" MARCEL GRANT….WAKE UP OR YOU WILL BE LATE "
Ughhhhhhh. Rolling over in my bed, I tried to cover my ears, but my mom's single superpower was in use. No matter where she was in the house, if she wanted to be heard, she would be, and there was nothing you could do.
"I'm u,p ma, I'm up"
My words didn't have that same ability, not unless I had a microphone, but I trusted she heard them—or at least my dad did.
Rolling over in the opposite direction, I flopped onto the floor. While I wasn't a morning person, I had learned my adopted family was.
Rahda Grant is an Indian immigrant and nurse, and her husband, Elijah Grant, is from Chicago. He was born and raised there until he traveled across the pond for humanitarian work and came home with a wife… at least that's his version of the story.
Mom was already a US citizen by then, but due to the war in the Middle East, she found herself helping those most in need.
Long story short, after a few years, they found they couldn't have kids and so adopted me, my sisters, and brother.
We weren't blood related, none of us, but I still called them that. To me, family was family.
Worm-crawling, I made my way through all of the dirty clothes, art supplies, and scribbled songs until I reached the bathroom I shared with my brother. There were two doors, one in his room and one in mine.
My parents weren't well off, but neither were they. Ma is a nurse, and Pops is a taxi company's lead mechanic. A college roommate of his started… Okay, maybe we're better off than most.
Reaching up, I pulled my body along the door and twisted, the door slowly creeping open. I didn't bother getting up; I was sore, tired, and not a morning person.
Thinking about last night, it was mostly a blur of strong emotions, loud music, followed by running home.
"Ughhhhhhhhh"
Vocalizing my hatred of the morning, I continued inching my way towards the shower. At this point, my core was hurting, but standing was still too much effort.
Looking ahead, I could see the door swing open, and Jr. walked through it. His legal name was Elijah Moore, but everyone called him Jr. because he shared Pops' first name.
"Morning, Marc, two things. One, Dad wants to know what your plan is with all of the music equipment, and the other, I'm borrowing a hoodie. "
His words didn't cau...before he could take another step past me, his words registered in the deepest parts of my brain.
And then I was wide awake, rolling over to my back. I flexed my core and placed my hands flat behind me. In the next second, I was airborne, eyes locking onto Jr., reaching into my closet.
"Which hoodie? Jr. I hope it's not my brand new one?"
My words caused a visible reaction. His hand made a rapid detour, and his skin paled several shades lighter than it already was.
Jr, for lack of better wording, resembles every depiction of a white nerd ever dreamed up: skinny, pale, stringy black hair, and until recently, he was also the country-wide symbol of a school shooter.
His wardrobe mainly consisted of black hoodies, jeans, and sweats. It's not until I started dragging him to the mall with me, Ned, and Peter that things changed.
But this was a step too far. While I had previously allowed him to borrow or even have clothing, it was often stuff I had grown out of.
"Of course not, Marc…why would I do that?"
His words made my eyes twitch. After all, it was the first day back to school, and last year's semester was cut short due to the school remodeling.
"Bullshit, now get out. We planned out your outfit already; plus, it's only your freshman year; no one will remember."
My words caused visible dejection. I have no clue why, but even if I bought him the exact same thing, Jr. would still want mine. At this point, sixty percent of his closest just a smaller version of mine.
"Worst step brother eveeeeeerrrrrrrr"
As he spoke, Jr walked back towards our joint bathroom, not even bothering to grab my hoodie.
Sighing, I looked at my alarm clock. It was still early, but if I wanted to have breakfast with everyone, I needed to hurry.
Thirty minutes later, I was dressed and smelling of….I think Irish springs….I was still half asleep by the time I finally got around to it.
Stepping down the stairs, I was clad in a silver metallic jacket covered in straps and buckles, and under that was a black hoodie covered in white stars. My pants were baggy cargo ones with more than enough pockets and covered in excessive straps and buckles. My shoes were black military boots. I had replaced the black strings with silver ones. Uncle Ben had made me and Peter get after our first hiking excursion ended with me and him complaining about our feet hurting.
