Monday Morning

I walk into school the same way I always do. My first period books pressed close to my chest, and eyes glued to the ground in the crazy hope that no one will look at me if I don't look at them. It usually fails miserably, but it also saves me the embarrassment and self-loathing from all the looks people give me.

Today is unusual. Nobody stops me or tries to taunt me before classes. Nope, there's not a bully in sight the whole way to my locker. That's when I realize why. Who needs to torment someone in person when you can set the trap in advance and film the whole thing, right?

Drawn across my locker—and a few unfortunate neighbors—is a rotting zombie face with the torment underneath it. My stomach churns at the sight of it, and I keep a stoic face to avoid any further enjoyment from them. They're laughter surrounds me as I spin my combination in, and the moment the door swings open, a hundred more drawings tumble out, likely with more 'creative' nicknames for 'Little Miss Emotionless.'

I brush the papers to the floor and toss in my books. "You might want to clean up before you get detention for littering, Eugene."

"Shut up, Robot." He snaps and shoves me into the wall as he walks past me.

The knobs of the locker dig into my back just beneath the shoulder blade, and I'm sure it's gonna leave a bruise. The pain making my eyes water with tears. I try to hold them back as I run to the bathrooms to hide away until no one will know I ever cried from their taunts.

"Deep breaths. One, two, three, four." I talk myself through the breathing exercise I was taught to push away the negative thoughts and settle down any anxiety. It doesn't work though. The tears still stream down my face. I tug at the roots of my hair as my breathing and shaking become more ragged. "Not now, not now, not now."

"Oh my gosh. Did you see her face? That was so hilarious." A girl whose voice I recognize as part of Flash's little group. "She looked like she was actually gonna cry or something."

"It was totally worth coming early to set that up." Her friend chimes in, and I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from getting sick at the thought of how far they went to torment me. "I mean, c'mon, she didn't even look that upset when her grandpa supposedly died."

"He didn't supposedly die." A familiar voice that I recognize after a moment. It's Liz Allen, one of the girls in the play with me and a tentative friend. "I was working as an office assistant last semester. Her parents had to call with the news. She was devastated. They were actually really close, and you should be ashamed of yourself for saying stuff like that."

"What? Don't act all high and might, Lizzy. Everyone knows you like her just about as much as I do." The first girl taunts, and I can hear her spraying more of that obnoxious Bath & Body Works spray she thinks smells amazing. "Plus, it's not like she doesn't already know or will hear us."

I take that as my cue to enter. My eyes are dry and likely red, and cheeks blotchy. "You sure about that? Really should be more careful about where you talk trash about people. It's always so embarrassing when they hear you." I taunt her as I wash my hands, not caring about the water droplets that drip and splash on her shoes and make her screech.

My first period teacher offers me an understanding smile when I walk into class late. I can feel her apologetic grin and the taunting looks that follow me to my seat. My only friend and fellow loner, MJ gives me brief nod from the seat next to me. She shows me a page in her sketchbook of me facing off with Flash. "You looked so badass doing that by the way."

"Felt good to stand up to him for once." I whisper back to her. "Someone ought to."

...

"Hey, Y/N." Peter calls as he runs up to me after classes. "Are you okay? You didn't show up to Chemistry class."

I plaster on a fake smile, happy that all signs that I cried multiple times today have long ago vanished. "Yeah, I just wasn't feeling well, but I'm fine now. Speaking of Chem, can I get your notes? I really need every help I can get in there."

"Of course, but why? You're a total whiz at that kind of stuff." Peter asks with his eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and I struggle to not let the forced smile falter in the slightest. "But—if you really need study help—we can always study together."

"I'm not doing too poorly, but my dad is on my case about doing better in the class. Not that I would ever turn down a good opportunity for a study session." I reply with an awkward shrug. "Anyway, we should probably head to rehearsal before Miss Tillman flips her lid."

"Yeah, sure." He agrees as we head off. "Are you sure you're okay?" I hum an agreement, but it's clear he doesn't believe it in the slightest.

