CHAPTER TEN.
THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT DISASTER

THE afternoon passed by quickly and after dinner, Amelia had secluded herself to her room to read THE SONG OF ACHILLES. Mid-dinner, her mother had called and Amelia had assured her that she would visit tomorrow evening. Guess that was another thing on her to-do list now. Fine, she would manage. It would make her mother happy. She would do anything for that.

Amelia remembered the days after Constance had died. How long they stretched, how bleak they were. The conundrum in front of Helen Song ─ she was devastated that her older daughter was dead but felt so blessed that Amelia had survived. Every time Helen Song would laugh at anything Amelia said or did, she would excuse herself to go cry in the bathroom. Amelia had heard it when she had followed after her once. She had sat outside on the floor, ear against the door, a pang in her heart with every gut-wrenching sob she heard. Helen Song was ashamed that she could even bring herself to laugh when her older daughter was dead. Helen Song was wrecked that Constance's laugh didn't join hers. It would take her by surprise every time and the wound would reopen. The infection festered. 

Then, the worst feared thing had happened one night. Amelia had awoken to her father's shouts of her mother's name. The red and blue flashing lights had stabbed her sleep-ridden eyes. Heart attack, they'd said. Too much stress. That was the first night Amelia had prayed in a long time.

Amelia took a shaky breath through her mouth now. She'd been lost in her thoughts again, her book discarded. She suddenly felt cold, too. But the feeling was welcomed. Thinking about her mother made her want to cry. She hung her legs over the edge of the bed and pulled her cardigan on, shivering a little when the material brushed her skin.

It was just past ten when Amelia opened the door and walked out to the open hallway on the first floor. Down the row were the rooms of the rest of the team and Amelia didn't bother to look ─ instead, she approached the ledge and leaned against it; her sweat making the cold wind colder. She closed her eyes and a familial face flashed behind her gaze ─ it was Constance, Christmas 2012. An eleven year Amelia was pulling her older sister from where she had been sitting to join her and her mother in performing renditions of Christmas classics while their father recorded. Constance's laugh had been infectious. The joy on her face from that night still thrummed in Amelia's veins. It warmed her.

The door behind Amelia opened and she glanced over her shoulder to find Peter Parker looking like a kid who had been caught stealing candy.

"Going somewhere?" she asked, eyes slit.

Peter decided there was really no point in lying. He wandered closer, pulling on the string of his hoodie. "There's uh ─ " he hesitated now but then looked up and saw her. "A weapons deal. Somewhere in Maryland." He kept staring at her ─ his breath knocked out. She wasn't dressed the way she usually was. She wore a tight camisole that stuck to her skin, an oversized baby blue cardigan draped loose and open over it, and shorts that were short enough to show the curves of her legs up to mid-thigh. Her raven black hair was still open, loose curls of it clinging against the hollows of her temples, and the curves of her collarbones as if it had been raining lightly outside ─ no, he decided then, she had been sweating; hence both the hair and the camisole sticking to her skin. She smiled when she saw him, arching her eyebrows. They were ink-black, like the fine eyelashes that framed her chocolate eyes.

"And you're going to stop them?" she asked simply.

Peter shrugged. "Naturally."

"Alone?" she asked, and Peter saw something pass behind her eyes though he wasn't sure what it was. Amelia still hadn't realized yet though, how dangerous being Spider-Man was. But soon she was going to. Very soon. "I didn't believe you'd be so reckless," she commented off-handedly in a way that irked Peter. It made him feel like a child. He didn't want to feel like a child.

"I'll be fiiiine," he said, more to comfort her than anything else, and a little annoyed. She was still deeply frowning and he shook his head. "I'll be fine," he said, more conviction behind his voice.

She sighed through her nose and looked down in defeat, then nodded. As he turned to go, she padded back towards her room. Something in her was still unsettled. Hand on the knob, she turned and said, "Come back in one piece, yeah?"

Peter gave her a crooked smile. "Yes, ma'am."

Now Amelia smiled, too. She said, "Go get 'em, tiger." 

Peter nodded once and watched her walk back into her room. He turned to go now only to be stopped by Liz and the rest of the team as they went for late-night swimming. He watched them play in the water as he pulled on his mask. He would have loved to join them ─ everything in him wanted to join them. No, not everything. He swung away, thinking about everything being Spider-Man had stolen from Peter Parker.

AMELIA had gotten up early the next morning, book in hand even before she brushed. Breakfast at seven had started to make her feel a little nauseous until Liz had to take it upon herself to wind the girl down before she had an anxiety attack.

Instead of cramming anymore and overriding her brain, the senior girl had suggested Amelia to take a break and maybe meditate. Amelia had grumbled internally at how logical that was. Back in her room getting dressed she had tried to think why she had found Liz's calmness annoying. Maybe it was because Amelia was just messy when she got nervous. Maybe it was because Amelia didn't like to be told what to do, especially when what she was being told to do was right. Maybe it was because of something else Amelia didn't understand.

