The Life I'm Running From

26\ McDonalds McConversations

McDonalds is the way to every kid's heart—unfortunately for Captain America, I'm no child.

The fast food restaurant was busy, even though it was barely twelve o'clock. Steve Rogers chose us a table by the window. I waited there, in a brightly coloured plastic chair, while he stood in line to order our meals. The whole atmosphere of this place was giving me a headache. The thing that made it worth it was finally being able to get out of the Avengers compound. I swear, one more minute in there and I would've screamed.

I guess Steve's invitation to take me to lunch was to play Good Cop. Stay nice, stay polite, try and get information. I didn't have a problem with that—not only do I get to leave the compound, I also get a Big Mac out of it.

Finally, after a century in line, Steve came back with our food.

"Here," he said, handing me my burger.

"Thanks." I grabbed one of the fry containers and a cup of ketchup. The fries were still hot, and with the ketchup they were perfect.

Steve started to eat his hamburger, while I savoured my fries. Usually I would make conversation at this point. But I didn't really know what to say. This whole thing was unconventional, Captain America treating a girl with weird abilities to McDonalds. And especially since I knew he was doing it for information, it left me with nothing to say.

Therefore, it was good that he started the conversation. "So your name is McKinnley?" Steve asked.

I raised my eyebrow. And the winner for worst conversation starter goes to... Captain America! It seems all those years under the ice have really stifled his ability to talk to living things! "Yeah. McKinnley Bradden. And you don't need to tell me my name is weird, I've gotten that enough from adults."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"But you were thinking it." I bit off half of the fry I was holding, and munched on it for a bit. "So, what did you want to say? 'Cause I know you didn't take me here just to clarify my name."

Steve folded his hands on the bright red table, his face much more serious than Ronald McDonald's expression behind him. "I wanted to apologize."

"You're going to have to be more specific. Are you apologizing for eating one of my fries? For taking me to a place where these kids won't stop screaming—" I shot a glare at the kids' Playplace "—or because you're about to insult my shoes? 'Cause let me tell you, these shoes are borrowed. And my friend would not be happy if you insulted her designer shoes."

Steve stared at me intently. Something I've learned about him in the short while we've known each other is that he holds the strongest eye contact, like ever. It's almost as if he is forcibly telling you how sincere he is. It fits his strong-but-silent-golden-boy personality type. "I didn't eat one of your fries."

"Well thank goodness." I leaned back in my plastic chair, keeping a light joking smile on my face. "Because if you did, we'd have a problem."

Steve sighed. "You can't be serious, can you?"

"I've found that most adults don't like teens being serious. Because whenever we try to put our opinion in, give our take—we're shot down and belittled. So if I'm going to be treated as a child, I might as well have the fun of being one."

I could tell that Steve had not been expecting me to say that. He was silent for a moment before he started to speak. "I'm sorry if I've treated you like a child. I didn't mean to."

I raised my eyebrows and gestured to the fast food place around us. "You took me to kid central."

He scratched the back of his neck. "It was the only place I could think of that was universally liked. But anyways, I wanted to apologize for what happened two days ago. It must be very overwhelming with your abilities, and we were all yelling and—"