Hey guys!
Here's another chapter! I'm spoiling you guys so much right now, and I'm getting obsessed again, which consequently means my grades will drop. Whoopsie....
Name from adaptation for the day:
Tony Stark = Mark Harvey
Enjoy! And remember to sign the petition!
~Music~
Hello (Evanescence) (I just got addicted to them, and so many of their songs are so applicable) (the chapter title comes from a line from the song)
~about edits: I'll try to get up some edits up soon, but guys I'm SO BUSY right now!!!
Hope you like it!
*note: I changed the gift that Loki gave Thea. Now, it's a stuffed horse that looks like Stjarna. I just wanted his and Jack's gifts to be totally different. sorry for the change!
Chapter Three
~Thea's POV~
My birthday had fallen on Columbus Day, which means that I have school the next day. After Loki had left, I had stumbled into the bathroom to shower and then tossed and turned in my bed until two in the morning.
This morning, I only get up after Max knocks on my door twice. I have to literally drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom. When I look into the mirror, I see that my eyes are red from fatigue, and surrounded by dark bags. Thankfully, my hair is blonde again, but it's tangled and messy, as if I had just come back from a windy day at the beach.
I change into jeans and a loose orange sweater before walking into the kitchen. Kyle's already dressed and in there, making omelets.
"You look like a zombie," says Kyle, handing me a plate of eggs (cheese and ham), "Why couldn't you sleep?"
"I don't know," I mumble, inwardly groaning about Kyle's observation skills.
"Well eat up, get some energy in you."
The food helps, but not much, so I walk across the hallway to Kyle's place, and make myself a cup of coffee. I usually try not to consume a lot of caffeine, because it heightens my temper and therefore my power, but today is a necessity.
As usual, Jack is waiting for me at the street corner, next to a little book store. He's hopping up and down, his backpack bouncing on his shoulders. His earbuds are in, and I can hear the music emanating from back here.
"You're going to go deaf," I say.
Jack takes out one of his earbuds and grins at me, "Nah. You look tired by the way, did you have bad dreams?"
"No," I say, which is technically true. My nightmare had been while I was conscious, "I just couldn't sleep."
"Sorry," he says as we walk down the street. The school is only a fifteen minute walk from here, "On the upside, we just came back from a long weekend, so the teachers might not give us too much homework."
"If we're lucky," I say.
Of course, because this is me, we're not.
Because the school is in a city, the building is pretty tall. It's brick, which looks slightly weird because it's surrounded by steel office plazas. Also, the eighth grade is in the high school, because of the advanced classes that are offered, which, when I had started here, made things extremely stressful.
My locker is on the fifth floor, so I leave Jack on the elevator and head into the eighth grade hallway. I'm about five minutes late, so most everyone is in home room already, so I just grab my copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, slam the locker shut and walk away.
I slouch in my seat in home room, as Mr. Green goes over the day's announcements (Rho Kappa meeting during lunch, leadership signups will be posted, etc.) and gaze out the window to the city.
Dejectedly, I look down at the golden band. I grasp it, and tug it again, but as usual, it remains clasped around me. I feel like screaming at it, and feel the tips of my hands beginning to burn. I am stopped from burning my desk as my hand wraps around the dolphin figurine resting on my neck. It calms me, and I close my eyes, taking deep breaths.
Eventually, the moment passes, just as the bell rings and Mr. Green dismisses us.
He stops me at the door.
"Thea, if you're late again, I'm going to have to count you as tardy," he says. Mr. Green is nice enough, I guess, especially considering the fact that I've been less than a model home room participant- during group activities, I just stare out the window or text Jack and Peter.
I fumble with my backpack straps, "Okay. Sorry."
He nods, giving me an easy smile, "Did you have a nice birthday?"
Oh, it was fantastic, especially when my newly-discovered father had one, killed a prophetess and two, shouted at me that he basically didn't care whether or not I lived or died!
I give Mr. Green the best fake smile I can muster. "It was great! Thanks for asking."
He nods again as he begins to set up his projector for a history lecture, "I'm glad to hear it. Have a great day, Thea."
"You too," I say distantly, and then head into the hullabaloo of the hallway. As I walk down a flight of stairs to the English hallway, I pass Jack. He's talking loudly with a bunch of his friends.
"Hey Thea!" he yells as one of his friends, a tall blond named Davis, shoves him into the wall in a show of manliness, "Want to meet in the library during free period?"
Davis, as well as a few other freshman boys, wolf-whistles, "Ay, Barton, get it!"
Jack pushes Davis, and glances back at me, waiting for my response.
"Uh, sure," I say, trying to hide the doubt.
