four grim grinning ghosts

(to berlin, and beyond!)

🦇💋

       THIS IS A HERO'S STORY, only it's sort-of in the ad-break, as Isabelle's sprawled across her bed, her head hanging off the side of the mattress. Cerberus — who gave Marie a fucking fright — is resting his heads on her chest, sleeping, whereas Nate sits at her dressing table. Well. It's meant to be a desk, but she doesn't use it for that. Homework's for the drive to school, Isabelle thinks — but, anyway, Cerberus properly freaked Nate out, so now he's sitting a good distance away, just in case Cerberus, like, sends him to hell. (She doesn't really know, but, then again, most people would freak out if they saw a three-headed dog.)

       The issue is this — Isabelle doesn't know what to do about the house. She can't just leave it, can she? She'd feel way too guilty, knowing that for some reason, there's a house on the edge of Central Park, where every second of the day people are being murdered, over and over and over and over...

       So she feels bad. And responsible for sorting it out.

       "I bet you could, like, banish them, or something," says Nate, who's now playing with one of the scrunchies on Isabelle's desk. He's got the pink leopard print one, which looks absolutely fabulous next to his white hoodie, with the Yale logo stitched into the centre. Riley's at home, because of two reasons: (a) Riley cares about school, and (b) she hates ghosts. Which is fair enough... Isabelle got excited when she saw a three-headed dog...

       "I bet you could get a phone call straight to the Pope, right?" says Nate. "Just say you're the devil's kid and they'll put you through."

       Isabelle rolls her eyes. "I bet if we were ever in the same room, I'd combust on the spot, or something," she says.

       "I don't think so?" says Nate, raising an eyebrow.

       "But maybe 'cause it's too much h—up there energy." She points up, towards the ceiling. Obviously she doesn't mean the ceiling, though, which is what her brother would say.

       "Holiness?"

       "Yeah."

       "Maybe we should just make you meet an angel, and then if that's fine, you'll be able to contact the Pope," says Nate. "Can you let me know when he's coming, though? Dad loves him, has a calendar and everything."

       Isabelle looks at Nate quizzically.

       "So your plan, to help these ghosts, is to find a—winged thingie—" This means angel. "—see if I can speak to the—" She coughs. Apparently she can't say Pope either. Cool. "—without dying, and then, ask him to banish the ghosts?"

       Nate nods. "Sounds all right."

       Isabelle gives him a look.

       "Or, you could speak to your dad."

       "How would I do that?" says Isabelle.

       "It's easy," says Nate. "Get a Ouija board. There's all those YouTube videos about people accidentally summoning the devil, but like for you it'll work out all right."

      Isabelle sits up right, disturbing Cerberus, who lifts his head, and then goes back to sleep. She slips off of her bed, starting to pace up and down her bedroom, from the Clueless poster on the back of her door, to the window overlooking the side-street. (The view of the park's in the living room and kitchen, unfortunately.)

       "What we need is a way to figure this out... There's nothing on the internet about the house, apart from that it's haunted and Buzzfeed Unsolved did an episode there once. But like, even they didn't know... We need to look around, maybe, to see if there's anything in the house that could tell us what's going on—wait!"

       She stops pacing.

       "We know something!" she lets out.

       Nate raises an eyebrow. "We do?"

       "We do!" she says.

       Nate frowns. "... What?"

       "They died during a wedding!" says Isabelle, and a smile appears across her face, not because she's happy they died, but rather, happy that she knows something. "That makes it easier, right? Because that could mean that the wedding caused the bloodbath, because the ghosts looked like they had been fighting... Maybe the families were unfriendly, maybe the bride ran and the families fought... I don't remember seeing anyone in a big white dress, so..."

       "Wait — you didn't see the bride?" says Nate.

       Isabelle shakes her head no.

       "You didn't look around the rest of the house, maybe there are other ghosts," says Nate. "Maybe you could talk to them. Ghosts are restless spirits, right? Meaning ones that are evil or some shit... They're gonna go to where your dad's from, maybe they'll speak to you."

       "OK," says Isabelle. "Come with me, though?"

       Nate refuses to go inside the house, but he tags along, standing outside on the grass with Cerberus — or, at least, until Cerberus follows Isabelle into the house. Quickly — and by this, Isabelle means the second she lands into the house — Isabelle realises that she didn't close the ballroom door properly, and now the entire house is covered with ghosts fighting. She gets back outside, feeling defeated.