Turning the corner to the dining room, I tossed Jr. my hoodie. It was something that I had saved up to get and was damn nice: a matte black hoodie that actually absorbed light, with silver accents that made it look as if heat waves were coming off of you.
It was part of a brand deal with the Fantastic Four and was a black version of the standard "flame on" jacket themed after Johnny Storm.
"Best fucking brother EVERRRRRRR"
With those words, Jr was off running back upstairs.
"Watch your language, Jr"
Pop's low baritone vibrated from the kitchen while Evangeline and Kalani were laughing at the table. They were all the same age, making me the oldest. Ma and Pop had gone in for just Jr., but he mentioned his friends, and oops, they left with three.
All were starting their freshman year at Midtown. Peter had helped tutor them, allowing them to get in even if it was a slightly more selective school than most.
" Ahhh, Marc, whatcha gonna do with all the stuff in the tool shed?"
Pops rounded the corner, balancing four plates heavy with bacon, pancakes, and eggs. His words, though, caused me to pause before I sat.
"Uhh, I don't know yet, might throw them out or put them in the basement"
At my words, everyone froze. Pops and Ma knew about the warehouse and the music; they knew precisely what that place meant. Eve and Kalani didn't know as much, but knew I spent a lot of time there.
"You know you could always move it into the garage, while you probably could…"
Before Pops could finish, it cut him off.
"Pop's it's fine, plus if I did that, even if I only practiced, you'd have noise complaints from everyone…well, everyone but Aunt May and Uncle Ben."
My plastered smile and words did little to soothe him, and by the look Mom was giving him, she wasn't pacified at all, but they knew as well as I did that I was right.
————
Pushing off the ground, I brought the skateboard up onto the school's disability ramp and waited for the security guard to let me in.
Stan had been here longer than most of the teachers and was technically not even the security guard, but technically, no one knew what he did.
"You're late, kid, on the first day nonetheless."
Stan started to shake his head as he spoke, but before he could start a lecture, even a well-meaning one, I unzipped my coat and reached inside.
Stan didn't flinch or even blink as I pulled a light grey kitten with sky-blue eyes from inside my jacket.
All I heard was a sigh as he moved out of my way and opened the door wider.
"Thanks, stand, sorry, stan. "
As I spoke, a look of confusion crossed his face. He had started to say something, but I dropped my board and kicked off, killing whatever it was and morphing it into a protest.
" I just cleaned the floors, kid."
Pushing off again, I chuckled and raised the kitten that had followed me from Peter's house until I picked her up.
"Welcome to Midtown, little one, home of creativity and a place where all dreams die."
Taking a sharp corner, I skidded past two wandering freshmen before pushing off the linoleum floor and making my way towards the far left side of the building.
"If you're found wandering in the next 10 minutes, it's detention."
Both my actions and words startled and surprised the kids. Those kids… looked familiar, and they, too, looked familiar.
Slowing down, I turned and gave a little wave with both my free hand and the kitten's. As if protesting my actions, the cat let out a sharp hiss.
That's when the piece fell into place, and the two faces slotted into place as the two kids I had in the scene at last night's concert.
Then I was kicking off again. The only reason I knew those kids were freshmen was the yellow lanyards hanging around their necks, which were probably a safety hazard of some sort. My own orange lanyard was hanging from a strap on my pants.
Soon, I came skidding to a stop in front of my first-period class. This year was already off to a great start. I had lucked into having Dr. Conners, one of the better teachers in chemistry, first period, along with Harry Osborn, Ne, Peter Mary, and Michelle, all in one class.
Talk about a jackpot. We'd probably be scattered to the corners of the room by the end of today, but it made up for the fact that I didn't share a single class with any of them afterwards. The next time we would all be gathered would be during lunch.
Pushing open the door, I didn't even bother to try and sneak; it's not like I was super late, but late was late, and Dr.Conners wasn't a teacher you could sneak past.
"Mr. Grant, you're on the first day of school…again."
...was I getting that predictable…..
Instead of giving an excuse, I simply raised the kitten as if I stood upon a rock overlooking a vast savanna. As the kitten had been waiting its whole life for this moment, it laid down, raising my arms just a bit more and jostling the kitten just a little bit. Nothing.
