Chapter 61 : Tempus fugit (Gwen’s birthday)

 

Gwendolyn’s bedroom, the Stacy’s flat, Whitestone, Queens, New York, 19th of April, 6:30, in Gwendolyn Stacy’s mind

 

Gwen’s eyes fluttered open as her alarm rang.

 

She took her surroundings in, stretching lazily under her bed sheets as she did her usual morning count.

 

She thumped her head lightly against her pillow when she finished.

 

Since the 26th of January, she had already lived the equivalent of a little over nine hundred thirty relative days, give or take a few hours.

 

Today, she was supposed to be seventeen.

 

Mentally, she was nearing her twenties.

 

She couldn’t even imagine how lost she would have felt if she had to bear that alone.

 

Going to Midtown High would have been a chore, having to stay idle while keeping her secret, her time spent daydreaming to get out of here as fast as she could day after day after day.

 

She was so, so lucky to have other people to rely on while in this ordeal.

 

It was no wonder Aria had told her, had warned her, that she had to keep herself busy if she didn’t want to risk a mental breakdown.

 

The human mind wasn’t calibrated to endure that much free time for so long.

 

Gwen had thrown herself in genetics and biochemistry once she had finished studying the whole high school program three times in a row for good measure.

 

Now, she was trying as hard as she could to fight her constant risk of ‘death by boredom’, as Cindy had so accurately said, mixing her constant studies with hero training and meditation to spice it up.

 

It still wasn’t enough.

 

For one, self study in domains as science heavy as those she focused on could only bring her so far and she had already encountered several roadblocks that left her with more questions than answers.

 

And there was Aria.

 

Despite Gwen’s best attempts to put the golden girl out of her mind, she was apparently here to stay, going so far as to frequently visit her in her dreams.

 

Feeling a blush reddening her cheeks, Gwen shook her head while she rose up from her bed.

 

It was funny in a way. Gwen had been so head over heels at first yet now the both of them shared a more laid back relationship that the blond didn’t plague with her own inadequacies and clumsy flirting anymore.

 

Oh, Gwen was still fantasizing and lusting after Aria but she was definitely more skilled at hiding it than she had been before.

 

Her perception of time was weird, exhausting and maddening, but she was still very grateful that it now allowed her to put her foot in her mouth less often.

 

She had even managed to buy a gift for her crush that didn’t scream that she wanted in her pants aloud and Aria had been delighted.

 

Funny how a simple token of friendship and attention had been a gesture as easy as it had been comforting for the golden girl.

 

For now, friendship was enough for the both of them until Gwen grew less headlessly infatuated and Aria more comfortable around her.

 

After all, today marked the day where Gwen had only a little over eleven relative years left to wait for her golden and gorgeous dream to kiss her.

 

Gwen softly sighed.

 

Yeah, happy birthday, me.

 

***

The Stacy’s flat kitchen, the Stacy’s flat, Whitestone, Queens, New York, the same day, 6:53, in Gwendolyn Stacy’s mind

 

George swept his daughter in a hug as Gwen stepped next to him in the kitchen.

 

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He wished her brightly.

 

It always amused Gwen that her usually rather aloof and distant father always seemed to walk the extra mile in their father-daughter relationship when he remembered that it was her birthday.

 

“Thank you, daddy.” She answered while pecking his cheek, “And good morning.”

 

Her mother, Helen, looked at her over her shoulder, her eyes crinkled in amusement as she was probably telling herself the same thing.

 

“Happy birthday, sweetie.” She said, nodding her head in the table’s direction, “Seat, seat, I’m just about to be done.”

 

Gwen sat herself next to her father as he dismissed his newspaper.

 

“Do you have something planned with your friends from your study group today?” He asked her conversationally.

 

Everyone from the team aside from Aria and Flash had given their parents random excuses to justify the fact that they were always out and about.

 

Gwen’s own had been the study group pretext and since her grades had never been better due to her spider voodoo magic, the Stacys were still firmly convinced that she wasn’t lying.

