Let's reach 250 Power Stones for an extra chapter
***
The halls of Midtown High feel strangely empty without Ethan's sarcastic remarks bouncing off the lockers. It's not like we're joined at the hip or anything, but his absence is noticeable. It's only been a few weeks since that whole mess with the Abomination turned our school into a battleground, and now the new floors and paint feel…hollow.
I find Peter fiddling with his camera at our usual meeting spot, his brow furrowed in concentration as he checks the lens. He probably hasn't even noticed that Ethan's not here. Boys, I swear.
"Hey, Peter," I say, trying to sound casual. "Seen Ethan today?"
He blinks, startled. "Huh? Oh, hey Gwen. Nope, haven't seen him. Thought he was with you."
"Nope, that's why I'm asking you. He's probably just ditching Mr. Warren's class, right?" I hope that is the case, at least.
Peter shrugs, his attention already drifting back to his camera. "Maybe. He's been kinda weird lately, though. You know, even weirder than usual."
I sigh and pull out my phone.
Gwen: Where r u? Skipping school again? 🙄
Ethan: Sry, something important came up. Might be MIA for a few days. Can you cover for me? 🙏
"Cover for him?" I mutter under my breath. "What does he think I am, his personal excuse generator?" I shake my head and start typing.
Gwen: The Oscorp field trip is next week! You can't miss it!
Ethan: What I'm doing is too important.
I stare at the text, my frustration rising. "Too important? I'm not your cover buddy!" I mutter, shoving my phone back into my pocket. He probably thinks I will just cover for him, and shrug my shoulders. Still, if it's important, it must be because of a Digimon again. Ugh, fine, I think, steeling myself. I'll cover for him. But he owes me big time.
School drags on without him, and the day felt longer than usual. I don't like this, I want to know what is going on!
School finally ends, and I practically sprint out of the building, my stomach rumbling in protest. I skipped lunch to cram for Mr. Warren's pop quiz, and now I'm paying the price. Time for a sandwich.
I stop at my favorite deli on the way home, the one with the crazy-good pastrami on rye. The owner, Mr. Deluca, knows me by name and always throws in an extra pickle. I grab my usual and start the walk home, the paper bag warm in my hand.
The sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets. I turn down a quieter street, preferring the relative peace to the noisy main thoroughfare. The air is crisp and cool, and a full moon hangs high in the sky, bathing everything in an ethereal glow. It's one of those nights where the city feels almost magical.
That's when I see her.
Standing under a flickering streetlamp, a figure bathed in moonlight, she looks completely out of place, as if she wandered in from another world. She was tall and slender, almost fox-like in its posture. Golden fur shimmered in the moonlight, catching the light and making her look almost ethereal. She wore what looked like arm wraps, with dark motifs that looked like shadows dancing on her skin. Her blue eyes looked so cold. She looked elegant and dangerous all at once.
My breath catches in my throat. It's a Digimon.
The subway incident with Drimogemon flashes in my mind, the near-death experience, the chaos, and the terror of realizing Digimon were real and a threat. But this Digimon seems different, standing alone under the streetlamp, not menacing, just lost. Her posture speaks of a deep loneliness that's palpable and almost painful to see.
Against my better judgment, I find myself drawn to her. It's stupid, reckless, probably a terrible idea. But I can't just walk past her, pretending I don't see her. I need to help.
Taking a deep breath, I steel myself and start walking towards her, my footsteps echoing in the quiet street.
"Hi, are you… lost?"
The Digimon's head snaps up, her blue eyes locking onto mine. They're even colder up close, like chips of ice. Her gaze is intense, assessing me, trying to determine if I'm a threat. Her eyes pierce me.
"Leave me alone," she says, her voice quiet but firm, with a hint of an accent I can't quite place. There is some sorrow in her voice.
I hesitate, unsure of what to do. Maybe I should just turn around and walk away. Maybe this is a mistake.
But then, a loud grumble erupts from her stomach, shattering the tense silence. It's so loud and so unexpected, I almost burst out laughing.
The Digimon's face flushes a faint shade of red, and she looks away, clearly embarrassed.
I can't help but smile a little. Maybe she's not so scary after all.
I hold out the paper bag, the aroma of pastrami filling the air. "Here," I say, offering her the sandwich. "You can have this."
The Digimon eyes the bag warily, her gaze darting back and forth between the sandwich and my face. She doesn't say anything, just stares at me with those unnerving blue eyes.
"Why are you getting closer to me?" she asks, her voice still guarded, but with a hint of curiosity. She looks at me as if I am from a different world, as if I am going to attack her.
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. "You just look so lonely." It's the truth, plain and simple. And it's a truth that resonates with me, maybe more than I'd like to admit.
For a long moment, she just stares at me, her expression unreadable. She looks away. I feel like I should leave, but I can't. I'm stuck, unsure of what to do.
"…"
The Digimon hesitates, then, in a swift, almost predatory motion, snatches the bag from my hand. Before I can say anything, she turns and disappears down a side street, her golden fur flashing in the moonlight. It was probably the best thing that I could do.
I watch her go, wondering if I did the right thing. Deciding there was nothing else I could do, I head home, reminded of our strange meeting by the empty space in my hand. I hope I see her again. I wonder what Ethan would think; he'd probably laugh, but I also think he'd understand my concern for the Digimon. As I head into my apartment, I can't stop thinking about her under the streetlamp, hoping she liked the sandwich and finds what she's looking for.
***
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