HER CHEST WAS TIGHT AS SHE DESCENDED THE STAIRS. Bag slung over her shoulder, hair pulled behind her ears. She wasn't hungry enough for breakfast, and surpassed the kitchen to the front entrance. Bronwen waved to a busy Gwen, who was hunched over papers that were scattered across the island bench in the kitchen.
Gwen lifted the mug in her hand, a single to say that she saw Bronwen leaving. Contents spilled onto her hand and she cursed, causing Bronwen to chuckle as she locked the door behind her.
Her small smile turned into a grin as she spotted what was waiting for her at the curb. The first day of school, and Bronwen's mind was running a marathon and a half. Anxiety levels were through the roof. Would anyone recognise her from the news programs that ran repeatedly? Would they stare, or pester her with questions?
Bronwen ran a hand through her hair, shaking tail those thoughts and bounded down the stairs. She took in the silver two-door car that sat idling at the curb of the street. Ned at the wheel, Michelle beside him.
With a pop, the door opened, the seat pushed forward, and Bronwen ducked into the car, bag between her knees. She pecked a greeting on Peter's lips before strapping herself in.
The car pulled from the curb, and in the small space between her and Peter, she grasped for his hand. Cars were still not pleasant rides, especially now that Bronwen knew the truth behind why she was subjugated to a car crash in the first place. The person she had considered a mother in her mind's eye for so long was actually an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, a company that was made to fight against the forces of HYDRA. The car crash was still an accident, but, the purpose was for her to be removed from the compound and taken to a safer place — which was considered Australia until the forces of the compound caught up with them. Found them, being the proper wording.
And from there, Bronwen's memories were erased, and her mind was thrust into a world she could not recognise.
Ned was grinning, Bronwen could see that much in the rear view mirror. Michelle had her headphones in, the girl was still iffy around Bronwen, even after all that had happened to the latter. Michelle mostly ignored the blonde, talking to Peter or Ned or whoever else. There wasn't much to do about Michelle. She took her time.
"First day of school today, Bronwen, how to you feel?" Ned asked from the wheel, slowing to a stop at a set of lights.

In response, Bronwen shrugged, "Anxious, I guess."

"It's been a while."

"Yeah."

The car lapsed into awkward silence. The radio only slightly filling in the gap of silence, music blasting from the singular speaker at the front of the car. Something from the eighties — 'Alone' by Heart.
The silence was broken when Ned pulled into the student car park, reversing in, switching the engine off. Patiently, Bronwen and Peter waited for the seats to be pushed forward, their exits cleared.
The fresh air was a blessing when Bronwen ducked out of the car, her blonde hair flinging into her mouth. She flicked it aside, shouldered her bag, and pushed the car door closed behind her. She waited to advance, hand outstretched for Peter to take. He was grounding her, in every sense of the word. Emotionally and physically, keeping her in place so she wouldn't drift away from the present moment.
She gave Peter a lipped smile as they trailed behind Ned and Michelle.

Crossing the car park, they ascended the short flight of stairs. Doors swung shut, and Bronwen was trapped inside. The busy crowds of Midtown School of Science and Technology loomed before her, the stereotypical categories of the American high school system set out before her, even at a school for 'nerds'. Students hung around in clumps, beside lockers, before doors, even in the middle of the hall. There was no escaping the beady eyes of her former fellow students. No escaping the questions that were soon to bombard Bronwen.
With all the memories jumbling around in Bronwen's mind, the location of her locker had slipped her thoughts. She'd told Peter, and in the blink of an eye he lead her down the halls, and to where her locker was located. She wouldn't be surprised if it was empty, that someone had figured out the lock code and broken into it. Bronwen came prepared, with a spare lock in her bag, ready for the day.
Well, as ready as she could be.
Her hands shook as she pressed them against her locker door, fumbling for the lock, swinging open the metal. She jumped as it squeaked, praying that no eyes were on her, that no one stopped to stare.
Once the door was open, Bronwen paused to take inventory. Everything was in its rightful place, even the old, crappy computer she found on the side of the road. The memory flitted before her eyes, of her piecing it back together, and then finally stashing it there when she'd had enough. When she didn't want to see the mess she'd made.
In robotic movements, Bronwen dumped her bag in the locker, taking out the few books she'd dumped in her bag that morning. She didn't care about the old books that sat on the shelf, and over time she would be bringing them home. Carrying them only to chuck them into the bin. What a waste of a life.
Tugging on the edges of her sleeves, sliding the gloves further up her arms to hide the ugly scar on her right hand, and pushed the door closed with her shoulder. Books wrapped in a bear-hug, Bronwen followed Peter to his locker, sticking to his side like glue. Skirting around the students was the hardest bit, and ensuring no contact was made was a challenge in itself. Bronwen didn't want to make eye contact, make any sort of contact that would forced her to socialise. She very much liked her small band of misfits, of Ned and Michelle and, of course, Peter. No one else was needed.
When Peter dropped down to his locker, whispering a 'going okay' in her ear as she passed, Bronwen smiled. She wondered whether he could see the lies falling from her lips.

∆ ∆ ∆

The morning passed in a whirlwind of colour. Bronwen sat with her tray outside, her three car-pool companions surrounding her. The sun shone. A breeze ruffled their hair. Everything seemed perfect.
Well...
Tucking her hair behind her ear, Bronwen picked up the plastic cutlery on her tray, unwrapping it. She began cutting at the contents of her tray, smiling at a joke Ned made — something about a hat. She didn't understand it, nor did she care. But something about Ned's eagerness made her smile, so she did, and she appreciated the effort it took for Ned to try.
"So, Little Miss Freak is back in town."

Bronwen's hands stilled, the voice coming from behind her. Ten metres away, at least, but the sounds were as loud as day. Too bad there wasn't a bigger breeze to make their voices drift away.
"Yeah, I'm talking about you, Freak."

Peter placed a hand over hers, earning her attention. She gripped the plastic knife tightly, her knuckles slightly white. Bronwen looked into his eyes, and he spoke, "Don't let them get to you."

Don't let them get to you.
Don't let them get to you.
Don't let them—
"Oi! Freak! Why don't you show us a little magic?"

Fuck it.
With a blink of her eyes, Bronwen stood. She crossed the metres between her and the voice. Belonging to the one and only Flash Thompson.
Bronwen wondered why she hadn't killed him last year, and it took her a moment to remember that she didn't know what she knew now. She didn't know how to...
The thought was paused before she could finish it.
Bronwen grit her teeth before him, standing only centimetres shorter, "What do you want, Flash?"

"New accent? Where'd you go during the summer? Russia?" Flash raised a dark eyebrow, leaning against the wall of the building.

She could feel Peter's eyes burning holes through the back of her jumper, she could almost hear him pleading for her to not.
And she wanted to comply.
Bronwen hissed, "You know nothing."

"Sure about that? I saw you all over the news, Freak. Anyone could recognise you."

"That means nothing."

"Does it now?"

"I swear to God, Flash, if you come anywhere near me, I'll—"

Flash chuckled, "You'll what? Brandish your 'magic', or your plastic knife?"

Her glare darkened, and she could hear footsteps behind her. A hand placed itself on her shoulder, and a voice whispered in Bronwen's ear, "He isn't worth it."

She nodded, "You're right." And turned away. Bronwen took two steps, and then lunged, punching Flash Thompson right in the middle of his smug face.

Shorter chapters means more content! Plus, it's too hard to write a lot in one go.
Until next time!
- J