Her yellow blazer hung around her shoulders as she checked herself in the mirror one last time. A bated breath. She could do this. There was a knock on her door, Sally calling her from outside. It was time. She grabbed her backpack and her phone and exited the room. 

As she followed her teammates down the hallway and out of the hotel, she checked her phone. NO NEW MESSAGES it said. Something in her chest tightened. She opened Peter's contact and scrolled up. Several of her unanswered and unseen texts stared back in her face. He hadn't even answered any one of her five calls since last night or her voicemail. She looked ahead and sped up, catching up with Ned. Grabbing his arm, she asked, "Hey, where's Peter?"

Ned looked around and shrugged, shaking his head. "I don't know."

Ice threatened to spill in her chest. She unlocked her phone and called him again as they all took their seats in the bus. Against her ear, the phone rang ─ once, twice. The person you are trying to reach is ─ she pulled the phone down in distress. Biting her lip, she texted him, one last time before the bus arrived, all bold letters ─ ANSWER ME!! WHAT'S GOING ON? R U OK? IF YOU'RE DEAD I'M GONNA KILL YOU!!! I'M SERIOUS. PLS DON'T BE DEAD.

Inertia made her slide forward as the bus came to a stop. Mr. Harrington ushered everyone out and the last thing Amelia saw before exiting the bus was Monika and Gemma's well-wishing texts. The security at the entrance confiscated their phones.

Inside, as soon as the competition started, Amelia was on the stage next to Liz, Ned, and Cindy in the writing section. Amelia didn't know how it had gone ─ as soon as it was over, she had blanked it out of her mind. But, she hadn't started panicking in the middle of the test so that was a good sign. MJ tried to tell her they were going to be fine but Amelia still wasn't sure. Her heart was palpitating. She looked around once again, searching for Peter.

In the sudden death round, it had all come down to this last question. It was either going to be a win for Midtown High or not. Sitting on the stage were Ned and MJ and Sally. In the wings, her fingers crossed in one hand, the other holding Liz's as they waited. When MJ hit her buzzer, Amelia felt her heart jump to her throat.

"Zero," MJ said. Liz's hold on Amelia's hand tightened. Amelia braced herself.

"That is correct," the quizmaster announced.

They all cheered and Amelia ran out of the wings to hug the girl who had won them the competition.

BUT worry had festered itself quickly in Amelia's heart. There had been no answers from Peter. Not one. Something stung Amelia but she couldn't identify it. Liz bumped her shoulder with Amelia's, gesturing towards where Flash was waving the trophy around. A reluctant smile settled on Amelia's face. "See," Liz said, "I told you. We were going to be fine."

Amelia nodded with a chuckle. "We were great."

"We were amazing!" she laughed and Amelia joined her.

She raised her eyes up and her gaze trailed up the height of The Washington Monument. Reaching 555 feet in the air was America's great Egyptian obelisk. A memory flooded behind her eyes. A seven-year-old Amelia clutching her father's hand seeing this monument for the very first time. Or the very first time she had the memory of seeing it. She had fallen down here, on these very paths, scratched her knees.

Amelia was reluctant at first about going up to the top but at the urgings of her friends she agreed, her blazer ditched on a bench somewhere beside MJ who was reading. As they walked through security, she heard Ned say Peter's name. She looked up. He was talking to him on the phone. A sudden anger flared in Amelia. She grabbed the phone out of Ned's hands and put it to her ear.

"Peter, is that you?" she asked, very politely.

"Amy? No, wait ─ just please put Ned on."

"Peter Parker, I hate you," Amelia said. That's all she said and handed the phone back to Ned. She didn't know why she had said it. She crossed the metal detector and the threshold as the aftereffect of those words started to sting her. Hot and heavy in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself and followed after the tour guide, stepping into the elevator. She was not going to think about Peter, not anymore. This was it. He could have called. He could have texted. He could have said: I'm sorry you stayed up all night worrying Amelia.

There were no bounds to Amelia's anger. She rarely ever got angry. There had never been any need. So whenever she did get angry, there was a dangerous calmness to her. A poisonous politeness where she could say to go to hell in such a way that people would actually ask the directions from her.

Amelia looked expectantly at the tour guide to tell her anything she didn't know about this monument ─ anything to get her mind off Peter Parker.

"The Washington Monument is 555 feet five and one-eighth inches tall," the guide started as they moved up. "Notice how the marble and granite are cut around the stone."