 

Gwen smiled.

 

“They didn’t say anything outwardly but since we made it a surprise for the twins’ birthday last week, I expect them to do the same for me.” She answered lightly.

 

“It’s very nice that you found like-minded people in your school to study with.” Her father said, a note of approval in his voice, “Too many teenagers treat high school too lightly while it’s where you start to forge your future.”

 

Gwen had to exert an incredible amount of her will to keep a straight face at that.

 

Cindy had indeed started studying too since her change, but only because she was getting bored senseless otherwise, and the whole group was casually carrying Jessica’s grades in an attempt to raise them, the poor girl being the only one unable to cruise through what was left of their high school years with her own supernatural gifts.

 

Granted, she could probably ace a sports’ scholarship if she really wanted to, but pigs would probably fly before she’d resort to that kind of extreme.

 

If Aria and Gwen weren’t big sports’ fan, Jessica was their sworn enemy.

 

Of her friends, only Liz’ had the time to properly study and her efforts as the sole unempowered member of the gang were praiseworthy, particularly in French due to Aria’s unfair advantage Flash's girlfriend still relied on for extra training.

 

Nonetheless, it was still funny to be praised for something you weren’t doing but rather gave the illusion to.

 

“I’m lucky I guess.” Gwen answered noncommittally.

 

George gave her a hearty chuckle.

 

“Knowing how to surround yourself with skilled people isn’t luck, sweetheart, it’s a skill.” He chided her, a bit patronizingly.

 

In the privacy of her always hyperactive mind, a myriad of retorts flew by unimpeded.

 

Gwen chose to smile demurely instead, perfectly aware that a battle over semantics with her dad wasn’t worth it and she’d rather avoid an argument on what was supposed to be a happy day.

 

Nonetheless, she was a bit peeved by her father's rather utilitarian vision of friendship.

 

“Ignore your dad, sweety.” Her mother tutted in the same motion as she handed her a plate, “He spent too much time being a captain to properly differentiate a friend from a subordinate anymore.”

 

Gwen struggled not to laugh at her father's offended look at her mother’s retort.

 

“But I can’t help being curious,” Helen chained as she sat herself in front of her husband, her eyes twinkling with curiosity and locked into her daughter’s, “One boy and five girls, who’s the lucky one?”

 

Gwen groaned as her father’s attention snapped back to her.

 

“Certainly not me,” Gwen answered after having made a show of chewing her crepe, expecting her mother to drop the matter yet being left disappointed, “Flash Thompson has been going out with Elizabeth Allan since, like, ages.”

 

“Did you not tell me they had broken up at some point?” Helen pointed out.

 

“Why are you so interested in teenage gossip anyway?” Gwen asked archly.

 

“It’s the only really interesting thing in high school aside from prom, so indulge your old mother, sweety.” Her mother answered while gesturing dismissively.

 

Gwen was suddenly very glad that she hadn’t been drinking anything while hearing that.

 

She snickered at her mother’s answer while her father sputtered.

 

“Helen!” George exclaimed, looking aghast.

 

“Please, George,” She chided him, “At least I haven’t forgotten what it was to be young.”

 

Gwen left her parents to their inane bickering while enjoying the end of the interrogation she had been subjected to.

 

“And you sweety, did someone catch your eyes?” Her mother, apparently the argument’s victor, suddenly asked.

 

If it had been before her changes, Gwen would have probably tensed then and there while getting redder than a tomato at the question.

 

Having all the time needed to recompose herself, she smoothly lied instead.

 

“Not particularly, no.” Gwen answered with an easy smile, faking a good humored facial expression.

 

Helen sighed as George looked extra relieved.

 

“Such a shame.” Her mother commented offhandedly.

 

“Don’t be hasty, sweetheart,” Her father advised, “You have all the time in the world to find the right person for you.”

 

This time though, Gwen’s eyebrow twitched at the familiar sentence.