"Mr. Grant, a cat, even a cute cat, is not an excuse to be late, now put the poor thing down…how did you even get inside?"
Dr. Conners's words brought a sheepish green to my face as I scanned the room for an open seat. I spotted one next to Mary Jane. Mary Jane, I sat down, passing her the kitten as I arranged my stuff.
"To answer your question and clarify your statement, kitten and stan."
My words had a mass majority of the chuckling under their breath; it was a well-known secret that if you were late, all you needed to do was find stan and provide a good excuse. As for my reason, it was another well-known secret that Stan loved baby animals more than coffee, and everyone knew that man loved his coffee.
As I finished situating my stuff, MJ leaned over, sleeping kitten still in her hands.
"Marcel, Peter said you left with him. How did you get here so late?"
Looking over to her, I debated taking my cat back, but eventually decided against her before replying.
"Well see a series of most fortunate event happened, first me a Peter crossed the street and I remembered I left my headphones at home so I had to go get those, then after I left, that kitten you have in your hands followed me from my house, Thennnnnn I noticed the kitten looked hungry so I had to stop and grab it some food, and then.....I realized I wasn't gonna be one time, so I took the scenic route."
The look MJ and the rest of the nearby students were giving me was one of bewilderment. While I wasn't as popular as Osborn or as chased as Mary, I was known around the school for the absolute insanity I could get up to.
—--
It took exactly seven minutes for Dr. Conners to separate us after I had finished my little conversation. Ten more before he put me in the front, Peter in the back, and Ned next to the window. The only ones he didn't bother to move were Michelle and Mary, oh, and Osborn. Thinking of Harry, I had his mom's class next. For some reason, despite his father owning a multi-million dollar company, his mom insisted on teaching college-level chemistry at a high school.
Making my way through the crowded hallway filled with faces, some I knew, some I didn't. It wasn't long before I found her classroom, it wasn't hard as the school put all of the rooms that required lab space on the same side, hers was just a floor above and further down from Dr. Connors
Pulling the door open, I strolled in confidently, the kitten resting in my hair.
" Mrs.O, long time no see"
My words had the Caucasian woman with brown hair and rather large oval glasses looking up from her attendance sheet to smile.
"Marcel, it's wonderful to have you in one of my classes finally and not just tag along with Peter and Ned."
With a sheepish grin at her words, I laughed and shrugged. The action brought her eyes up past my face, where she locked eyes with the kitten.
"MARCEL GRANT, you did not bring a cat into the building, let alone into my classroom, and then have the audacity not to introduce us,
Her yell had students both in the class and outside of it looking towards us. One poor guy who was already falling asleep lurched up. He reached for his bag as he started to stand, but a wave from Mrs.O had him sitting back down.
I didn't bother replying; instead, I reached up and grabbed the sleeping kitten and placed her into Mrs.O's waiting hands.
" AWWWWWWWWW, have you named her yet? "
As Mrs.O petted the cat, which was now softly purring, she looked up at me expectingly.
The truth was I hadn't even taught about it until now, rattling my brain, thousands of names, words, and even obscure references crossed my mind, but as looked at the grey kitten, I could see even now spots on her fur was darkening I wouldn't be surprised if her coat was one day blac and like that a name slid into place.
"I think I'll name her Felicia, yeah, that fits just right."
As my words settle, I say Miss O's eyes soften.
"That's a perfect name, Marcel. Any reason behind…maybe a girl??"
And there it was. The Osborn family used to live next to Peter and me. We all grew up together, but Mr.O's company one day took off, and so did they. While Harry had tried to stay friends with us, our relationships slowly strained. We were still friends, but we rarely hung out, and I doubt his father would approve. Mrs.O, on the other hand, hadn't changed one bit from when we were kids.
"Noooo, Mrs.O. Honestly, I wasn't thinking of one until you put me on the spot, and Felicia was the first to come to mind. No girl, I promise, just a name I thought fit.
My words brought a Cheshire grin to her face, one I swear I saw fangs within.
