'Mia, you missed last year's finals,' Principal Morita pointed out, frowning. 'You can't move onto the next grade without them. And considering the material they cover, it would only be fair to give you enough time to relearn —'
'I was at the top of my class,' I interrupted him again, getting an eye twitch in return. Aunt May rested a hand on top of mine, and I glanced back to see that I was leaning so far forward I'd nearly left my seat. Back to Morita, I continued, 'I still know the m-material. I mean, it still feels like...it still feels like yesterday, you know? I can take the tests. Just give me a week to prepare. I c-can pass them by the end of November.'
Morita's eyebrows rose, and then continued to rise until I was finished. He was left there, silent for a moment. 'Mia, I really can't advise that. That's just too much work to ask from a young student.'
'I can handle it.' I said, staring at Morita right in the eye. He had to know I meant it. He had to know I was capable. 'Trust me, with all the f-free time I have, I'll g-get caught up in no time. I've fallen behind a dozen times before, and I always get back, every time. I've never had to retake a grade. I-I know I can do it.'
'Mia,' Aunt May's hand on mine squeezed, and I had to force myself back into my seat so I could look at her. She spoke softly, so as not to antagonize. 'I think Principal Morita has a point. You've been through so much…'
'You don't understand,' I looked between the two of them, starting to feel a little desperate. 'I-I need this. I can't stay home, bored all day. Having school, having work to do, I'll be busy. I'll feel normal again. A-and I can't be behind Peter. We're always in the same year together. All my friends are in Sophomore year now. I want to be with them.'
Morita bit his lip, but finally caved. Maybe that last bit preyed on his sympathies, but it was the truth. I didn't want to end up like an overgrown weed amongst a sea of freshmen I didn't know.
He heaved a sigh. 'Okay, fine. I'll see that you're placed in with the Year 2016. But there's still this last semester you have to account for. I can allow you retaking one semester's worth of classes, but two? I'm sorry, Mia, but you'll need an alternative if you want to pass this semester as well.'
I slumped back in my seat, all out of ideas. I was so concerned just wanting to stay in my old class that I had underestimated everything I needed to do. I had only missed six months, but in reality I had lost nearly an entire academic year. I had never been this far behind before. The longest I'd missed school was six weeks. Principal Morita really meant it — I was a year behind everyone else.
But I knew myself better than anyone. I was smart. Maybe I didn't push myself that hard before, but if I put all my effort behind it, I knew I could make this work. Somehow. Some way.
I just needed the opportunity.
'What alternatives do you suggest?' Aunt May finally piped in, giving me relief. As always, the level-headed adult was there to guide the conversation to agreeable results.
Morita still seemed to be thinking about. He shuffled those papers — what I realized to be my file, when I read the words upside-down — tapping his fingers against the top of his desk. 'Well, obviously if you want to stay in the class, you need to meet the class requirements and hours, but I can waive those due to your...well, special circumstances. Really, what we need to see at Midtown is your level of effort, and a lean on developing leadership skills, becoming an active member of the community. Its why we put such an emphasis on extra curriculars, clubs and teams and the like.'
Immediately, thoughts of the Academic Decathlon came to me, and my stomach filled with dread. I clenched the armrests of the chair with the hauntings of old stress. I really didn't want to have to go through all that again.
'Again, though,' he added, with some regret, while I tried to hide my smile of relief. 'It's a bit late to be joining teams. Not that I don't encourage it, of course, you should certainly find more to occupy yourself if that's what you want, Mia. But I'm thinking something more focused. If you really trust your studying skills, then perhaps you could try tutoring?'
I blinked, surprised. 'Tutoring? As in, t-teaching other kids?'
'Yes,' Principal Morita smiled again. He seemed pleased that I was no longer interrupting him anymore. 'It's not a popular option, and it takes a certain mentality and patience, but it's definitely a learning experience all on its own. If you can teach yourself a semester's worth of classes in just a few weeks, then I'd like to see you help other students with similar problems.'
Although he was phrasing it diplomatically, I could hear the challenge behind the thin veil. Morita was still doubtful of my claims, and he was pushing me even beyond my own goal. Why? To see if I could really do it? Or to fail, and prove him right, that I belonged back in Freshman year again?
Well, to hell with that.
'Sure,' I said, trying not to grin too big, in case my enthusiasm revealed the intense levels of spite beneath. Teach myself and other students? Done deal. 'That sounds like s-something I can do. I didn't know Midtown had a t-tutoring program, though.'
'We do, but it's tied with Stark Industries Student Outreach program,' Morita said, nodding. 'They provide services for students around the world, not just for Midtown, and allows children and teachers to connect worldwide. The vetting process is simple, and you're paired with another student, based on your strengths and their needs. It's highly personalized to ensure the best results for both parties. You might end up with someone in this school, you might not. But I certainly think it's something worth trying.'
'So h-how long do I have to do this?'
