keep forgetting to mention that I changed Elenora's age so she's turning 16, not 15. Sorry for the confusion.
foreshadowing? yes please
please comment and vote, loves!
"YOUR DADS PUT THESE RULES in place, not me."
"I know, Aunt Tasha."
"Okay then, say it with me."
"Okay."
"I will not leave New York City."
"I will not leave New York."
"City."
"There are cities in New York, that is correct."
Natasha dropped a manila file against the lab table with a thud as she forced eye contact with Elenora. She looked less than amused, but happier than angry, and Elenora knew that if she treaded carefully enough, she could get away with what she needed to do. After all, Natasha wasn't an unreasonable person.
"I'm not going to die," Elenora promised lamely.
Natasha was clearly not buying it. Elenora didn't need to die for Steve and Bucky to be mad. She had to be mildly injured. And it was easy to get mildly injured anywhere. "I'm not worried about you dying," Natasha told her. "I'm worried about me. Your dads will kill me if they knew I let you go wherever you're going without their permission."
"They don't have to know," Elenora offered a simple solution, taking her hair tie from her wrist and fiddled with it. "You won't even have to know, honestly."
"Whatever you're thinking of doing better not be dangerous," Natasha warned, watching the girl gather her hair into a ponytail. Though she'd never admitted it, Natasha was feeling a sort of pride at this rebellion. Elenora had grown from a shy little girl to a real teenager. Romance and rebellion and all.
"It's not dangerous," Elenora promised. "Just far. And not even that far. I'll be back before you notice. Please, Aunt Nat? I'll be super careful. And I'll help you and Uncle Bruce hide all of Uncle Tony's screwdrivers."
How could she resist?
***
Peter was on top of the Avengers Towers at six-fifty, waiting for Elenora. She had managed to get away from Natasha five minutes later and joined him.
Both of their masks were off as the stood on the helicopter pad, and they spoke as Elenora began tucking away the braid Natasha had done for her.
Peter was staring.
Elenora paused her motions and met his eyes. "Can I help you?" she asked, her hands stopping their motions midair as she tried to figure out what was going on with him. His eyes went from her hair to her and got wide.
"Uh, sorry." He tore his eyes away from her braid. "It's just, well, I thought your hair looked nice."
"Oh." Elenora suddenly felt bad for being harsh. She had never really gotten used to compliments from her dads, either, and so this from Peter was new too. "Thanks, P. Your hair is really nice, too."
It was so awkward that the second they made eye contact, both Elenora and Peter burst into laughter.
"That was awful," Elenora spectated between fits of laughter. Peter nodded in agreement.
"Totally."
"We're better at kissing," Elenora said, tugging the rest of her hair into her suit before stealing a glance at Peter who was open mouth gaping. "Relax, P! I'm just messing with you!"
"This is stressing me out," he announced suddenly, pointing his finger at her. "Not funny. Very not funny. I can never tell when you're joking."
"Use your spidey senses," Elenora retorted, zipping up the last of her suit and leading Peter to the edge of the west wall. He followed after her, jogging, claiming that it was most definitely not how it worked. Elenora rolled her eyes but moved on to the next subject. "So we drop off at the door closest to Charles' office. Once we're there, he'll see us, and invite us in and probably offer me cookies because he loves me."
"Or because he'd like you to leave," Peter commented, cocking his head in a joking manner. Elenora shoved him before going on.
"Then we ask him what is going on with Pietro. If Bridgit is right," she said, tugging a loose curl behind her ear, her eyes squinting as she focused. Peter noticed this. He noticed a lot of things about Elenora. "Which she should be," Elenora continued, completely oblivious to Peter's lovesick stare, "we find Pietro. Talk him into coming back."
Peter thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, That seems easy enough. Do Bridgit or Connor know we're coming?"
"They are both fully aware," Elenora confirmed, checking the test of her suit to make sure everything was secure. Natasha was right - if Elenora got in any physical trouble, she wouldn't be allowed out of the house for months. So today was her careful day. Once Steve and Bucky we're back, she was prepared to transfer to risky Elenora and have some real fun. "After Bridgit told me, Connor insisted he'd be kept in the loop."
Peter checked the time in his suit and extended his hand to Elenora. "We have to get going," he urged, stepping on the edge of the building, eyes on Elenora's hesitant figure. She was always nervous about jumping from this building, but Peter knew just how to get her up. "We've got it, El. My web-shooters are filled up."