*
I do end up going to the library, which is a really messy room filled with books because the librarian, whatever her name is, actually hates her job. She's the first librarian I've ever met that doesn't care at what level we talk while studying.
Jack, talking cheerfully about his life science lab from that morning (venus flytraps), begins his history report. I fiddle with my assignments, and even though I have a lot of them, I can't focus, and end up just doodling in the margins of my science textbook.
Thankfully, my silence isn't noticed much, because about halfway through the period, Davis and the rest of Jack's pack turns up, having missed their ringleader. This means that I Jack and I get slightly more squished on the bench to make room for three teenage boys, but at least I can put my earbuds in and tune them out.
I start my summary for the first chapter of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, but my thoughts are far from the streets of New York City. Regret keeps slamming into me like a sledgehammer. Actually, part regret, part anger, part hurt, and part sadness. This morning, I had considered throwing the Stjarna stuffed animal out the window, but hadn't. I don't know why. I wish I would have. Instead, like the coward I am, I just stuffed it in the back of my closet, in a box of unpacked summer clothes.
I play with my fingers, the pale skin of Loki's family even more obvious next to Jack's tan complexion. I turn over my hands and see very vaguely the Asgardian letters that Loki had painted on my wrists. It has been only slightly more than a month, but it feels ages away. No matter how much I scrub at the Alder dye, the faded letters bring to me reminders of Loki.
No matter how much I don't want to admit it, I miss Loki. No matter how much we had argued, how much we had both bullied each other, it wasn't just a coincidence that he used to be the only one who could soothe me to sleep. I look back on those fluttering memories and want to push them away as childish, but mostly, I want to snatch them and hold them so close to my heart, they will never go away.
His harsh words come floating back to my head. How he wouldn't care whether or not I died, how he wouldn't protect me any longer. I wish I knew if he meant those words, but for now, their cold severity pierces me every move I make, like I'm walking on glass.
I want to take back everything I said. I know I'm being weak, and I'm in a cycle that I have to break, but I can't help it. Loki had given me another chance at life when I had lost everything. And now he has just taken all that away, and it was all my fault.
I want it to be all better. I'm being a child, but it's true.
But Loki's eyes had been dangerous, the same look I had seen in the tigress at Keajaiban: angry, injured, fierce, and deadly.
*
As is Monday tradition (or Tuesday when it's been a long weekend, like today), Jack and I meet at the school's main hall to go to Panera Bread, which is two blocks from us.
It's sunny today, but the wind is brisk, there is a crisp in the air, as if hurrying me along. Jack and I make the fifteen minute walk while relaying the amount of homework we have. Jack has the rest of an English paper and a chapter to read in his science book. To make it seem like I have a lot less than I actually have, I tell him I only have English and history. Which is true, but I also have Spanish and art and (gag) math.
Just as Jack is about to open the door like the British gentleman he is (I'm actually half serious), Peter hops down from the awning.
"Greetings, high schooler and measly middle schooler," says Peter.
"Hi there, insect," says Jack.
"A spider isn't an insect," I say.
"You shut your mouth," says Jack, pushing me by my backpack inside the restaurant.
"So homework load," says Peter as we get in line to order our food. Panera is currently almost filled, mostly with high schoolers like Jack and me. It's a popular spot for social gatherings and homework, neither of which I feel like attending to at the moment, "Scale of one to ten, go."
"Eh, three," says Jack. "I did most of it during free period."
Jack is one of those annoying people who gets most of their homework done either during free period, in which he is doing homework and studying, or in class. He hadn't even needed lunch. Then again, Jack is ridiculously smart. I'm not exactly a Three Stooge, but neither am I taking precalculus as a freshman.
"Thea?" Peter asks.
"Uh, a six," I say. More like a eight.
"That's unfortunate," says Jack. I kick him.
After we order, we claim a booth near the back. It's one of those cool booths, with a circular back so we have our own little hole in the wall. While Jack connects my and his laptops to the Wi-Fi, Peter and I get eating utensils and napkins.
Since we're more just ordering after school snacks, our food only takes five minutes to get here, which coincides perfectly with us finishing setting up our homework.
"Why did the Greeks go to war in the Peloponnesian War?" I ask two minutes later.
"Because Sparta was being a bloody bully, like usual," Jack replies, who is already halfway through taking notes on his science chapter.
"I was asking Peter," I say, but circle answer B on my sheet, "But thanks anyway, show-off."
"He's right," says Peter. He's on his computer, clicking his mouse around frantically. I wonder if he's doing college stuff (he takes correspondence courses) or doing some hi-tech game.
"You're not helping," I reply.
"Be thankful for my show-offiness," says Jack, writing down random science-y stuff in what is actually ridiculously neat handwriting for a fifteen year old boy, "It gets you A's."