'Reasonably, for the rest of the semester,' Morita said. 'But passing requires a good review from both the student you're helping and the supervisor who assigned you. Obviously, if you fail to meet the stated goals or objectives of your paired student, or there's a catastrophic problem your supervisor cannot resolve, then you'll have to retake this semester. But if it goes well, you're free to continue participating in the program. Personally, I don't think you'll come into many problems, Mia. From what I've heard, you work well in small group settings.'
'I do?' I said, before wincing at myself. I wasn't sure where he could've heard that from, but it didn't sound entirely incorrect. I could work well with people, when I wanted to. It just depended on who they were. 'Well, okay then. That sounds fair.'
'Good,' Morita said, and Aunt May squeezed my hand again, giving me a victorious smile. 'I'll see that you're set up for an interview at Stark Industries, and we can go through the paperwork, see how soon we can get you back on track. Heck, if everything goes well, maybe you rejoin Midtown by the end of this week.'
That was the best thing I'd heard in ages.
'So, how do I look?'
Aunt May and Peter turned as I stepped out of my room Thursday morning. November 22nd. First day of school.
I was dressed simply. No need to make a big deal out of my return, right? Just wearing the new clothes I got when I went shopping with Aunt May, right after the meeting with Principal Morita. Aunt May had been in such good spirits that I couldn't deny her when she wanted to buy me a nice pair of flat shoes and a formal dress — things I didn't ever see myself wearing, but decided to humor her nonetheless.
Those weren't what I wore today. It was just a new pair of jeans (one that wasn't covered in holes and blood) and some Chucks — bright yellow, my favorite color. And, of course, Mom's old NYU sweatshirt.
Even though looking at it still made me choke up a little bit, I knew I had to wear it today. And, incredibly, it fit now. The hem fell at my hips instead of mid-thigh like they used to. The sleeves were the right length now, but I had stretched out the cuffs with my constant worrying that they no longer fit around my wrists, so I rolled them up to my elbows. The fit was no longer baggy. I actually had boobs (!).
Although my hair was still cut unevenly (still too short to get a trim, in my opinion), a good brushing made me at least look presentable, even put-together.
And as the icing
on the cake, I'd finally taken off the bandage over my brow. It had only been a week, but the angry red wound had healed into a much less grisly pink-tinged scar. The burns had faded to only some slight redness and bruising. The cuts on my knuckles had faded to calluses. Super soldier regeneration at its work. I'd removed the stitches myself, and was preparing myself for the reaming Aunt May would give me for doing something so stupid.
Instead, Aunt May gasped, hands flying to her face. 'Oh, look at you! God, you look so grown up!'
Behind her, Peter grinned, giving me two thumbs up. 'Ned's gonna freak when he sees you.'
'He will not,' I threw him a disgruntled look.
Aunt May was already fetching the camera from the kitchen, and waving me over into the living room. 'Come over here, Mia, I'm taking a picture of the both of you.'
'What? A picture?' I almost groaned, but shuffled over obediently. 'Is this really necessary?'
'This is the first we've had since you got back,' Aunt May pointed out, holding out her hand and guiding me (without actually touching me) next to Peter against the wall of books. Aside from the glasses, he still looked the same, with the sweaters over button-up shirts. As May held up the camera, Peter and I simultaneously made silly faces — without a word shared between us but with absolutely perfect timing, I stuck my tongue out and Peter pulled a hilarious grimace, just as the camera flashed.
'You guys!' Aunt May complained, throwing back her head and looking towards the ceiling as if calling for help. 'Did you plan that? Honestly, sometimes I think you two are telepathic…'
We tried for a second picture, and this time I made a real attempt to look nice, with a genuine smile. Of course, I didn't know Peter was holding up bunny ears behind my head until Aunt May showed me the camera's screen afterwards. I wanted to do another one, but Aunt May must have decided to take revenge for our earlier shenanigans, and chose this picture as the keeper.
'Are you sure you want to wear this thing?' Aunt May asked me later, just before we left. She was currently inspecting my green utility jacket. I wanted to keep it, although it seemed she might need convincing before she'd let me wear it again. May sniffed it and wrinkled her nose. 'Why does this smell like gunpowder? I swear, I've washed this three times already and I just can't get rid of it.'
'It's okay, it doesn't bother me,' I said, making grabby-hands for it. I didn't want to snatch it away, and make her even more suspicious.
Aunt May gave the jacket one last scowl before handing it to me. 'Well, if you say so. I stitched up some of the holes. I don't know how you managed to get them all the same size like that…'
I didn't have the guts to tell her the holes, all exactly nine millimeters in size, were from bullets. It would make her a little less lenient about the smell, probably.
'Must be magic,' I just smiled as I shrugged it on, then grabbed my backpack and headed out the door. 'See you later, Aunt May!'
Peter was still pretty pleased with himself about the picture, so I decided to hide the fact that I'd gotten over my annoyance by the time we reached school. It was actually kind of funny, but I couldn't let Peter know that; he'd already thought himself clever for getting away with it.
'So the interview's on Saturday, right?' He asked, opening up his locker.
