Kamala Khan
On the day the world ends,
A bee circles a clover
-Czelaw Misloz
The world doesn’t end the way Kamala expects it to. Well, she never really expected it to end, but she had always thought it would be like this: Thanos or some other angry god unleashing their fury upon humankind; Kamala too late and too helpless to stop them. She had thought it would be fire and flood, death and destruction, and that the streets would be filled with the putrid, gagging odor of burned flesh and freshly spilled blood.
In hindsight, she had been very, very dramatic.
The world ends with her college applications still glaring at her from her dimmed laptop screen.
Kamala races downstairs. “Ammi! Ammi –”
Her mother looks up. A new layer of wrinkles line her face, brought on no doubt from the stress of potential university rejections and Kamala’s ‘night job.’ (Or day job, depends on when the villain strikes, really.) “What?”
“Look at the sky.”
Her mother’s frown deepens. She pulls her hand away from the dough she is kneading. “I look at the sky every day.” Her accent is thick and warm around her words.
“Ammi, it’s black.”
Her mother does not seem concerned. “It’s probably one of Tony Stark’s inventions,” she says. “Sit down, beta.”
“Ammi, you don’t understand. The sky is black and it’s eight o’clock. In the morning.”
“It’s Tony Stark,” repeats her mother, “or…I don’t know, maybe it’s an Avenger or something.”
Kamala winces and briefly wonders when she should tell her parents that she had been an Avenger. She shoves that thought in the back of her mind. Tomorrow, she decides, even though she knows it won’t be tomorrow.
“But –”
“Sit,” says her mother in her Angry Immigrant Mom voice.
Kamala sits.
Tyesha enters the kitchen. She’s wearing a white skirt, a white hijab, and the Avengers T-shirt Kamala bought her for Eid. The swell of her belly is just barely visible underneath the shirt and it still makes Kamala grin when she sees it. Holy shit, she’s going to be an aunt.
“Where’s Aamir?” her mother asks without turning around.
“In bed,” says Tyesha softly. She flashes Kamala a small smile and sits next to her. “He’s feeling a bit sick.”
“Is he taking the day off of work, Tyesha?”
“Yes, Amma-jaan.” It had taken a while for Tyesha to call her mother that, a while for her to feel completely comfortable within the family, but now Tyesha and her mother are so close that Kamala can practically feel the warmth radiating between the two of them. “Don’t worry; he already phoned the imam.”
Her mother mutters something inaudible (and probably unkind) and continues to knead the dough.
Kamala swivels to look Tyesha in the eye. “Did you see –”
“The sky?” Tyesha smiles. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Kamala. Jersey’s seen much worse.”
“I guess.”
“Finish your toast. I’ll drive you to school.”
Kamala perks up. Whenever Tyesha drivers her to school she drives them to Jerry’s Jellies first. “Can I get the extra-big chocolate-and-coconut donut?”
“If we have enough time.” Tyesha pats her belly. “I think the baby wants some zucchini bread.”
--/--
She should have been expecting this, but her eyes still widen when she sees Miles sitting cross-legged outside of Jerry’s Jellies, and Sam, munching on a piece of cranberry cream pie, crouched next to him.
“Are these friends of yours?” Tyesha asks.
“Um,” says Kamala.
“We…met at a science fair,” Miles explains.
“Oh.” Tyesha relaxes. Fractionally. “Well, while you three socialize, I’m going to go buy some zucchini bread for the baby.”
Kamala’s shoulders loosen. Aamir would’ve asked a million and one questions about Miles and Sam before letting her even step foot near them, but Tyesha has always been understanding. More than understanding. Times like these she feels like the older sister Kamala never got but always wanted.
“Do you still want that donut, Kamala?”
Yup, total big older sister here. Kamala nods, and then flops down in front of Sam and Miles on the curb.
It’s been weeks since they’ve met as the Champions or as the Avengers; still, it’s nice to see them. Even if Miles is chewing his bottom lip distractedly and even if Sam is wearing that hideous cranberry red sweater his little sister had bought him. Even if Tyesha had seen them and even if Kamala is still trying to separate her work life from her personal life.
“So,” says Kamala after Tyesha leaves, hugging her knees to her chest, “um…what’s up?”
Miles stops biting his lip and a shadow falls across Sam’s face. Really, this should be the first hint that something is wrong, but it’s not. Nothing can prepare Kamala for what Miles says next.
“The Avengers are gone.”
Kamala blinks. “What? Did they go on vacation? Are we supposed to, like, fill in for them or –”
“No,” says Sam, kicking the curb, his eyes downcast, “they’re not on vacation. They’re gone.”
Kamala stops speaking. The words die in the back of her throat. Later she will realize that she had always known; that she had known from the second she had seen Sam and Miles waiting for her with solemn faces.
Miles looks at her with glassy, grieving eyes, and says, “Ironman died, Kamala. W – We think the…the others did, too.”