Curse this story for making me not do my homework and read Walden.

I sincerely hope you like it.... 

Edit by lokidottir, which is why it's dedicated to her. :D

:D

~Chapter One~

~Thea's POV~

In order of importance, from most to least, three things of significance happen to me today. 

1. I discover there might be a means of getting to Asgard, not exactly with permission.

2. I find out that Gwen Stacey has died.

3. Oh, and I beat up the school bully.

As it turns out, the order of events happen in backwards order. 

*

Has anyone ever heard of the eighth grade being in the high school? Yeah, me neither. 

But as it turns out, that's precisely what South Haven High School is like. I take eighth grade courses. In. The.Bloody. High. School. 

Bloody. Jack's been rubbing off on me. 

We've been texting and Skyping a lot, as well as with Peter, who, by the way, has been very busy with something along the lines of a human electric eel. Figures. I leave New York and crap happens. 

Jack, ever the over-enthusiastic one, in a Shakespearean voice while I was Skyping him in my room one night, has claimed that his life is empty without my beautiful and diabolical presence. 

Rather unfortunately for me, Kyle had overheard us. I still haven't heard the end of it. 

Since my first night in South Haven, I haven't heard from anyone, any being, any thing on Asgard except maybe three times. Thor hadn't been kidding when he had told me that the journal thing only worked off-and on. From what I can gather, though, Leah's doing perfectly fine without me. I can't necessarily say the same thing about me. 

I walk down the crowded hallway by myself, on the second floor, twirling the corded bracelet around my wrist that I had found in one of my boxes of Collected Junk From My Apartment. It's the same one that working together, Leah and my mother had braided for me for my thirteenth birthday last October. 

Carrying my physical science book (physical science has to be the worst subject invented in the history of education), I feel my phone vibrate twice from the back of my shorts. Normally, I suppose it would be too cold in Michigan's March weather for shorts, but the cold does not bother me quite as much as it used to. Besides, it's nearly fifty degrees outside today. 

Sliding into the mini desk near the back of the formaldehyde-infested (the physical science and biology labs share the same classroom) room, I take out my phone. Two texts, one from Jack and one from Kyle. 

From: Jack :) 

I have some news for you. Bad news. Normally, I would tell you right off the bat, as in, right now, but I promised Peter I would be with him, and I don't have time. Can I call u after school?

From: Kyle 

I might be picking you up early today, around 2. You can bow down to me later for getting your ass out of your math test.

Kyle's text, although probably unfortunately from bad news, makes me happy nonetheless. I've been slaving over Algebra I for the past month or so, and I am absolutely not prepared for today's test. Whatever excuse I have to get out of it, I'll take it (later today, I'll regret saying that). 

My nasty mood brought on by the rolling thunderstorm outside is increased. Here Jack is, getting secret news, scurrying around the remains of S.H.I.E.L.D and probably playing hooky (Jack's a regular Huckleberry Finn when it comes to skipping class) while I am stuck in a crowded high school hallway. 

I had tried playing hooky before, in the way of producing a double of myself. Unfortunately, the power is not even close to the strength of Loki's, and so the pixelated image of myself had dissolved just as it had been walking out the door. Let's just say that Max was not happy at all. Fortunately, this had happened before my double got to school and ruined my supernatural secret.

To hide myself better, my name has been changed to Athena (which is actually my middle name) Calen. Technically, in Fury's world of technicality, Max and Kyle haven't "adopted" me per se, but I'm using their last name. Which is fine by me, because I have no desire to get adopted whatsoever.

I text Jack back first. 

To: Jack

yeah, sure :) Hope everything's ok. :(

And then Kyle. Our texts are known to not be the most...civil.

To: Kyle

the only bowing of any kind that's been happening in this house was last night. What was her name, Natalie?

He texts back approximately two seconds later. 

From: Kyle

Shut the hell up, missy.

Told you.

* 

Like any typical high school, most of the drama happens at lunchtime, when a bunch of cankerous teenagers are all shoved into the same room to eat like a herd of cattle. Surprisingly, the food at South Haven isn't dreadful, but it's not like Kyle's cooking either, which means that I usually bring my lunch to school. 

Also usually, I eat in a tiny alcove by myself, behind two large garbage cans, overlooking the school parking lot. After all that's happened, high school gossip has seemed trivial to me. 

Unfortunately, I'm in one of those vindictive moods where I want to pick a fight with someone, mainly because my physical science teacher had given me a demerit for answering a question out of turn (Mr. Stanely had been in a vindictive mood too.) and also because I'm very frustrated with the bore my life has become.

So that is precisely why, when the stereotypical senior bully named Joseph who has an annoying habit of tortuing the lives of anyone weaker than himself, asks (I'm sorry: orders) me to move from my little alcove and on top of that, give me his lunch, I blink at him innocently and say, "Sorry, but is this the only place you can have sex with your girlfriend?"