"Suuuurrrreeeeee, now go take a seat. I'll return you kitten at the end of class."
When she was done speaking, Mrs. O straightened as the rest of the class entered. I didn't bother protesting; instead, I walked over and took a seat at Mrs.O's desk. Some students looked over to me. Some grimaced, probably thinking I would cause problems, others already laughing at the thought of me getting kicked out. What none expected was but a few.
One such was Cindy Moon. I only knew of her because she was friends with Michelle. They had met on the debate team, and she was the only one who could genuinely impress her.
She looked over at me and rolled her eyes before taking a seat in the front next to a guy wearing the school's hockey jersey.
As more and more people filled in, Mrs.O pushed herself onto a stone countertop meant for the experiment. Once she was there, she flared her white lab coat around her and crossed her legs. She was dressed in a woman's one-piece suit in a deep forest green.
As she started droning on about class expectations, I pulled my headphones free, placed them over my ears, and listened to a recording of last night's performance.
I made the mistake of getting a free period last year, but Midtown didn't allow students to leave campus, so most days, I spent that period with Peter and Ned in this very class.
After a while, Mrs. O started giving me work along with everyone else. She was nice enough to say that if I took her class, college-level chemistry, this year, she would let seventy percent of the work I had completed count for this year. The remaining thirty percent would be tests, projects, and experiments I needed to actually do.
As I started to zone out, a marker hit me dead in the middle of my forehead, sending me reeling backwards, headphones falling, and almost causing me to fall out of the soft office chair.
"Mr. Grant, we understand that you have completed the vast majority of this class's curriculum, but I will not allow you to sit and waste that knowledge. From here on out, you are my assistant. Grab your lab coat."
Fuckkkkkkkk meeeeee, hearing teacher Osborn mode kick in, I realized I had overestimated my position here.
Standing up straight and clacking my boots together, I saluted Mrs.O.
"Yes ma'am, right away ma'am"
Walking around the desk and through the now openly laughing students, I opened a storage closet and pulled out MY LAB COAT.
It wasn't any lab coat, in fact, I doubt it could even be called that anymore; it had picked up tailoring out of sheer boredom and added various additions and customizations.
It was now a full three feet longer than needed, and the extra length dragged behind me in a pattern reminiscent of an explosion. The pattern itself was reinforced with more fabric and pipe cleaners, so it kept its shape.
Moving up, the back had the chemical compound for silver nitrate, which I had added after Mrs.O made a joke about it being a dangerous compound when added to the extremely hazardous duo of Peter and Ned.
Finally, I spiked the color and dyed it yellow in resemblance to one of my favorite Pokémon.
———
Lunch was during the 6th period for juniors and seniors, so by the time it was time, I was starving, so I left fine arts with Ms.Thompson.
Dropping my board, I pushed off the ground. People made way for me, and the kitten in my arms, looking around and sometimes meowing, helped immensely. Leaping down the flight of stairs, I was airborne. Leaning down, I picked the board up and transitioned to a run, all in one fluent move.
Roundin' the corner to the cafeteria, I came to a sudden stop.
Sighing in, Peter stood fist raised between Flash Thompson, no relation to Ms.Thompson, a sophomore.
"You never change, Flash, always picking on someone smaller."
Peter's words came out loud and sharp. I didn't bother stepping closer. At this point, this was a regular occurrence. Peter hated bullies. I did, too, as did most sane people, but Peter's hatred was on another level, almost inhuman, like Uncle Ben's speeches on how with power came responsibility.
"Move, Parker, this doesn't concern you."
Flash's words came through gritted teeth and from what I could see, a newly forming bruise, but his already red knuckles and the sophomore holding his side relieved me of any guilt that had started to grow.
"It kinda does flash, aren't you eighteen now? Putting your hands on kids isn't a good look, kinda creepy, actually."
At Peter's words, everyone went quiet. It was well known that Flash failed his junior year a while back. Even though he was a senior now, the humiliation that his failure brought caused him to often release his anger and embarrassment at those around him.
The next thing that happened was quick; Flash released a growl of anger as he swung at Peter.
