Arachnophobia ⇒ Peter Parker

eighteen: minus one for rose

     I steadily made my journey over to my usual table with MJ, lunch tray clasped in hand. She was consumed in one of her books, as usual, and her pile of papers and other novels was placed neatly beside her on the cafeteria bench. MJ had begun to do this ever since I first sat with her so we could look straight at each other. My walking was one movement that mixed in with many that cluttered the busy cafeteria. The subtle symphony of an average high school lunch surrounded me. My cheeks lifted my smile as I saw her usual strand of curled hair that concealed her eye and a crisp polo shirt.

     Finally, her honey, hazel eyes drifted from her novel up to me. They slowly graced from the soles of my shoes to the band that held my hair in its place. Though the white noise of the cafeteria filled my ears, the shrug that left her mouth was loud and audible. I flashed a bright smile in her direction, disregarding what she had done, while she slowly raised from her seat and grabbed her books. I paused, why had she done this?

     I proceeded to her table and she rolled her eyes, "To think I got into the habit of sitting with you."

     Books and apple in hand, she shifted over to Peter's table. My eyes widened as they trailed her to her new location. The table was full of teenagers who were lined shoulder to shoulder. Their lunch trays were moved vertically. The table was at maximum capacity, cramming all of the Academic Decathlon team, my only friends. They were all laughing hysterically at some joke Peter had told.

     Once MJ had reached the table, she sat down and whispered some words into Ned's ear. I waited in anticipation as Ned raised his hand and tapped Peter's shoulder.

     Slowly, Peter turned around to face me. He saw my terrified expression for a moment and looked eyes with mine. My gaze burned into his, and my heartbeat quickened with anticipation. After a few moments of silence between the two of us, the corners of his mouth slowly began to fall until a stumble smirk raised to his lips. A sob threatened to escape my throat, but I clenched my jaw to prevent it. He had turned the whole team against me, the only people I had. Cindy, Charles, Abe, and everyone else sat together, talking amongst themselves. They carried on. Business was conducted as usual. No one bothered to bat an eye at the now loner girl that stood awkwardly next to the table.

     The situation hit me, and I held myself back from stumbling when it did. Peter was angry about what I had said to him the day before. My lips shrunk behind a frown, and I shifted in place, wondering what would happen next. I pried my eyes from their table and began to look around the cafeteria. My searching was cut short by the familiar ring of a crisp tone.

     "As they say in the ancient proverb," he said as his pretentious tone left his lips that had previously been lathered in chapstick, "the enemy of my enemy is my friend."

     My face curled and disgust morphed into it. I wrung out my scrunched nose and slowly turned around. He sat in his spot, wearing a 'Midtown High School Math Club' shirt. His flashy black hair lay smoothed back beneath mountains of gel. A poignant scent wafted off him. In front of the boy lay a homemade lunch, displaying a sandwich (with the crust cut off) and a package with brie cheese and a hardy slab of fresh ham. A bottle of hand sanitizer hung off the side of his lunchbox, and his food was placed symmetrically into a pattern. Involuntarily, my feet led me over to his table.

     On any other day, I would have snorted at the idea of eating with Flash, but today was not any other day. A smirk rested on his visage, and his smug expression looked as though it had come with a blue ribbon for winning the school science fair. My hands swiftly moved over to my lunch tray and grabbed a package of almonds. My actions were interrupted by the hissing of the person in front of me.

     "No, Rose. You can't eat those. I'm allergic to tree nuts," Flash said, genuinely flashing rows of his bright teeth in my direction.

     My pencil was rapidly tapping against my desk and my lips were being crushed under the line of teeth that bit them. This whole day had me on the edge, and the looming clouds above head and the pattering of rain against the windows in our classroom seemed to add to my mood. Our teacher had been droning on with a lecture on the same line of Old Man in the Sea for thirty minutes straight. My whole class appeared as though someone had drained the energy from their poor, fluttering eyes which had threatened to seal shut as each line stretched on.

     A yawn escaped my clenched jaw. The echo of an opening door rang through the room, diverting everyone's attention. Mr. Harrington's head popped through the small opening that had emerged from the door.

     "Hello Mrs. Conway, could I please speak to Rose for a single moment?" He said politely.

     At the nod of a head, I left my desk and found myself facing Mr. Harrington in the hallway. He had a pensive countenance, and he didn't wear his usual grin. A pit in my stomach dropped as I saw his expression. I had thought this day couldn't get any worse, but judging by the frown that dipped into his cheeks, it was about to.

     He took a deep breath and tilted his head slightly to say, "Rose, I don't want to do this. You know I don't want to do this."

    "Do what, Mr. Harrington?" I said. My voice cracked through the dialogue as it struggled out of my dry throat. He was hesitant, and the tears welling up in my eyes only slowed down the process. My eyes stung as those tears tried to leave them, begging to escape and run down my tan, but pallor, cheeks. I shook my head, wishing that I was still falling asleep to the rhythm of my teacher's lecture.

     "I'm going to have to ask you to leave the Academic Decathlon team." He diverted his eye contact, not daring look at my glazed over eyes. A sob struggled out of gaping mouth and tears began to cascade off my soft cheeks to my hunched frame.

     I shook my head in disbelief and begged, "On what grounds? You know that I love Academic Decathlon. Please don't do this. Mr. Harrington, please don't--"

     "We had a bullying report filed against you, which automatically expels you from participating in school events."

     "A bullying report? I haven't killed an ant in my whole life." At this point, my voice had raised to a hysterical cry. Stray children in the hallway cautiously glanced at us, clutching their hall passes tightly to their chests.

     "It's out of my control Rose, I'm sorry," He said. A stare of pity enveloped him. He reached out to my shoulder, trying to calm me.

    I yanked my shoulder back and laughed in disbelief. I cried, "No, Mr. Harrington. If you were sorry then I wouldn't be having this problem in the first place. There are two sides to every story. There are always two sides..."

     With that, I turned around and ran. My tennis shoes pattered against the tile floor alongside the tears that dropped next to them. I couldn't go back to my class and suppress tears under the solum quotes of Hemingway. The nearest bathroom emerged and I ran inside. The slam of the door to the stall I had entered rang out, silencing my tears for a brief moment. I sank down, ignoring the hairs and tissue that littered the floor.

     This moment had shattered me. I had ruined the one good thing about my situation. I sat sobbing into hysterics, numb to controlling my emotions. The day only worsened, and my tears would soon mix in with the sheets of rain that poured from the gray clouds above me.