The next day I went to the tower to start training for Spartan after the session with the accelerator. The bruises from my fight with Wolverine were gone and the cuts healed enough not to draw attention, just faint, pale lines. The training room was surprisingly crowded, so I warmed up, stretched, and joined Natasha at the barre while I waited for my uncle. After a quick hug from Bucky, I got instructions for a weight lifting sequence for the upper body. Natasha offered to spot me, and he was able to move on to the next individual. She was rather surprisingly encouraging as I lifted. I don't know why exactly that surprised me, but it did. I knew she and my aunt didn't get along anymore and she and my uncle were exes, but she kept all that out of her interactions with me. She asked questions about Spartan and laughed when I told her it was an obstacle race.

"Steve would have adored that," she said affectionately.

"Why is that?" I asked, focusing on the barbell. "That's the second time I've heard that."

"Oh, he loved obstacle courses," she said, smiling. "He just really enjoyed challenges and kept making the one we had in Seattle more challenging. He'd have been thrilled to find somebody who actually liked them too. Most of us just tolerated it, but a few actively loathed. He'd have been first at the starting line, encouraging everybody, leading the way, helping where he could."

"Well, the rules say that the elite athletes can't help each other, but that's not us, I'll accept help from my teammates if I need to," I said, racking the bar after my last press.

"But you're going to do your best to make sure you don't need that help," she said knowingly, with a grin. I grinned back.

"You bet. I'd rather be doing the helping." Her grin got a little wistful.

"It's too bad you never got to meet Steve. You're a lot alike."

"Not so much," I disagreed. "You're not going to see me lining up to be a hero."

"There's more than one way to be a hero than pulling on the spandex," she said, then helped me select a weight for my triceps.

After I got done with my list of exercises, Natasha had a few tips for me, then waved at Bucky before she left. He came over, looking a little cross after apparently arguing with Quicksilver about doing more than cardio, and asked me if I'd mind showing somebody how to punch using the heavy bag. I agreed, of course, and followed him over to a nice-looking guy a little older than me.

"Come on, dad," he protested as we approached. "I don't need to hit, that's not my thing. I'm nonviolent." Dad? I covered my shock. I had no idea my uncle had a kid, and it was now over a year now since I'd met him. I couldn't help feeling a little hurt, but covered it and put on my gloves, showing this guy, introduced as Peter, how to punch. Uncle Bucky watched as I observed Peter and made a couple of corrections, then he moved on to other people. After I thought he had the idea, I moved to the next bag over where I could hit and still monitor his progress. He wasn't enthusiastic, but he dutifully complied with Bucky's instructions for another ten minutes before stopping. I didn't really feel like that was much of a workout, but I didn't have authority to say so. He asked for help with his gloves, and I suppressed an eyeroll with difficulty. They stayed on with Velcro tabs, not the latest complicated Stark tech. I ripped open one of my gloves with my teeth and got the tabs on his gloves open quickly. He flushed a little, muttered thanks, and walked away. I put my glove back on and finished another ten minutes before hitting the treadmill, pushing the pace a little. I had Lifetime Sports with Steve and knew he was strong and a good runner; I knew from personal experience that Roger was cut, and his cardio was good because he liked to play basketball, so I had to assume that Rob was the same way. No way was I going to let down the team or be the weak girl. I waved to Bucky when I left.

I brooded about this Peter guy a bit. It wasn't until I was almost home that I remembered hearing that Emma had pretty much adopted a kid, which would make Bucky like his stepson. So that explained the relationship, but not why I hadn't heard more about this guy---like anything--at all. Well, there had to be reasons, I just wasn't privy to them. I tamped down my feelings, chatted with Sam about what to order for dinner, then focused on my work afterward. I checked email--still no word on the SAT scores, which I'd taken the month before. I felt like I'd done a pretty good job there, but the ACT practice tests seemed a lot harder for some reason and I really wanted to do a good job on both tests, show what I could do, and hopefully the first time so I didn't have to waste time retesting. And I was having trouble with Mr Stark's assignment. My first idea was to build a larger tissue accelerator; he'd specifically told me not to self-censor and surely I couldn't be the only one who would find it useful. After that, I was drawing a blank, and I had less than a week now to produce something mildly impressive.

I was glad to take a break and take a call from Roger. We talked about what we wanted to do for our next date and agreed on dancing at a club where underagers were admitted. He was a really good dancer. He was also getting antsy; next week was the start of April and college acceptances would be mailed. "I volunteer to distract you," I said smartly, and he laughed. It turned out that Friday afternoon after school, there'd be about an hour and a half where his parents would be taking his younger siblings to activities. It was too good an opportunity to miss. We weren't having sex yet, but the prospect was good. Between his family, my host family, and the fact that neither of us had cars, finding a place where we could be more intimate was a problem.One of Roger's best qualities was that he didn't push me, which made me feel safe and more enthusiastic about exploring with him. Now, having good things to look forward to, I focused on ACT prep.

