Take My Hand | Peter Parker

Chapter 7

I rushed down the wooden floored hallway to the front door. There stood Ned, with a cheesy smile on his face, holding a few movies in his hands.

"Hey, glad you could make it," I say, inviting him in.

"Who would want to miss a movie night?" Ned remarked, handing me the movies.

We went to the living room, where the TV was already on and Nora was making popcorn. I flipped through the settings on the TV, stopping when I selected HDMI.

I inserted the disc into the DVD player, and waited for the options to load. Eventually I figured the rest out and everything was ready to go, until the doorbell rang again. I forgot who could come and who couldn't so if it was MJ or Peter, both would be a surprise.

"Hey! Come on in, Peter!" Nora says from the front door.

Peter walks in the living room, dropping his backpack beside the couch and setting next to me on the floor, while Ned and Nora sat on the couch.

"I already picked the first movie," Ned says, while stuffing popcorn in his mouth.

Me and Peter shared a bowl of popcorn. Or should I say, I shared a bowl of popcorn with myself. I ate most of it, and we all laughed when the movie ended. 

We took turns throwing popcorn in the air and trying to catch it with our mouths. Ned had a hard time at first, but he eventually got it. Me and Nora were the worst, but I think she did better than me. We laughed it off again, with Ned teasing me about my terrible reflexes, and Nora joining along. I got them back when I landed four in a row on the first try.

Peter had the best reflexes out of all of us. He put our mediocre skills to shame.

"Okay, okay, and then- voila!" Ned managed to get one finally, and he celebrated arrogantly.

"What? You think Flash could do that better than I could?" Ned questions us.

Nora flashes back with a yes as a response. Peter gave me a wry look, signalling a massive, yet humorous argument between Ned and Nora.

We didn't even watch the movie anymore, it was just there for background noise. 

"Are you planning on going to Liz's party next Friday?" I ask Peter.

He shrugs. "Probably a yes."

Peter gets this funny look on his face and says he has to leave, grabbing his backpack and rushing out the door, leaving me, Nora and Ned talking to each other.

I excused myself and left to be in peace in my room. There was something bothering me, and I couldn't figure it out. So, to clear my mind, I snatched my journal and a black pen, then set off for the backyard. I quickly told Aunt Rebecca, just to make sure that she knew where I was. I stepped out onto the porch.

Opening the book, I clip my book lamp onto the hard cover, and secure it to make sure it doesn't fall off. I sigh in exhaustion while flipping the pages.

It's been a long time since I last wrote in my journal, which was two weeks ago. I only like to write in this journal when I have something on my mind. It takes me time, but I gather my words and start to write with the pen, making no errors.

Until a loud crash makes me more alert and awake. I freeze and turn the book light off, grabbing the small flashlight from my pocket that I took earlier.

I walk slowly towards the small shed in their backyard, making my footsteps extra quiet. I point the flashlight in that direction. I didn't really expect Spider-Man to be groaning in pain, lying on the ground, rubbing his head.

He turned his attention to me when I shined the light on his face, with an alarmed expression. 

"Are you okay?" I ask, keeping my distance.

"Yeah... I'm fine. Guess I thought there would be a tall building when I swung around."

I examined him more carefully. He was really intent on rubbing his head, which could be in the likes for a potential slight concussion. Spider-Man tried to stand up, but failed. I extended my arm out to him and turned the flashlight off.

"You're too weak to even stand up. Come on."

He accepted my hand and I pulled him up. The lights in the house were still on, but this time only radiating from the living room, which probably meant that Aunt Rebecca was watching TV, and Nora and Ellie were in their rooms. 

I carefully sneaked Spider-Man into my room, telling him to sit on a chair and wait, closing the door behind me. Because his head hurt, he would probably need an ice pack.

I took and ice pack from the freezer and told Aunt Rebecca I had cramps as an excuse for taking it. Less than a minute later, I returned to Spider-Man reading my journal from outside. I didn't even remember taking it inside!

"You forgot it outside, I thought it was important," he says, his eyes focused on the page.

The only source of light was from my small lamp in the room. I hand him the ice pack, and he sets down the journal beside him. Almost as soon as the ice pack is on his forehead, the journal is back in his hand. I can tell that he's reading the last page I wrote of today's entry.

"Who gave you permission to read that?" I exclaim with anxiousness.

"I feel like I'm trapped here... is that true?"

Spider-Man tilts his head to the side after reading one of the closing lines in my journal. I have no choice, really, but to explain why I wrote that.

"I moved. From Canada, which is pretty far. Everything's been hard for me,"

I hesitate at what I say next.

"Ever since you saved me from that mugger... I felt like I wasn't safe anymore, even with you being around."