Secrets Of Our Own

Chapter Twenty One: Strange days

We didn't really have a mission that day. Fury mainly told us about his journey from the Bahamas.

Lucky, him! All I needed for my last few days is a trip to the Bahamas. Overseas. Just to see things I didn't get the chance to see... That I won't have the chance to see...

Monday morning came around pretty fast. I made my mark by setting the alarm clock the night before to wake to up half an hour before we needed to leave.

When I was awaken from the annoying sound of the clock, I bolted out of bed and ran towards the washroom. I turned off the buzzer on the way by, hoping I didn't awake the peaceful, sleepy Peter who's arm was dangling off the bed.

I walked into the washroom and quickly ducked down and under the sink to fetch my medication. I took the containers lid off and popped a pill into my mouth.

After I swallowed it, I raised the sweater of the arm with the bullet wound in it.

It was pretty much healed, which almost put me in shock because its only been just three days. I carefully looked at it over and over just to make sure I was actually processing it through my head and making sure it wasn't just my eyes seeing what they want to see.

I found myself sitting on the counter top of the sink with my legs dangling off the edge.

I stroked my hand across the slight bruising of the sensitive skin. It didn't hurt as much as it should've. What is wrong with me later? My life just doesn't make sense anymore. I mean, I'm a teenager! Of course, life is unexpected and doesn't make sense... But now it REALLY doesn't make any sense.

I sighed and rested my palms on the edge of he sink. My brain was in left field when I heard the door suddenly creak open slowly.

I turned around and lowered my sleeve staring immensely at the door, awaiting a figure to enter.

"Uh, sorry." Peter said when the door finally opened half way. He avoided eye contact with me as if he'd thought I was getting dressed. "I thought you were in the kitchen maybe... I'll just get dressed in the bedroom."

"No actually," I slid the container of pills under the sink when he wasn't looking. "I was just finished."

I grabbed my sweats that I wore from the previous night and walked them out to the laundry basket, walking by Peter in the process.

"Oh, okay." He made his way to the bathroom and closed the door tightly. And that was our only words for the morning.

On our way to school it was quite awkward. Getting ready for school came natural. We were used to our seperate routines in the morning. I would occasionally run into him, trying to grab my backpack or reaching for my lunch he would just smile genuinely for a second before returning to his routine.

We walked down the edge of the sidewalk on our journey to the school. I caught myself occasionally glimpse at Peter, and I could tell he did the same.

At attempt in conversation, I turned towards Peter but kept my pace.

"Are the Hogs facing our team today?" Damn it! He's not a sporty guy, y/n! He wouldn't know this stuff! Good going!

"Uh, not sure."

"..." Was all I could counter with.

"Oh. I forgot to tell you. Mrs. Dunsmoore, the drama teacher? She passed away."

"What?!" I practically yelled in his ear.

"Sorry!" I said seeing his reaction when he turned to me, giving me the 'hey' look behind his cheery grin. "Why didn't you tell me sooner!?"