Avengers Imagines Book

Secrets Reveals Part 1

Secrets Revealed

Part 1

"So, I hope to see your projects next Friday, ready to be presented in front of the class. If not, you'll be deducted five points every day it's late, not including the weekend. Have a great day everyone!" The bell rang after your teacher, Mrs. Phillips, had finished talking about a 'family history' type project. You had one problem though:

Your parents were dead as far as you knew, killed in a horrific car wreck. Your godmother had taken you in, and you'd been living with her ever since. Sure, you could just explain that and do it on her, but she'd specifically told you never to look into her or your parent's past. Of course it was intriguing, but you promised her you'd never. This project would be tough, especially with trying to get a 100% on it. Maybe you'd talk to your godmother to try and get her to open up even the slightest bit.

On your walk home, you went over many scenarios in your head, thinking about how to approach your godmother about this project you had to do. By the time you reached the front door, you'd just settled on getting straight to the point. Maybe talk to her a bit about your day first, but when you get to your history class, get right to the point. It'll be less random, you thought.

Opening the door, you scanned the immediate rooms you saw, looking for her. "I'm home!" you yelled, getting the attention of your bird that was sitting in her cage like a good girl. "Hey Blu," you greeted, walking over to stroke her feathers, before venturing into the house more. You got to the kitchen, finding your godmother sitting at the kitchen table with her earbuds in, listening to an audiobook most likely, as she had the real copy in front of her.

She looked up from the book and saw you, a smile spreading across her face as she placed her book down on the glossy, wood table and taking her earbuds out. "Hey (Y/n)! Sorry, I was listening to my book and didn't hear you come in," she explained. You nodded and sat down across fro her, setting your backpack beside the matching wooden chair.

"It's okay, I figured that's what you were listening to," you said. "I'm going to get a snack real quick," you said, getting up after just sitting down to go to the pantry. You found a bag of Chex Mix, going for that and pouring some into a bowl. Being wise, you also grabbed some water to go with your dry food.

Your godmother wasted no time into asking questions. "How was school?" she asked you, putting her earbuds in her book as a bookmark, closing it, and pushing it to the side of the table, giving you her full attention. You placed everything down on the table, asked her if she needed anything (she replied no thanks), and sat down once more.

"School was pretty good. Math was a b- jerk as always, but Michelle made it pretty enjoyable. Science was kinda cool since we did a lab today, debate was debate, and History was okay. I have a project due next Friday," you said, going through your day quickly so you would get the question out there and over with.

At the sound of your project, your godmother got really interested. If she were a dog, her ears would've perked up and her head would've tilted. "Project? What's that about?" she asked you as you took a drink of your water after eating half the bowl of Chex Mix.

"It's about..." you started to back out, hoping you could just come up with some random shit and turn it in. Nobody really knew the truth anyways, so you could get away with anything that was realistic sounding. But, your godmother persisted and asked her question once more, not allowing you to back out. "It's about our family's past in a way. Mrs. Phillips wants us to make a presentation on our family and stuff and I was hoping I could finally look into that box-"

"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed, standing up and retrieving her book. You gasped at this raise in volume and sat back a bit. "You know the rules and that's breaking almost all of them. I can send your teacher and email telling her I don't want you doing this project, but you under no circumstance are you to go look in that box. Understand?" Her voice usually never got above a pleasant talking volume, but lord when you brought that up it was like she was yelling at you. The British accent she usually buries dug it's way out slightly as she got mad, but she regained composure so quickly you were sure everything you just witnessed was a mirage.