#*isserley

   “D’you mind if I sit here, Mr. Colossus?” The school yard is tumbleweed empty during class hours and still it’s come to this. The knees and the seat of Isserley’s jeans are green with grass trimmings, but she tightens her books against her stomach to emphasize against evidence -- bench is needed, for school stuff, probably, please.

   “My mama had these little blue books about divination ‘n stuff and they were like, coffee table books, but one of them was called a dream dictionary and it said if you have the letter G in your dream then it’s about money.” But he probably knows that already, right, ‘cause he’s a pro, so. “That’s what you do? Tell folks what their dreams mean?”

It’s ten thirty at night, the shuttle back to campus has been due for twenty minutes, and imagine the relief when a dull thump hitting the pavement behind Isserley is nothing but five feet nothing of red spandex. She raises a hand almost daintily in its trepidation. “Heya, Spiderman.” The streetlamps are working, but Isserley is inarguably the brightest thing on the sidewalk. “Geez, how - how’d you spot me.” She hikes her shoulders around her neck. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the city before.”

She’s braced before his ass hits the bench. Braced for friendship, braced for ribbing, braced for a motivational speech about teamwork. The rest of her class is inside and Isserley is reading Room with a fresh breeze for company, and a little nonplussed, she mumbles, “Hi Spider-Man.”