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The first rule of having a friend like Cassie Lang, Ava was learning, was that peace was a temporary state of being.
Her life had settled into a quiet, manageable rhythm. Her days with Bill were marked by the soft rustle of book pages, the low murmur of old jazz records, and the comforting predictability of shared meals. It was a fragile truce with existence, and Ava guarded it fiercely.
So when her phone—a sleek, modern device Bill had insisted she have "for emergencies"—buzzed with an incoming call from a contact labeled CASSIE 💥 , Ava felt a familiar, preemptive exhaustion.
"Hello?" she answered, her voice flat.
" AVA! Guess what, guess what, guess what! " Cassie’s voice was a firecracker detonating directly in her ear.
Ava held the phone an inch further away. "What?"
" We’re going to Wonder Wharf! All of us! You, me, daddy, and Hope. It’s got the Cyclone, it’s this super old wooden roller coaster that tries to shake your teeth out, a-and they have funnel cake, and games where you can win giant stuffed octopuses! Daddy said he’d drive. We’ll pick you up Saturday at ten. "
The line went dead.
Ava stared at the phone in her hand, the silence of the living room rushing back in. Wonder Wharf. A theme park. The words conjured images of chaos: screaming crowds, flashing lights, sticky surfaces, the cacophony of a thousand simultaneous, overlapping noises. It was a tactical nightmare. A sensory hellscape.
"No," she said to the empty room.
But the ‘no’ was softer this time. Less of a stone, more of a pebble. The memory of the pillow fort was still a warm spot in her mind—the twinkling fairy lights, the easy cadence of Cassie’s gossip, the startling, simple comfort of braiding her hair. She had survived that. She had even, in the quietest corners of her mind, enjoyed it.
When Bill came home from the university that evening, she was waiting for him, perched on the arm of the couch.
"Cassie called," she said, by way of greeting.
Bill set his briefcase down, a knowing look in his eyes. He had clearly been in on the plot. "Ah. And what mission has she assigned this time?"
"Wonder Wharf," Ava said dryly. "Apparently, it’s mandatory."
"Scott mentioned they were thinking of going," he said, feigning innocence. "Thought it might be nice. Fresh air. Sunshine."
"Crowds," Ava countered. "Noise. A high probability of motion-sickness."
"And funnel cake," Bill added with a small smile. "Don’t forget the funnel cake." He sat down on the couch, his expression softening. "You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Ava. You know that."
She looked away, her gaze falling on a small, purple stuffed dragon, a prize from a box of cereal Cassie had insisted she take home, that now sat next to Benny the bear on the armchair. It was a tiny, colorful invasion in the placid beige of her life.
The truth was, the fear was still there, a low hum beneath the surface. But a new feeling was layered over it now: curiosity. A strange, unwelcome desire to not be left out. To see what a person did at a ‘Wonder Wharf.’
"I didn’t say I didn’t want to go," she muttered.
Bill’s smile was quiet, but it reached his eyes.
Saturday arrived, oppressively sunny and cheerful. Ava dressed in her usual muted grays and blacks, practical, anonymous clothes that felt like a second skin. She stood on the curb as Scott Lang’s beat-up minivan pulled up, Cassie already waving frantically from the back window.
"Get in, get in!" Cassie yelled, sliding over to make room.
Ava slid into the backseat, the door thudding shut behind her with a sound of finality. Hope was in the passenger seat, and she turned to offer Ava a warm smile. "Morning, Ava. Ready for the Cyclone?"
"Uh," was all Ava could conjure.
Scott, from the driver’s seat, barked a laugh. "That’s the spirit! See, Hope? She gets it. It’s not fun unless there’s a little bit of danger."
"The only danger I’m anticipating is you trying to eat a whole corn dog in one bite," Hope retorted, patting his arm. He grinned at her, a goofy, smitten look on his face that made Ava feel like she was intruding on something private.
The drive was filled with Cassie’s excited chatter, a non-stop preview of every ride and snack they had to experience. Ava mostly stared out the window, watching the city give way to the coastline. She could feel the familiar vibration in her bones, the low-grade quantum static, but it was overlaid with a different kind of thrum—the nervous energy of anticipation. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling.
Wonder Wharf was an assault on the senses. The moment they stepped out of the car, the air was thick with the smells of salt, popcorn, and hot sugar. A wall of sound hit them: the roar of the roller coaster, the cheerful, tinny music of a carousel, the distant screams of delighted terror, the bark of carnival game operators. It was everything Ava had dreaded. It was dense, chaotic, overwhelming.
