The Mysterious Box
When class lets out for the day, Penny can't help but be relieved. The searing pain which has been cutting through her left side has been rather difficult to hide. She spent all of her time trying to avoid curling around het wounded side. That would most certainly be a dead giveaway.
How was she supposed to know that the thug had a few tag-a-longs? Her spider sense, while amazing on occasions, is downright useless sometimes. She thought the warning was about the four-inch blade in his dark hoodie pocket he'd be not-so-subtlety reaching for. Of course, she was wrong. It was actually the two bumbling goons who'd managed to creep out from the darkness. She had not been paying close enough attention. Instead, the sound listening for noises closer to her she instead was preoccupied by the wailing of police sirens.
Who else was in trouble? Could she be of assistance?
It was this moment of sheer idiocy which led to a rusted lead pipe battering her left side. Her ribs exploding with pain, and her leg on fire. Her knee s had nearly buckled, but she fought off the dancing black spots in her vision and whirled faster the man could process. She'd yanked the pipe from her loose fingered grip and shot a string of webbing at his arms. This was quickly followed by more webs to adhere his legs together and to the ground to hold him in place.
Mind back on her current predicament, she headed her warning sense and ducked as the third man threw a heavy-handed punch where her head just had been. She kicked her legs out, making sure to hold back on her strength. His legs went out from beneath him and Spider-Girl webbed him to the nearing object. Which, funnily enough, had been a lamp post.
The original man scrambled to his feet. Instead of lunging for her, he beelined in the opposite direction. He was trying to run away from her, which made sense. He was a criminal after all.
Spider-Girl was not going to let that happen. He'd threatened a young man on his way home from work. At least that's what she assumed, given the expensive looking suit he wore. Lawyer, or one in training. He had a brief case and she'd caught a few texts from his scattered papers.
Using her web shooters, she aimed for the first building she could use and propelled herself skyward and towards the fleeing criminal. She landed gracefully in front of him and smiled cheekily under her mask, not that the criminal could see it anyway.
"I don't know what you actually expected to happen. Didn't anyone ever tell you that crime doesn't pay?" she said flippantly.
The man takes his knife free and swings at her. She faints left, dodging the blade easily. The goggles narrow as her eyes do.
"Really now? That's no way to thank someone for giving you sound advice. I suppose if you don't want to hear it from me, the police cab be the ones to show you firsthand."
She moves right as the blade slashes past. Spider-Girl surges forward, knocking the blade free by using a quick jab at the man's wrist. She makes sure not to go overboard with her strength, but she does put a hand to the burly man's broad chest and shoves him backwards. He hits the pavement hard. Not enough to kill him or do any lasting damage, but it does knock him out.
She uses her webbing to secure his wrists and ankles together before shooting her own thread to head out into the night to find more criminals to thwart.
Now though, as Penny steps outside only to see her social worker Mrs. Angelina Rossi sitting near her silver Chrysler, does she remember what today is, the second Thursday. Their monthly in-person meeting.
Penny grits her teeth and twists it into something that appears like a smile as she waves a farewell to Bed before clambering across the teen filled parking lot to where Mrs. Rossi was waiting.
She was careful not to move to fast or make any sudden movements that would send strikes of pain through her. The last thing she needs is her social worker suspicion of her home life. It's not like the Driscolls' know Penny is Spider-Girl.
If Mrs. Rossi notices Penny's injured, she'll immediately suspect her fosters. Not necessarily knowing that they are doing anything, but she'll nose around more and more. Effectively killing Penny's invisibility. They Driscolls' will be questioned about Penny's life. Her hobbies, friends, school activities, who she knows, her favorite places, where she goes.
She'll be under a microscope.
Which means no Spider-Girl. At least not for a while until the situation has blown over.
Assuming that no one discovers how little the Driscolls' care about their foster children. If that happens, Penny will be moved to Staten Island.
Many social workers are overworked and run ragged. To preoccupied to care about indifferent fosters who keep all the government money for personal use, but Penny knew Mrs. Rossi very well. She'd fight tooth and nail for any child under her care, which included Penny herself. If she discovers that the Driscolls' never buy Penny anything with the money they're being given to care for her, she have Penny (and the other kids living with her) out from under the Driscolls' so fast they'd get whiplash.
