CHAPTER 6 - Avengers assemble!

I'd gone to my room as quickly as possible after telling what I'd seen. Locking the door behind me (well, having JARVIS lock it) and going onto my computer to look for a reply from my mom.

To no hope.

Instead, I went to my bookshelf where I'd placed the six books. I'd sorted them after years, and picked up the first in the row - a red notebook with a golden pattern on it.

I climbed onto my bed, got comfortable, and opened to the first page.

I'd placed the picture there, and smiled to the woman on it before moving it to the side.

Diary of Kate Diane Wilkins

1969

I flipped another page, and reached the neatly written words in gentle cursive.

28th of may, 1969:

Dear diary,

I have never written a diary before, but based on recent events, I believe starting one is a good idea.

If nothing else, it might help me get some clarity. And God must know I need that.

The other day something happened

My door opened, and I quickly sweeped the diary under the bed cover.

"I asked JARVIS to lock the door," I told my dad as he closed it behind him.

"I know. My orders are higher up than yours," he explained. He wandered over to the desk and found himself a seat on my desk chair.

"You okay?" he asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Did Steve tell you to go ask me that?" I asked. My dad smiled.

"He did. But that's not why I'm here," he promised.

"Yes, it is. It's fine. Tell Steve that I'm fine and that the two of us had a heartfelt talk and that we're not bffs," I advised. My dad looked amused at me.

"You think he'd believe that?" he asked; "No, I'm here because your birthday's in two months." I looked at him with my mouth open.

"No way! It is?" I asked excitedly; "How old am I turning?"

"You're turning 17 and don't act so surprised, I know your birthday," he argued annoyed. I looked unimpressed at him.

"Augusttttttttt... Twelth?" he asked.

"Fourteenth," I corrected; "Close, though," I complimented.

"I wanna throw a party for you," he admitted.

"As long as there's tequila I'll be there," I joked, trying to bother him enough for him to leave.

"Very funny. I know you don't drink," he informed.

"Oh? When did I quit drinking?" I asked, seriously curious as to my life. This was like reading things in the magazines. It's always interesting to learn new things about yourself.

"Seriously. I wanna throw you a party. On your birthday. Invite all your friend. Anyone you want. Even Liam," he added.

"My only friend is our roomba. And I can invite Liam even though he's Hydra?" I asked seriously.

"Not funny," my dad commented. I smiled sassily.

"I need to get back, though. They've called in the twins," he explained.

"Who are the twins?" I asked curiously and sat up properly.

"Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Wanda does weird mind stuff and Pietro runs fast. I don't know why everyone is so impressed," he admitted.

"Wait, how fast?" I asked curiously.

"Very fast." I thought about it.

"I wanna meet them," I stated. My dad smiled.

"Another day. Right now, we need to work on whatever's going on. And you need to rest," he added quietly.

"Yeah. I'll head to bed in a second," I promised.

As soon as he left I found the diary again and flipped to the same page I'd been on.

If nothing else, it might help me get some clarity. And God must know I need that.

The other day something happened. Something I couldn't possibly hope to comprehend.

I think I might have travelled in time.

I was in our living room, thinking back to the day my father brought home Woolie, our dog. And suddenly I found myself there, that very day!

It was like watching a play, I could see my mother, father and myself, but they, we, could not see me. I was only there for a few seconds before returning to my time.

I'm still not quite sure what to make of it. I have not told anyone yet, mostly because I fear their response.

Was it all something I imagined?

I do struggle to believe so, as it was much clearer than my memory of the time. I was merely eight, and until now I had forgotten details such as the clothes we were wearing.

How would I know it now?

I will write in you again eventually, diary, hopefully tomorrow.

Until then,

Kate Diane Wilkins

I turned a page, not sure what to make of it.

29th of may,1969: Dear diary,

As you can see, I managed to write again today, as I had hoped I would.

I feared it would not be possible, as Mrs. Watson might not give me the chance, but luckily I succeeded.

I suppose I should tell you a bit about myself.

My name is Kate Diane Wilkins. I'm 14 years old, and I live at St. Christies orphanage for girls. We're eight girls in total. Me, Celia, Lily, Margot, Rosemund, Thalia, Abigail and Jane.

My mother and father are dead.

Our house is still for sale though, and yesterday I went to see it. That's when I travelled.

Mrs. Watson is not very kind. It feels as if she doesn't like me, however I do not know why that would be, as I have only been here a month.

I miss my dad. I miss my mom. I miss Woolie.

I must be honest, diary, and say that so far, I do not like it here. The other girls aren't all very nice.

Celia is 11, and cannot stop talking it seems. I fear she must run out of words and combinations of them soon. Perhaps then she'll find another victim to strangle with her scarf of words.

Margot is almost 18, so even if I am not fond of her, she'll be leaving soon. Rosemund is merely seven, so I'll be leaving before her. She doesn't talk. I have not yet heard her say a word, but the first day I was here (about a month ago), she gave me a drawing. I've hid it under my bed.

Thalia is a bit of a troublemaker. I don't think Mrs. Watson likes me, but I am certain she dislikes Thalia. Abigail , I believe, is around 16, and quite the good girl. I have been here a month, and thanks to my little secret trip home yesterday, I have already done more wrong than her.

Lily... Lily. Lily cannot be described in words. And even if she could, I would have no chance of doing so. She is incredibly out of my league.

The first day I arrived, she wasn't here. She gets to see her parents still, but only for short visits.

I felt weird reading it. It seemed awfully private, and I didn't even know Kate.

I decided to close the book, put the picture back in, and place it in its spot on the shelf again before heading to bed.