The next day, Katarina called home. She was staying with a friend, though wouldn't say where, and she didn't know when she'd be back. If she'd be back. Mama pleaded with her for a long time, begging her to come back home, promising that things would be better. Katarina agreed to call home once a week, but she refused to do any more than that. 

"Just tell me you'll stay safe," Mama whispered into the receiver. The line went dead.

A horrible wind whipped through the trees, whose overgrown branches screeched across the windows. It sounded like the world was howling in pain. Enid watched the branches bend so low their leaves brushed the ground. She'd never seen weather like that, not in D.C. Sure, it got cold in Winter. Sure, it snowed sometimes. But this felt wrong.

Her suspicions were confirmed when someone started rapid-fire knocking the front door. Peter was on the other side, eyes wide as he barged in and grabbed the discarded TV remote from the futon. "Peter, what's going on?" Enid asked, watching him flip between channels so fast it made her head spin. 

He stopped on a channel broadcasting what was supposed to be the grand unveiling of Trask Industries' newest invention. Instead, the beautiful stadium was torn to shreds. People were screaming. And the man in the center of all that destruction, all that fear, was Erik---obscured by a metal helmet and cape, arms outstretched as he commanded the loaded guns to turn on their users, floating in midair as if suspended by invisible strings. Enid didn't recognize him. That thing wore Erik's face and used his voice, but those eyes held no sympathy, only hate and rage. 

He was in the middle of a raging speech, and Enid listened. "Today was meant to be a display of your power. Instead, I give you a glimpse of the devastation my race can unleash upon yours. Let this be a warning to the world," he said, then looked directly into the camera. "And to my mutant brothers and sisters out there, I say this: no more hiding, no more suffering. You have lived in the shadows with shame and fear for too long."

It felt like he was looking through the screen, speaking to her deepest fears and desires. Her heart shattered. Erik wanted to help their people, keep them safe, help them grow...but he was going about it all wrong. Violence only breeds more violence. Enid was smart enough to know that. "Come out, join me, and fight together in a brotherhood of our kind! A new tomorrow....that starts today." As the guns began to rack themselves, Erik smiled. 

"Oh my God," Enid murmured, one hand rising to her mouth as she started pacing. "This can't be happening. I mean, we just helped that guy escape prison! We've just aid and abetted a mass murderer! I'm too young to go to jail." Then she stopped, heart dropping to the pit of her stomach. "Where are Charles and Hank and weird future guy? Shouldn't they be there?" Her mind raced, and soon it was flooded with horrible thoughts. She was so panicked she started to externalize. "What if they're hurt? Or worse? What if they need help? We have to do something!"

Peter grabbed her by the shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. He just looked at her for a moment. That girl who thought too hard and cared too much, who was willing to put herself in danger for near-strangers if it meant keeping them alive. Before he could say anything, the broadcast, which was still playing in the background, sent another voice cutting through the silence. 

"You want to make a statement?" 

Both Peter and Enid stared back at the screen, captivated by the President's words. 

"Kill me. Fine. But spare everyone else."

The President stood with his hands raised in surrender, edging himself away from the crowd of civilians and officials alike cowering in the exposed metal safe-room. Erik smirked and approached him. "Very heroic, Mr. President," he replied, pausing a few feet in front of the sacrificial lamb. "But you had no intention of sparing any of us. The future of our species begins now," he growled, as each of the floating guns he commanded shifted their focus, barrel by barrel, until they were all pointing directly at the President and his box of followers. 

Out of the corner of the fuzzy image, a strange robot started crawling its way into frame. Chest blazing red, arms functioning as rifles. Slowly and deliberately, the device began to bend, the corners of its chest folding outward until its innards were sprawled on the ground, leaving the creature to writhe while Erik watched it with pleasure.

Erik's back was turned. 

The President pulled a gun. At the sound of it racking back, Erik turned around. Not fast enough. The bullet raced through the air, cutting through the man's neck. Gargling, Erik and his guns collapsed. And the President's image went blurry, before his skin rippled with scales and he shifted into something else entirely. 

