"What's wrong with some light stabbing?"
Delving into vigilante-ism, Charlie Redmond has balance everything from her superhero neighbor to her math tests to her inability to talk about her feelings. Unlike her morally righteous co-worker, Spider-Man...
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"Honestly, I don't get the point of P.E." Technically, I did, but spiritually it's nothing but soul-crushing. In the disgusting mandatory blue and yellow uniforms, the class paired up into groups of two to do another b.s. activity to hold us off until Captain America's Fitness Challenge. How they managed to coerce an Avenger into those ungodly videos is a marvel to me.
"Just count my sit-ups, lazy." Jackie grunts, coming up from her position on the would-be shiny floor. Marking her thirtieth sit up, her forehead begins to glowing with sweat. We opted out of me doing the work out because though Jackie enjoyed it, I did not. In my defense, she's on the girl's lacrosse team, one of the few sports Midtown offers, and I am on the sit on the couch and eat pizza team. "Alright, I'm bored. Bleachers."
Understanding bored for Jackie meant instant change or death, I get out my crouching position in front of her. The lights flicker. A ripple of pain surges down my hip. Letting out a sharp breath, I steady myself before I fall onto the floor. Quickly, she grabs my elbow, helping me to my feet.
"Whoah, you okay?" She asks as I cast a quick glance to see if anyone noticed it.
"Yeah, just tripped into my nightstand last night. That thing's trying to kill me." I brush off, preferring her to believe me incompetent than know about the real reason I'm bruised. It's one of the things people often fail at with lying, swallowing your pride to hide the ugly truth. After all, who would tarnish their own name with a lie?
"I swear you get clumsier by the day." She puts her hands on her hips as she put one foot on the bottom bleacher. Since day one, I've let her believe I lacked basic motor functions which resulted in the scars that littlered my skin. She ate this up, her wild spirit knowing the cost of recklessness. With the softening of her shoulders, she drops to her elbows on her knees. "Which reminds me, Molly is hosting a party in a few weeks."
"How did my clumsiness remind you of that?" I ask, setting myself down on the bleachers. "And you don't even like Molly."
"Because she's a bitch, but her parents work closely with PepsiCo, so the snacks will be amazing." Her hands lace together in a diplomatic manner she learned from her lawyer parents. It's always clear when Jackie switched from her general persona to one that wanted something. "And lots of girls from Parson's will be going there, and you know my parents won't let me go without someone else-"
"You had me at snacks," I say, cutting off her sales pitch. Parties, in my unwanted opinion, are crowded and pointless, but with an extrovert like Jackie, they were inevitable. "Sleepover the night before?"
"Sure, dad will finally make Pozole. He's been holding off making since Reyna left for college, you know how he is about having leftovers." Mr. Gutierrez hates things going to waste, especially food. Being the main cook of the Gutierrez household, he's put a heavy stop on big meals since his god-daughter, Reyna, left for college this fall.
