The next week went by pretty smoothly. I became more familiar with the house, I got to know Pepper and Happy - and Jarvis - more, and I even, kind of, got to know Tony more. He had me barricaded off though, he didn't quite trust me yet, and I could tell. I was okay with waiting though, I mean, Happy did tell me he would be like this, he just had to warm up to me. Almost like stepping into a really cold swimming pool. I understood where he was coming from, I still hadn't called him 'Dad', and I wasn't sure when I would.
It was Sunday night and I was starting school in the morning. Just thinking about it made my stomach do two backflips and a back handspring. I was terrified, but Tony insisted I had to go, which I still disagreed with.
I was currently sitting on the sofa, stuffing my face with some chicken nuggets while watching something on TV. Tony emerged from the basement, wiping his hands with a rag which used to be white, but was now covered in dirt.
"Wanna argue about school again?" I yelled to him as he disappeared into the kitchen. I took another bite of my chicken nugget.
"Nope!" He yelled back. I made a face and moved my mouth to mock him, when he walked in and caught me. I just grinned and continued eating.
"Why don't you want to go to school?" He sighed, flopping down on the couch next to me.
"Because!" I exclaimed, laying my nugget down on the plate. "I already know everything I need to know. They aren't going to teach me anything you can't teach me right here. In the warmth, and safety, of our home." I said dramatically, earning a look from Tony.
"What's three times three?"
"Nine."
"What's four times five?"
"Twenty."
"Hey you're alright after all. Okay, twenty-four times thirty-three." Tony smirked.
"Seven-hundred-and-ninety-two."
Tony shuffled to face me better. "Damn, kid. You're really good."
"Told you so."
"What about, four-hundred-and-seven times sixty-eight?" He pushed.
This time I had to think harder, and it took me a couple more seconds to process the numbers.
"It's okay if you ca—"
"Twenty-seven-thousand six-hundred-and-seventy-six."
I opened my eyes, which I didn't realize were clenched until now. Tony stared at me.
"Where did you learn to do that?" He asked in a breathy tone.
I shrugged and bit into another chicken nugget, which was getting cold now. "I've always been good with numbers."
"Me too." He smiled.
"I guess I got the math gene."
...
I struggled to sleep during the night, due to the immense amount of anxiety I had about the next day. Sixth grade can't be that bad can it? I mean, it's just seven hours, with twenty other eleven-year-olds running around, and middle-aged women telling us what to do. Actually, I was right. It does sound bad.
I rolled over and breathed in deeply. I stared out the window at the ocean and the lights in the distance as they blinked on and off. All of a sudden, there was a bang from downstairs which made me jump. I sat up and looked toward my door, even though I could only see the light around the perimeter in the darkness of my bedroom. I peered at the clock on my night stand and read '2:34AM'.
I pushed the covers off my body and scooted to the edge of the bed. Hopping off and padding over to the door, I twisted the handle and squinted as the hall lights hit my eyes. Another thump sounded, and I could tell now that it was coming from the basement, in Dad's workshop. I felt a hint of worry in my gut and decided to go check on him. Going down all of the spiral staircases made me dizzy.
My bare feet met the metal flooring in the basement and I scanned my hand on the wall. The door slid open.
"What're you doing up?" Tony asked, looking surprised to see me.
I shrugged. "Couldn't sleep." I leaned against his desk.
"Did I wake you?"
I shook my head. "No, I've been awake for a while."
He picked at some metal in his hands, and seemed to hesitate before speaking again - something he does a lot. "Anything bothering you?"
"Not really. Just nervous."
"What about?"
"I don't know. What if the other kids don't like me or don't want to be my friend? Or what if I'm not as smart as them and can't do any of the work? Or what if the teacher is terrible? Or what if—"
"Victoria." He cut me off. "If the other kids don't like you, that's their loss, and they're idiots. Your teacher will be fantastic, don't worry. I've already done research on the school, I know all about your teacher. And you proved to me earlier just how smart you are!"
I sighed and picked at some skin on my finger, something I do when I'm nervous.
"Look," Tony said, laying the metal scraps on the desk and turning in his spinny-chair to face me. "Victoria, you are my daughter, and even though I didn't know that until a week ago, I do know that you are smart. I was just like you when I was your age."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I mean - not to toot my own horn or anything - but I was advanced. I was good with numbers. In fact, that's probably all I was good at, according to—" he cut himself off.
"According to who?" I pushed.
"Uhm... my uh, my father."
"He didn't think you were good at other things?"
He shook his head. "Nah. He was a good father, but he wasn't a great Dad."
"Was?"
"Him and my mother were killed. Years ago."
"I'm sorry." I said quietly.
There was a moment of silence. "My mother was a great person," he spoke up again, earning my attention back. "An amazing woman. She gave me everything my father didn't, or wouldn't."
"She sounds amazing." I smiled. He looked up at him.
"She was."
"What was her name?"
"Maria." It seemed to hurt him to say it.
Again, another moment of silence.
"What's your middle name?" He asked suddenly. I was taken aback at first.
"Uhm— I don't have one. I was Victoria Pearson and now I'm Victoria Stark."
"Victoria...Maria...Stark." He said slowly. I smiled when I realized what he was talking about.
"Victoria Maria Stark," I repeated. "I like that."
"I do too."