She felt a hand slide into hers. It was Cassie.
"Come on," she said, her voice cutting through the noise. "Daddy, we’re going to the Ghost Galleon first. Meet you at the Ferris wheel at one?"
"One o’clock, got it," Scott said, handing Cassie a small wad of cash. "Don’t lose this. And don’t talk to weirdos." He winked at Ava. "Except for this one."
"We’ll be fine," Hope said, already steering Scott toward a coffee stand. "Have fun, girls!"
And then they were gone, melting into the crowd, leaving Ava and Cassie standing at the edge of the maelstrom. Cassie’s hand was a warm, solid anchor in hers.
"Okay," Cassie said, her eyes gleaming with strategic fervor. "The Ghost Galleon is lame, it’s just skeletons popping out. But it’s near the entrance. The real prize is the Cyclone. We have to work our way up to it."
Ava allowed herself to be pulled along, her mind automatically mapping the area; exit points, security cameras, potential cover. Old habits. But instead of assessing threats, she found herself cataloging the absurdity of it all: a grown man in a hot dog costume, a ride that did nothing but spin you in a circle until you were sick, a booth filled with hundreds of identical, vacant-eyed yellow ducks.
They rode a swinging pirate ship that lifted them high into the air. Cassie shrieked with laughter, her hair whipping around her face. Ava just felt the familiar, weightless sensation in her stomach and found it dull. It was a pale imitation of what it felt like to phase, a controlled, predictable arc instead of a violent, chaotic tearing of reality.
"Wasn’t that awesome?" Cassie shouted as they stumbled off the platform.
"It was alright," Ava said.
Next was a drop tower, a slender needle pointing to the sky. Cassie looked up at it, her confidence wavering for the first time. "Okay. That one’s… tall."
"The magnetic brakes should prevent catastrophic failure," Ava observed, watching a car full of screaming people plummet toward the ground.
"Great," Cassie said faintly. "Magnetic brakes."
But she still got in line, pulling Ava with her. As they were strapped into the seats, side by side, Cassie’s knuckles were white where she gripped the safety harness. "Don’t let me die," she whispered.
The ascent was slow, the view of the boardwalk and the sparkling ocean expanding around them. Ava felt nothing. No fear, no vertigo. Heights meant nothing to a girl who could become intangible. At the very top, there was a moment of perfect, terrifying stillness.
And then they dropped.
Cassie’s scream was a physical force, tearing from her lungs. The wind rushed past, a solid wall of air. And in the middle of the manufactured chaos, Ava felt a flicker of something. A ghost of a smile. The raw, primal release of the scream next to her, the shared, ridiculous terror.
When their car slammed into the magnetic brakes at the bottom with a loud hiss, Cassie was pale and trembling, her eyes wide.
"I think," she said, her voice shaky, "I think my stomach is still up there." She looked at Ava, who was calmly unbuckling her harness. "You didn’t even scream."
"Well, there’s no point in screaming," Ava said.
"Come on, I need sugar."
The sugar came in the form of a giant pink cloud of cotton candy. Cassie bought one to share, tearing off a piece and handing it to Ava.
Ava looked at the wispy, sticky substance with suspicion. She brought it to her mouth, and the moment it touched her tongue, her entire face contorted in disgust. It dissolved instantly into a gritty, cloying sweetness, leaving behind a phantom texture that felt deeply, fundamentally wrong.
"Was it always this horrible?" she sputtered, her voice laced with horror. She didn't remember it being this bad.
"It’s cotton candy!" Cassie said, happily munching on her own piece.
"The texture is awful," Ava declared, wiping her tongue with the back of her hand.
"Okay, look," Cassie said, her mouth full of pink fluff. "That booth. The one with the balloons. The prize is that giant rainbow unicorn. I need it. Daddy always tries to win me one, but he has, like, negative-five aim unless it was those shrinking disks."
Ava looked at the booth. A wall of colorful balloons, a handful of flimsy darts. The operator, a bored-looking teenager, was droning his spiel. "Three darts, three pops, win a prize! Step right up!"
"It’s a game of chance," Ava said. "The odds are weighted in the house’s favor."
"Not if you’re good at it," Cassie insisted, pulling her forward. "Come on, just try."
Ava sighed. She took the three darts from the operator. They were light, poorly balanced. She held the first one, her eyes narrowing. She wasn’t looking at the balloon. She was calculating. The distance. The slight cross-breeze coming off the ocean. The estimated velocity required. Her past was a dark, murky thing, but the training S.H.I.E.L.D. had drilled into her was part of her muscle memory. Steady hand, controlled breathing, sight alignment. It was the same as aiming a weapon.