She'd get their foster license revoked and maybe even have charges filed against them for the misuse of government funds.
Then she'd been finished. Ned would move on, get himself a new best friend and Spider-Girl would appear somewhere else, gathering far too much attention. Surely someone would eventually connect the dots. Penny's sporadic movements matching that of the spider-themed vigilante.
Her secret identity blown. Only pathetic, lame, loser orphan Penny Parker left trembling and stammering in brave, wonderful, heroic Spider-Girl's tarnished remains.
No. Penny was nothing. Spider-Girl was something special. She was a superhero. People looked up to her alter-ego.
All the little girls who looked up to Spider-Girl, stars glittering in their eyes. proclaiming how wonderful she was, how they want to grow up to be just like her. No one looked at Penny Parker in her patched and frayed clothes and want to be like her.
There really was no comparison. Spider-Girl was everything Penny Parker wasn't. She was smart, brave, confident, self-less. While she was clumsy, dorky, meek, annoying, and a coward.
She wouldn't stand up to the likes of Flash Thompson. A bully, but Spider-Girl would.
It's really no wonder why nobody could see Spider-Girl under the guise of Penny Parker. The two were complete opposites.
"How was school?" Mrs. Rossi asked after Penny fastened her seatbelt.
Penny looked over. "It went alright. When I get home, I have a Spanish test to start studying for and then I've got a rudimentary sketch for my prototype robot to touch up on for Robotics Club. Not to mention tomorrow after school I have an Academic Decathalon meeting to go to. Which means I need to also get ready for that tonight as well." Penny forces herself to stop. She doesn't want to bite her social worker too terribly. Penny was a terrible rambler. She would go on and on until she was interrupted.
"Is that so?" Mrs. Rossi only sounded mildly interested.
Her thick dark hair curled elegantly over her shoulders, just the ends touching her collar bone. She has a much warmer skin tone than the pale color Penny inherited. Even with being on the cusp of fifty, Mrs. Rossi was beautiful. In her youth, Penny imagined her to be a total knock-out. Her hooded eyes so unique and mesmerizing. Her lips are heart-shaped which mirrors her face. Her nose, while larger than average, still seems perfectly in place on her.
During her school years, Mrs. Rossi must have been one of the cool kids.
The sort that teases Penny for her worn-out, secondhand clothes and sown together backpack that, if overstuffed, would spill all her belongings on the hallway floor. Like the girls who mock her and Ned in the halls for talking about Legos and Star Wars. Like Flash who hassles her for simply existing.
Mrs. Rossi purses her lips. Her hazel eyes flick to her for a second before zoning back on the road. "You seem rather quiet today, usually you're talking a mile a minute. Something on your mind?"
"No." Yes. I'm Spider-Girl and I want to get this dumb meeting over with so I can get into my suit and go help people. I feel like no matter what I do, I can't ever erase the guilt I feel inside because I know that happened to Uncle Ben and Aunt May is all my fault. They're dead because their niece is a selfish, ungrateful pest who only served as a huge burden on them and led to their deaths. They never wanted a kid and ended up stuck with me.
"It's just been a trying week. Between all my extra-curriculars it's been hard to find time to hang out with Ned. He asked me to help him build the Lego Millennium Falcon today, but I had to remind him of my meeting with you today. I feel like I only get to see him at school."
Mrs. Rossi was silent a moment as she took a left when the light changed. "Perhaps you're overloading yourself Penny. It's only been sixth months since you aunt..." Penny stiffens. "Well, since the incident. I understand that it must be hard to pretend like everything's fine and act like you're the same as before. When everyone expects you to be over it because of the length of time since then. I know you don't like talking about that and especially not about your own grief. I cannot imagine losing as many loved ones as you, I sympathize. It's why I pushed so hard to get you a grief counselor. I care about your well-being Penny."
Penny bit her lip. "It sucks. I loose both my parents so young. Then Uncle Ben..." Her voice wobbles and her eyes sting with unshed tears. "And Aunt May..."