Elenora paused a moment before grabbing his hand and mumbling something about how her entire life depended on the strength of a string, and how she didn't like that very much. Nevertheless, she grabbed Peter's hand, tugging down her mask, and when they jumped, only truly believed she was going to die for half a second.
The trip to the Institute wasn't like the normal methods of swinging Elenora had gotten comfortable with during patrol; since they were practically in the middle of nowhere, Elenora and Peter had resorted to trees, street lamps, and eventually just catching a ride on the top of a moving semi truck.
The last method was the most nerve-wracking to Elenora.
At maybe 75 miles an hour, the wind was a strong force, pushing against Elenora and Peter with such strength Elenora truly feared that her grip on Peter's hand was not enough to keep herself tethered to the cargo vehicle. Peter must've had the same worries because he used his webs to secure their hold on the top of a handle, and held Elenora back almost completely to his chest.
An hour later (or maybe else; Elenora's sense of time was altered by how close she was to Peter), they were at the Institute, unharmed.
The two of them were walking to the front of the school - the right to the double door entrance that used to terrify Elenora - when the wooden doors suddenly swung open and outstepped Professor Erik with an extremely agitated expression.
"It is not Halloween," he sneered. Peter and Elenora looked at each other and then back to the professor. Their masks were still on, but they could both sense the confusion from the other. Unphased, the professor continued on. "As you have already triggered multiple security precautions, I suggest you two imbeciles-"
"I heard the alarm," a gruff voice broke in. It was Logan, but as Elenora would guess, a drunk, half-asleep Logan. "Who's out there?"
"Some children in costumes-"
Suddenly, it set in Elenora's mind that it was very dark outside, being night, and all, and Erik Lensherr might not even know who she was.
So she took off her mask as Logan stared down at the two "children".
"Hey, Professors," she greeted, taking a few steps forward, now more comfortable with the whole situation. Her confidence influenced Peter, who followed her lead, up to the driveway and to the front door.
They stopped right before the teachers, who exchanged a look before looking back at Elenora and Peter.
Elenora asked, "Could you tell me where my uncle is?"
***
Erik was not pleased that he had made himself a fool in front of his colleague, and the utter distaste was evident in his voice as he expressed his opinion of two junior Avengers appearing at the steps of the Institute at an "ungodly" hour (it was 8:30). Logan told him to get some rest, and that he'd direct the two to Charles' office.
Elenora thought this was highly unnecessary, as she already knew where her Uncle's office was, but said nothing against Logan's offer.
Once the three were separated from Erik, Logan asked, "Something happen at home? What are you doing here?"
"Nothing happened," Elenora reassured him, though she wasn't really sure he needed to be reassured. "Just have a few questions, and I think Uncle Charles could really help us out."
"Alright," Logan said, taking a turn. He glanced back at the two as he spoke again, "Just be careful, alright? It's a sorta bad day for him."
"A bad day?" Elenora repeated, her expression cloudly with confusion.
Logan stared at her assessingly, but then looked away. "Nevermind," he mumbled, finally reaching his destination. "Just don't mess around with him, okay?"
"Wasn't planning on it," Elenora said, but Logan was already halfway down the hallway, leaving Elenora and Peter alone and in silence.
Peter looked to Elenora, deeply troubled. "Is everyone here this callous and cryptic?"
"I wish I could say no," Elenora admitted, pulling her eyes away from the corner Logan disappeared from, and looking back to Peter. With a shrug, she knocked on the door, and when she heard Charles' voice, opened it immediately.
He was already mid-sentence by the time Elenora and Peter had tuned in.
"- suspect it was nothing more than a rabbit, then," Charles said, not looking up from his notebook as he spoke. Elenora realized that he thought she was someone else, but before she could speak, he was talking again. "How it set off a million alarms, I'll never understand, but those blasted things can never seem to go a week without triggering something."
"It wasn't a rabbit," Elenora told him the second she thought he was done speaking.
Something about his speech was off. He was straightforward and precise, but his syllables seemed less pressed than usual and his voice didn't have the particular softness it held when he was mid-study.
