The next day goes by, and still no word from Peter. I'm trying not to mope, but I can't really help it. You know, it's not every day that somebody saves your father from an explosion and won't accept a thank you. It's even worse when he sees you all over some other guy, like a stain.

After Dantae's shift, he comes knocking on my door. "We're going out."

I cock an eyebrow, waiting for more of a response, but I don't get one. He grabs my shoes and throws them at me, and then moves over to the fire escape.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"Out," he snaps back. I look at him and notice the black backpack he has over his shoulder. He's changed out of his construction uniform and is wearing all dark clothes. Since it's September, I throw on a black hoodie, hoping to blend in.

We're doing graffiti.

The pair of us climb out the window and make it down to the ground. Sergio is waiting for us there, and he offers me a nod and a smile. I feel myself tense.

We haven't talked since we nearly kissed, and I haven't told anyone. Not even Anthony. Part of me feels like I'm betraying Peter, but the rest of me feels like I'm betraying my brother. It's a pretty terrible combination. Is this what Anthony felt like initially? Because God, it's awful.

"What's Dare doing here?" Sergio asks. "Where's Anthony?"

"Change of plans," Dantae says. He chucks the backpack at Sergio.

A grin erupts on Sergio's face. "You ready to get a record for real?"

"Man, shut up," Dantae shoves Sergio, a bit harder than playful. He's still sensitive, even though his record was expunged when he turned 18. I missed his birthday over the summer. I feel bad, but at least I'm back now.

We run a few blocks and then catch the subway. Dantae and Sergio are discussing the work at the construction site. While it's going well, it doesn't look like the Bodega will be ready for a few weeks, maybe even months. I don't really pay attention, even though I should.

Instead, I read the minds of everyone in the car. A few tourists are going out to nightclubs, and a man nervously thinking about a date, but otherwise, nothing special is going on in their minds.

So, I turn to my brother. He glares at me, he knows what I'm doing. We're both trying to fuck with each other, our eyes glued to each other. He doesn't look away. I feel myself relaxing, the willingness to fight drained from me. I wish I could make things pop into people's heads the way he does with emotions.

Maybe I can.

I turn to Sergio. What can I make him think? I'm kind of hungry, so I think of chicken and waffles and look at him. I look at him hard, and eventually, I feel his head begin to pop open. Just like that, I plant the idea in his head.

My body goes dizzy. My grip on the pole tightens, trying to keep myself upright. I slump against it.

"Man, I want chicken and waffles," Sergio mumbles. He looks over at me. "Darcy, you okay?"

I nod.

Dantae looks at me. He turns to me and whispers in Portuguese. "O que você fez?"

What are you doing?

"O que você faz," I reply, my head tilting back and forth. I'm doing what you're doing. I blink rapidly, trying to focus on what's in front of me.

"We're going home," Dantae says.

"No," I insist, "I'm fine. I just need some water."

"Posso parlare un'altra lingua anche," Sergio smiles, but I pay him no mind.

Dantae opens up his backpack and pulls out a granola bar and a water bottle. I down the water and chew through the bar. My body begins to feel better, even if I'm a bit sluggish. By the time we get there, I'll be in shape to run from the police if need be.

Once we are at the docks, I feel like I'm in peak condition. The night air is really helpful. The light pollution blocks out the stars, but I can see the New Jersey skyline perfectly from here. I've loved city lights more than anything else. New York City is my home.

We roll out the cans of spray paint and begin to work on the abandoned house. Dantae does Manu's usual tag, the sentimental fuck. Sergio continues doing abstract lettering. I realize halfway through he's writing something in Italian, and while Spanish and Portuguese share their similarities, the lettering and the differences add up so that I can't understand it.

Meanwhile, I take a black can of spray paint. I'm not very good at art, so I mostly just spray paint frowning faces and other random symbols.

"You're in quite the funk, huh?" Sergio asks me. He swallows and looks down beside me.

I want to look at him, but I'm currently drawing a face with X's for eyes. "I'm not."

"Look," he leans in close until his face is pressed up against my ear. "I wanted to apologize for last night."

"It's fine," I shrug him off.

