How it all began

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I sprinted into my high school in Queens just as the warning bell went off, making a beeline straight for my locker. My hand automatically spun in the combination, and I sighed in relief when it opened on the first try; they almost never do. I was pretty sure I looked like a walking disaster: I slept late after the night shift at my part time job at Steak n' Shake, yet still only managing to get in 3 hours of sleep, I hadn't had breakfast yet, which explained my complaining stomach, and I hadn't had time to take a shower, so my curly, unruly scarlet hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. Plus my Biology homework wasn't done, so yeah. I was a nervous wreck. Until my best friend Natalie showed up, weaving her way through the bunches of obnoxious students. "Dang, Maxi! You need some help!" I've known Natalie since kindergarten, back when my parents were still alive. Back when I was normal. She's always been there for me. Of the two of us, she's definitely the one who's had her life together the best, and she is really into fashion. She always follows the trends, is super organised, and super sweet. I'm basically the opposite of all that. She always finds the time to help you, whether you're having a fashion crisis or have a real problem, she's great for advice. And I sure needed that now. "Yeah, I do," I muttered in response to her previous comment. My homeroom was right down the hall, and my first class was, coincidentally, Biology. Natalie smiled that sympathetic smile that melted me yet made me squirm at the same time. I've never taken sympathy from anyone. It makes you vulnerable. "Take this..." she said knowingly, handing me a mirror and a brush. Normally I would have said no, because it was my fault I looked this way, and I would have to deal with it, but today I really looked like trash, so I accepted. I undid my long hair and it cascaded down my shoulders in a wavy curtain of deep red. In the mirror, my own face peered back at me. It had clear, icy blue eyes, fringed around the pupils with a slightly darker shade of blue. Her nose was pointed, but turned up a bit a the end, and heavily sprinkled with freckles, as was the rest of her face. As I gazed at myself in the mirror I fiercely jerked the brush through my hair. "Not so hard!" Natalie scolded gently. "If you want that hair for the rest of your life, you have to be careful! And don't look at yourself in disgust." That, apparently, was one of her so called "pet peeves." I can't look at myself like I'm ugly, because I'm "pretty." ( I'm not, trust me.) "Now, take this," she said commandingly, handing me a tube of lip gloss. I rolled my eyes. This is where I draw the line. "No way." I said. "I will not put that on!" She giggled. "No need to get aggressive..." I giggled a little then, too, because she has the funniest laugh. Like a t-rex. Looking away from the mirror, I saw she had all of my supplies for my next three classes. She handed them to me easily and pulled a dark blue cardigan over my black tank top. "So you don't get cold. You know the drafts this time of winter! Now, get to class, and I'll see you in biology!" She rushed off to her homeroom, and I trotted off to mine, feeling grateful to her. But my homework still wasn't done, so the result would probably be detention after school, courtesy of Mr. Benson. I got to homeroom, and, what do you know? a croissant sitting neatly in a napkin on my desk, right on a page of the answer key for last night's Honors Biology homework. "Bless you, Natalie!" I said to myself. I'm in Honors in all of those available classes, and Natalie's only in Honors Bio, so it's one of the only times we see each other, except for lunch. I busily got to work scribbling down answers.

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I've always found the need to be tough. It started when my parents passed away when I was 7, and the only people I had to raise me were my grandparents. But my grandma died of a heart attack a year later. Then it was just Grandpa and me. So I guess you could cry at my sob story, but I wouldn't recommend it. I never did. When I was still fresh from recent deaths, I was playing outside on a warm summer day at the age of 8. I foolishly wasn't watching where I was going, and stepped in a sticky nest of fire ants. They obviously saw me as a threat, so they attacked my legs. I guess one really struck a vein, because one leg really swelled up bad. At random moments I would get shooting pains up my leg, even a year later. And I've done things that I can't really explain. Like suddenly knowing when something was going to happen before it actually did, like a sixth sense. I've also had insane strength at random moments, like easily lifting a sofa with one arm. Gradually I became much, much stronger, doing impressive things all the time that I felt pressured to hide. Like I would be in danger of I didn't. I've also been able to do something insane a few years after the incident. Something truly unbelievable. I can make fire with my hands when I'm angry or frustrated. So I always have to control my temper. All because of fire ants. So then I discovered that ants sometimes made little spit balls, with added mud to create nests. Not necessarily fire ants, but ants in general. I bookmarked this for some reason. Years later, to when I was in 9th grade, my grandpa was in his late 80s, and we were struggling financially. I had a small inheritance to pay for school, but Grandpa was too old to work, and it wasn't enough. So I decided to get a job. I shifted from job to job, and that kept us afloat. I felt like I was missing something, though. Natalie said I was weird at school, not paying attention as much. Then I realized what it was. Purpose. So I spent a while brainstorming, and came up with an odd, yet perfect, solution. I would use what the ants had given me. I began to tamper with their saliva, and found it was incredibly strong. I created a mixture similar to it, and a bit of spider's thread, for extra strength, and finally had something. Something great. So I then made a little shooter thingy that attached to my farmost knuckles. I made a whole bunch of the ant thread, put that in there, and made a decision. I was going to become a superhero.

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