       "Slight issue."

       They talk it through outside of the house, eventually leaving because Nate's too creeped out. Loser. Isabelle remembers when they went to Disney last summer, and both Nate and Riley got freaked by the Tower of Terror. Isabelle was in her element. Or, like, when they flew down to the Florida, especially for the scare mazes at Universal. Isabelle loved every second. Nate had to take Riley back to the hotel, and Izzy and Elijah went around together instead.

       Anyway.

       They sit in the lounge in The Grimaldi, since they're near it and the drinks are free, now that Isabelle's back in her normal clothes and the bartender recognises her as his boss' grandchild. Isabelle drinks the mocktail that's supposed to be a Bloody Mary... She mostly chose it because she thinks the name's cool.

       "What are we gonna do?" says Isabelle, frowning. "I can't get into the house to look around, how am I gonna help those ghosts if I can't even see what's the problem?" And then she looks at Nate. Nate, her best friend with powers. Nate, the son of Invisi-man. Nate, the kid she and Riley have jokingly called Invisi-boy since the dawn of time. "Wait — Nate—?"

       Nate looks at her, as if to say, you better not suggest what I think you're gonna suggest.

       "Nathaniel Vanderbilt, you piece of shit, they can't even see you, what do you have to lose?" says Isabelle, giving him a look.

       Nate shakes his head. "I'm not swayed by mean-ness."

       "I'll buy you an island," says Izzy.

       "Have one."

       "But you hate it," she says.

       "... I'll give you that."

       The next few minutes consist of this: Isabelle desperately looking for something to blackmail Nate with. And it's hard. Nate's in the same boat as she is, having so much shit it's like, what can you be swayed by? If either of them want anything, then it's put in front of them like that. Riley's a little like that now, ever since her mom got the big promotion when she began working at The Grimaldi, Izzy's grandparents' hotel chain, but still. Nate doesn't bat an eyelid when Izzy says she'll send him to hell, nor does he care when she says she'll let him meet Tony Stark... The only reason he agrees is when Isabelle says she'll make Nate a lord, like they did in the Kardashians. (What? That's where she gets all her best ideas from.)

       So now Nate and Isabelle are walking up the street, towards the house. Nate begins to sing the song from the Haunted Mansion at Disney World, apparently not as worried as Izzy first thought. Isabelle wants to let the ghosts get him, the more he sings the fucking song like the talking graves do in Disney. She's here, admittedly nervous because those ghosts weren't very friendly, and next to her, the little shit is going, "Grim grinning ghosts come out to social—iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiise!"

       Sometimes she hates him. Yeezus Lice.

       When they get there, Isabelle sits on the grass outside of the house, as Nate goes inside, turning invisible after Isabelle breaks the window a little more, enough so that a teenage boy can squeeze through without getting cut. Cerberus appears, and Isabelle plays fetch with him, finding a stick on the ground and using that whilst she waits.

       Nate returns.

       "Right, so, the ghosts have escaped from the ballroom — the fuckers are everywhere now," says Nate.

       Isabelle frowns. "They might hear you."

       "They still think cowboys are a threat, I don't really care," says Nate, rolling his eyes as he brushes dust off of his jeans. "I went upstairs, and there's a locked room. I looked through the keyhole, and if you're after the bride — she's upstairs."

       Isabelle stands up. "Cool. Which room?"

       "Uh, the door next to the weird painting."

       "The weird painting?" says Isabelle, raising an eyebrow.

       "You'll know when you see it," says Nate.

      Isabelle glances back at the house. "Well, if the ghosts are everywhere now, it's gonna be a nightmare to get past them, and upstairs..."

       "Oh, yeah, the groom was full-on weeping outside of the room," says Nate, and Isabelle thinks, surely that's a better way to say what room the bride's behind? "Bit pathetic, really. You get stabbed once and suddenly you're all tears."

       "I..." Isabelle begins, before deciding she doesn't want to get involved. "Sure."

       She glances back at the house. She needs to get back in, but if she can't go through the house itself...

       The window! Duh!

       "Which side of the house is the room on?" says Isabelle.

       "Left," says Nate.

       "Cool," says Isabelle. "I'll be back soon."