Peter ducked low and slammed his fist into Flash's right kidney, then he slid his left foot back as Flash's retaliatory swing went wide.
Before things could get worse and Peter could actually hurt the boy in a man's body, I stepped between the two, kitten in one hand, board in the other.
" Now, gentlemen, let's take a deep breath, recalibrate and…"
The dick head swung with his right fist aimed for my chin, ducking. I brought the board around and let his sloppy fist hit the bottom. What was unspoken was Peter's left fist flying in and connecting with Flash's face.
———
Sitting at the table, a plate of cafeteria pizza was left half-eaten, and a kitten was drinking water.
Cracking a can of wet food, I listened to Michelle and Mary chew into Peter.
"Stepping in was the right thing, Peter, but was knocking Flash out, necessary, we all know Marc can handle himself."
Mary's words had me opening my mouth in protest.
"Don't say it like I'm a scoundrel…"
My words had Ned looking up from his phone and raising an eyebrow, and even Harry, further down the table, looking at me incredulously.
Peter just laughed, but before he could reply, simultaneous glares from Michelle and Mary had him tucking his chin again.
Apparently, after the performance, the two had called him, the dumb ass somehow added both to a conference call, said call somehow ended with the man coming to an unsteady agreement. I mean, he was dumped officially, but they didn't mutually agree to rip his balls off.
"Uhhhhhh, why is a shirtless pervert going viral?"
….Harry suddenly speaking wasn't a surprise, but his words specifically caused everyone at the table to shut up.
Flipping over Oscorp's latest tablet/laptop, he pulled up a shaky, low-quality video on YouTube. True to his words, there was indeed a shirtless Peter on his knees, mic held in both his hands.
Worse, I joined him a few seconds into the video, dark and glistening, my muscles defined in the stage lighting. Dreads splayed around me, moving in an erratic pattern with each head bang.
"Ughghhhhhhhhh"
Peter's groan was immaculately timed as Harry exited the video and played it from the beginning.
It was labeled "Final farewell concert," and it had almost 10,000 views.
I started laughing hysterically. It wasn't the first time one of my performances had been recorded or even posted on YouTube, but none had gone viral this quickly.
The video started shortly after we started singing and continued to the very end, even including my speech at the very end.
"Now I regret not making it, man."
Harry's words came out crisp, breaking the short silence post-video.
" I mean, look at that, Ned, I didn't know you had that in ya, Mr. Boombastic."
Harry didn't stop; he was much like his mother in that sense.
"Just look at these comments."
BROoKlynBoy07: AHH I was there, can't believe this!!!!!!!!
~reply from AltKid91: Belly ROLL.
BurntToat69: Is that Peter? He tutored me in algebra. When did the nerd start singing
~ reply from quietWater: No way, neither seemed like nerds, maybe the white one, but that was before he took his shirt and glasses off.
Those were only some of the replies as Harry scrolled down there, where hundreds, many were scams and spam, and even more were just people typing belly roll in all caps.
The ones that caught my eye were the people arguing over shipping me with one of the two girls with whom I performed a duet.
"NED YOU DIDN'T.....you did oh my fucking god you did"
As Harry read the messages, he eventually realized that while Peter was the thumbnail, a mass majority of the comments were about Ned.
———
Walking home, Jr., Kalani, and Eve took turns petting the kitten and trying to ride my skateboard. I didn't bother stopping either, as despite the kids' rough petting, the kitten seemed to love the attention. And learning to ride a skateboard was or at least should be a right of passage.
Opening the door, I ushered the three in before following behind. Pops should be back, but Mom wouldn't be here for another four hours.
"MARCEL GRANT, I WANT YOU IN FRONT OF ME NOW"
As I closed the door behind me, I heard words that sent shivers down my spine. That wasn't Pops who yelled, "No, that drill, Sargent Ben." How I wanted it to be, Uncle Ben, in the moment.
After dropping my bags and board at the door, I didn't bother protesting by wasting time; instead, I made a straight line for the origin of the yell.