We both walk into the slowly filling auditorium. Miss Tillman is scratching away at the scripts and passing them on to the house manager. "Okay, let's get started." I zone out as Miss Tillman calls the scene and everyone takes their place.

Peter and I keep locking eyes at the most inopportune moments, like when he says something about my character. There's a softness to his eyes. It makes me want to shrink into my seat and pray for spontaneous invisibility, but no such thing happens.

"Honestly, she's radiant, independent, smart, and stronger than anyone else I have ever met in my entire life." Peter recites without looking at the script, but he keeps his eyes on mine as he continues. "Of all the people I have the pleasure and displeasure of knowing, there has never been anyone of her caliber. I fear that she is a thief, for I find my heart and very soul in her possession each time we meet."

And suddenly, it's like Peter Parker is holding my heart in his hands. I press myself down into the chair and pretend like I'm not actually blushing. "That's the end of rehearsal for tonight. Have a great night, guys."

I slowly pack up my things alongside the rest of the cast, partially dreading going home and mostly focused on trying to figure out why Peter looks at me the way he does. Something about it sends a shiver up my spine. Because it feels like for the first time in years, someone can see through the fake smiles and lies I tell like breathing.

"Parker keeps staring at you." MJ whispers to me with that sly smirk. "You should go talk to him. You two would make a cute couple."

"MJ, you can't say things like that." I retort and shove my script into my bag. "Trust me, Peter doesn't like me like me in that way."

"Whatever you say, Y/NN. You better be sure though, cause he's coming this way looking lovestruck." She sing-songs and laughs as she walks away.

"H-hey, Y/N." Peter stutters as he carefully approaches. "So—I was wondering—um—can I—that is would you like to go out for coffee sometime?"

"Of course, just text me the details?" I smile as I swing my backpack on, but Peter remains silent and trembling like before. "Peter? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, no, kind of." His eyebrows scrunch together as he pieces together an understandable response. "I was—the thing is—I meant as a date. Would you like to go out on a date sometime—with me?"

I have to bite my lip to hold back the tears at the memories that the question brings up. "Are you serious? This isn't some sort of joke?"

"N-no, why would it be?"

"Never mind, just forget I even asked that." I force myself to take a deep breath and remember that this is Peter Parker, the sweetest guy I have ever met. He is absolutely nothing like the jerks from my old school or any of the bullies here. No, this is Peter—genuine, sweet, kind, caring, understanding Peter. "Yeah, I—I would love to go out on a date with you."

"Really?!" He nearly shouts with a beaming grin. A small laugh escapes me at the sight. "I mean, awesome. How does Saturday sound?"

"Saturday sounds perfect. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Y-yeah, tomorrow. Bye, Y/N." Peter calls as we both leave school and head our separate ways. All the while I can't wipe the grin off my face as I text MJ and my older sister in search of advice for my upcoming date.

That's when it hits me. I am going on a date with Peter Parker.

The thought makes me simultaneously happy and terrified. Because my long-term crush asked me out on a date. But it also means that there will be a whole evening of talking, of hiding likely discomfort from crowds, and of pretending I'm not dying of nerves. Except maybe, maybe it can be different since it's with Peter.

There's something deep in my heart that tells me Peter Parker is more than I could ever have expected.

Although, the entire week goes by in a rush of late night study sessions and lectures from my dad about my lack of improvement in Chemistry. So by the time Saturday rolled around, I found myself monumentally grounded from any and all non-school related activities, including having my phone.

I press my palms into my eyes in a desperate hope to relieve some of the building pressure behind them. Chemical equations keep dancing on the back of my eyelids, and I want to scream instead of spending so much as another second thinking of another one.

"Y/N, babydoll," My Mom calls softly as she peers around the doorway with a sad smile on her face, "There's someone here to see you."

I drop my hands and look at her in complete confusion. "What? I thought I wasn't allowed to see anyone until I'm un-grounded?"

"Well, he's been texting you all day, and he stopped by to see you." A devious grin passes across her lips. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell your Dad. But you should at least talk to him before you turn him away."

