Sometimes, life gets so difficult that you just need to laugh about it. ~ Katy Perry
The edge of the building is surrounded by a wall that only makes it up to my knees, but it is enough cover. I kneel down in an attempt to shield myself from the views of anyone passing by. The wind sends a harsh gust of cool air towards me and goosebumps make their way up my body, my suit too thin to contain the heat from my body.
An elderly couple pass by carrying half a dozen grocery bags. The pace they're walking at provides plenty of time for them to be my test subjects. I exhale and squint my eyes as I find myself reaching into the woman's head. If a mind could smell, her's would be of lavender, just as any old woman would. It feels pure and kind... almost making me feel bad for doing this. I plant the image of a bear appearing in the middle of the pavement, cutting their path off. The woman drops her bags in shock, her face ashen. Her husband glances at her and then where she looks, a confused expression spread on his face.
She is too shaken to do anything and I snicker. Call me a sadist but I have been through so much shock, it's unfair. These fortunate people walk through the streets and get to go shopping together. Their lives are filled with nothing but love. Yet there are still people out there who have it worse than I do and then there are people like this couple who get to stroll around together and not have a care in the world. A wave of guilt passes through me as she begins to tremble like a leaf and her husband begins to ask her questions worriedly.
I hold my grasp in her head and sigh as I try to extend the image to her husband's. My breath shudders as I find myself in there. His jaw drops as he drops his groceries as the bear advances slowly towards them. His teeth begin to chatter. A sharp pain appears in my head and I let out a small groan. It stops and towers over them. I try to hold it for as long as I can, but the pain is too much after a few seconds. I clap my hands together as the bear turns to dust and the couple look around in confusion.
My ass falls to the floor and I rest my body weight on my hands. I pant heavily. If that was too much for me to handle, looks like any plans to confuse large groups of people with large images are all flooding down the drain.
A young voice appears from the ground below. "Are you okay?" it asks, presumably tending to the couple I have apparently traumatized.
My forehead creases as a wave of deja vu comes over me. I peer over the edge and my heart falls as I take in the familiar red and blue spandex down below. He puts a hand on the small of the woman's back. "Here, I'll help you take these home," he says as he picks up a handful of grocery bags.
He begins to look around, his head darting in all different directions.
Shit.
I activate my wings and my legs rise from the ground before he sees me.
"Raven?"
I snap out of my daydream and look up to see my mother staring at me in concern at the other end of the dinner table.
"Mm?" I respond sleepily.
"Are you alright?" she gestures towards my plate with her fork, "you've barely touched your plate. I thought you loved spaghetti."
My eyes travel down to my plate when I realize she is right. I haven't eaten. I had tried to convince her to let me eat in my room, but we're a family, Raven!
"I'm just not hungry, I guess," I merely shrug.
Phil butts in, "are you sick?"
I roll my eyes and take my plate to the kitchen. My mother doesn't even come after me as I bound up the stairs and slam the door of my room shut behind me. I fall onto my bed and shove my earphones into my ears, blasting music.
I stare up at the bland white ceiling, surrounded by four bland walls, a bland white bed head and cover and a bland view of the street. I'm not a bland person per say, especially not back in Miami. But my life here seems bland and so why not have a bland room?
A vibration on my leg cuts me out of my daily daydream and I immediately reach over to pick it up, hoping my dad is texting me. But to my dismay, it's not.
The name Peter Parker is displayed on my screen followed by a text. Was it necessary to put in his whole name? As if I know any other Peters.
As if he knew you don't know any other Peters.
As much as I hated to admit it, my subconscious is right. I need to start seeing the positives in others and more importantly, see the positives in myself and in my life.
1. I have powers.
2. I have Cam.
3. I go to a good school.
4. I am healthy.
5. I have a home.
6. I have a family...?
7. I...
I don't have anything else to add. The corners of my mouth tilt upwards sadly and I open the message from Peter.
I'm sorry about earlier. It was wrong of me to assume things about you and your life and I'm your student adviser so we should have a good relationship.
He's really going to take this student adviser thing seriously, isn't he? Despite how he pissed me off, my smile turns into a genuine one instead and I type back.
Thanks.