Enid watched with such intensity she forgot to blink. The woman was brilliant blue and she was holding a gun toward Erik. Peter's breath caught in his throat. Erik was down, clutching his throat with one hand and bracing the ground with the other. The blue woman approached him and they spoke. It seemed they knew each other. The audio wasn't good enough to pick up on what they were saying, but whatever it was resulted in the woman kicking Erik so hard he passed out cold. 

"Did you see that?" Enid said, knowing full well Peter had. But then the woman raised her gun, this time pointed at the same people she'd just defended. What was she doing? The teenage mutants watched, silently, as the gun quavered in her hand, as she started to cry. As the gun dropped to the ground. 

"She just...saved everybody."

Peter watched the screen with wide eyes as the fallen man regained consciousness and took the opportunity to escape, floating himself out of frame and, presumably, to someplace he could hide. After a stunt like that, the government would be after him like flies to a corpse. It was in those final moments that something clicked in Peter's mind. He didn't say anything. The broadcast cut to black.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was Monday, and everything felt normal. For once. That broadcast sent a wave of mutant support through the nation, obscuring the anti-mutant sentiments for a little while at least. On the streets, Enid overheard people talking about the heroic actions of Mystique, the blue lady on TV, how she saved all of those people; "not all mutants" was something Enid heard often in the days following the incident. 

The pressure in Enid's chest felt like a distant memory. That Monday, Enid dug her old bicycle out of the garage for the first time in years. It used to be blue, but much of the paint had been scratched away, revealing the steely gray underneath. Despite how worn out it looked, the brakes still worked and the chains were alright. After pumping up the tires, she skittered along the driveway, pedaling slowly and attempting to balance herself. Seeing Enid making a fool of herself, Peter walked onto his porch and watched her. 

Brown curls bounced on her shoulders as she teetered in place, having lost her footing. Her sneakers slipped over the pedals as she tried to settle her feet in the grooves. To no avail. The bike started to tip over and Enid's arms started pinwheeling. Before she hit the ground, Enid felt two strong hands grab her around the waist, keeping her upright.

"Need some help there?" Peter said, a dimpled smirk on his face. 

Enid scoffed. "Show off," she replied, worming her way out of his arms and dusting herself off. "I was doing fine!"

"Sure, you were."

"I was!"

Enid pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. Peter laughed. "Well, I was just gonna say, we never got that ping pong rematch.....I mean, if you're not too busy falling off your bike."

"Only if you promise not to cheat," Enid decided, raising an eyebrow. 

"Deal," Peter said, then cocked his head to the side. "Hey, wanna see something cool?"

Every time Peter wanted to show her 'something cool', it usually resulted in a near-arrest....or a swarm of angry bees. "Okay....?" At that, Peter stepped forward and put one hand behind Enid's head, firmly pressing into the nape of her neck. "I'm already regretting this decision."

"Don't worry," Peter reassured. "You'll only feel dizzy for a second."

"Now I'm really, really regretting this--- decision." 

Before she finished her sentence, everything went blurry for a second. That was the longest second she ever experienced. It felt like she was in a roller-coaster that just reached a long drop, pushing her hard into the plastic seat and making her head go woozy. Except this was a hundred times more intense than that. Enid closed her eyes, trying to force away the nausea that swept through her system. She reached one hand out to stabilize herself and hit a wall with her knuckles. Where did that wall come from? When she opened her eyes, she was in Peter's basement, leaning against one of his boxes of twinkies. 

"It happens to everybody, it'll pass," Peter said, as a high-pitched drone sounded, signaling the end of a Pac Man game. 

Enid realized he ran her there, and a childish grin erupted on her face. "That's so friggin cool, you know that?" She said. "How come you never did that for me when I was running late for school, huh?"

Peter shrugged. "It's more fun watching you run around like an idiot," he replied.

"Fuck you, man," she joked, shoving him in the arm. "Now let's play some ping pong."