She threw the first dart. Thwip . A red balloon popped.
She threw the second. Thwip . A blue one.
She threw the third, barely looking. Thwip . A yellow one.
The operator stared at her, his bored expression replaced with surprise. "Uh… pick a small prize." He gestured to a shelf of cheap plastic keychains.
Cassie was vibrating with excitement. "See! I told you! You’re amazing! Again!" She shoved more money at the guy.
Ava took the next set of darts. This time, her movements were fluid, economical. Thwip. Thwip. Thwip . Three more balloons are gone.
"Okay, medium prize," the operator said, looking slightly annoyed now. He handed her a small, green stuffed frog. Ava gave it to Cassie, who hugged it like a precious treasure.
"Go for the unicorn!" Cassie urged, her eyes wide. "You can do it!"
It took five more rounds. People started to gather behind them, watching the small, serious-looking young woman in black calmly annihilate the balloon wall. The operator’s face grew darker with every successful throw. He probably had to pay for the giant prizes himself. Finally, with a weary sigh, he unhooked the enormous, rainbow-maned unicorn from the ceiling. It was almost as big as Ava.
"Here," he grumbled, shoving it into her arms.
Ava staggered under the weight of it. Cassie let out a whoop of triumph, grabbing the unicorn’s horn and helping her steer it through the crowd.
"You’re amazing!" Cassie whisper-shouted.
"It’s just physics," Ava said, her voice muffled by a plush rainbow flank.
This, it turned out, was only the beginning. Emboldened by her victory, Cassie dragged Ava from game to game. The ring toss. The water gun race. The basketball shoot-out. The results were always the same. Ava’s unnerving focus and precision cut through the games’ built-in trickery.
They accumulated a small dragon, a plush version of Thor’s hammer (that Cassie named Jonathan), a hat with a spinning propeller on top, and, from a particularly frustrating game involving floating rubber ducks, a live goldfish swimming in a small plastic bag of murky water.
Cassie peered at the fish. "He’s so small."
Ava looked at the sad, circling creature. "His life expectancy is approximately forty-eight hours."
"Not if we give him a good home!" Cassie said brightly. She was now wearing the propeller hat and had a string of cheap beads around her neck, her arms full of smaller prizes while Ava wrestled with the giant unicorn. They were a spectacle.
They met Scott and Hope at the base of the Ferris wheel, right on time. Hope was laughing, her head on Scott’s shoulder. Scott was holding a tiny, pathetic-looking stuffed bear that he had clearly failed to win and had to buy out of pity.
Then they saw her daughter. Along with the walking mountain of plush and plastic approaching them beside her.
Scott’s eyes widened, his jaw going slack. He looked from the giant unicorn, to the dragon, to the propeller hat on Cassie’s head, to the bag containing Captain Fin the fish.
"What… who… how?" he stammered.
"Ava won them!" Cassie announced proudly, puffing out her chest. "It was epic!"
Scott looked at Ava, who was mostly hidden behind the unicorn, only her green eyes visible. She just blinked at him.
He looked back at the prizes, then at his own tiny, sad bear, and burst into laughter. It was a loud, full-bellied laugh that made people turn to look. "Way to hustle ‘em, Starr!"
Ava felt a strange warmth spread through her chest. It wasn’t praise from a handler for a mission accomplished. It was pride. Someone was proud of her for something that wasn’t destructive.
The walk back to the car was a logistical challenge. Scott, being the dad, ended up carrying the unicorn, which was so big he had to hold it over his head. Hope carried the dragon and a few other medium-sized items. Cassie cradled the fish like a holy relic, and Ava, her hands finally free, ended up with the propeller hat shoved onto her head by a laughing Cassie. She didn’t take it off.
The minivan was packed to the gills with winnings. On the ride home, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The sugar high had crashed, and Cassie’s energetic chatter had subsided. A few minutes into the drive, her head slumped sideways, coming to rest on Ava’s shoulder.
Ava stiffened, just as she had in the pillow fort. The contact was still foreign, still a minor system shock. But this time, she didn’t just endure it. After a moment, she shifted slightly, allowing Cassie’s head to rest more comfortably.
She stared out the window at the passing lights, the propeller on her hat spinning gently in the breeze from the air conditioning vent.
She reached up and touched the brim of the ridiculous hat. She thought of Scott’s laughing face, the proud look in Bill’s eyes that she knew would be waiting for her at home, the trusting weight of Cassie asleep on her shoulder.