He takes my hand and so I turn to face him. "No, Dare, it's really not."

"Hey!" Dantae shouts. He stalks over, his eyes are dark in the dim lighting. He shoves Sergio off of me, and Sergio stumbles back. He hits the concrete in a pile.

"What the Hell, man?" Sergio gets up off the ground. He wipes his dirt hands off on his jacket.

"Don't fucking touch my sister," Dantae shouts.

"Stop it, Dantae," I grab him by the arm and pull him back, but he yanks his arm out of my grip.

Dantae glares at me and looks between the two of us. "What? Are the two of you fucking now?"

"No, obviously not!" Sergio shouts. He reaches for Dantae, but Dantae walks him away.

"I can tell something happened," he says. "I can feel it."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Sergio demands. He looks between the two of us. "You aren't even twins, don't tell me you have some stupid telepathy bullshit."

Dantae continues to huff. He looks at me, then at him. I read his mind.

He's going to shut off Sergio's feelings for me. He's going to touch him and that'll be it, and while I might appreciate that, I don't want him going around and fucking in other people's minds for me.

"Eu posso fazer isso também," I tell him. I can do that too. I can change your mind. "Eu possa fazê-la mudar de ideias."

He looks at me, and his face falters. He goes to move around me and I jump on top of him. Dantae tries to wrestle me off of him, but we roll on the ground instead. I can feel Sergio trying to yank him off of me. I let go, and we go stumbling backwards. I land with my back on top of Sergio's chest.

"That's fucked up," Dantae says.

I roll my eyes. "Like what you're doing isn't fucked up too. First of all, you're fucking my best friend, so you're being a bit hypocritical. Second of all, nothing is going on between Sergio and me. And third of all..." I trail off, trying to find a third reason. "Third, Liz Allen-"

"Shut the fuck up about Liz Allen!" Dantae shouts. "I don't fucking care about Liz Allen! This is about you, and, and..."

He grabs a spray paint can off the ground and chucks it. It careens off the ground and lands in the river. Dantae runs up and tackles Sergio, and the two go rolling on the ground.

"Stop it!" I yell, trying to pull Dantae off of Sergio. "If Mama sees you with bruises-"

"I don't care, I'll just make her not calm down," Sergio says.

I hear someone land behind me. I turn around to see Spider-man. Oh fucking great.

"Get up!" I yell, hoping he can feel my panic. "Get up!"

Dantae leaps off of Sergio and sees Spider-man behind me. He grabs me and tries to run.

I slip out of his grip. "Both of you. Leave."

They look at me with wide eyes, and Dantae reaches for me again, but I try to calm my pumping heart. I'm good. I don't need him now.

Sergio looks at me, nods, and sprints off. He grabs hold of Dantae and drags him off behind him.

I strut over to Peter. Spider-man. Same fucking difference, apparently.

"Spying on me?" I ask. "Or come to bust a few kids for spray painting."

Peter rips off his mask. His hair is a mess, and he's got bags under his eyes, and it's the first time I've really seen him in a while. Really seen him, even though it's practically too dark to see.

"They were fighting, Darcy," he says. It is the first words he has said to me in months. "How was I supposed to know it's your brother?"

"You aren't supposed to know," I tell him. "Fight real crime. Don't bother with young Latino men in the streets."

"This isn't... look I'm sorry, okay?" he asks, not like he is angry, but like he is actually hoping it is okay. "I'm just trying to make this place safer."

"I know," I admit, even if I think Peter is mostly doing a piss poor job at it. "Thank you for saving my Papa."

"It's my fault he was in trouble anyway," Peter points out.

I shrug. I guess it doesn't really matter to me who is at fault for things anymore.

"Look, Peter-"

"I've got to go," he says, and then he takes off running back towards the street.

I pick up the spray cans and chuck them in the river. I'm polluting, but I'm not about to be a Latina teenager walking home in a black with spray cans at night. If the cops see me, it's game over.

Afterwards, I walk away.

~~~~~

We are getting closer and closer to the end of this book. I keep shortening it and elongating it, so I've got no idea how much of it there is left. For now, I hope you enjoy it!