The week flew by. The only thing that was difficult was working out with my uncle; he hadn't brought up this Peter guy, so I asked about him. "He's the guy Aunt Emma adopted, right?" I asked, keeping most of my attention on my form. It was leg day.

"It's not a formal adoption," Uncle Bucky said absently, "but yes."

And that was it. I didn't want to ask why he hadn't really ever talked about this guy before, not wanting to look needy or demanding. He'd known that guy a lot longer than he'd known me, after all. And I wanted him to volunteer the information, as if I had a right to know. But he didn't, and a faint shade of distance crept into our relationship.

Mr Stark had said that the bigger tissue accelerator was a useful idea and could be done easily since it's just scaling up something that already existed and he would, but it wasn't right for the challenge he'd set me, which was to come up with something new. My second idea had been a robot that could do inventory by itself according to a program. It could be used in any lab; containers would have to be preweighed, along with the weight of an object, like a bolt in Mr Stark's lab or what a full container of a chemical weighed, then somebody would know just when to order things without having to do an inventory each time. The third was a device that could remember where a patient had been hurt and perform some routine actions, like drawing blood or taking a tissue sample, automatically, including the prep with an alcohol wipe before the needle. Mr Stark liked both these ideas, but thought that the inventory bot was more doable and useful. We examined the drawing I'd done, essentially a computer and a scale on wheels with a motor and robotic arm. The robot itself wouldn't be terribly challenging to make, it was the computer programming that would be the challenge and that wasn't my thing. Mr Stark agreed to write the programming and I would test the code and start to build the bot itself.

The time I spent with Roger Friday afternoon was a great distraction and a lot of fun besides, but I showed up to the ACT test feeling like I was gong to be sick. Aslyn looked calmer, Karen confident, and Rill tense. I kept doublechecking things to make sure I had everything, especially a pencil sharpener in case I broke the points of all of my pencils. Then it was time to go in. The time flew by, and unlike the SATs, I had no idea how I'd done at the end. I was drained when I went home, and took a nap before it was time to get all pretty for my date. Roger was in a terrific mood; he'd gotten into all three of the colleges he'd applied to, so he was going to be able to attend his first choice, Carnegie Mellon. He wanted to study scientific and technical writing. He made me feel better about the test, saying that not only was I smart and had put in the study time, but that he had faith that I'd do great. That personal faith made me feel like maybe I did do ok. My parents had also expressed the belief that I'd do well, but they were my parents, it was their job. He didn't have to say that. At any rate, there was nothing I could do about it now, and I focused on having fun with him. The club was crowded, the bass pumped, and the energy was high, so it was easy to focus. After we left, he asked me to his senior prom; it was a little early to be asking, but he wanted to be sure I'd go. I agreed happily; there was no guarantee I'd be going to my own and it sounded fun. Now I could go shopping for a dress. Then he asked, stressing that he wasn't trying to pressure me and he knew it would be memorable either way, if he could get a hotel room for after the dance. I bit my lip as butterflies exploded in my stomach, then agreed. Monday I stopped by the clinic after work to discuss some birth control options.

Natasha started showing up more during the times I worked out and helped me when Bucky was busy, which was frequent on the days when I wasn't regularly scheduled. It was nice. She was friendly but not nosy. I had the feeling that Aunt Emma wasn't thrilled about it, but she had the sense not to say anything about it. We weren't going to be besties, but it was nice to get to know another woman with more experience in the world.

On Wednesday, the long-awaited SAT scores were released during my last class of the day. Looking around at my classmates in English, there were more than a few like me, who were afraid to open the email. I gathered my resolve and opened them. And practically passed out. For real, I was lightheaded and there were spots in my vision. 1580 out of the composite score of 1600. Thank god. I bet that no matter what happened with the ACTs, that would be huge in my college applications. The average at MIT was 1520. I completely ignored the fact I was still in class and texted my parents the good news. And the girls and Roger in the next group text, then my aunt, uncle, and Mr Stark in the third. Then I looked around; the teacher was tolerant of the disruption and the probability that there would be no more learning today, some of my fellow students looked faint, others happy or disappointed. A couple of kids were in tears. The teacher started to go up and down the rows; most of the kids were texting parents and friends too.

"How did you do, Alex?" she asked, and relieved, I told her quietly. She grinned and patted my shoulder as she congratulated me. Roger texted back a quick congrats, and I'd gotten the highest score of my friends, though Aslyn wasn't far behind me. She was a little disappointed in her score, but it was still above average for admissions to the schools she wanted. My parents were so excited and proud of me. The bell rang, and I wobbled, lightheaded with relief, to my locker. Then I went to the tower, feeling like now I could focus on the race with a clear conscience.

Uncle Bucky was really proud of me, and Aunt Emma had celebratory ice cream afterward. Mr Stark stopped by with some sparkling apple cider, tart after the ice cream.

Friday, I made an early night of it, did my best to prep, and set my alarm to be sure I had ample time to get to the race venue.