𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝: 𝙲𝚘𝚍𝚎 𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜

𝙲𝙷. 𝟷 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝙰𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎

(Y/N)'s POV

  Eight fifty-five p.m. I glanced at my watch, thinking it was foolish to accept Peter's offer. Why was he so keen to take me for a cup of stupid milkshake? Was he really that bored and decided to come out and ruin my peaceful life?

No, my life wasn't even that peaceful and quiet.

Once my dad passed away, Mr. Turk—who had a fat crush on my mum ever since we moved into town, courted her in every possible way.

Although my mum wasn't pleased to accept his pursuit, she eventually agreed to marry him, for my father's will about finding someone to take care of both my mum and me. They married three years after my father died.

At first, I thought nothing would change; except that Byron and his father had moved into the house; as the days passed, the dark time came.

Mr. Turk wasn't very fond of me; no in fact, he hated me. He tolerated me because I'm my mum's daughter, her one and only precious biological child. My stepfather never liked me, but only my mum. The reason why he was nice to me for the previous years was all for a brilliant performance to show my mother.

And he wasn't exactly how I thought he was. He didn't get paid very often for his job, and being under pressure, he bought liquor and got drunk every day, every minute, and every second. Loafing in pubs and strip clubs were his two favorite hobbies as well. He never really took his life seriously.

Hence, the drunk man.

Whenever he saw me, insulting was involved, and beating was just usual practice. My mum broke down when she saw me being treated like a punchbag after she came home from work for the first time.

Mr. Turk assured me this wouldn't happen again, yet old habits won't die.

He abused me when my mum wasn't at home. He wouldn't dare to admit he did it again, and neither did I; I wouldn't tell her and let her worried about me. However, somehow a mother had an accurate instinct, a woman's intuition.

She asked me whether my stepfather had hit me. Due to my healing power, my scars and wounds recovered quickly, so I told her lies. Despite that I had assured her I was fine; Byron, who became my stepbrother, was mature when he was a senior in high school. He reported my situation to my mum whenever he saw his father beat up on me up when he was at home. Byron was in college now, so it was tough for him to look after me.

Also, this was the only reason I got to wear long sleeves or a jacket when I wasn't in my bedroom. Turk and Byron would have found out I am a mutant as they saw the bruises and injuries healed. They would report to the government for sure. Mutant experiments were still out there somewhere. Scientists craved for mutant genes to transform their subjects into highly mutant-proof.

Like the guy was locked in the Pentagon. He was thereafter convicting the crime of murdering the president. I was sure he was one of the X-men members for dad's old pic in his attic wardrobe. His name? Magneto, I believed.

Back to the troubles with Mr. Turk, I tried to get as much part-time as possible because I wouldn't have to go home early. That's why I got part-time every day, busy but kept me from getting mental illness and family abuse.

My train of thought ended once I heard the doorbell ring. A head of silver sashayed his way into the store and viewed those mountains of cassettes on the shelves.

Peter arrived.

''Hey, is this new?'' asked Peter, not sparing me a glance but pointing to a stack of cassettes that are displayed by the door.

''Yeah, the latest of Jim Croce,'' I answered, taking my belongings for ready to close the store.

He hummed, hands in his pockets, still briefly viewing all the cassettes on the shelves around the store.

''You have to get out so I can lock the door.'' I sighed, ''You can visit here the other time; I have to close the store by nine. It's a rule.''

Peter nodded, heading out, and I followed suit.

-

A waitress came to us when we entered the diner, smiling graciously as she greeted us. "Table for two?''

''Yes, please,'' said Peter, curving his lips upward.

The waitress told us to follow her into a booth, then placed the menu on the table, still smiling. ''Young love, you two are a pretty good match.''

What? Me and Peter? We just met for two days.

''No--! We're not dating.'' I spoke in a flustered manner, shaking my head frantically at the waitress.

Peter was just smiling. Didn't even deny it. Git.

''Well...er, I apologize. You two seem like one.'' said the waitress waywardly, desperate to leave. ''I'll be back when you're ready to order.''

Neither Peter nor I said anything after she left; we just thumbed through the menu in awkward silence. However, one of us had to break the peace in the end, right?

''Whatchu gonna order?'' asked Peter, eyes still fixing on the menu.

''Dunno...'' I replied, ''I thought you said it's your treat for a milkshake.''

The silver lock boy suddenly lifted his head to look at me with a toothy grin, ''Right, I forgot. But you must be starving after long hours of work; order something else.''

I mumbled, ''Club sandwich, then.''

Peter nodded, waving his hand to the waitress who led us here to order our meal.