       She turns into a bat, and flies up into the air. Honestly, Izzy doesn't know what she would do if she couldn't turn into a bat. She knows it's cheesy, that this is a power of hers, but it's fun. Izzy's never late for things — OK, well, sometimes she is, she's still human, but with this, she has an easier way of getting around. Plus, it makes everything simpler. Need to climb a building? Fly. Need to dart past a half-angel after your head? Turn into a bat, and swerve until you've got the upper hand again. Like, sure, it's annoying she can say the G-word, or the J-word, or anything to do with up there, but this part's cool. She likes this part.

       Isabelle looks at the windows, and she frowns. All of them are covered in ivy, the once-groomed decorations along the exterior now acting as prison bars. She can't even see inside, that's how badly covered they are. Isabelle, bracing herself for a potential fall, turns into herself again, holding onto the guttering with one hand, and resting her feet on the ledge outside a window. This is not a good idea. Isabelle isn't going to spend one second, saying this is a smart thing to do. Because it isn't. Isabelle hopes she'll react quick enough to turn into a bat if she falls, or else she worries if she'll be another addition to the grim grinning ghosts this house is crawling with.

       With her free hand she tries to pull at the ivy, but it doesn't seem to be working. Testing her own fate, she yanks at it, with enough force that she almost falls, and at long last it works. The ivy breaks apart, and she can see inside; and, luckily, as soon as her fingers touch the glass, she realises the window has been open ever since this wedding, and she squeezes her way in.

       A woman in a white dress had been sitting at the dressing table, staring at her own reflection, but then she turns to Isabelle, her brows furrowing. "Who are you?" says the bride, standing up. The veil attached to her head falls behind her, her brown hair still tied up into a pretty updo.

       "My name is — uh, Moroi... Morningstar," says Isabelle. She almost said Isabelle then. Whoopsies! The bride's eyes widen when Isabelle says Morningstar, which she expected.

       "Morningstar?" says the bride. "As in, the devil himself?"

       "That's Dad," says Isabelle, with a smile. "But that's beside the point. I know he isn't very good, but don't worry, because I'm not like him. I help people." The bride is frowning still. She might've been frowning since she died, for all Isabelle knows. "What's your name?"

       "Eve."

       You have got to be kidding.

       "Why do you want to help?" says Eve, and her bottom lip starts to quiver, before she bursts into tears. "There's no use. My family hate his, as soon as the fighting started, I ran up here, I couldn't handle it..." Eve's voice lowers, sounding bitter. "I died up here. I cried and cried until the world stopped. But it hasn't stopped. They are still fighting. They always will."

       OK, so. Izzy's relieved, for a couple of reasons:

       1. Eve knows she's dead. She doesn't know much about ghosts but she knows for a fact that it isn't a good thing, to tell them that they're dead. That information really sucks, you know?

       2. Eve died and stayed here. Meaning Eve has unfinished business. Same for the other ghosts. Meaning... The wedding could be the unfinished business.

       2 (a). Isabelle has a plan. She thinks.

       "What happened at the wedding, though?" says Isabelle.

       "My family has been feuding with his for generations; our businesses were rivals and of course that was enough for our families to despise one another," says Eve. Isabelle nods, her hands resting on her hips as she listens, trying to think of an idea. "But we fell in love anyway... And I thought our families would stop the fighting, but it only got worse... My uncle could never hold his drink, and he drank before the ceremony to make it bearable for him, but by the time we got back here, he pulled a pistol, and everyone began to fight." Eve wipes a tear from her cheek. "I saw him reach for his pistol, too. I hoped he wouldn't do it... I could've stopped it."

       Isabelle looks up at her. "You still can."

       Eve's eyes narrow, confused. "I can't! They're all dead!"

       "But you can help them move on," says Isabelle. She wants to tell her the idea she's got, but then she remembers, what if it doesn't work? She can't give this poor girl high hopes, and crush them immediately. So instead she stops herself. "Listen, I really wanna help you, but I need to figure out what to do."

       "Why are you doing this?" says Eve. "You don't have to."

       But I can help, so I have to.

       Instead she says, "I just think it's really unfair."

       No need to burden this girl any more than she already is.

🦇💋

       IT'S HALF-ELEVEN WHEN IZZY gets back, having changed into her normal clothes and gotten the driver to take her home. She and Nate returned to The Grimaldi, pretending they just went for a walk, nothing Buzzfeed Unsolved about it, and sat in the back of Izzy's dad's shiny black car, watching as the buildings of the upper west side turned into the east side. Home.