Midtown High was exactly as I remembered it. The brightly-lit hallways, the cheery handmade banners, scrap paper littering the floor. I even spotted the tiger mascot tearing down the hallway at one point. I had already seen some of it when I'd met with Principal Morita, but I noted the flyers for the winter dance, and the multiple images of the Avengers — Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, Hulk, the others I couldn't name — scattered throughout.
They were popular here. They were heroes.
But there was nothing to show that anyone here remembered why the Avengers were needed. There was no sign of the Incident in these halls.
I wasn't sure if I was okay with that or not.
'Yeah, at 1PM. It's at Stark Tower.' My back was pressed against the wall of lockers, clutching my new textbooks to my chest and keeping an eye out for anyone I knew. A sea of faces passed me by — most I already recognized, some I didn't, but no friends yet.
I got a lot of stares in return. I could hear them whispering, even from down the hall.
'Who's she?'
'Who's that?'
'Who's the new girl?'
'I don't know, never seen her before.'
'I didn't know we were getting someone new.'
'We're not. Didn't you hear? She used to go here.'
'Really? I don't recognize her.'
'No way. I would've noticed someone like her before. She has to be new.'
It was kind of funny, in a way. I smiled to myself. They didn't even recognize me.
Peter's voice brought me back to the present. 'That's awesome. I got my internship the same way, actually. Hey, maybe you'll actually get to meet Tony Stark!'
I threw him a doubtful look. 'I don't think Tony Stark does interviews for high school tutors.'
Peter just shrugged, pulling out a binder and stuffing his backpack inside. I kept my own backpack over one shoulder. I didn't have much besides my new supplies. I hadn't even visited my locker yet — it was halfway across the school and for some reason I was too scared to go alone, even though I knew the way like the back of my hand.
'Well, no, but you might see him!' Peter grinned. 'I'd go with you, if I could, but I have Academic Decathlon on Saturday from noon to two.'
I gaped at him, my eyebrows flying up. 'Shut up. You did not join decathlon.'
He tried to hide the blush rising up his neck by slamming his locker door shut and bending down to pick up his books. 'Uh, yeah. I figured why not. Might be fun.'
'It's fun, all right,' I threw him a skeptical look, failing to hide a smirk. 'Especially when Liz is there, right?'
'What?' Peter yelped, whirling on me, expression not unlike I'd caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. 'How'd you know?'
'Well, you just told me,' I said with a wink, pulling away from the locker wall to face him. Then I leaned in a little and added in a whisper, 'Also Michelle told me last April.'
'Oh, right,' Peter made a face, apparently forgetting the last time we talked about this. He scratched the back of his head, not quite looking at me. 'I guess you remember that more than I do.'
But I wasn't angry. Instead, I just gave him a playful nudge in the shoulder. 'It's fine, Peter. As long as it's fun for you, right? And I guess you got a lot of free time now, since you quit band.'
'Did Aunt May tell you —' Peter opened his mouth to complain, but was cut off by a new voice.
'Hey, can you move? You're standing in front of my locker?'
I turned around, surprised to see Ned giving me a glum look. He looked tired, maybe after spending another night up late playing video games. And his hair was a little longer. But aside from that, he looked exactly the same, with the Darth Vader shirt and floppy sneakers. I smiled at him, stepping back. 'Hey, Ned.'
He blinked up at me, squinting uncertainly. He didn't return my smile. 'Uh, sorry? Do I know you?'
My smile faltered. Peter peeked out over my shoulder, pointing at me. 'Dude, come on. Don't you recognize her?'
Ned's frown deepened as he glanced from Peter, to me, to Peter, and back again. Then he did a double-take, eyes widening, mouth falling open in an enormous gasp. 'Holy shit! Mia! That's you! W-wow!'
His arms were around me in an instant, and then he was pulling away again, looking me up and down, face red with embarrassment. 'I'm sorry! I just, I didn't so tall now...and kinda, um, kinda…'
I tilted my head, brow furrowing. 'Kinda what?'
But Ned suddenly seemed very fascinated with his shoes. He coughed, something incoherent, but sounded something like 'hot'.
Oh boy. I pressed my lips together, glancing up at the ceiling and did my best pretending not to have heard that as Peter came around so we made a cir
cle together. He put a hand on Ned's shoulder, saying, 'Weird, right? I mean, check it out, she actually cut her hair for once!'
'Yeah, I saw that, too. And the n0-glasses thing. Since when did you ever cut your hair? I thought that was like, sacred or something.' Ned held up a finger, looking a little baffled. I didn't blame him. 'I totally would've recognized you if, you know, somebody ever told me…'
Ned threw Peter a sidelong glance.
Peter smiled sheepishly. 'Sorry, man. Kinda slipped my mind.'
'Yeah, sure it did. It's not like Mia went from Hobbit to Elf in under a year…'
'Very funny,' I rolled my eyes. Honestly, I was a little embarrassed, too, and not just from Ned's comments. For some reason, it hurt that he didn't recognize me. At first, it was funny to me, but only because it had been just random kids I didn't know. But what if it was like that with everyone else I knew?
Eminent Silence Page 75