 

Even more than you think, daddy.

 

***

Midtown High’s parking lot, Midtown High, Queens, New York, the same day, 7:54, in Gwendolyn Stacy’s mind

 

“Happy birthday, Gwennie!” Aria happily gushed as she squeezed Gwen in a quick hug.

 

The blond chuckled, hugging the disguised golden girl back and relishing for just a moment in the intimacy she so badly craved.

 

Too soon, the moment broke up as the other girl stepped back.

 

“I think I found the perfect gift for you but I couldn’t give it to you here or in town.” Aria said with a wink and a smile, “So I maybe, possibly, supposedly, dropped it in your bedroom once you left for school!”

 

Gwen blinked.

 

“Why would you do that?” She asked quizzically, ignoring her rising blush and the little jumps her stomach was making in her belly at the idea that her crush had dropped her birthday present in her room.

 

“You’ll see when you go back home.” The taller girl beamed at her.

 

***

Gwen’s bedroom, the Stacy’s flat, Whitestone, Queens, New York, the same day, 19:37

 

Still smiling happily after having shared another delicious cake in one of the most cozy of Greenwich Tea houses, bless the Thompson’s quick access through magical portal to Manhattan, Gwen had almost forgotten about Aria’s gift when she stepped back into her room.

 

Yet here it was, a big cubic gift box throning on her bed with a card stuck in its rubban.

 

Dropping her handbag on her desk’s chair, Gwen gingerly made her way toward the wrapped box.

 

She unfolded the card.

 

“It’s been a while since you took up a brush, maybe you need a new medium?” 

 

Gwen blinked.

 

It had, in fact, been ages since she had let her more artsy fiber go wild.

 

More importantly, she had mentioned the fact that she liked to paint when she was in the mood to Aria only once since she knew her.

 

She remembered!

 

Smiling happily, Gwen started to unwrap Aria’s gift delicately at first before she noticed that it was a carton box that probably held the real gift.

 

After a quick back and forth between her desk and her bed to fetch a cutter, Gwen finally exposed the carton box’s contents.

 

A street-art artbook and multiples spray paint in every color of the rainbow greeted her.

 

Mouth agape, Gwen took the artbook and started to browse it while asking herself what the hell had made Aria gift her that in particular.

 

Her absentminded browsing stopped when her eyes locked onto a particular painting.

 

It was simple, unassuming and the line wasn’t even precise nor elegant.

 

It was just a big yellow cat face, grinning widely to the spectator.

 

And that drawing, that simple, unassuming drawing, was speaking to Gwen even deeper that she would have thought possible.

 

Gwen sat herself, browsing the book more attentively once more.

 

A long while later, long after the sun had set, she looked inside the box with a new outlook.

 

Her eyes darting between her wardrobe and the spray paint, she hesitated for a bit.

 

“Frick it.” She cursed aloud.

 

Two minutes later, Gwen was stepping through her window, wearing her spider outfit with a few spray paint cans stuck to the low of her back via way of her stickiness.

 

***

The Thompson’s lawn, the Thompson’s house, Forest Hills, Queens, New York, 20th of April, 7:10

 

Flash and I were making our way toward his car when he suddenly stopped in his track, eyes locked on something in the distance.

 

“Aria?” He asks, pointing a finger toward what has drawn his attention, “What the fuck is that?”

 

Following his finger, I do a double-take when I see what he’s looking at.

 

On the three topmost floors of the tallest building in our neighborhood, someone has drawn a very particular art piece.

 

It represents the bust of a golden girl with a snow white mane of curly hairs, blowing a kiss toward the observer while winking at them, a massive ‘Thank you!’ written underneath.

 

I laugh out loud.

 

“That, Flashy, is a token of appreciation over a gift well-thought.” I answer him with a wink.

 

Gwen was in an especially good mood that day, especially after I complimented her for her last masterpiece that had so masterfully stroked my ego.

 

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