Lost Home

Hunger

When I wake up my mouth is dry and my stomach is filled with hunger pangs.

It reminds me of when uncle Ben first died, that first month before May got her paycheque.

I hear movement coming from the living/dining/kitchen area; MJ must already be up.

After I get dressed I walk in to see that MJ's talking to someone on the home phone. I didn't think that there would be one, seeing as Mr. Stark bought it, though he obviously didn't buy it to live, based on the size. The entire apartment is the size of his kitchen.

"Who are you talking to?"

She stops talking when she hears me, and a little worried voice comes through the, err, part with the holes?

"Oh, P- I mean, uh,"

I mouth 'Thomas"

"Sorry, he's got a couple feathers in his hair, he looks ridiculous, anyway, Thomas just woke up."

I pat my head, and, sure enough there are feathers in my hair. Cheap pillows, am I right?

I go and grab another singular cracker, and begin tinkering with my (once) phone. I took it apart before we arrived, and right now I'm trying to figure out how to take out the thingie that allows someone to track the number. Ned is much better at this sort of stuff than I am, and I'm trying to do it without the internet. And with a pocket knife.

MJ has resumed talking to whomever, and for a while that's it. Until she says goodbye.

She grabs her cracker and looks at it judgeingly.

"Zoey was teasing me about how formally I introduced you," when she notices how confused I look when she mentions a random person's name, she explains,

"Zoey's one of the other interns. So you're Tom now, oh, yeah, and do you think the food bank might be helpful?"

She does have a point. And I call her MJ, which is obviously a nickname. But...ew.

"I don't know, what are the requirements? Do you need to apply or something?"

"You need a referral for most, but there are ones that you don't. Maybe we could ask E.D.I.T.H?"

Oh, yeah. I haven't uploaded MJ's voice onto the glasses yet.

"Hey, E.D.I.T.H? Did you catch that?"

Then her robotic voice comes through the speakers,

"Yes, there is one that does not need a referral 7 blocks down. On Second Street.'

"Sooooo...you wanna go on a walk?"

MJ smiles, and puts on her, fake, she would never wear real, leather jacket, the one thing she insisted on still being able to wear, I didn't stop her.

I lock the door behind us as we leave, and smile as we pass the old woman who seemingly hasn't moved since we arrived a couple days ago.

The glass double doors let in a breeze, and damn it feels good to go outside again. Instantly my anxiety clears up slightly, and I relax a bit.

The walk is long, but it's also the only exercise I've gotten in days, so it's good for me.

We talk about the people we miss, and who we really don't, in our school, no last names though, and we try to avoid nicknames, and MJ tells me about Zoey, and the other people at her internship.

The food bank is called "Little Angels" and I'm pretty sure there's a bajillion called the exact same thing all over America.

Inside are shelves filled with food, and a desk near the entrance. We both say hello and explain what our situation is. Obviously we don't tell her the superhero bit, but we do tell her that we both had to help our family pay for food and rent, on my part, and booze on MJ's, and that we don't enough to buy food until next week.

She let's us in, and we're allowed to fill up a single shopping bag.

So we only grab the basics; milk, bread, apples, eggs, a couple cans of beans. Enough to last us until next week at least. I take as little as possible, I don't want to take away from anyone who really needs it.