It was my fault for snapping and he was right about me being so negative but I didn't want to admit that to him, not now. I toss my phone back onto my thigh and feel a vibration right after it lands. A soft sigh escapes my lips as my arm reaches out to pick up my phone again.
How was the rest of today?
He doesn't really care about my day, he's just trying to be a student adviser which I don't need. I shake my head softly and force my thumbs to actually type back.
Decent.
Let's hope he actually gets the hint that I don't want to talk this time. My eyes slowly close and I begin to relax as a soft song blasts through my ears. The melody eases the tension from my muscles and it feels nice to not feel stressed for once. A vibration interrupts my meditation and I clench my teeth together.
What more could he say to decent?!
But the vibrating doesn't stop. It's a call. I snap and sit upright straight away. My eyes travel down to my screen where a photo of my dad and I appears. It's dad!
When I process this, I pick up straight away. "Dad?" I answer enthusiastically.
He chuckles lightly on the other end, "Mariposa."
"How are you?" I ask, twirling strands of hair around my finger.
He coughs, but not one to be concerned about, "I've had better days."
A lump is lodged in my throat. "So what's happening with the chemo?" I ask, my voice a whisper. Deep down, I already know the answer, but I need to hear it from him.
"I can't sweetie," he sighs exasperatedly, "it would be amazing but I can't afford it and I am not giving my life's work away to someone else. I'll manage. I was able to fight it once and I can do it--"
"--you fought it once with chemo," I interrupt, my heart in pieces, "dad, I can help. I'll get a part-time job. Hell, I'll even get two if one isn't enough and maybe I can even tell mom--"
It's his turn to cut me off. "--you have school, Mariposa. I'm not going to let you throw your studies away and get a part-time job. Especially not after well," he gulps, "you know. And do not in any circumstances, tell your mother about this."
I sigh and lean against the head of my bed. My voice breaks as I continue to speak, "you're a fighter, dad. That's where I get my fighting instincts from. You're strong. You'll make it."
"I appreciate your support," he whispers in an attempt to conceal his tears. I can hear him sniffling. "It means the world."
"I'll always be here, you know that."
He laughs, "I know."
Mom opens my door gently and sticks her head through. She'll get annoyed if I don't hang up now, especially that the conversation has died. "I have to go," I say much to my dismay, "call me if you need anything."
"Of course," I can feel him smiling, "I love you."
"I love you too," and with that, the phone hangs up. I toss it to the opposite side of my bed cover and turn to mom, "do you need something?"
She enters and plops onto my bed beside me, "that was your father?"
I simply nod and look away from her judgmental, sharp blue eyes.
She rests her hand on top of mine and grins, "I want to know about your first day back."
"There's nothing to tell," I mumble.
She knows I don't want to talk. I know that a small part of her knows I had a bad day as always. But she continues to push it, "how was Cassie?"
"Cassie?" I scoff and snap my head towards her, "I'm not friends with her anymore."
Her face falls. She's disappointed... and surprised. I told her this. Why is she so shocked? "Well that's a shame. She was such a nice girl," she tuts but maintains her harsh glare on me, "what happened?"
"The divorce happened," I mutter.
Her mouth forms a small o as she begins to understand. A cold laugh escapes my lips, "I told you this."
Mom's forehead creases, "did you? I must not have been paying attention."
"Yeah, with your head up Phil's ass," I say under my breath, hoping she doesn't hear.
But she does.
And she isn't going to have it.
"Excuse me?!" she gets up from off my bed and stands tall, "what did you just say to me?"
A wave of regret washes over me. I always have to open my big mouth. I shut my eyes and don't reply.
"That is no way to speak to your mother!" she snaps, "and you won't even give Phil a goddamn chance no matter how many times I ask you to! And for God's sake, I know the divorce was hard but it wasn't only hard on you. We all suffered so for one moment, think of others' feelings!"
With that she storms out. I bite my lip to prevent my choke coming out of my mouth. I fight back the tears as I realize she is partly right. She also struggled but she never admitted to cheating on dad being a mistake. And Cam is fine. He loves Phil more than he loves dad which hurts me more than it hurts him.
I need a distraction from my thoughts.
My hands find their way to my phone and my head hits the pillow. And I type.
I mean, Pinell is an asshole...