At the sound of her voice, Charles' head shot right up. "Elenora?" he asked incredulously, blinking a few times. With one hand, he rubbed his face, and the other reached below his desk, and the sound of a shutting drawer was heard.
Peter looked to Elenora as if to mention some of the tension, but she had her full attention on her uncle.
"It's me," she confirmed, taking another step forward. Peter, unsure of what to make of the situation, hung back.
Charles stared at her for a moment longer, something more than just surprise in his eyes. Soon, he snapped out of it. "Did you call?" he asked, pressing a few buttons on his desk telephone. "You'll have to excuse me, I haven't-"
"I didn't call," Elenora told him, her face telling Peter that she knew something was wrong.
"Oh," Charles said, pausing his motions before looking back to Elenora. His eyes were muddled by something, more than the alcohol Elenora could smell from a mile back. It was like a sadness, but ten times deeper. "How can I help you, Love?"
Elenora paused a moment. He'd never called her "Love" before. She didn't mention it but glanced back at Peter. He could smell the alcohol too.
"We're looking for someone," she began to explain. "A mutant. Well, not really a mutant, but he'd seem like one. He'd definitely have arrived with a mutant, a girl with the ability to duplicate."
"Very fast?" Charles checked, not even bothering to give Elenora the whole speech about confidentiality she was expecting.
"Yes."
"Room one twenty-eight," he told her, rubbing his temple as if he was in pain. Elenora turned to leave but was stopped in her tracks by Charles' voice. "Elenora, Marley is in a very fragile state, so please be, uh, please - what's the word - please be-"
"Cautious?" Peter offered, already opening the door. He wanted out of there, and Elenora could tell.
"Exactly."
"Will do," Elenora promised, slipping out of the door, more lost than when she walked in.
***
"Go to bed, Landon."
"Not until you tell me what tripped all those alarms," Bridgit demanded, her arms crossed over her chest.
Logan watched as the young girl stared defiantly at him, waiting for his next words just so she could argue them.
"It's lights out," Logan told her, crossing his own arms over his chest. His was on hallway duty for the night, and never before had he hated his job more than this. Well once, actually, when he had to pretend not to notice a bunch of freshmen sprinting down the halls talking about Spider-Man. "You should be in bed."
"Not until you tell me what it was," Bridgit defied, standing her ground.
Logan just sighed. He wanted whiskey, not her attitude.
Knowing that she was getting somewhere, Bridgit asked, "Was it dangerous?"
"Yes, it is," Logan confirmed, watching Bridgit furrow her eyebrows in concern. "And I directed them right to your bedroom window so I never have to deal with you again."
Bridgit narrowed her eyes.
Logan narrowed his.
They stood there for a good few seconds before Bridgit had gotten him fairly relaxed, and then bolted out of her doorway, making it a few feet before Logan has caught on, and halfway down the hallway before his hand grasped her arm. But by then, she'd seen everything she needed to.
"That color," she mumbled, squinting as she observed the dying trail in front of her. It was a faint yellow, the shade she had grown used to seeing lead into her dorm every night that summer. She spun on her heal, breaking her arm from Logan as she announced, "Elenora is here."
***
"Oka,y do the professors here usually drink at night?' Peter asked incredulously, too concerned with the regulations of the staff to notice the sinking expression on Elenora's face. She hadn't even seen her uncle in such a state, and she never thought she would. At this point, Elenora didn't even know what to think; why was Charles drinking? Why did Logan tell her to be careful?
Then it hit her like a train. Or a bullet. Or anything fast and painful.
"Beatrice," she said.
Peter stiffened behind her, coming to a standstill just as Elenora did. he recognized that name and didn't feel it necessary to check that Elenora was referring to her mother.
She let out a sigh. her hand flew up to her head, and she began rubbing her temple anxiously. "Pete," she called, her voice strained and filled to the brim with emotion. Peter could only manage "mhm?" "Wh-what day is it?"
"August fourteenth."
"Her birthday," she said simply, but Peter could practically hear the tears welling in her eyes. "It's Beatrice's birthday." She pulled her hand away from her face and spun on her heel to face Peter. He was right - her eyes were watery. The blue in them seemed darker than ever. he reached for her, but she shook her head and bit her lip. After a second, she told him in a shaky voice, "I just snuck into my Uncle's institute, set off a million alarms to ask him for a favor on his dead sister's birthday - oh my God, I'm going to hell."
