"You're telling me that you got Captain America-the War Hero, Steve Rogers-to become best friends with a thirteen-year-old kid? What, is this supposed to slowly introduce him to how irritating Generation Z is? Project Training Wheels or something?"
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Homecoming. When Lizzie was younger (a.k.a. five years ago), she'd religiously watched High School Musical enough times to have high expectations for school dances, down to the dramatic exits of the two main characters because one was heartbroken—she ate all of it up. Midtown was not the letdown, more-so life itself being nothing like Troy and Gabriella's love story...but the dances also sucked. Even in spite of learning that the theme was a Decades Dance, she was excited to spend the night dancing with her girlfriend. Lizzie didn't have a girlfriend anymore. She was not excited anymore either. Ten-year-old Lizzie might have been counting down the days until this moment, but fifteen-year-old Lizzie was counting excuses not to go at all.
At least until Lizzie got a sudden urge to spite the world and prove that she can have teenage experience, and she wouldn't stop trying until it happened. So she decided she was going to bring a date. Screw C.T. and her plans. Screw Troy and Gabriella. Lizzie Carter would not allow the miseries of the year take another moment away from her younger self. The only problem, however, was that Homecoming was on Friday.
It was Thursday.
Up to third period, Lizzie had absolutely no plan besides blatantly asking. During lunch, she hunched together with her best friends and conspired a plan which involved a lot of irrelevant opinions from the boys (only Taylor helped), save for Art handing over the keys to the art supply closet. By fifth period, Lizzie had swooned Ms. Silvester into letting her leave History class early to finish up a project in the lab after rushing through the assignment on World War I.
Now, she sat in the hallway of Midtown with colored paper and pens scattered around her and a (small) crime that might get her expelled hiding underneath her backpack. A few teachers had stopped only for her to hold up her hall pass with a smile, then return back to her crafts project. Her wire headphones had been a bit of an obstacle to avoid, but she managed considering her AirPods were dead. What she hadn't known was that fate—for once—decided to be on her side, and honestly? Peter Parker's, too.
