[center][img=http://static.comicvine.com/uploads/scale_small/9/95970/1936138-noir.png]
[b]
Midtown High School, Queens
September 2nd, 2013[/b][/center]

[i]“Know this; if you even breathe wrong, you have just killed your father.”[/i]

I’ve never been scared like this. I’ve never been struck into complete obedience by words in my whole life, yet here I am exactly that. I am so scared that I feel angry—angry at myself, angry at the men who did this to me, and angry at the world that did nothing but watch as it happened. I can’t do anything about it, not unless one of those famous superheroes saves my father or takes down this awful syndicate—until then I guess I have to sit and do what they tell me.

“So what classes do we have in common?”

Mary-Jane’s voice seems to get lost in my thoughts as I just keep thinking how helpless I am that I completely forgot I’m back in high school getting my classes for the new school year. What’s the point of high school when you have this crime syndicate breathing down your neck, though? Either way, I’m going to try to make the best out of today. 

I move my hand from my bag to a piece of paper I’ve folded and hand it over to her as I comment a bit quieter than usual. [b]“I don’t know.”[/b]

“Hm... not a whole lot from what I see here, bummer.” 

Before last year I would have been a little more interested, but this entire thing doesn’t exactly apply to me anymore—I mean over the last summer I broke into the Daily Bugle for what reason I don’t even know. I just put in a USB stick and let whatever its job was. I was lucky that my “cooperating specialist” took care of the cameras and alarms. Then there was stealing from that R&D lab in Brooklyn, and the penthouse in Manhattan… yet I’ve all been told that those were just trials—tests of what I could do. What were they preparing me for? What sort of job requires me to be like this? That’s when a voice cuts my thoughts short.

“Felicia?”

“Oh, uh… hi.” I say clumsily.

“Are you alright? You were kind of dazing off there.”

I guess I didn’t hear her and got lost in my own thoughts. I mean I used to do that a lot, too, but it was never like this bad. It’s a testament to all of the traumatic crap I’ve gone through, I mean who wouldn’t after they went from a normal life to a science fiction thriller-meets-heist film? 

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind, I guess, I didn’t get much sleep.”

Mary puts one of her hands on her hip, “Is this because of Flash’s dad and your mom?”

No— it is totally not that. But I can’t exactly tell MJ the truth—it’d involve her or she wouldn’t think I was serious or worse… mental. So, I guess I have to lie to my best friend for the first time; I mean since last year I’ve already been dodging her questions and worries about me.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It’ll be okay.” 

She’s trying to comfort me in the limited time we have here at lunch period. I don’t blame her for trying after all she and I have been together since kindergarten—she was there when my dad had to leave us, she was there when I was reckless, and she was there when I ran away from home for the first time. It’s why I hate lying to her and not telling her what is really going on with me. My reply to her is one that comes from my truth though.

“I hope so.”