hero stuff, peter parker

2 | ludicrous ideas

for the rest of the night, tony stark's words whirl around in my head. he's giving me a genuine opportunity for a burden i've possessed for years. can a billionaire be genuine? my curiosity has never existed, at least not until i was visited by a literal hero.

in the morning, i grab an out of date cereal bar and change into loose ripped jeans and a grey hoodie. my dark dirty blonde hair isn't something to be messed with as the waviness doesn't show any sign of cooperation this morning.

the group home is always quiet on school mornings. most kids attend public schools across the city, not being able to get into anything as prestigious as midtown high school of science and technology. i had a crack at the entry exam and luckily, landed a place there.

scuffing my leather boots against the sidewalk, i take my time to get to school. the sky's greyness, maybe from local pollution or weathered clouds, doesn't phase my mood. some say, the weather effects people's outlook of a day. i don't believe in such conspiracies.

i believe in other conspiracies. like, another universe, other beings and possibly a multiverse. since attending midtown, these questions are debated in every class as the brightest minds argue over the most ludicrous ideas.

me and michelle jones, my closest friend, prefer sitting at the back. she mostly sketches the passionate kids who get overly emotionally invested in the debates. i watch her chuckle whilst she adds fine details. sometimes, she'll be vocal about her views. but, only when it's necessary.

"can you believe flash?" our other friend, cindy moon comments. she sits at a desk in front of michelle. whilst the debate continues, she listens, but mostly braids her hair and chews on cherry gum. her mind runs elsewhere as i know she talks about leaving new york and pursuing a career in animation. "seriously, how did he get into midtown?"

my head, that's rested upon my hand turns to watch the action. abe brown and flash thompson are having a meaningless argument about when the end of the world will happen. their estimations are both incorrect, but i keep that to myself.

instead, my eyes wander around the room and finally settle on peter parker. he's never exactly caught my attention before, but he's currently making exaggerated gestures to his best friend, ned leeds, so it's hard to miss. as usual, he's wearing a science pun shirt, his hair curling in different directions. his brown eyes glow with enthusiasm as i can only guess he and ned are talking about their favourite and only topic; star wars.

"you ok, isla?" michelle nudges me. "you look like you're somewhere else."

"i'm good" i sigh, switching hands to rest on. "just tired."

"is it that obnoxious girl? what's her name-cassie! god, you said she gets loud with her night screams" cindy comments. she likes to be kept in the loop with the other kids in my group home. cindy likes a bit of gossip and where else is better than a place full of damaged adolescents.

"no. cassie got fostered" i say. "last week to some family in manhattan. big house."

"let's hope they've got ear plugs" cindy scoffs. she doesn't mean to come across malicious, but sometimes privileged kids don't understand. i huff and rest my chin on my crossed arms, burying my head.

i don't pay any attention to mr harrington. he phases in and out of chemistry terminology and his failing marriage. michelle manages to capture the moments of his crestfallen expressions perfectly, her drawings cheer me up.

for a little while, i'm stable and able to concentrate. then suddenly, the familiar chills creep up on me, as my leg starts to bounce up and down. it could just be another nervous tic, but then my hands start shaking and there's a loudness in my head trying to control me.

i know that at any moment, i could beam. my feet help me stand as i stumble out the classroom. mr harrington lazily calls after me but overall isn't that alarmed. "okay, come back soon. maybe."

pushing into the girl's toilets, i check there's no one around before i lock myself in a stall. i clench my fists, letting out the smallest of cries as i try to contain my stupid powers. after a couple more minutes of uncomfortable restraint, i finally exhale and slide down the door.

whatever energy that's inside of me, gets stronger everyday. today hasn't been the worst it's ever been, since i haven't actually had to release the infamous peach beams that shoot out of my hands. but the tension my body goes through on a daily to mask the abnormality isn't worth the effort.

more minutes pass of trying to get myself back to the normal state of a human being. i didn't beam and thank god; i'm in school. and there could've been a catastrophic outcome if that were to ever happen on school grounds. facing exposure isn't something i really want.

i manage to get a detention for skipping the majority of chemistry. if only mr harrington knew what was happening, i doubt i'd be on my way with michelle to the beloved detention room.

coach wilson sits in the corner sulking, as captain america's 'correction detention' video plays on an old tv. he's kitted out in his classic red, white and blue suit as he pulls up a chair and smugly smiles.

"so..you got detention" he sighs, like a disappointed father. "you screwed up."

i tuck my legs underneath me, taking a peek outside, hoping to fixate on something other than my destructive thoughts of hidden abilities. i spot peter running hurriedly across the pitch field. he bumps into the football team and quickly apologises when they click their knuckles. then he's gone, like he didn't just interrupt practise for the homecoming game.

i wonder why he was in such a hurry, as the war hero continues to tell me off for the way i am. to think i met his colleague last night.

"you know what you did was wrong. the question is, how are you gonna make things right?"

the phrase lingers in my head for a second. how are you gonna make things right? how am i gonna make myself right? myself less dangerous? how am i gonna contain my secret? how am i gonna possibly make a difference?

as michelle scribbles down the rest of coach wilson's bored expression, my hand digs around in the bottom of my bag. when i finally feel like i've given myself a paper cut, i pull out the card and gaze upon the details. tony's contact number begs me to punch it into my phone and wait for him to pick up.

but i wait. my stubbornness gets the better of me. i drop it on my desk and poke it around with the eraser on my pencil. why is it better if i call him? how can he train me when no one really knows anything about my powers? is it ludicrous to be calling up a billionaire about superpowers?

i zone back into captain america and decide whatever he says next will determine what i do with the business card. "just think to yourself; what would captain america do?"

i regret listening to him; he'd call tony stark.