Standing in our living room was a man who looked to be in his 40s. Yet his hair didn't show any grey, and his body was still covered in visible muscle even under a red and black flannel shirt and khaki pants.
This man's only signs of age were in his drooping stature, popping knees, and euphemisms.
"Hey, Uncle Ben, what seems-"
Before I could even finish speaking, he had an outdated laptop in front of me, and YouTube pulled up.
Common sense dictates that I should've been scared, but Uncle Ben knew about the warehouse, just like my parents, and he knew that I wanted to perform there as a send-off.
Then I took a good look at the video. It wasn't just any part, not even Peter's part, but me performing the duet with the girl with white hair.
"Uhhhh, last night's concert, sir."
For a moment, Uncle Ben looked as if he was about to explode, but then the building red faded.
"Well, that's the obvious son. I'm talking about who the girl was and why we haven't heard of her yet."
Ughhhhhhhhhh, Uncle Ben's words made all the tension in my body fade, but before I could relax, it was replaced with all-consuming exhaustion. Everyone knew Peter, like Mary, and when Michelle came along, everyone also saw the obvious, so after a while, they all turned their attention to me.
We'd had this conversation many times, well, maybe not this exact one, but it had pressed me about every girl I had ever talked to.
And as I got older, it only got worse. Ma even sat me aside and reassured me that if I liked boys, it was okay.
I would like to note that I like women, but I've never been attracted to girls my age. As I got older, this peculiarity faded, but even now, I still find myself attracted to slightly older women.
"Uhhh, a performance, I know you haven't gone senile or blind".
My words caused uncle Ben's eyes to twitch, looking away from his eyes, I swear I could even see a vein pulsing in his forehead.
"...you know what I meant"
I did, in fact, know exactly what time we were talking about, but the hum yelling and my dad laughing in his signature recliner had me wanting Uncle Ben to work for it.
"Was it me being shirtless or us singing that gave you the idea that something was there?"
My words actually caused a vein to become visible, but before Uncle Ben could strangle me at my words, Pop leaned up from his chair and grinned.
"You like her, don't you?"
Pops' grin was a nice one that could rival a star. If I didn't know better, I would think he had lost hope in me. And suddenly, he saw hope.
Grinning back, I opened my mouth.
" I mean, what's there not to like?"
As I finished speaking, Uncle Ben and Pops both crossed their chests and performed a visible fist bump. They had lost faith in me.
The pain on my face must have been visible as both men suddenly stopped celebrating and looked at me apologetically.
"Sorry, Marc. It's not that we didn't think you liked women or even people, period. Ma told us you just liked older women, but even knowing that, even though we've never seen you show active interest. With her, you were there in the moment, and you gave her the same look Peter gives Michelle and Mary."
His words hurt because he was right, and I could tell by how he tried to push past that first bit that they had both thought those things at one point.
———
"Breaking news, breaking news."
I was sitting in my 5th-period fine arts class when the tablet Harry had given me showed a news notification.
I stopped sketching my latest obsession and tapped the screen. After a few taps, I had the New York Times website up and running.
" Heir to the Stark name, billionaire, twenty-five-year-old CEO of Stark Industries has gone missing while on a trip in Afghanistan."
Reading the title over and over, part of my brain wanted to panic to say what the fuck, but another part, something more profound in the deep crevices of my mind, became an ice-cold glacier of logic, despite the cruel part of my brain that thought of ways of profiting in this moment, short the stock, then rapidly invest. At the same time, buy as much as possible and convince my parents and friends.
With a rapid shake of my head, I read the entirety of the article dated September 3rd, 2008, at 2:36 p.m.
Leaning back, I tried to process it. While this wasn't world-changing, it was big. Harry and his dad would be busy for a while.
No doubt Norman will use this as an opportunity, and Harry will follow behind. Peter, the nerd, will have a heart attack. Michelle's going to say good riddance. Mary will start looking at all of the repercussions.
Looking down at my sketch book, all I could do was sigh. I felt like something had just changed, and honestly, I didn't even want to draw anymore.
The woman from that night was now a foggy memory. I had rewatched the video dozens of times, but the low quality had only blurred the fine details.