       She walks into her apartment building, one of the fancy ones that's next to Central Park. Nate's down the road, with a view of Versace, which is just as impressive depending on the season, and Riley lives a little further away, but this is where Izzy lives. Wedged between the building housing a dead president's wife and an upmarket hotel chain, the Oswalds own one of the floors. Downstairs is a novelist specialising in "girl trash." Upstairs is a dick that got rich selling phone socks. (They sold the company at the right time.) The lobby has a couple of guards since a couple of other floors have other politicians supposedly living there. Izzy says supposedly because most of them are too busy in Washington to come here, save the holidays... Sometimes.

       Normally people have to sign in, waiting at the desk, an Andy Warhol piece fixed behind the computer, but the kind man working there knows Izzy, same for everyone else. Isabelle walks past him, smiling politely, and gets into the elevator. And then she sighs.

       Isabelle looks at her reflection. She's tired, to say the least. Her mind keeps on jumping back to Eve, to the other ghosts that can't stop fighting, and she feels bad for them. She wonders if her dad — the devil one... maybe also the senator one — feels empathy. Maybe it burns out of you, when you go to hell. (Or Washington. Whatever.)

       She wants to help them. After school tomorrow she'll hit up a couple of witchy stores, and see if they've got anything that'll help her. And tonight, before she crashes, she'll google what to do. Maybe they'll be something. She's got to try, right?

       The light in the elevator says floor seven, meaning she's got two floors until she's back home. She fixes her t-shirt, a white one with the Chanel C's stitched, readjusting how she tucked it into her shorts. It's summer in New York and Izzy can feel it — meaning, her mom's vintage Levi's and Von Dutch are back out again, along with her mom's old Chanel Resort pieces. Isabelle's finally old enough to deserve the Chanel tweed blazer and skirt from the nineties, and she needs an excuse to wear it. Same with the gold chains that act as the most ineffective belts ever.

       Izzy loves fashion.

       ... Anyway.

       When she steps into her apartment, Marie is standing next to the windows, her arms crossed. Izzy braces herself for getting told off — let's be real, there's a ton of stuff Izzy should be in trouble for — but instead she spots the other person. And her jaw drops.

       Marie isn't telling off Isabelle. Oh, no!

       Marie's telling off Captain America!

       Isabelle tries her hardest to hold back laughter. She's still pissed off from when he found her at her school, and this makes her feel so much better. Marie scolding him. She doesn't even know what for, but she loves it.

       "Isabelle," says Marie, her brows furrowing. "Where were you?"

       "You know the haunted house in the park?"

       Marie's confused. But, then, why would she know about it? She doesn't like the upper west side, why would she know about their haunted house?

       "The wedding one?" says Steve.

       Isabelle turns to him, and maybe she narrows her eyes too much to be inquisitive, but her point still stands. She's annoyed. "How do you—?"

       "Kids would break into it when I was your age," he says.

       Isabelle sees him smile at her, but she doesn't return one. Instead she frowns, a la Princess Marie.

       "Right..." says Isabelle. And then she turns to Marie. "I talked to the bride. I'm gonna help them move on."

       Marie's frown breaks for a moment, and she smiles softly. "That is actually very good of you, Isabelle," she says. Isabelle smiles back at her. And then Marie looks away, and grumbles, "Far better than what the supposed super soldier is planning to do."

       Isabelle's face lights up. "What's going on?"

       "Nothing," says Marie. "Isabelle, could you please let us talk alone?"

       Isabelle agrees, because really, she's just gonna listen through her bedroom door. She bets Marie knows this, but at least if Marie has told Isabelle to leave, Marie is showing that she doesn't want Isabelle to know whatever they're on about.

       So she leaves the room, and she shuts her door, and she presses her ear to the door. It's not working well, so she slowly opens her bedroom door, and quietly tiptoes down the hall, stopping just at the corner which turns into the living area.

       Marie's voice echoes slightly. "I do not care, Steven—" Isabelle almost laughs. Steven. "I am not helping you with some fight against your friend. You are acting like a child."

       "I know," he says, weakly. "I just can't let Bucky get hurt again."

       Marie sighs. "I can't help you... I'd get into a lot of trouble... If anyone found out, Isabelle's father might fire me — it is my life's duty to look after her, Steven. I'm sorry, but I cannot risk that."

       "It's fine," he says.

       Isabelle's hit a crossroads.

       Here's the deal: she is pissed with him, sure, for showing up at her school, for telling her to stop doing what he encouraged her to do. But, look, she can't help but feel bad. What if it was Nate or Riley? Isabelle would be on her knees begging people to help her. Isabelle would raise hell to help them. She understands where Captain America's coming from...

