The Pretenders (ON HOLD)

Chapter 32

            A sudden burst of thunder woke Peter from the most peaceful sleep he’d had in weeks. Wendy was still asleep next to him, the delicate flutter of her heartbeat louder in his ears than the heavy downpour outside. Peter wondered momentarily if normal people could hear heartbeats as well as he could. It had gotten to the point where Peter could recognize some people simply by their pulse. Wendy’s was as fragile as the beating of a butterflies wings, so faint sometimes, that Peter would have to hold his breath to hear it. But it was beating now, with a soft rhythm; the only constant thing in a day of horrifying surprises.

Her dark hair splayed wildly on the pillow, her lips strikingly vibrant against her pale face, she seemed as though she was in a deep, eternal slumber.

            Skin white as snow, lips red as blood and hair black as ebony.

Almost subconsciously, Peter brushed a lock of hair off her face. She whispered a sigh, but didn’t open her eyes. Peter, in turn, sighed, forgetting momentarily about everything that had happened in the past month. In that second all that he saw was Wendy; resting and at peace. And he felt good. Better than good; like a sudden rush of energy and power had washed over his body. And Peter didn’t feel the searing pain anymore, he didn’t feel like his skin weighed a thousand tonnes. He felt happy.

Wendy moved in her sleep and now she had an arm resting gently on his shoulder, as if to keep him from running away. Becoming acutely aware that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, he eased his way out of the bed, grabbed some clothes from his wardrobe and then padded to the bathroom to get changed. Peter studied his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t look fourteen. He looked sixteen at least. He looked like his father.

But Peter shook his head of thoughts like that. Instead he concentrated on the energetic buzz that was pulsing through his veins. What was with his body? One moment, he could barely stand, and the next he was alive with vigor. Peter frowned at himself in the mirror. This wasn’t ‘his body changing’ was it? He thought back to what they’d learnt in PE and grimaced; definitely not.

There had to be something affecting him. Looking back at his reflection, he cocked his head to one side. He felt strong, awake, healthy and…happy. He was happy. He suddenly remembered the time when he’d felt weak after the nightmare he’d had about Wendy.

Does that girl make you happy?

Yeah.

Then think of her and concentrate on keeping away any bad thoughts.

That’s what his father had said to him. And it had worked. Being happy felt good. That morning when the dizziness had come over him, he remembered feeling scared, helpless, guilty and sad. And back at school when the evil sub had attacked him, when he had seen how helpless Wendy was, he’d felt weak then too.

Peter ran out of the bathroom and back into his room, surprised to see that Wendy was awake. She was sitting up, blinking groggily through her dark hair, trying to tame it with her fingers.

“I know what happened!” Peter exclaimed, more shocked than excited.

“Um, ok…Peter, you know you’re not wearing a shirt.”

Peter only dismissed her with a wave of the hand, filled with too much adrenaline to stop talking, “Doesn’t matter, Wendy. I know why sometimes I just feel weak for no apparent reason and other times I feel…”

He trailed off as he realized what he’d just said. It was too late. He couldn’t not tell her now. But that meant telling her about his powers. Flopping down next to her, he exhaled deeply.