"Him?"

"Yeah, it's Peter." At the mention of my friend, her smile widens and a bright glimmer appears in her eyes. "He mentioned something about you two having plans? Are you going on a date?"

"What? Peter's here? I totally forgot we had plans." I question and practically launch myself out of my chair. Sure enough, there's Peter, awkwardly perched on the edge of our living room couch with a terrified expression across his features. I tug the sleeves of my sweatshirt over my hands as I give him a nervous wave. "Hey."

"Hey, Y/N. Is—is everything okay?"

I let out a sigh and force a smile. "Yeah, I mean—kind of. I'm grounded until I can get my chemistry grade up. Plus, my dad took my phone away and has me studying chemistry until my brain starts pouring out my ears so I completely forgot about our date, and I am so so sorry. Is there any way we can reschedule it after I'm not grounded?"

Peter just gives me that understating smile that only feels genuine coming from him. "Yeah, that's totally fine. And, if you want, I can help you study chemistry?"

I have to bite my tongue from shouting out a whole-hearted yes. Because, there's one small issue—my dad. "Um, I-I don't really know."

"Of course, you can stay, Peter." My mom chimes in as she enters the living room. "In fact, would you like to stay for dinner?"

"That would be really nice, Mrs. L/N." Peter replies after looking at me for confirmation. My mom gives him a wide smile and a promise to me to give Dad a heads up. "So, what are you struggling in with Chemistry?"

"Would you take everything as a viable answer?" I joke as we both enter my room, and Peter looks over my multitude of worksheets. "I have a pretty good handle on the concepts, but the problem is when I got to apply it, everything just goes wrong."

"It happens to everyone and with as smart as you are, I doubt it will be long before you're almost the top of the class."

I quirk an eyebrow at him, a teasing smile at the edge of my lips. "Almost? What are you saying I won't be able to beat out the Peter Parker for the top spot?"

"Maybe." He retorts in such an unexpected way, I find myself bursting with giggles. "Now, let's see what we can do."

Peter and I walk through every worksheet and problem that I have with a surprising ease. Somehow, Peter understands exactly how to explain the solution and process in a way that makes sense to my oddball brain. And it's not long before I can complete them with ease and no assistance.

"Oh my gosh, why can't the teacher just explain it like this in the first place? This makes so much more sense than that round about way."

"Yeah, it's not a popular method, so most teachers just stay with the basic way of doing—" His voice drops off as the shouting starts. Peter says nothing more as he turns to me with wide eyes full of questions. I shrink down in my seat and avoid any form of eye contact.

A part of me wishes that this didn't happen, or at the very least, that he could leave without any further problems. But, Dad's shouting makes it pretty clear that won't be possible. "She is grounded. That means she's not supposed to be having friends over or doing anything but studying."

"Will you calm down? They can hear you, and for your information, I asked him to stay. He's helping her study. Plus, Peter is a nice boy, and I highly doubt he would try anything."

"He better not, and if I find out that he's doing anything but tutoring her—" Dad's voice drops off and leaves the threat unfinished, but I can feel the shame and desire to fade out of existence to return full force.

"I'm sorry." I find myself whispering, and the moment the words pass my lips, I can feel Peter's eyes on me.

"Why?"

I shrug, completely unsure of why. It's always been my response when anyone knows anything about how uncomfortable my home life is or sees anything of the me I keep hidden behind the fake everything. "I'm just sorry this is happening. You should probably go once he settles down. Trust me, it can get much worse."

"I'm sorry." He replies, echoing the same phrase back at me, his voice full of apologetic emotion.

"Don't be. It's not your fault." My voice sounds hollow, as empty as the space in my chest. All I can feel is hurt and fear. Because for the first time in years, someone is getting a glimpse at me—at my life—at the black hole that I stuff with too many emotions that it overflows into nothing at all.

I am hurt because now he knows more than I ever wanted him to know, and I am scared because now I might just have to push him away before he can put together the pieces. It terrifies me that I may lose the one person I wanted to know all of me, all because of my own crippling fear of that exact thing.