       ... So Isabelle takes out her phone, and searches flights.

       To Berlin, and beyond!

🦇💋

       THIS TIME, ISABELLE'S GOTTA BE more careful, sneaking out of the country. She's arranged the flights with the pilot her dad uses — a lot easier to get away with, explaining to Marie that she's going to fly up to Washington to visit her father. Marie's unconvinced, but, after Isabelle calls her dad, asking him to play along because actually, she's going to Berlin to get Marie a super special birthday present ("She has a birthday?" her dad asks, and within seconds he's cool with it.) Once Dad's on board the whole thing's set.

       Marie drops her off at JFK, still unconvinced, but Isabelle's already on her way, guided into the private area of the airport. She was kidnapped by HYDRA, sure, but the whole world thinks it's because of her dad's position in the government, since when she was taken, he was rumoured to be running for president. So, to keep her alive, Isabelle's escorted into the private area of the airport, to go through a small security check, check in her bags, all the usual.

       Isabelle's going to Berlin for four days — she's allowed the time off school, her school also thinking she's visiting her dad. And, like, Isabelle does well at school, and her dad donates a considerable amount of money to the school, are they really gonna say she can't go and visit him, the guy that's paid for the new art block? Uh, no?

       Anyway. She leaves her two suitcases to get put on the private jet — she knows it environmentally terrible of her, but her dad thinks a plane will get hijacked if she's on it — and takes her bag with her, the baby pink Birkin she got for her fourteenth birthday.

       The first-class lounge overlooks the parked planes, and if you walk down the stairs you end up where Duty Free and all of that is. Isabelle takes one of the free hot chocolates and walks down to where the MAC stuff is, trying out a couple lipsticks on the back of her hand before frowning, deciding this is boring without Riley, and trudges back up the stairs, feeling defeated. Isabelle misses Nate and Riley. She pulls out her phone to text them, to see what they're up to, but then she catches sight of a boy her age, standing next to the complimentary snacks.

       "Peter? What are you doing here?"

       Isabelle's jaw is almost on the ground. Peter — well, she doesn't know his last name — stands there, half of a croissant in his hand, and he turns around, like he's been caught for doing something he shouldn't be. Which is odd. It's not like he could've snuck into the first-class area. So it must be that he's not used to this... Which is sweet. Look at him, looking all surprised, eyes wide. Adorable.

       He's not as dressy as he tried to be, when they first met. He's in jeans, a t-shirt with a science pun, and a grey zip-up hoodie on top. Isabelle, shockingly, finds this endearing... Satan, what is happening to her?

       "Izzy?" he says, surprise in his voice. He starts to walk towards her, and he begins to smile. "Uh — hey! I didn't think I'd see you again!"

       "Me too!" says Isabelle, smiling. So maybe she thinks he's cute. So maybe she can't help but smile because of that. Sue her. "What are you doing here?"

       "Oh, I'm going to Berlin," says Peter.

       Isabelle's eyes widen. "Really? That's where I'm going!"

       "Really?" says Peter. "That's so cool! I'm here because I've got this internship with Tony Stark. Are you, uh—?"

       "Just going for the sake of it," says Isabelle with a shrug. "Well, no," and she flashes a grin. "I wanna get out of the history quiz tomorrow."

       Peter looks caught off-guard, maybe because normal people don't flee the country to get out of something like a quiz on the Soviet Union. "Oh, uh, sure," he says.

       "You flying private, then?" she says.

       "Uh," says Peter, and then he looks back to the man in a chair, who looks unimpressed. "Happy, sir, are we flying, um, private?"

       Isabelle is internally swooning! Gosh bless this boy! She already wants to pull out her diary, a cute leopard print one adorned with Bratz and Winx Club stickers, and say how she thinks Peter is super, super cute. She wants to text Riley, too. She knows Nate doesn't care, because apparently boys don't feel the need to gush about cute people to their friends, but maybe she'll put it on the group chat so at least he's included. At least he knows, that Isabelle's here, hoping she'll find out this kid's surname so she can start doodling Mrs Peter Whatever in her school binders.

       "Obviously," says Happy, unhappily. Ha.

       Isabelle smiles. "Well if we're going to the same place we could always go together?" 

