners to begin. Like she always tended to do so, Isabelle wouldn't exhaust herself in the first lap of the track. Taking it steady and easy and at her own pace became harder and harder to do so as the burning sensation scorched away at her joints and bones while it spread to the pit of her gut and lungs. It wasn't adrenaline that was for sure. 

Her legs carried her eventually through the group of runners, including Flash once the first lap had been completed. Midtown spectators cheered on Isabelle, knowing she could very well bring home the trophy they worked so hard for. If it weren't for the pain, she was capable of pushing herself further but the pain prevented that from happening. Her breaths started to get shallow; as if the oxygen she inhaled was poisonous and burning her lungs in that all to familiar sense. 

From within the bleachers, Peter and Ned stood cheering for Isabelle shamelessly, not caring for the looks they received for aggressively supporting her. Ned, every now and again would get a little too excited and blurt the occasional profanity which got a disapproving look immediately from parents and the odd teacher or two. The two cheered once she passed through the second lap, still well ahead of the group behind her. 

She didn't dare look back nor forward, she kept her gaze ahead but down, it was the only way to stay in focus. Not that it helped much anyway. Midtown cheered solely for Isabelle as she kept her safe pace ahead of the others. "Shit..." she gritted, the pain seared through her, like an acidic parasite eating away at her very slowly. Tears pooled in her eyes as the pain became less and less bearable and the less she could ignore it. The finish line felt so far away and she was only up to the twelve-hundred-metre mark, she had a full lap and a half to complete before she was done but she couldn't hold on till then. 

Gritting her teeth she quickened her pace, there was no way known she'd finish the race that was a certainty. But if she could at least make it to the twelve-hundred-metre mark then it wouldn't be all for nothing. Her whole chest felt on fire as she powered forward, the sneakers on her feet pounded into the ground below her as they just managed to pass over that initial starting line and twelve-hundred-metre marker. 

She starts to slow her pace which nobody seemed to notice until she had come to a complete stop. Something wasn't right. And everyone knew that, so they silenced completely, every single person stopped making audible sounds, not even a single disgruntled yell was aimed at Isabelle as stopped at the side of the track. Coach Wilson didn't yell at her, didn't encourage her to continue as he saw quite visibly the blood that dribbled from her mouth and she hunched over and clutched her stomach. 

The runners on the track continued to run past her but not after they got a good look at her, paled face, crimson liquid oozing from her mouth as that all too familiar metallic taste filled her mouth. There was a beat, a moment of absolute silence and stillness right before she lurched forward, her stomach spasming and expelling all that seemed left of her, Blood. The gory sight would be enough to make anyone vomit themselves, especially if they felt queasy at the best of times. 

She glanced at the puddle tiredly, seemingly exhausted of all the life inside of her and collapsed on the track. Blood still trickling out of her mouth and nose and shocked the entirety of the spectators present.