Peter Lokison

Distant Memories

(A/N) You ever just, find a concept you really like but cant find a story about it? Thats what this is, for me atleast. Also for the spanish part i just google translated, sorry if it doesnt make any sense.

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BEEP BEEP!! It was Peters alarm. He moans as he rolls over in bed to turn the blasted contraption off. Mondays were the worst. Mondays were when he had to wake up early and go to school. Mondays were when he'd be harassed and bullied. Mondays were when dad left.

Dad. Peter doesn't like thinking about him. The only thing he has to remember him by is this strange green necklace with tendrils, almost like spider legs, wrapped around it. He feels strangely attached to it, having never taken it off since he was given it.

He gets out of bed, sluggishly doing his morning routine. Bathe, brush, clothe, eat The only part of this routine that made it at least worthwhile was seeing Aunt May's face, her ever glowing smile, as bright as the morning sun, and her cheerful greetings, as sweet as the pancakes she was making Peter for breakfast.

"Good morning Peter!" May gushed, "Sleep well?"

I'm sure that its a well known fact by now that Peter never sleeps well, but his love of Aunt May would never allow him to tell her that. It would only make her worry.

"Yup, just like a baby!" Peter states, sleep still present on his tongue.

"That's great dear, I'm making pancakes for breakfast. Take a seat."

Peter sits at the kitchen table, after setting it of course (Peter would never allow himself to sit without doing anything to help. He'd feel quite selfish.) May soon finished the cakes and set them in the middle of the table, insinuating Peter to help himself. Peter takes 3 pancakes, although he could eat six, he just doesn't want May to be suspicious of his powers. May babbles on about some things that happened the previous day that were left out of the usual day recap when she came home yesterday. Peter listens intently, or at least as intently as possible when your only half awake, sometimes butting in with a comment or joke of his own. Generally a good breakfast, a good start to the day. If only it can stay like this for the rest of the day. Peter thinks to himself.

They say time passes quickly when one is having fun, and that holds true here. Before he knew it, Peter was almost late for the bus. He apologized profusely, tried to help put some dishes in the washer, to which May only scorned him, and ran out to the bus stop just in time.

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On the bus, he let his mind wander. His thoughts, inevitably, whirl-pooled down into the funnel that brought him to his father. A glimpse a stark black raven hair, those almost iridescent green eyes, and that smile and poured love into every word spoken and every breath taken. That's all he can remember of his father. He's never told anyone about him, mostly because he's seen pictures of his "father", Richard Parker, and he looks nothing like the man of his memories(He always thought it strange no one questioned it with his green eyes and all). The only logical conclusion would be that his mother had an affair, and he wouldn't want to ruin her name like that. Especially not when she's dead and can't even defend herself. He can also distinctly remember it being a monday that these memories are from. Peters memory has always been strange like that. Remembering bits and pieces of useless information along with the good ones, tearing some pieces out of the good information and leaving behind a jumbled mess.

Stupid brain, how are we supposed to get anything done if your always trying to screw me over? Peter jokes to himself.

-------------------------------later in spanish----------------------------------

Spanish, the most cruel of all Peters classes. Having the lowest grade of them all, 94, blasphemy. He has to pay attention, pick up every word and detail... or maybe later, mother nature is calling.

Peter raises his hand, thank god its silent reading otherwise he'd be getting chewed out for not going before the period and interrupting Mr. Hash during his lecture. Mr. Hash nods to him, he gets up from his seat and cautiously approaches to desk, aware of all the noise he's making in his dead silent class.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" Peter asks cautiously.

"No lo se puedes?" Mr Hash responds rather aggressively. (I dont know, can you?)

Sigh. "Peudo ir al bano?" (May I use the bathroom?)

"Si puedes." (Yes you may.)

Although hate is a rather strong word, Peter agrees it can be used in regard to Mr. Hash.

He speed walks to the restroom as urgency approaches him. He enters the bathroom and is relieved to see no one else in there, he feels awkward in front of others. He relives himself with a sigh. After drying his hands, he notices something strange. Green particles in the air. They look almost like lightning bugs. Maybe glitter? More appears, and then more, and then more, and before he realizes, hes being engulfed in the sparkles. Frightened, he flails around, trying to escape the now evil particles.

"Calm down Peter," a voice says, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Peter, a bit reluctant to believe this stranger, keeps his panic full throttle.

"It would be strange of me to hurt my own son."