       Happy looks even more unimpressed. "I don't think—"

       "It would do wonders for the environment! I know it's bad flying private but like, ever since I was kidnapped it's safer for me to do so, but anyway this would be so much better for the world, wouldn't it?" says Isabelle. She smiles nicely at Happy, but underneath there's one message, loud and clear — I'm rich and I'm getting my way, have a nice day! "I'm sure Mr Stark won't mind."

       "Really it's—"

       "Great! I'll let my pilot know."

       Peter looks at Isabelle in shock. She takes his hand, after she's texted the pilot, a nice woman that works mostly for the government nowadays. Flying around senators and all that. "You're gonna love it!" she tells him. She checks the time. She's gotta get going anyway. "C'mon, it'll be here now..."

       "Are you sure this is fine?" says Peter.

       Isabelle nods. "Absolutely!" she says, and she smiles at him. "I mean, the plane's going to the same place, and I always feel bad having to fly like this but Dad and his security think I'll get kidnapped again if I go on a normal plane so really unless I can fly myself, this is the only option for me... Oh, you're gonna love the plane when you see it!

       "We've got everything! There's a TV, like, every box set and movie imaginable — I was gonna watch The Princess Diaries but if you don't want to, that's cool, we've got tons of others — and we've got good airplane food too, but I ask for them to get some Dominoes and reheat it, and let me tell you, Dominoes tastes even better when you're on a flight... But there's the normal food still, just in case, and tons of snacks..." Isabelle looks behind at Peter, who she had been pulling along, towards the exit for the different boarding gates. She smiles sheepishly. "Is this too much? I—I don't make friends that often."

       "Oh, no, it's fine!" he says quickly, his eyes widening, as if worried she's embarrassed. This is sweet of him. "It's just really, really different to what I'm used to, you know? Like, I haven't even been on a plane before."

       "Well," says Isabelle, trying her best to reel it all in. "I'm happy to show you what it's like. They're not scary, or anything... My best friend Riley was the same, but we went to Disney together and she was fine. It's honestly not too bad... Especially with these ones."

       Peter and Isabelle sit together on the plane, and Isabelle crosses her legs on the seat, turning to face him. She's still smiling brightly, but she's trying her hardest to stop herself from going over the top. Like, maybe she thinks he's cute. Maybe she wants a friend. Maybe this is her only way to befriend someone, showing off how much money she's got; look at what I could give you! You want it? You got it!

       Like, when she first became friends with Riley, the first day at Mary Immaculate, it took a while for Riley to get used to Isabelle. And, like, Mary Immaculate runs kindergarten to high school, so Riley's had time to get used to it. Isabelle thinks that Riley understands where she's coming from, and really, if Riley didn't allow it, Isabelle would still do it — it's easier for Riley to let Isabelle buy her stuff. Isabelle doesn't mean to do it, she's tried to stop buying super expensive stuff for Riley, but how else do you show affection? Isabelle doesn't remember the last time she hugged her dad, but you know what she does remember? Him giving her a Birkin, him grinning and telling her how much she'll love it. It's how the Oswalds work.

       "So what are you doing in Berlin, then?" she asks Peter. "Like, for the internship? Is it anything special?"

       "Uh," and then he pauses.

       "Ah," she says with a wink. "Top-secret. I get it... Some smartphone to rival Apple, or some shit, yeah?"

       "Uh—Yeah," says Peter.

       "So what's your part in it? What does the internship actually do?"

       "Uhhhhh, it's nothing too big, just—" Peter breaks off, as the plane begins to move. Isabelle raises an eyebrow at the slight worry across his face, before he smiles nervously. "Oh. It's only the plane moving."

       Isabelle smiles. "It's not that bad," she says, and sort of as a joke, she adds, "I can hold your hand, if you want."

       But here's the thing — when they do hold hands, it's strange. Isabelle's there, trying her hardest not to draw any of his energy, but also, she isn't stupid, she can tell, this boy is strong. She doesn't know how she knows. But this is what happens when you live off of energy. You sense this shit. And Isabelle senses it.

       "Uh, if you don't mind me asking," says Peter, looking a little more comfortable. "Are you really going to Berlin to avoid a quiz?"

       Isabelle laughs. "I'm also getting something for my nanny's birthday," she explains. This is partly true — an auction house in Berlin is selling a chest of jewellery once belonging to Marie's family, which the Nazis took when they invaded Belgium — but it's not the main thing she's going for. And it's not for her birthday, either, it's more of a I'm sorry I went behind your back but I love you? And you said to do the right thing so? Blame yourself? But also I love you and LOOK at this jewellery it was SUPER expensiveeeee!

