Free From HYDRA

Chapter 2

"THERE'S A NEW kid," Ned Leeds told him as they walked to their lockers. "His name's Peter."

"Really?" Harley's eyebrow raised as he pulled out his books from his locker, slipping them into his bag. "I didn't know that. Did you see him? Is he decent?"

Ned hesitated as he closed his locker, clicking his lock closed. He hefted his bag onto his shoulders and shrugged. "I don't know, man. He seemed pretty cold to me. Maybe it's because he's nervous, but who knows?"

Harley nodded thoughtfully and leant against the lockers. "Maybe," he agreed. "I just hope he isn't like Eugene. I can't handle another bully. Dad would go crazy. I'd hate for him to get sentenced to jail for murder."

Ned laughed. "Hopefully not." A horde of girls passed them, and a girl gave them a quick, shy smile.

"Hey, Harley!" she called as she was swept away in the crowd, her long white-blonde hair whipping past her face.

"Gwen!" he shouted back to her and they heard her twinkling laugh.

"When are you going to ask her out?" Ned asked in amusement, and Harley shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't want to ask in case it'll ruin my friendship with her, you know? And I'd rather be her friend than not being her friend because asking her made things awkward."

"She totally likes you," Ned told him, a smirk on his lips. "You should ask her for prom or something soon."

"Ask who to prom?" MJ, in all her glory, stood in front of them, her sketchbook of people in crises in hand. Her pencil was tucked behind her ear as she raised an impassive eyebrow.

"Gwen Stacy," Ned told her before Harley could lie and say 'nothing'.

"What do you think, MJ?" Harley asked anxiously. "What should I do?"

"Do whatever you want, loser." MJ gave him a bored look. "Just get it over with."

Harley nodded, suddenly distracted as a boy made their way to them, his head bent low. He met Ned's eyes briefly and Ned mouthed 'Peter' at him. He gave a small nod of acknowledgement toward his friend before pushing himself off his locker, extending a hand.

"Hey," he said, and the boy looked up. Harley nearly took a step into the lockers in shock; the boy's eyes looked so old and full of fatigue and pain that it clenched Harley's heart. There was some sort of resignation on his face that made him look older, which also let Harley know that this boy in front of him, this Peter, was not okay. "Hey, are you okay?"

Peter looked at him, shock flaring in his eyes before they returned dead-like again. "Yes," he said formally, making Harley frown in confusion and concern. Most boys would say 'yeah' or 'yup', especially boys Harley's age, he knew. And there was something in Peter's voice-the accent-it held a tint of Russian. It was almost like his Uncle Bucky's accent whenever he got angry.

"Okay," said Harley, even though he didn't believe him. "I'm Harley Keener. You?"

"Peter Parker."

Harley's frown deepened. The name was a little familiar, though he couldn't place where he had heard or seen it. Maybe the teachers mentioned his name? Or he saw it on the attendance list? He had been thinking so deeply that he hadn't realized Peter had said something until Ned nudged him in the ribs.

"Oh, sorry," he said, his cheeks turning a light pink with embarrassment. "What did you say?"

"His locker is beside yours, loser," MJ informed him from the side.

Harley blinked. "Oh, right, sorry," he murmured, stepping away and letting Peter open his locker and pile some of his things inside. He fidgeted with his Stark watch, glancing at the time. "It's almost time for Chem," he said. "I'll see you at lunch, Ned? MJ?"

"Yeah," Ned replied. "Though I might be late because I'll be having Pre-Calculus before lunch."

"Whatever," MJ said. They left together for their Physics class. Once they were out of sight, Harley turned to Peter.

"And you," he continued. "What class do you have right now? I can show you your classroom since today is your first day at Midtown."

Peter glanced at him, and though his lips were set in a thin line, his eyes held a spark of gratitude before flashing to their usual, blank gaze. If Harley hadn't been looking, he wouldn't have noticed it. "AP Chemistry. Mrs. Grazelle."

"Mrs. Grazelle?" Harley looked at him with disbelief. "Wow, you're fourteen, right?"

He gave a small nod.

"She teaches a tenth grade class. Which I'm in. It's pretty challenging, so you must be really good."

Peter nodded again.

"Come on," Harley said as the warning bell rang, drowning out every noise around him. "We better hurry. Mrs. Grazelle hates it when her students are late."

~Lyn 

Words: 810