''One vanilla milkshake and one flavor for chocolate; one cheeseburger and a club sandwich, please,'' said Peter, leaning on the sofa booth.

''Thanks,'' I told the waitress, and she gave me a small smile.

Another awkward silence. I wouldn't expect Peter to be so quiet; he was so annoying and talkative yesterday in detention.

I could sense that his gaze was on me, making me shift uncomfortably in my seat. Chillax, (Y/N). He was not even an acquaintance, hardly a stranger either, just considered it as a business to prevent going home early.

Mr. Turk must be very content now to have an empty home without me. Mother had to stay in her company tonight.

''So,'' said Peter, drumming his fingers on the desk, ''what exactly was the trick you did yesterday?''

I stiffened, not preparing for this question when he spoke to me properly.

''It's nothing; you've seen things. How can...'' I nervously chuckled, avoiding his intense look. ''No one can ever heal or shield or even modify memory.''

''Not unless you're a mutant,'' whispered Peter, leaning closer to me on the table. ''You can tell me; this will only stay between you and me.''

I let out several uneasy dry laughs, ''What am I supposed to tell you, Peter? Telling lie is not a habit of mine.''

''We'll see.'' After he finished, the waitress came back with our meals.

I sipped the vanilla shake while Peter was sipping the chocolate one, and my mind drifted away.

For how many years did someone stay with me for over five minutes? Some of my best friends stayed away from me after my father died. They thought I was also a mutant back then, and they regarded me as a dangerous, highly-risky monster. Well, my power started to manifest when I was in eleventh grade--a year after my mum married Mr. Turk, and hell knew why.

It all happened on that day, on Byron's birthday.

Byron took a lot of Mr. Turk's nest egg to plan a big party. He spent every bit of money and had nothing left. And he threw a big one, messing the house without cleaning them; he left it all to me, blaming me for absurd accusations. Such a lovely stepbrother I had back at that time.

When Mr. Turk returned from his workplace, he took it all out from me. Didn't even know how I managed to endure those pain these years; somehow, my heart told me it was my dad, who secretly watched over me in the shadow and guided me through dreams. I had to stay with my mum and protect her from possible harm.

''...(Y/N), earth to (Y/N)?'' I heard Peter's voice, breaking my thoughts. He was staring at me with his significant grin, ''You spaced out again.''

''Sorry,'' I responded sheepishly and looked at him, ''what were you saying again?''

''I said, I bet you didn't attend any club for the part-time, right?'' I nodded; that's when I realized he had two visible dimples on each side of his cheeks.

Cute.

Wait, what the bloody hell was I thinking? I'd only talked to him for two days.

I cleared my throat, ''What about you? You seem like a club guy.'' That, was sarcasm. Peter mostly wasn't at school. As I said, he skipped classes.

He chuckled again, sipping the last bit of milkshake. ''Isn't that obvious? I'm cool enough not to join one.''

''You're a loner, Peter. If you don't mind me asking, why didn't you hang out with others?''

''Others? Like who?'' He leaned on the sofa leisurely once he finished eating.

''For my record, I don't remember seeing you hanging out with anyone in our school.''

''What? Says the one who's talking.''

I inhaled a breath, ''I guess you're right. It's not like that before, though...''

Peter didn't say anything but just stared at me without emotion. ''Let's get you home. It's late. Your parents must be worried.''

''No, he won't,'' I muttered, hoping he didn't hear it.

Peter brought me back to my front porch within seconds, a burden to me.

''So, this is your house...nice!'' He said a bit louder.

I quickly covered his mouth with my hands, ''Shh, keep your voice down! You'd get me into trouble.''

Peter's brows knitted in confusion, ''What? Your father still grounds you for passing curfew?''

''Stepfather.'' I corrected him nonchalantly, pushing him further away. ''Thank you for the treat, but please, go home.''

''Wait, one question. Why are there so many bandages in your bag?''

I froze at his words, dumbfounded. How did he know I put bandages in my bag?

''I saw them when you locked the store door.''

''How...? I didn't even notice you pull my bag. That's private, you know!'' In this circumstance, I didn't care if my tone was harsh. ''That reminds me, how on earth did you get my first name?''

Peter's lips shut tight immediately as if he was choosing the right word to respond.

I scoffed, dragging him onto the road since it was pretty late at night and everyone had already gone home. ''Look, I don't know how you get my name or know about the bandages, just leave me alone!''

''Wha-why--?''

''Hey, you --! Why did you come home-late-don't come back if it's over ten -- you a little piece of sh*t--''

Oh lord, Mr. Turk wasn't asleep; he was stumbling as he walked down the front steps. He then raised the hand with the bottle, pointing his index finger to Peter. ''Who the f*ck are you? Oh, I see. You tryna get laid with this b***h? It's not my daughter, do whatever you want you silver...bro.''

