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She was five when her father started drinking. He never was one to be affectionate, but after he found undying love for the bottle, her mother told him to stay away from "the child". Which was ironic because two years later, she left her with him to get remarried. She still called, came over to see her sometimes, took her to the theater. Like somebody else's mother, being kind to her.
Her father wasn't so bad, she decided when she was eleven and started loving literature. She could spend hours and hours reading, he would stay out for long periods of time and be sleeping most of the time he stayed home. She learned how to cook because he bought her only ramen and fried chicken, to the point she developed gastritis. He would trust her with some money to buy what they needed. She never asked enough about his job, even though he had one, but at thirteen she started working at a cafeteria part time so she could make more money - to buy books, of course.
Thirteen was also the age were she learned something about herself: She never felt loved. It was overwhelming at first, and very distressing. She had read enough poems to know how beautiful it sounded; how mothers felt while carrying life, how fathers weeped when their babies held their fingers, how kids would love everything and everyone, how kisses were enchanting and how love meant the world. Poets believed they weren't alive without love, so what was she?
Fourteen was when she realized she wasn't really safe. Her father's voice got louder and meaner, and he would always hold back when she didn't - she would curse him as soon as she understood she was at least a responsibility. He owned her that much. He never hit her but there was a fire in his eyes that told her a part of him wanted to.
She wasn't safe, or loved. She was alone in her room with her books and her head couldn't wrap around her reality, couldn't accept she was trapped between walls and living the pathetic life the heroines of her books would fight against. But another thing she wasn't, was brave.
She was honest and upfront in a way that hurt people and kept them away. She started too young to know how to stop, and somewhere along the way she realized her voice was similar to her dad's, and she hated it so much she started hating herself.
At fifteen, she held a small scissor agaisnt her wrist wanting to feel some other kind of pain. But she never let it cut her. And that hurt most of all, because she felt stupid and ashamed and coward, so she cried until her head was on fire.
Then there was her school. She actually loved the place because she could read and study, the teachers admired her intelligence and never asked too many questions, the kids didn't like her much but were too intimidated to either pick on her or try to change their minds. It was almost comfortable, having no family or friends, being able to have some type of independence at such a young age and get to know the world with no instructions. That's why even though she was an introvert, she wasn't shy. She wouldn't survive being timid.
The problem was when she started wanting friends. She would never recognize it, and if she ever did, she would say that happened when she was fifteen and realized some teenagers were interesting enough to figure out.
But if she was honest, which she usually was but not about herself, she would admit it happened when she was eleven and Ned Leeds stood up for her.
It was unnecessary, really. The rare occasions were kids were brave enough to make comments about her out loud barely made her move an inch.
"She's really weird. Even her hair is weird. Why doesn't she brush it?"
"Stop talking about people behind their backs! You're weird!" Ned Leeds never sounded so frustrated, or loud. He had his brows furrowed and his lips pressed together. He looked kind of cute, a small kid trying to look all big and strong and intimidating.
That made Michelle smile unconsciously, and before she could put on a straight face, Ned Leeds smiled back.
[...]
Ned was Peter's best friend. If she was honest, she noted Peter first, but Ned had more of a first impression.
But as time went by, she couldn't keep her eyes off of both of them. She liked watching them during PE, getting their ass kicked. She liked hearing their nerd talk and them giggling about cool and weird science facts. She liked how Ned liked to wave at the teachers and how Peter would run to carry Ms. Jackson's purse even though she insisted she could carry it herself and that being pregnant wasn't a disease - which wasn't wrong, but Ms. Jackson still smiled every time she saw Peter running.
She wasn't obsessed with them, though. She was always very observant. She had the time to be.
"Good morning, Michelle!" Flash's voice made her roll her eyes. Even his tone was annoying. "Why are you starring at the losers' club? You got a crush?"
"You are one to talk. You're always picking on them, so maybe you do. Or you have nothing better to do with your time. Maybe put that energy into studying and your grades will get better." She heard some dramatic oos and kids snorting while Flash's face got red and he murmured something before angrily leaving the school's cafeteria.
"Thanks." Ned was smiling that stupid bright smile of his and MJ couldn't figure out why that made her confounded.
"I didn't say that to defend you. He's just annoying." She shrugged.
"Thanks, anyway."
She lowered her eyes back to her book but she could feel something burning her head. She looked up and her eyes found Peter's and he had that dumb look on his face that he had back when the teacher told him he had the best grade in class, or when May came to pick him up with her new car or when Liz told him his new haircut was cute.
Michelle would never, ever talk about it, or even try to understand what made her quickly grab her things and walk out.
She had a father who broke bottles when he was angry, she had a mother who abandoned her with said father and a boss who made sure to remind her how replaceable she was, but that moment was the most scared she has ever been.
She was observant and she thought she had them figured out.
But she didn't know what their smiles and looks meant. She never had that directed at her. She didn't want to think about it and make her life difficult.
You're okay, Michelle. You're doing just fine. By yourself. As always.
Her hands were trembling.
[...]
"May and Happy loved you so much. They couldn't shut up about you, the whole day. I was a little jealous, not gonna lie." Peter sighed.
They were back at the rooftop; her, Peter and Ned. Most days, it was this: them together, trying to figure it how to survive in a world that knew Peter was Spider-Man.
There was also MJ, trying to live in a world were people liking - loving - her was normal.
"We spent one day together. Talking about what we can do so you don't end up in prison, or killed by the Mysterio bros. I don't think it's enough time for them to love me." She answered, laying next to him with her head on her backpack. Ned was up taking photos of the sunset with her phone.
"Any amount of time spent with you is enough to love you." Peter had his eyes closed, and MJ was thankful, because she bit her lip and blinked her eyes very fast because they were getting wet quickly and it was ridiculous. It wasn't that serious of a quote, it was an euphemism at best, it's just something people say. Just making her feel good about herself.
"True. My lola liked you faster than she liked Peter." Ned kept taking his photos but she could see his smirk.
"Ouch." Peter opened his eyes and had his hand agaisnt his chest, looking all dramatic.
"My parents had seventeen years to learn to like me and it didn't work out."
She immediately sensed the shift and regretted opening her mouth. Her brain was working fast, trying to think of a funny way out, a dumb joke they would easily buy into so they could all get out of the situation -
"They never gave you a chance." Ned handed her her phone, sitting next to both her and Peter. "It's like the people at school...They're mostly impressed by you, but now they feel like it's too late, because they judged you in the begging and build your interactions from that so...It's not about you. They probably weren't ready to have a kid and they put that on you. But that's on them."
The sun wasn't burning her face anymore, so she couldn't blame it for the way her eyes were glistening. She was used to friendship now. She was kind of used to being liked. But words were reassuring and magical and one of her favorite things ever.
She felt like she was in a book, and that was it. The end of the first book, were everything is calm before the storm. A lot of adventures ahead, but an end before a beginning. Here, she was alive like the poets.
"You're very lovely, Michelle Jones." Peter said, smiling and grabbing her hand.
She smiled back, with no intention of hiding it.