"No! No, El," Peter disagreed, shaking his head, and stepping forward to hold Elenora's arms, forcing her to look at him. "This is not your fault, okay? It was an accident. Your Uncle will understand. You're trying to help Pietro, El, he's not-"
"Peter?" a voice called out, and Elenora turned away from the direction it came, wiping the tears from her eyes; Connor Peltra.
"El?" he checked, coming down the hallway, a mug in hand. "What's going on?"
Moving his arm to pull Elenora closer and shield her from Connor's prying eyes, Peter explained, "We came to talk to Charles. We needed his help."
"Oh," Connor said, eyes flickering from El to Peter. "Uh, ya know, today might not be the best day to talk to-"
"We already did," Peter said, softer this time. Elenora wiped the last of her tears, turning to face Connor, but still extremely close to Peter.
"I didn't realize," she promised, her expression becoming wild and begging. Peter shot Connor a look.
"It's okay, El, Charles will-"
"She's my mother, I should've known-"
"What the hell is going on here?" Bridgit demanded, stopping a few feet away from Connor and El and Peter. It took her a second, but she realized Elenora was crying. "Did something happen?"
"El just came to talk to Charles," Connor explained before Peter could. "She just went in to see him."
"Oh," Brigdit mouthed, knowing the gravity of the situation.
"Did everyone else realize that it was today?" Elenora demanded, suddenly even more furious with herself. This was humiliating that everyone knew her mother better than her. They knew her Uncle better than her.
"Yes," Bridgit admitted, but then immediately explained further to console Elenora. "But only because it's one of the two days a year that Professor Charles misses class."
"What's the other day?" Peter asked, curiously, trying to pull Elenora into a comforting state.
"Well, uh, the day she died."
That certainly wasn't going where Peter was hoping.
"This is insane," Elenora announced, her arms breaking away from Peter. "I need to go home. Like now. I can never show my face here again- oh gosh," she started again, curling back into Peter's hesitant open arms. When he felt her head hit his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around Elenora a little tighter and looked to her other best friends for help.
Both of them stared at the girl bewildered.
"Hey," Peter called, separating him and El so he could look her in the eye. "We should do what we came here to do, right? Let's get Pietro, and we can figure this all out later."
"Right," Elenora agreed, trying to sober up as she repeated the number drunk Charles had given them. "One twenty-eight."
And then there was a small hoard of teenagers making their way to an emotionally unstable mutant, and her runaway boyfriend.
In her defense, Marley never asked Pietro to abandon his entire flock or whatever he'd call the Avengers. In fact, she told him to stay far, far away from her and the mess that she was and will always create. But he couldn't help himself. He was there once, he told her, that place where it felt like a hazy cloud of brokenness. Pietro promised to help her out of it.
And he brought her here.
The Insitute was supposed to be safe from all recruiting groups. From HYDRA and from SHEILD, and it was supposed to keep Marley far, far away from the Avengers and all sub-divisions of it.
So imagine Pietro's surprise when Elenora showed up in his girlfriend's doorway, all flustered.
"Elenora?" he demanded, standing from his place on the corner of Marley's bed. She had just stepped into the bathroom to change, and he had been keeping her company until one of the professors kicked him out. He was in the bedroom next door and would sneak in after they left, anyway. "What happened? Why are you here?"
"Why are you?" she shot back, her red eyes taken into account by Pietro. He straightened up, ready to ask, but Marley's voice cut him off.
" 'Etro, I can't find- okay, what the hell is Spider-Man doing here?"
When the door knob twisted, Peter had tugged his mask on to protect his indentity. Since she went to school there, everyone knew Elenora was Ghost-X - but Peter was a whole different story.
Marley looked tight at Elenora, observed her suit, her hand slamming to her mouth as her eyes grew wide. "Oh my God," She awed. Elenora glances at Pietro who was staring at Marely, also extremely confused. "You're the girl I almost killed."
"I wouldn't go as far as to say killed-"
Bridgit, the only person who wasn't at that battle, looked to Connor mumbling "wait, what?"
Knowing she'd kill him if she knew the truth, Connor shrugged like he didn't know anything.
As Pietro had grown to know since the first time they'd met, Marley was prone to emotional breakdowns, most of which were triggered by a sense of guilt or responsibility.
He imeddiatelg said, "She was just leaving."
