Little

Chapter 3

"Peter Benjamin Parker. Age six. Parents: Mary and Richard Parker, deceased. Other relatives: Ben and May Parker, deceased. Diagnosed with ADHD and SPD. Outperforms classmates in school."

Stephen read Peter's file aloud to himself--quietly--as he sat in the back of a taxi taking him back to his apartment. It explained many things. ADHD and SPD--explained why Peter couldn't sit still and why he had headphones over his ears--the noise of the city was probably too much for him.

The taxi stopped and the two disembarked. Getting out of the elevator, he sighed as he opened the door to his apartment, with the kid following close behind. Peter's silence proved to be a surprise for Stephen--he thought Peter would be much more chatty. Had he always been this quiet? Or was it because of the crash was he in self-imposed silence and grief? Whatever the cause, Stephen was thankful for it.

Peter was carrying a backpack. He set it down on the couch and opened it. From what Stephen could see, he had a bunch of toys,  drawings supplies, a bunch of clothes, an Ipad, lots of toys, and an Iron Man mask.

He didn't even realize how long he was paying attention to him until his phone vibrated with some message, fifteen minutes later. What was he doing? He was supposed to be finding a cure for his earthquake-shaky hands. And getting ready for physical therapy. Lots of it.

All was quiet until he felt something tug on his shirt. It was the kid.

"Hungry," he said. "Chocolate Cookie."

"I don't have any--" Stephen started.

"Chocolate Cookie," he said again.

This kid was now getting on his nerves. He got up and slammed the laptop shut. The kid didn't know, but he had a trick that was sure to keep him quiet.

He happened to have cookies, alright. 

Oatmeal.

Raisin.

Cookies.

He gave one to the kid, who ran off giddily.

He hoped that did the trick of keeping him quiet.

But not more than five minutes later, he ran back, with a toy dog in his hand.

"Can I have another one?" he asked, almost...joyfully?

Why did he like the cookie? Weren't little kids supposed to hate oatmeal raisin cookies? Maybe his assumptions were wrong, because in a blink of an eye, the kid had found another cookie and had ran off with it.

Kids were weird.