Probably, this was not what Joe had had in mind for he and his girlfriend (a tall brunette named Victoria with an obvious fake tan, because who gets a tan in March in Michigan?), but it was close enough. And spot on enough to get him slightly mad.

He gives me a sour look. "Kid, just move it."

"Um, no." I say, taking a deliberate bite from my turkey sandwich. "Go somewhere else to make-out."

Joe looks surprised, as does Victoria, probably because it is slightly atypical for an eighth grade girl to be arguing with a senior boy. He moves forward, trying to look threatening. 

I take this opportunity to play with my food before I eat it. "C'mon Joe, if you're going to try to look scary then you need to do a better job at it" 

"What is your problem?" hisses Victoria. "Just move before he beats your sorry-"

I pretend to look shocked, then turn to Joe, who looks very confused about the situation. "You're not going to hit a girl, are you?" I tremble my lip tauntingly, lying back against the window seat dramatically, "Oh, someone save me."

A very small crowd has gathered, the few people who have noticed that something unusual is going to happen. 

"What do you want me to do, hit you?" growls Joe. "Just get of the damned bench, and you know what? I'll even let you keep your lunch."

I snort. "How generous. But I'm actually eating, so unless you want to give me about a hundred bucks, that ain't happening, bucko." 

A small tittering of laughter from the crowd. "C'mon, just give it to her, Joey!" calls one of the other boys on the basketball team. 

"Yeah, give it to me, Joe!" I taunt, inspecting my fingers lazily. 

Joe, it seems, is weighing the remainder his moral code with his humiliation, because ordinarily, he probably would not have jumped forward and knocked the sandwich from the hand of a young girl or pushed her against the wall. 

"Oh, so that's how you want to play?" I ask sweetly, then bend his fingers back painfully, so that he winces beautifully. "I've beat worse things than you, Joe."

"Yeah, I doubt it." he grunts, swinging up at me. But he's large and clumsy, and I immediately flip around, turning around the situation so that my foot slams him against the wall. 

The crowd seems to take in a breath simultaneously, beginning to yell. Most of them, of course, are rooting for Joe.

Joe, glaring and fuming now like an angry bull, charges at me, but I'm much lighter on my feet and kick out again, then clock him on the face. Upon impact, I know that I've broken his nose. 

He tries again twice more, but doesn't manage to get a single hit on me. In the meanwhile, he's bruised and humiliated. 

I'm about to revel in my victory, the easiest victory I've had in forever, seeing as I'm fighting a clumsy boy instead of assassins and demi-gods, but that's when Vice Principal Mattison shows up, spots Joe's broken nose and my spotlessness, sends him to the nurse, drags me into her office, and sits me down in a stiff, high-backed chair. 

I know I'm in trouble when she reaches for the phone on her desk, the kind with a zillion buttons. As it rings, she fixes me with a beady stare, the kind a vulture would give to its dead prey.

*

"You know, when I told you I was picking you up early," says Kyle as I slam the door shut of his convertible (the one that makes the senior girls swoon when he occasionally comes to pick me up- it doesn't help that he winks at them) and glare at the parking lot. "I didn't exactly mean this early." 

"Sorry." I mutter, fastening the seatbelt with a savage click. 

"You do realize that you got suspended for a week, right?"

"My hearing's not that bad. Mattison was throwing a fit because someone beat up her precious Joseph." 

I should probably mention that Joseph is Vice Principal Mattison's nephew. 

"Well," says Kyle as he revs the engine and peels out of the parking lot, the wind smacking against my face. "We happen to be leaving for New York tomorrow evening, so I guess if you just had to get your ass suspended, now was a good time."

"I have detention tomorrow." I point out, but he just shrugs.

 Gratefully, Kyle doesn't seem to be upset with me at all. He has more of the attitude of a guy who's been expecting something like this for a while.

"Why are we going to New York?" I ask curiously.

"I'll let Max tell you. It might make him yell at you less." 

I snort. "Goody." 

Kyle glances at me, then gives me one of those half-moon smirks of his. "So how good did you beat him?"

Leaning against the seat of the car, I smile, forever thankful that Kyle had been the one to pick me up and not Max.

*

Max, as it turns out, would have been angry with me (he assures me that he still is), but he's apparently putting it on hold. He yells at me for about five minutes, partially because Kyle got me a milkshake on the way back ("this is not a reward," Kyle had said, grinning at me as we pulled out of the Chick-fil-a), gesturing wildly with his hands, but then calms down when (after persuasion from Kyle) I make myself appear as guilty as possible for the older Calen brother. 

When he and Kyle sit me down at the small kitchen table, I know whatever news that New York has for me, it's not good news. 