"Assuming you're right," I say, which proves to be a mistake, because at this dare, Jack makes me Google the Peloponnesian War and admit that he's right.
*
That night, I hole myself up in my room to do homework. Thankfully, nobody is here except Klaka, who is chewing a Kong toy on the floor. Emmaline is technically "here" too, but she's across the hall, working on paperwork for the veterinary clinic she is trying to start. Max is at Stark Tower, in some secret meeting, which means that he'll fill me in later if I've gotten all my homework done. Kyle is at a "job interview" which is code for going undercover with Clint. Unlike Max, Kyle has gotten back into the spy world, mostly because he now has 20/20 vision in both eyes.
At eight thirty, as I'm finishing my book report that I technically didn't finish this afternoon, my phone vibrates. Glancing at the screen, I see that it's Max.
"Hey Ace," he says when I pick up the phone, "I'm going to be later than I thought, but Kyle's on his way home, so he and Emmaline are going to go over there. Did you eat?"
"I made a PB&J," I say.
"All right," says Max. I hear the sound of conversation behind him, and I know that he's with a bunch of people right now. "I'll be home around ten thirty. I would tell you to go to sleep before I get there, but I know it's pointless."
I can't help but smile. "Good point. I want juicy details."
"You only get as much as I can tell you," he says warningly, "And don't try to worm it out of me."
"Only if, when Kyle's alarm goes off at three in the morning, you tell him that you did it."
"Do you hate me that much that you want me to be killed by fratricide?" jokes Max.
He's kidding, but this brings to mind Loki's threat that he will start killing people if I don't stay quiet. And based on Loki's fury from last night, he's going to keep his word.
"Yeah," I say lamely, "Okay."
"You okay? You sound tired."
"Long day," I say, just as lamely.
"All right, at least try to get to bed, I can always tell you what happened tomorrow night."
"Okay," I say, not having any plans to go to bed at ten thirty whatsoever. Having had terrible nightmares has made me a night owl and although I don't often get the bad dreams anymore, I still don't like going to sleep. It's like exposing a vulnerability to the darkness. Not that I'm not tired. I just don't want to sleep.
"See you later, Thea," says Max, "Good luck on your homework."
After I hang up, I force myself to concentrate on my English. Fifteen minutes later, as I'm getting out my math worksheet, I hear the apartment door being unlocked. "KYLE?" I shout.
Footsteps, and then leans inside the room, and wiggles his eyebrows at me, "You called?"
"Just wanted to make sure that you weren't a serial killer," I say.
"You never know, I could be disguised," he says, reaching down to pet Klaka, who has sleepily walked up to Kyle to get his belly rubbed. Klaka, unlike me, is definitely not a night owl.
My blood runs cold, "What movie did you watch with me when I was sick last winter?"
"Is this a code question?" asks Kyle. He doesn't look that tired, considering he was supposed to be doing field work with Clint. His hair is tousled a little, but his sunglasses are perched on his head like normal. And he still has stubble around his face, even though I'm trying to get him to shave.
"Just please answer the question!" I beg.
"All right all right, it was Meet the Robinsons," replies Kyle, "You all right? You look uptight."
"I'm fine," I say, trying to cover up my stupidity, "Just code question you know."
"Okey doke," says Kyle, drumming on the door frame, "I'm going to take a shower, but I'll be back in a few minutes." As he leaves, he calls over his shoulder, "Have fun with that math, Thea!"
"How'd you know it was math?"
He pokes his head back in, "Because you were trying to burn holes in it with your eyes. That's what you got your fingers for, Blaze."
He smirks at me and then vanishes.
"I swear, if I get one more nickname from anyone, you guys are gonna regret it!"
I hear him laughing, and then the apartment door closes as he leaves.
I get my homework done at nine thirty, and head into the bathroom to shower. I find that I'm extremely hungry, so I walk to the kitchen to get a snack. I find Kyle and Emmaline in the living room. Kyle is on the couch, on his computer, typing away, and Emmaline is next to him, reading a book and stroking Lucy's head.
While Klaka patters over to Lucy, bites her ear, and then settles down next to her to sleep, I rummage through the cabinets, looking for cereal.
"Nice panda slippers," says Kyle.
I clang the bowl on the counter, "Shut up."
"And by the way, the next time you set my alarm clock for three freaking in the morning, don't move its position on the dresser so that it's extremely obvious."
"I can't help it that you notice the tiniest, stupidest details," I say.
"It's not stupid if it keeps the damn alarm from blowing up my ear," he replies.
"And mine," says Emmaline innocently, raising her hand and not looking up from her book.
