A Place Called Winter.

14

As soon as my father opened his mouth, it became very clear that the only thing Tony Stark did better than make money was charm others. By the end of the meeting, he practically had Principal Arson eating from his palm.

In under ten minutes my suspension was reduced to one hour detention.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Stark." Principal Arson beamed, standing to shake his hand. "And thank you for your generous donation to our Computer department."

"Don't mention it." My father brushed off with ease. As if his 'generous donation' came close to making a dent in his bank account. "A school with such promising faculty members deserve the finest facilities that can be provided."

"And good luck with your newest invention. I hear the prototype is coming out at the end of the week?"

"I don't need luck," he said. "Never did."

We left the office without another word. As soon as Tony closed the door to the Principal's office, Donna spun round to glare at him. She had been uncharacteristically quiet for the past ten minutes and the look on her face indicated that that was over. "Stark. What are you doing here?"

"Come on, Donna. You can call me Tony."

"No. I can not." She squeezed through a clenched jaw. "Now why are you in Winters Grove?"

"Isn't it obvious?" His dark eyes travelled to me.

"You have no right." She spat, taking a threatening step towards him. "No right. You left her over ten years ago! And now you think you can come back, without calling or even asking for permission and ambush her? No right!"

"I understand-"

"No." She cut him off with her firm tone, her entire body taut. "You don't understand anything. You don't understand what Pepper had to go through raising a child alone. You don't understand the pain my sister had to endure when she gave that child up for adoption. You don't understand what it was like for Ellen, a little girl not knowing what was happening, having to grow up alone. And you know why they were alone? Because of you. I see past your bundles of cash and charming smile, Mr Stark." There were tears swimming in my Aunt's eyes that I knew she would never let shed. Tears of anger and pain and sorrow. "So hear me when I say you have no right. No right to understand. No right to call that girl your daughter and certainly no right to look me in the eye and act as if you do. So just leave. It's what you do best anyway."

And with those cutting words, my Aunt turned on her heels and marched down the halls. She wouldn't let us see her crack, no matter how hard it was for her to keep the pieces together. Tony just continued looking in the direction she had come from, an unreadable expression plastered on his face.

"I'm not the most popular guy round here, eh?" He muttered, not taking his gaze off my Aunt's retreating figure.

I shifted awkwardly on my feet. "I'd say Principal Arson would have to disagree."

Tony cracked a smile, looking at me for the first time. "I'm not the most popular guy with people I actually care about." He amended. "So what was that about you getting into a fight?" He switched the brief affection from his sight and tone as easily as others switched a switch.

"It was nothing. Just having a bad day."

"You can't go around attacking people just because you're having a bad day, Ellen. Trust me. I'd know."

The bell sounded through the halls, signalling the end of class. Doors opened as students spilled into the halls like ants scuttling towards leftover food. "I've got to get to class."

"Wait." He put up his hand as if to grab my arm but decided against it, dropping it gingerly to his side. "That's all I'm going to get for keeping a suspension from your permanent record?"

"What were you expecting? I didn't ask for you to help me."

"All I want is some time. With you. Meet me for dinner tomorrow after school." His eyes searched mine pleadingly. And for the first time since I'd met him, there was a glint of uncertainty and vulnerability in his stone-hard eyes.

"Whatever. Dinner it is."

---

The teacher was late for detention.

I sat at a table beside Denis Hudson, chipping the black polish from my nails until they turned red. The only sound that filled the room was the gentle tap of rain as it pelted the glass windows.

The door opened and I turned to see which teacher would be supervising us misfits, only to see that it wasn't a teacher. But Ethan Carlton, dark hair swept with rainwater, his grey t-shirt clinging to his tight muscles. Needless to say, my eyes took longer to leave his chest than his face.

Ethan's face twisted from surprise to arrogant at the sight of me. "Like what you see, Potts?"

I looked away immediately, returning my gaze to my fingernails without another word. I know I had no right to be pissed with him for what happened this morning. It's not like we were dating. But I couldn't shake the stinging in my chest whenever a teasing smirk crossed his face, or playful glitter entered his eyes.

"Not so talkative?" He took the seat at the other side of me. When I didn't reply he continued. "So what they get you for?"

Pursing my lips, I turned my attention to Denis. "Hey, I'm Ellen."

Denis looked up at me from his slumped position, his lip curling. "Denny."

"Denny. Cool."

He grunted in response.

"So why're you here, Denny?"

He shrugged. "Mrs Gibbs caught me writing Death in permanent marker over the biology tables."

"As one does."

"Mrs Gibbs wanted to give me a one-day suspension but my psychiatrist told her it wasn't my fault." He looked up from his hands, his eyes a deep russet brown-almost red. "But I like dark things. Nobody understands that." He leaned towards me and I subtly leaned away. "Do you think it's my fault?"

I opened my mouth to respond when Ethan cut in. "Hey Goth Girl did I do something to offend you in some way?"

"Shush. I'm talking to Denny." I turned my attention back to Denis who was engraving, what looked like the Satanic Symbol, on the wooden part of his desk.

"Yeah. You have fun with that." I could practically hear Ethan rolling his eyes from behind me.

"Just shut up."

The classroom door slammed shut and there stood Mr Tate, hard eyes on me. "Silence!" He ordered, the young man's voice was surprisingly firm. "I will not have any talking in my detention centre."

I glanced at Ethan and Denny, who had now moved on to sketching a bloody knife in pen on the back of his hand. "No arguments here."