She forces the crushing pressure of sorrow and guilt aside. This has already happened; it is forever a reality, and no number of apologies and tears can change that inevitable fact. They are dead because of her indifference. Her selfishness.
Penny lets out a heavy sigh. "I can't spend my whole life on the verge of tears. I know Ned tries to act like everything's normal, but even I can tell that he's worried that I'm one second away from breaking. It's like everyone's forgotten that I've done this before. I'm not suicidal, I'm not depressed. Maybe sad, or mad because of how it happened. Uncle Ben had the choice taken from him but Aunt May... she killed herself. She ended her own life, and I don't know if I can forgive her. Yet I feel so guilty. If I hadn't picked that fight with Uncle Ben, if I hadn't marched out of the apartment then maybe he'd still be alive. And maybe so would she. It was because of Uncle Ben's death that made her so lonely and depressed. She'd never been like that before."
The Chrysler pulls into a parking spot right next to a storage facility. Mrs. Rossi turns the car off, and she sits so still that Penny is nearly convinced that she's somehow been turned into a statue.
"What are we doing here?" Penny asks, trying to pull her social workers attention away from the heavy topic that had been dredged up in the car. The last thing she wanted was to spend their whole meeting talking about her guilt.
This seemed to pull Mrs. Rossi from her stupor. "I was finalizing all your aunt and uncles' belongings. The police have finally released their personal items. It's taken quite some time to sort through everything in a timely but precise manner. Since I knew we were having our monthly meeting, I decided to take you here instead of to my stuffy office. I figured you may want to pick out anything you want before they start auctioning everything off."
Penny's heart froze. "What, auction off?"
Mrs. Rossi's frown deepens. "Yes. Normally it'd fall to the next of kin to handle personal items, but since you're a minor, it's not fair to expect you to handle this alone. You have a month to decide what you want to do with anything you keep."
"Why do I have to sell Aunt May and Uncle Ben's belongings? Shouldn't it be my decision. They left everything to me right, you said next of kin. They were my family after all."
"Penny, where would you put everything? All their furniture and knick-knacks? I understand wanting to keep your aunt and uncle's belongings but it's just not possible. All the money will be put in a fund for when you come of age. We're not keeping the money from you, if that's what you're worried about."
Penny shook her head, her heart thrumming with panic. "No! I don't care about the money. Those are their things; I don't want to give them up. There must be something I can do to keep them. Uncle Ben and Aunt May worked so hard and spent so much money to buy all those things, they've been in that apartment my whole life. I don't want to part with them."
"Penny..."
"What if I pay for the storage unit myself?" Penny asks, her eyes shining with the idea.
Mrs. Rossi wanted to say no. If wasn't a teenager's responsibility to pay for a storage unit, especially since Penny was only fourteen and wouldn't likely be able to get a job. She also didn't want to take away the glimmer of hope on the young woman's face. At the very least she could allow the girl to try. Maybe after a month of trying to scramble up with such a large lump-sum of money, Penny will realize that it's just not a possibility.
She sighed. "Alright. I'll see what I can do. If you can keep the storage unit paid every month then you can keep your aunt and uncles belongings."
Penny squeals, her voice crescendo-ing before diffusing with an airy laugh of utter joy. "Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you Mrs. Rossi!"
Mrs. Rossi smiles weakly, feeling bad for giving the girl such false hope.
"If you miss a payment then I'll have no choice but to sell the everything inside the unit. Is that clear?"
Penny nodded enthusiastically.
"Now, let's got look inside, shall we?"
...
Storage Unit #2257 was marker in golden letters in the large metal door.
Penny was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, while she could feel the creeping dread pooling in the pit of her stomach, she was so happy and relieved to know that all her stuff, and that of her aunt and uncle, was here. Safe. After the incident, she assumed that the police and apartment building owners had simply tossed (or taken—in the polices case) everything in her old apartment. She knew the guilt would quadruple once she saw all the familiar items, but she also couldn't stand to wait another moment to confirm, for herself, that everything was perfectly intact and as she remembered them.