I'm quiet until I'm sitting at the bar stool, eating my Rice Krispies. "Kyle?" I call.
"What's up?" he asks, his eyes stuck on the screen of his Mac.
"Question," I say, "If-"
"If it's another one of those same math problems, I'm gonna make you do it by yourself, so you might as well not ask."
"No," I say, "Not that."
"Then shoot."
I take a deep breath, "Okay, so what if you had this...person in your life, and-"
"Is this the I'm-really-in-love-with-Jack-but-I-don't-know-how-to-express-my-emotions shindig?" asks Kyle. "Because I've been waiting for that one for a while."
"Will you let me finish!?" I demand, getting frustrated. I should have saved this for Max. "And no, it's not!"
"Sorry, sorry," says Kyle. He gets up off the couch, almost trips over Klaka, and walks over to the counter. Leaning against it, he crosses his arms and fixes me with a concentrating face, "Go ahead, Missy."
"So if there's this person... who's not always nice to you, but you're pretty sure they actually care about you, but are coming about it WAY the wrong way, but anyway, you said some really really terrible things to them, but they said some really really terrible things to me to, and you just want to make things better, but you don't want to be the nicey nice person, and you know, what should I do in that situation?"
"Ouch," says Kyle, drumming his fingers on the counter, "Who're you talking about? Someone from school?"
"Uh, yeah, sure," I say.
He's probably surprised that I actually have someone at school that I have such a complicated relationship with, and his surprise is on point, because I actually don't have anyone at school that I have a relationship with whatsoever, except for Jack.
But he hides it, and says, "How are they not nice to you?"
Well, he's actually my father, and he threatens to kill my family if I don't keep my mouth shut, and he also yells at me and apparently slaps me, whether I deserve it or not.
"Uh," I say, "Just you know, basic teenage girl bitchiness."
I want to laugh out loud, but this isn't even remotely funny.
"Ah," says Kyle. He glances at his girlfriend, "Emmaline, teenage girl bitchiness is more your specialty. What do you say?"
Emmaline arches her eyebrows, "Because I was a teenage girl prone to bitchiness?"
I snort.
"Of course not," says Kyle, easily making up his mistake, "Because I'm sure that there were plenty of teenage bitches around you."
Emmaline is trying not to smile at him, but she does at me, "Thea, honestly, if they're being mean to you, and whether or not you care about them or not, or they care about you, then you should stop that relationship. It'll hurt you both in the end."
"Yeah," I say, "I don't know if that'll work."
"Or you can just kick their asses," suggests Kyle.
"Yeah, that definitely won't work," I say.
"Kyle!" exclaims Emmaline, "Be helpful!"
He holds out his hands defensively, almost knocking my bowl of Rice Krispies off the counter, "What, it was an actual suggestion!"
Emmaline shakes her head, then turns back to me, "It's hard with friends, I know, but-"
"We're not friends," I say.
"But you still care about each other?" asks Emmaline, her brow furrowing.
"You're sure it's not Jack?" asks Kyle.
"KY. LE."
"Sorry."
"I mean, we're sort of friends?" I say, realizing I'm going to have to slightly twist my story, "Yeah, friends I guess. It's complicated."
"It's hard with friends," says Emmaline, "But really, if she's being mean to you, up to a certain point, you need to stop talking to her."
"I'm mean too," I say dejectedly.
"Then maybe you should apologize," offers Emmaline, "And see if they reciprocate. If they don't, that makes you the bigger person, and at that point, you should decide if you need to walk away from the situation or not."
I must have looked pretty miserable at that point, because Kyle says gently, reaching forward to squeeze my shoulder, "Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah," I say, "Just confused."
Very, very confused.
~Nobody's POV~
Klaka stays in the living room with Lucy, so Thea gets in bed and stares at the dark ceiling by herself. All she wants is Loki to be there, so she can say she's sorry, and so that everything can be okay.
But can everything be okay even if she says sorry?
She doesn't know the answer to that. She does know that her heart still feels like it's an empty hollow, with a gigantic piece missing. She feels terrible. Guilty. Furious. Sad. Scared. Too many feelings, and nobody to express them to.
She is the lie that Loki is hiding behind, but that lie is dwindling, as is her strength to hold up that particular wall.
She ends up going to her closet and getting out the stupid stuffed horse from the pile of summer clothes, crawling into bed, and crying for a long time, holding Stjarna close to her. And when Max walks into her room around midnight, she pretends to be asleep, and doesn't move when he leans down to kiss her forehead and push some of the blonde hair from her face.
As soon as he leaves, she cries even harder.
Man, I'm terrible.
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Fun Fact about Me: But my first name isn't actually Sierra.
:)