       "You have a nanny?"

       Isabelle nods. "My mom died when I was a baby, and my dad's busy with work, so it's easier having someone look after me," she explains. She doesn't mention who her nanny is, in case Peter's heard about the lost princess supposedly seen with the Avengers. The thing is — Marie's family never showed her face in the press, in case another war broke out, or if an uprising began, so if need be Marie could escape undetected. People don't know what she looks like, but they know the story. Disney made a cartoon out of it. Sort of a money-grab because of Anastasia's success, but in their movie, the princess is blonde and has a secret prince. (This is Thor. In the cartoon he is called Christopher... A sad downgrade, if you ask Izzy.)

       "She's really nice," says Isabelle. "My dad's been working towards a presidency since the nineties, so he's always busy with work, even my big brother Elijah rarely sees him, and he's way older than us." Isabelle smiles. "Well... He's in college. But that's super old, so."

       Peter smiles at her.

       "What about you, though?" asks Isabelle. "I talk too much. Do you, uh, live with your parents? What about your school? That guy, uh, Ned, is your friend, right? How's he doing?"

       And Peter talks to Isabelle about his life. He says how his parents died, too, and Isabelle apologises, instantly feeling awful. He explains how he lives with his aunt, called May, and he used to live with his uncle, too, but he died. He doesn't go into the details, but then again, Isabelle doesn't talk about her mom like that. But he then talks about the school he goes to, and his best friend Ned, and how they've got a project in chemistry together, and Ned's bummed he's missing class today, because they can't work on it.

       "Oh, same," says Isabelle. "Me and my friends, we do Religious Studies together, because of course we do, we got to a school named after, you know, um, the Big M." The Big M? "But anyway — we've got a project, and we were supposed to start drafting up the script for the presentation, but, uh, 'cause I've got to go to Berlin..."

       Peter frowns. "I thought you were skipping because of a quiz?"

       "Oh, yeah!" says Isabelle. Shit. This is why Izzy has no friends. She can't lie to them. "Yeah, um, well, to be honest, the main reason I'm going is because of this present for my nanny, not so much the test, I just don't wanna sound too soppy, you know?" She laughs awkwardly. "Anyways."

       And she starts to ask Peter more questions. She's genuinely interested by all of this, because it's a life she doesn't live. She doesn't know what it's like, to ride the subway to school, to grab a sub (like, a greasy sandwich, not the greasy train) on the way home from school because it's only a buck ninety-nine. All of it is alien to her.

       But, then, the same goes for Peter, when he asks her about stuff. Not only does she go to a private school, but a Catholic one, where there are masses every couple of days, and some of her teachers are nuns. She gets driven to school by a personal chauffeur. Her grandparents own one of the biggest hotel chains in the world. Her dad was almost president. For her fourteenth birthday one of her presents was a Birkin — a handbag that sells for upwards of eleven grand was one of her presents. When she was fourteen. Her dad lets her buy vintage Chanel, the sort that's the price of a house. The necklace Isabelle wears on the daily is a necklace the Belgium royal family once owned... All of this is alien to him.

       Isabelle likes it, though. She likes how she's from a completely different world, because the more they talk, the more it becomes apparent to her. Isn't it cool, how two people can be from different worlds entirely, and yet they can still get along super well? And, if anything, the differences make it interesting — Isabelle, without thinking, mentions her dad's almost-presidential campaign, and Peter almost chokes on his water, and they laugh about that for the next five minutes. Or when Peter realises Isabelle's never been to Queens, and he goes, "OK, the other stuff? Slightly weird. But you haven't been to Queens? The best borough?" And Isabelle shrugs. "Now that's weird."

       And Isabelle laughs.

       "OK, Mr What's YSL?" she says.

       "You haven't been to Queens!"

       "Well, maybe once we're both back from Berlin you can show me around."

       Smooth, Izzy.

       Peter grins cheekily. "Would you pay me?"

       "Oh, all right, I see how it is, Peter—" Isabelle pauses. "What's your last name?"

       "Parker."

       "Parker," says Isabelle, and to herself, she thinks, thank gosh I know that, my gel pens and school binders and potential "Mrs Peter Parker" doodles are really calling for me now...

lowkey im so happy u guys are enjoying this bc i am loving writing this!!!!! xoxox

(the airport scene's next chapter r u ready)