For the first time ever, Enid actually put up a good fight. The score was 97-99, with Enid in the lead, and they were playing to a hundred. Enid was serving. Deep breath, in and out, then bounce, then swing. The ping pong ball soared across the table, bounced once, then twice, then fell off the table. Clink, clink, clink as it slowed down and landed near the big green couch. Enid let out a loud whoop, jumping up and down.

"Ha!" She said, waving a finger at Peter. "Look who's ping pong master now!"

Peter pouted as he hurled a box of twinkies at her. "These are sacred," he said. "Get a sugar coma for me, would ya?"

Enid narrowed her eyes at him. "You know where these are going? The freezer."

"Blasphemy!"

She laughed evilly, clutching the box tightly. "They're mine, I can do what I want with them," she defended.

Peter collapsed onto the couch with a groan, like he'd been shot in the heart. He took up nearly the whole thing. Enid put down the box of twinkies and flopped down on the only open couch cushion, lifting up his feet so they rested on her lap. "You know, I wouldn't mind just staying here forever," Peter said.

"What, in your mother's basement?" Enid snickered.

"Well, I mean, yeah," he said. "But you're there, too."

There was a pause. Too long. Enid broke it by taking advantage of her position and tickling Peter's feet. He kicked her hands away, laughing uncontrollably. "Stop!" He begged, tears coming to his eyes he was laughing so hard. "Stop, I can't breathe!" 

"Still sure you want me here bugging you for eternity?" Enid joked, as Peter tucked his knees into his chest, covering the bottoms of his feet with his hands. She didn't let that stop her onslaught of tickling, leaning over him with her mischievous grin. While she was unsteady, Peter unwound his hands and attacked her sides. Enid gasped, then curled up into herself trying to defend her ticklish spots. Something she now regretted telling Peter about. Within moments, it was Enid who couldn't breathe, rolling with laughter. Laughing so hard she rolled right off the couch and onto the floor with a solid thud. "Ow." 

"Maybe you should be more careful," Peter mocked.

"You suck," Enid said, picking herself up and wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I regret nothing!"

Then both of them broke into laughter. It was then that Enid knew what Peter was talking about, wanting to stay there forever. Moments like these were too short. Enid wished she could bottle up that moment and keep it close to her, so she'd always be able to crack the lid off and swim in that bliss for as long as she wanted to. Peter now leaned over the couch, his arm draped off the edge. So close Enid could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. Realizing this, Enid was quick to get up and brush it off. "What time's it getting to be?" She asked, scanning the room for the clock. 

"Probably four-ish?" Peter guessed, sitting up.

Enid sucked in a sharp breath. "I'd better head home," she said. "Mama's probably wondering where I am."

It felt wrong, rushed. Both of them recognized it. Peter was disappointed. Whenever he got close to her, felt that weird heat rush to his face, Enid would slip right through his fingers. He didn't know that Enid was trying to fight off the very same feeling he was trying to feed. Those kind of connections were dangerous for a person like her.

"Oh," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Enid started for the stairs, but Peter grabbed her arm. She turned over her shoulder, meeting his gaze. It melted her from the inside. Peter thrust the box of twinkies into her hands. "You almost forgot these."

"Thanks," Enid said, shifting the weight of the box between her hands. 

"Hey, uh, did I...do something wrong?" 

Enid's eyes went big. "No, no, not at all," she said, shaking her head fervently. "Why would you think that?"

Peter didn't know how to reply, so he just shrugged. "It's nothing, I guess," he said. "Tell your mom I say hi."

The girl stared at him. He was a bad liar. But she knew that every secret he kept was for good reason, he'd never willingly hurt her. After ten plus years of friendship, that much was clear. "Sure thing, Pete," she said, waving before ascending the stairs, saying goodbye to Ms. Maximoff, and heading home.

Leaving Peter standing at the base of his stairs, mentally kicking himself and wondering if he'd ever get the balls to actually make a move.