fearless || peter parker

fifteen || the bird thing, and the plan

That night, I easily swept past Madison with no questions asked about why my hair had been a mess. I wanted to call it a night for Nightmare at the point I got back, but I had to climb to my window and change into regular clothes to quell my sister's curiosity, then return to the ground and climb three flights of stairs after walking an already exhausting distance back from the party. By the time I walked through the door, my legs were filled with lead and my feet stung every step I took. All Madison gave me was a glance at my disheveled appearance and the raise of an eyebrow as I slinked into my room without a word. I didn't even change into pyjamas before colliding with my covers and falling asleep.

Wednesday arrived way too early.

And I mean early. It was still dark out when I got up. My legs now ached almost as much as my arm, and they protested the moment I swung them off the side of my bed. I peeled off my shirt, which smelled unpleasantly dusty from sleeping in it the night before, and almost yelped at the sight of my arm.

I suppressed any major noise for Madison's sake and opted to go with a sigh as I unsteadily made my way to my closet. My arm looked like it had been stampeded on, and in the time I had been sleeping, it had developed a vibrant violet bruise that covered the front of my arm down to my elbow.

I sighed again and reached for a black long-sleeve. I wore it several times a week. Yes, gross, but I only ever truly felt comfortable around other people in it. I could trust that my sleeve wouldn't accidentally fall, or that the back would slightly protrude in a breeze. It was an armour chestplate that I was starting to wear enough for Madison to ask questions.

That day, though, I was out the door before she could even try. Peter was at school, which was cool, because we talked about meeting up Sunday night in chemistry.

"We'll meet at the corner of Winter Street," Peter had said, and I had agreed. Little did he know, I met up with Nitara at that corner every morning to walk to school. Every morning except for that particular day. At lunch, Peter had taken off with Ned, and Harry was nowhere to be found, so that left me sitting alone in the cafeteria at the farthest end of the same table that MJ had sat, exchanging mutual looks of what I think was awkward discomfort. I figured neither of us could judge the other, sitting alone like that.

I called Nitara the second I was off school property later that day.

"Hello?" said a chipper voice on the first ring.

I withheld my fuming frustration about her absence, and took a more civilised approach. "Hey," I replied coolly and without preamble. "Where were you today?"

Nitara went quiet on her end of the line, and I heard a male voice away from the speaker. Of course, it was Harry. My heart sunk at the thought that he might be the reason of her absence. Nitara was smart, sociable, and definitely not the kind of person who I would imagine skipping school to be with a guy. I was no saint, but ever since her and Harry were a thing, she was more aloof.

"I was, um... sick this morning, if you know what I mean," she giggled.

I didn't clue in to whatever jargon she was using. Instead, I was baffled. Not even twenty-four hours ago, I had ridden atop a bus, avoided falling or getting shot off a roof of a van and survived a fifty-foot drop from a mechanical bird who was really starting to become a thorn in my side. Call me arrogant, but from what I remembered, Nitara hadn't had that tough a night compared to me.

"No," I replied, a bit short on patience. "I don't know what you mean."

I heard Nitara sigh on the other end of the line, away from the speaker, which told me she purposely moved away from it and was directing her frustration from me at Harry. What she didn't remember was that I had a heightened sense of hearing.