Did I hear it wrong? My stepfather told me to sleep with some random boy, so why was I not surprised? Yeah, right. Mr. Turk always wanted to send me off somewhere. Better get pregnant and move out, so I would never disturb his life with my mum.

''This is your stepfather? Wow, what a great way to start the parent meeting thing,'' said Peter, eyes focusing on Mr. Turk. ''Is he always like this?''

''Yeah, that's why I told you to keep your voice down.''

"Seriously, who the f*ck are you, silvery monkey?" Mr. Turk stumbled nearer and nearer to us.

''Sorry. Right, I'm gonna knock him off. On the count of three,'' muttered Peter, eyes still fixed on Mr. Turk, not sparing me a glance.

''What?'' Knock off? Mr. Turk? He was literally bigger than Peter in the size. Not to mention he got menaced after he was drunk!

''One...''

''Peter, what are you--''

''Two...''

''Answer me, you son of a --'' growled Mr. Turk.

''Peter, no-!''

''Three!'' Feeling an instant swish, Peter had already tackled Mr. Turk and brought him over to the door. He tapped his feet impatiently while looking down at his watch.

I couldn't believe what I saw. Peter was here before, and then he. What had he done to Mr. Turk? Though my mind was more curious about how did Peter defeat Mr. Turk when he was the size of boar.

"It's okay now, Sauven," Peter called me out with one free hand, motioning me to get in the house. "Come on. There's nothing to fear, see? He passed out!''

I slowly walked to the door and closed it real quick for fear the neighbors had heard all the commotions minutes ago. Panicked, I had to eliminate the memory of Peter inside Mr. Turk's head, but I couldn't do it when he was still here.

That would be the opposite words I said in the diner just now.

''Man, that was close.'' breathed out Peter, dragging Mr. Turk towards the sofa and dropping him on the floor. ''A mental note, I'll try to keep my voice down next time I visit here.''

''No, you're not. Look, I appreciate your help with Mr. Turk, but don't come here again. I mean. It's not like we're a friend.''

Peter's brown irises grew larger; his eyes widened as he came closer to me. ''Why not? I want to be your friend.''

''It's complicated, Peter. I'm not normal.''

''If this has something to do with mutation...I have something to confess as well.''

Peter then disappeared into the house; no, he was still there. I could see a blast of silver moving around the house. He suddenly stood in front of me, but this time, there was coke, my Beatles cassette in his hands, and he had changed his silver leather jacket to a more casual black jock one which he wore yesterday.

''I'm a mutant, (Y/N).''

''What are you-''

''Speed; My power's speed.''

That made complete sense. I got it right when Peter delivered me to the workplace and got my name in the papers and bandages in the bag.

''Why did you tell me? Aren't you afraid I might report you to the ministry?'' I furrowed my brows, a hand rubbing on my temple.

''Cuz you won't,'' said Peter, half-cocking a smile. ''You have something which might want to show me as well, don't you?''

I sighed, knowing where this conversation would go. Peter's right; he was already so suspicious about my behavior yesterday. Let alone he confessed his mutation to me.

Thinking I had no choice but to tell him the truth, I walked over to Mr. Turk, a hand placed on his bruised arm, healing him while pointing two fingers with my free hand on his temple to modify the memory of the event minutes ago.

''Got your answer?'' I asked, avoiding Peter's impressed gape. If my eyes met him, there was probably a huge chance to see his goofy grin spreading on his face.

''You're incredible!'' exclaimed Peter, rocking my shoulders. ''I thought me and my sister were the only two mutants here! Awesome!''

I shook off his hands and closed my eyes for a split second to clear my mind.

''Gather the thoughts, (Y/N). It's not a big deal to show Peter your powers, right? He's a mutant as well...''

''What exactly do you want, Peter?'' I asked as I darted back and forth at him and Mr. Turk; to make sure he wouldn't wake.

A satisfied grin crawled on his face again, chuckling, ''Make friends with you?''

''I'm not going to be your friend if you're so unpredictable. You almost got me into trouble.''

''But, I did help and solve the crisis,'' said Peter, smirking. ''A thank you would be nice.''

I inhaled a breath, calming myself from blurting out the swear words.

''Thank you, and please go home.''

''Whatever you say, Sauven. Guess I'll see you tomorrow.''

Tomorrow? He didn't listen to my words. However, something triggered me; his cocky smile, carefree personality, and the fact that he was a life-saver for these two days. A part of me wanted to wipe off his grin since many things did begin when he appeared, not a lie.

And I could at least confirm one thing as well—I wasn't alone anymore.