Little Spy | Peter Parker ✓

[39]

WHEN I WALKED TO THE BOY'S HOUSE, EVERYTHING FELT WRONG. Though, that was to be expected, with the amount of regret and grief I felt towards everything that had happened in mere days. It no longer felt like a safe haven, but just another cage to pretend in, where I'd have to convince someone to let me fly and share my voice again. While it was better than the hell that was Inga's temporary apartment, it wasn't by much.

The boy probably hated me. Nay, that was an understatement; he no doubt despised the very ground I walked upon, and I couldn't blame him for that or anything he was feeling against me. He was so innocent and so pure of heart and so caring, that any little rejection meant anything good in his world came to a crashing halt and he was left drowning in the sorrow that he'd never share with anyone. I had seen a few similar cases at the Academy, where they lost a friend, an ally, and everything fell apart, so much that soon they joined the dead in an everlasting but cold embrace. They lost focus and hope for the world, and though some were able to pretend like everything was fine, anyone with a brain could see the glassed-over look in their eyes. It had been like they were in a totally different world and lost all hope and want to care.

Of course, those were things that were much more severe than him. The death of a loved one was much worse than a rejection from a mean-spirited bitch from Canada, but on a lower level, it did make sense to me. And while I didn't trust emotions or truly understand the process the teenagers used, I did sympathize with the pain I had caused him, for it was a pain that ran deep in my own blood, too. If I hadn't had to do it, I would have done anything to make him feel better.  I wanted still to make things better, to make him smile once more and make his stupid jokes and not have him looking near-death, but I couldn't. I had a job to do, and one wrong move meant a thousand steps backwards.

It took a few long seconds for me to gather the strength to actually knock. My hand shook as it pounded a sharp beat, and I cursed at the weakness plaguing me; I had let this world affect me, and it was taking an effect on every bit of me, forcing me to pay the price. The fact that such a small movement as knocking on a broken boy's door shook me was shameful. I was growing weaker by the day.

"Emily, hi," his aunt gushed, ushering me into the small space. She looked startled at my presence but quickly masked it with a smile, crossing her arms over herself. "What a surprise, I think - was-"

"-Peter wasn't expecting me, no," I butted in. I wasn't eager for a long conversation. Not with her, and not that day. "I actually just came over to discuss some homework, actually? He said I could come if I needed help."

Aunt May nodded and a little light reignited in her eyes. "Sure, of course - he's just in there. Will it take a long time? There's no problem, just - well, we had plans."

"It is fine, I, um, won't be here long. It's a very quick question." I cursed as a rebuttal to my words came into my head, and smiled brightly. "Couldn't be answered by text."

She nodded, though looking as though she was questioning my logic, but I didn't hesitate to explain. I skirted away and headed to his door, rapping furiously as my heart pounded out warnings upon warnings for me to hurry. A muffled 'who is it' echoed through the frame of the door, and without hesitation, I responded, "it's me, I have a...homework question."

A long pause was my only reply for a few, agonizingly long minutes before a heavy sigh resounded and it swung open. The boy stood on the other side, hair a mess and dressed in sweatpants and a shirt that read a dumb periodic table joke, a slightly pissed expression on his face. "Is it important?"

"Yes, it is." I bit down on my lip, "I wouldn't want to fail the assignment, I figured you wouldn't either?"

My analogy wasn't sound, but it was enough to make him sigh once more and move over to let me in. The door swung shut with a tiny click, and he leaned against it, watching me with the saddest face I'd ever seen him wear. "What is it?"