The metal door lifted slowly, and Penny chewed her bottom lip.
Tears sprang to her eyes, blurring the world in a smear of colors. She sniffled as her chest ached, her heart squeezing in on itself, her lungs burning with the need for air. She forced herself to take in a breath, then another.
Mrs. Rossi stood beside her, her face never changing. She was solemn and encouraging all at the same time and she nodded at Penny to move closer.
Penny took another deep breath before making her way forward, her slow footsteps echoing against the concrete walls. There was the old patchwork couch that Aunt May had hated, but it had belonged to Penny's grandmother. Farther in the back she could see the bed frames, which had been taken apart. Her own bunk bed for whenever Ned had stayed over for the night and Aunt May and Uncle Ben's dark and ornate mahogany headboard with the flower patterns in the wood that Penny would always trace with her fingers when she was a little girl.
She used to be easily scared of thunderstorms and monster in her bed or under the closet and of the nightmares that plagued her sleep. Her aunt and uncle always let her join them in their bed, where they would put her between them and snuggle up close while she traced the floral patterns and Uncle Ben hummed lullabies into her ear until she drifted off to sleep.
"I don't remember that" Penny said at last. Noticing an old wooden box near the front of the unit. It was a much lighter color of wood than she had ever seen before. Penny drops to her knees and pulls the heavy box into her lap.
On each of the four corners is a very beautiful and unique pattern carved into the wood. It seems like a mix between either the sun or flower with eight petal shapes around a large circular center. Inside the petals, or sun rays, were four curving grooves. Penny traces all the lines and dips in the wood with her index finger.
In the center of the box a name was carved, but the script was hard to decipher. It was stunning and took a line of time to write, but some of the letters could be one of two.
"That was found in your aunt bedroom in the very back of her closet, behind the box containing all your family photos. It was covered in a lot of dust. Seems like she must've forgotten about it. Out of sight, out of mind sort of thing I suppose."
Penny narrows her eyes, still trying to understand the name. Then it clicks.
Mary Fitzpatrick.
This box had belonged to Penny's mother! It was her name; she was sure of it. Why didn't Aunt May or Uncle Ben ever tell her they had a box that belonged to Penny's deceased mother? Had they really just forgot about it?
"This was my mother's box."
"Really, I remember you telling me that you had nothing belonging to your mother."
"Aunt May and Uncle Ben must not have remembered that they had it, just like you said. I mean it was in the back of a closet, right? It could've easily been misplaced and since it's just a box..."
Penny stares down at the box fondly, a warmth spreading through her.
"I think I'm ready to go home now, Mrs. Rossi."
...
Penny sits on her bed, still fiddling with the wooden box which once had belonged to her late mother. Trying to figure out what purpose such an object would have. It didn't open. She tried grabbing the top and side to attempt to open it, yet nothing. Was it just kept for the ascetic of the top?
Yet there seemed to be a small gap where the top of what would normally be the opening lid and the body of the box come together. Her finger brushes against the carved corner— "Ow!"
She yanks her hand away, noticing the cut to her index finger. A drip of blood drips from her finger and drops into the intricate patter on the top left corner. Just as she's about to fumble for something to wipe the blood off to keep it from stain such an heirloom, she freezes in place as the pattern seems to sink further into the box, spinning twice before stopping. The blood seeps into the wood before disappearing from sight.
It would be impossible to tell that she'd just stained the wood with her blood just moments ago.
Scrunching her face in concentration, Penny squeezes her finger on the next pattern to the top right. It does nearly the same as the first, but it spins four times before stopping. Then the bottom left. One spin. And finally bottom right. Three spins.
Then the patterns pop back upwards, back into original position. The seams which had appeared were now gone. And from the gap between the lid and the body, an old yellow envelope is revealed.
Penny sticks her bleeding finger into her mouth, before pulling it out and watching as her skins knits back together. Though stunned and very confused, she hesitantly pulled the paper free and looks at the elegant scrawl on the envelope.
To My Dearest Daughter,
Penelope
From your mother,
Mary Parker
"Holy shit..." Penny breathed, the envelope trembling in her shaking hand.