"I'm not going to sugar coat it," says Max, who has never sugar-coated anything in his life, "So here it is: Gwen Stacey died last night."

My mouth drops open. "What?" 

"To put it the short way, Peter had a dangerous enemy he was trying to kill. Gwen came with him to help, and when he tried to save her, she died. Obviously, he's a mess right now. We're going to New York for the funeral." 

I blink rapidly. I hadn't known Gwen very well, but she and I had emailed a lot recently, she helping me with my physical science homework (she and Peter are the only reasons I'm passing that class) and the occasional girl talk. Now she's gone, and I can't comprehend what Peter must be feeling right now. 

"Wow." I whisper, sick of people dying. "When's her funeral?"

"Day after tomorrow. But I thought you and Jack might be able to give him some much-needed comfort. He's refusing to leave home."

"We're going to be staying at Stark Tower?"

"Yep." says Max. "Go ahead upstairs, I know you want to." 

As soon as I get in my room, I call Jack. He doesn't answer, probably too busy at the moment, and it's not until after dinner that he returns my call.

*

"Yeah, if it weren't for the fact that Dad went by his house this afternoon, I'd think he died of heartbreak," Jack says, his bright accented voice a comfort to me through the limited reception from the March rain. "But he's not seeing anyone right now. Holes up in his room all day, I guess."

"Oh." I say, my gaze turning from the pattered raindrops to the photo of my family that I still have on my nightstand. I'm not sure what else to say.

"But anyway, I have more news." 

I groan, lying down on my bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"It's good news!"

"Shoot."

"Don't you have homework?" Max yells up from the stairs. 

"I got suspended, remember?" I shout back. 

Ugh.

"You got suspended?" Jack asks gleefully as I turn back to the phone. 

"Oh shut up. Tell me your damn news."

"No, wait, wait, wait, this is beautiful, how bad did you beat him up?"

"Funny, Kyle asked me the same question. You must be related or something. And he has a broken nose."

"So civilian life hasn't changed you. Beautiful." says Jack proudly. "Simply-"

"Jack!"

"Sorry, sorry," says Jack. "Okay, I was at Stark Tower today-"

"Did you play hooky again today?" I ask jealously.

"Did you want to hear the news or not?"

"Sorry go ahead."

"Thank you. Okay, so naturally, I was snooping around while all the ancients were talking about Peter and Gwen and all of that, because, seeing as Peter's whole Spider-Man identity is a secret, none of them can attend the funeral. Anywho, apparently, Stark and Bruce are working on this mini-portal thing that will allow people to go in and out of Asgard without using the Bifrost. Apparently, this is because of Odin, who isn't getting any more pleasant with age."

I remember Odin's harsh tones, much like his adopted son, but don't say anything about it. Instead, I confirm, "So it's basically a wormhole to get into Asgard."

"Yep. Without Odin or Heimdall knowing." 

"So you're telling me that I can get to Asgard?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I'm not sure how well it works though. You know, scientific method and all that. But eventually, definitely." 

This news heartens me, considering that I have been wanting to sneak into Asgard for a little fun for three months. "Would you come with me?"

"Yeah, sure. We're partners, that's what partners do."

"You make us sound like a dog and its master."

"Which one am I?" Jack asks wickedly. 

"Shut up, Jack."

"No."

"Ugh."

Silence, and I hear Jack shuffling through papers, probably schoolwork that he's behind in and will catch up with in a matter of days. "This is probably strictly for diplomatic purposes right?"

"Yeah, apparently it's only for Thor and the occasional one of us. The reaction of the portal makes it difficult to hide the arrival of someone on Asgard- or earth, but we're friendly on this particular planet- so it has to be perfectly planned."

"Well that's depressing," I say, wanting to point out that not only will we have no allies, but there will be multiple people on both sides not wanting us anywhere near this portal.

"Rubbish, we'd figure it out, we've survived a thing or two." 

"Or three."

"Yeah, or three." amends Jack. 

More silence. 

Then, Max yells back up the darn stairs, "Thea, you need to blanket Aster and Frollo! It's chilly outside tonight!" 

Frollo is Kyle's horse, and I very much would like to ask why Kyle can't do it by himself, but seeing as I'm enough trouble already, I just shout back (covering my phone for Jack's sake), "Got it! What about Rook?"

"Rook's not grazing outside tonight!" yells Max.

"Gotta go," I say into the phone. "I'll text you tonight. Say hi to Peter for me if you see him."

"Seeing as he's not replying to any of our texts or calls, that's not a likely scenario, but sounds good. Catch you later!" 

I press 'end' on my phone and toss it onto my pillow, then get up, pulling on my riding boots and then my sweater. I grab Loki's- mine now- emerald dagger out of habit and slide it in my belt, like I usually do when I go outside at night by myself. 

Good thing I did tonight.

~~~~~~~
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