Standing her ground, Elenora told him, "No, I'm not."
Pietro stepped in front of Marely, ignoring her "hey!", and sized up to Elenora. "Yes, you are."
Elenora straightened up. Okay, he wanted a fight? She'd give him one. Besides, Wanda meant more to him than Marley, right? Elenora meant more, right?
"They've been looking everywhere for you," Elenora said. Pietro's eyes flickered to the ground with a roll of his eyes. "Everyone. Tony's sent out like a million agents, Natasha went on a few false calls, and Wanda-"
"Wanda is a big girl. She can handle herself, now."
"She misses you," Elenora tried again, determined not to give up. After all, she probably just gave her uncle a heart attack, so she might as well make it worth it. "She misses you tons, Pietro."
He said nothing.
"You missed Steve's wedding," Elenora went on, taking Pietro's inability to meet her eyes as a good sign. "Clint has been doing everything he can to find you-"
" 'Etro, you should go," Marley urged him, her voice barely a whisper. Her blonde hair was cut short now, Elenora noticed like it had been chopped in a moment's notice. She seemed thinner than before - not that Elenora really noticed things like that, but she looked less healthy. She seemed malnourished. Sleep deprived.
Pietro's gaze fell to Mary, eyes full of a million words and Elenora couldn't make out a single one of them. She realized that Marely was the only one who understood the words in Pietro's eyes.
"I will not leave you." Pietro stood his ground, completely sure of himself.
"You don't have to leave her," Elenora argued, glancing back at her friends for reassuring. "Bring her to the towers."
"So I can get arrested?" Marley cut in, her eyes widening. "No way. I've got this thing about bad food and confined spaces-"
Elenora glances from Marley to Pietro, wondering how that relationship ever came to be. Pushing the confusion from her head, Elenora went on to press, "Please, they won't arrest you. They took the Winter Soldier as their own and he tried to kill Captain America. You got in a mix up with a petty lover man-"
"Wow, thanks Elenora-"
"They'll definitely take you in," Elenora promised, not even bothering to look back at Connor who was letting out small scoffs as Bridgit kept asking him what she was talking about.
The confidence and unwavering sureness in Elenora's voice had both Marley and Pietro exchanging glances. Even Bridgit was believing that she had a shot of being an Avenger. Elenora was truly a motivational speaker in the making.
"Bruce is there right now," Elenora went on, making eye contact with Marley as she added, "Ya know, the Hulk? Yeah, the Avengers took him in, too."
" 'Etro?" Marley checked, trying to see if she was even telling the truth. Marley couldn't tell.
Pietro turned away from Elenora, putting his back to her as he met eyes with Marley. "You wanted out, I thought," Pietro reminded her. "You told me you wanted to be without responsibility."
Marley ran her fingers through her short hair. "yeah, but-"
"Ya know," Peter said, his mask still covering his face. He thrust his thumb backward, towards the hallway. "This seems like a sorta private conversation, so we'll just head out for now." Elenora looked at him with daggers in her stare. "We'll be back in fifteen minutes, and if guys are MIA we will totally get it."
"No, we won't," Elenora disagreed, trying to fight against Peter's grip tugging her out of the room.
"Don't listen to her, she's emotional," Peter excused.
Bridgit added, "Yeah, sorta a rough day for her. Nice meeting you, though."
"Spider-Man if you do not let go of me I swear-"
"Her Uncle's sorta drunk now, and that was kinda weird, so we'll just take her outta your hands," Connor finished, backing against the door frame to let Peter walk Elenora out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Bridgit closed the door behind the three of them, and then all three of her best friends turned to Elenora with their arms crossed over their chest.
"El," Peter called, retracting his mask as he met eyes with Elenora. "I know you wanted to bring Pietro home tonight, but maybe it's best if we-"
"You don't get it," she snapped, the energy that had been calm before now getting exciting on her skin. "If I came here for no reason and can't fix anything, then I'll have made more of a mess than helping and I-I don't think I can take that."
Elenora's voice cracked with such force that Peter thought the floor might crack as well. There was something about sad Elenora, but there was even more about desperate Elenora, and this was desperate Elenora.
None of the three teens had ever faced desperate Elenora.
Bridgit was the first to talk, reaching forward to grab Elenora's forearm before she did. "Listen, okay? Charles is not going to remember this at all."
Elenora looked to Bridgit with curiosity clear in her eyes.
"Please, El, he's so drunk that I doubt he'll recall anything about this tomorrow. And that just leaves Logan and Erik, and neither would say anything. And hey, even if Charles does remember, he won't hold it against you."
"I have an idea," Connor said suddenly, and everyone looked to him. "Peter, Bridgit, why don't you go downstairs to the kitchens. There's gotta be leftovers from dessert tonight. I'll take El, and you meet up with us when you've got something."
"How will we know where to find you?" Peter asked, and Bridgit just laughed.
"C'mon," Bridgit urged, beckoning Peter forward as he tugged back on his mask, promising El he'd back. "Don't think she doubted you would, Lover Boy."
"Don't be jealous, Bridgit," Connor chided, offering his hand to Elenora who accepted after wiping away tears.
"As if," Bridgit scoffed, halfway down the hallway, Peter on her tail.
After a few corners were rounded and the lengths of a few hallways walked, Elenora finally asked, "Where are you taking me?"
"To your mom's room," Connor answered without looking behind him but giving Elenora's hand a squeeze.
His hands were cold, and Elenora bet they always were. Peter's hands were warm and rough, but Connor's were soft and cold. Elenora was relieved that he had cold hands because warm seemed suffocating then.
Elenora had seen Beatrice's room in the daylight. The night time was much different.
Sure, everything was different at night, but something about the way the moonlight cast into the room, creating rays that highlighted the grooves of the wood along with items on the dresser, Elenora felt open. Like she wasn't confined anymore.
She idly stood in the entry of the room, and Connor waited for a minute before slipping past her.
"I think she kept them in her closet," he said, rushing towards the doors of the closet. Elenora paid no mind to him, swallowing hard as she tried to figure out what she was feeling.
She couldn't tell anymore. It felt like a lot, though.
Connor emerged with three photo albums, and Elenora watched him curiously.
As he laid them out on the wood floor, Connor tried his best not to look at Elenora. He knew what she was going through, and he was well aware that she wanted nothing more than to just vanish into thin air. It was like that time Connor thought that Beatrice was his mom, and Devon drank until Charles stopped him.
The horror of mistakes that hurt someone else - it was terrifying.
Connor gestured for Elenora to sit next to him, letting his fingertips brush over the spines of the photo albums.
Elenora just stared at him reluctantly.
"You said that you felt bad," Connor said, shifting his legs so they were crossed under him. "Your mom wouldn't want you to. Come here and see for yourself."
Elenora wasn't sure about any of it. She wasn't sure about being here, about getting Pietro to come home, or about looking at pictures of her deceased mom.
But Elenora was never sure about anything, really, and Connor seemed like he knew what he was doing.
There were pictures. There were a lot and the pictures all had stories that Elenora couldn't remember. But neither could Connor. And maybe that would be okay, and maybe it wouldn't.
Elenora and Connor were looking pictures of Elenora's first Christmas when there was a small knock on the door; Peter and Bridgit slipped in the room, each carrying two plates of apple pie.
And so they sat. And looked at pictures none of them knew the stories to - the only clue was one sentence blurbs on each note.
Elenora had lost a mom.
But Connor had too.
So did Peter and Bridgit.
All of them lost things. They lost memories and chances and hugs and kisses and "I love you"s. Some lost mom's cooking or dad's dancing.
But they never lost everything, and that's the important part. As messy as they were, as confused, they still had something to give, something to believe in, and something to fight for.
When Logan found four teens sprawled out on the ground, a photo album of Elenora and Connor by each of their heads, he knew to do. How to make them feel a little more in control of whatever mess they were in, and whatever was to hit them in three weeks time.
"Hey, Romanoff. Yeah, it's late, but, uh, your kids aren't gonna be coming home tonight. No, it's alright. They'll be fine here."
That night was inefficient in a lot of ways. Elenora didn't get Pietro back, and she didn't convince Marley to join her (they ran off seven minutes after the teens left), she made a mess with Charles (not that he'd remember until the next morning, when her thoughts hit him as she snuck out of the building) and she cried. A lot. And in front of Peter Parker.
But a team is often built on emotions. On trust and shared experiences. And maybe that's just what a rowdy group of trouble teens needed: a connection.