Amelia wanted to add: The capstone of the Washington Monument weighs precisely thirty-three hundred pounds. More startling, however, was the knowledge that this capstone's ultimate peak, the zenith of this obelisk, was crowned by a tiny, polished tip of aluminum ─ a metal as precious as gold in its day. The shining apex of the Washington Monument was only about a foot tall. Incredibly, this small metal pyramid bore a famous engraving ─ Laus Deo. The well-known Latin phrase ─ meaning praise God ─ was inscribed on the tip of the Washington Monument in script letters only one inch tall.

In all four directions of the Washington Monument stood monuments ─ The White House up North. The Capitol to the East. West, The Lincoln Memorial, its classical Greek architecture inspired by the Parthenon in Athens, Temple to Athena ─ goddess of heroic undertakings. South, across the dark waters of the Tidal Basin, The Jefferson Memorial.

Maybe that was why she caught the light when she did, everyone else immersed in whatever the tour guide was telling them. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed a glowing blue light and her eyebrows furrowed. She turned and her lips parted, seeing the neon blue light charge up in intensity. "Ned!" she shouted in warning but it was too late.

She heard the explosion, her ears popping. The elevator rocked and screeched to a halt. They all retreated to corners, backs pressed against the walls. Ned's bag fell on the floor and Amelia raised her eyes up when she heard Flash say, "Oh my god. Look at the ceiling." There was an angry red circle where the laser had cut through, melting parts of the elevator.

Amelia gulped. Suddenly she was very aware of the distance between her and the ground several hundred feet below. Fear seized her. While Liz tried to calm everyone down and Abe felt to say out loud how they all were gonna die here, Amelia felt Cindy grab her hand. She didn't who which one of them was shaking ─ but Amelia willed herself to stop. She squeezed Cindy's hand harder and glanced at her. Her look said: We're gonna be fine. And though she herself didn't believe it as long as Cindy did, that was enough. Charles wondered aloud how screwed they were.

"Okay, I know that was scary, but our safety systems are working," the tour guide assured them. "We're very safe in here."

Somehow, Amelia didn't believe her. As Mr. Harrington helped the guide up to open the hatch on the top, Amelia flinched at the groaning elevator. She felt Cindy let go of her hand and move forward, being helped up by Mr. Harrington. Amelia felt like she could barely breathe. Her hair was knotted and her clothes were dust-covered and her forehead was stinging from a cut she could not see. Abe went up next.

Mr. Harrington ushered Amelia but she was frozen in fear. He tried to tell her it was all going to be alright but she wasn't here ─ she was back on that road with Constance. Flash went up next. The elevator rocked and screams filled Amelia's ears. She pressed against the elevator wall.

There was Coldplay playing somewhere ─ on the radio. Cold breeze sifting through her hair as they sped down the winding road, the sunroof of the car open. Constance was singing along to the song incredibly out of tune and Amelia had said, " Connie, stop." She said it now too, eyes clenched shut.

The elevator groaned, then fell. She felt it drop from under her feet first, then she was dropping down with it. She tried to scream but no scream would come. Two stray tears escaped from the corner of her eyes which were now wide open.

Two narratives coexisted in Amelia's head. One was the real image ─ the elevator falling, and Amelia falling with it. The drop in her stomach, the catching of breath in her chest. The other was a false image, a memory ─ the screeching tires, the orange car in the center of a tragedy. Amelia still falling, like she had fallen three years ago.

The elevator halted like a heart attack. Amelia's breath caught. She fell to her knees from the motion. The bare skin of her knees and palm stung and she glanced down to find she had fallen on broken glass. Blood pooled out of the small cuts but that wasn't the most frightening part. The most frightening part was when they started falling again. Then they caught on the framing of the elevators, Spider-Man fell from the sky to the floor, and then they were free-falling.

Spider-Man shot a string of web towards the top of the elevator still stuck up ahead, then braced himself to whatever was left of the ceiling. The elevator screeched to a stop. Amelia gasped when broken glass rained down on her. Peter cleared his throat and said in a heavy New York accent, "Hey, how you doing? Don't worry about it. I got you."

He turned his head to look at all the faces and stilled when he saw Amelia's, backed tightly against the side of the elevator. Fear shadowed her face, and streaks of silent tears had ruined her mascara. A cut on her forehead was bleeding and grime and dust covered most of her face. "It's okay," he said, back to his own voice. "You're okay." He said it to everyone but he was looking at Amelia.

Ned started cheering Spider-Man on and the elevator rocked. Spider-Man warned him to quit moving around. As he started pulling them up, Amelia kept staring at Peter. Everything bad she had thought about him came rushing to her mind. Every bad thing she had ever thought about Constance rushed to her mind. Every bad thing she had ever thought about anyone rushed to mind. She held herself against the elevator wall when they came to a stop. 

And Amelia thought about falling. She had thought about falling a lot in her dreams. She had always imagined herself not fighting against it, just letting the fall take her but now that it had come to it, she couldn't bring herself to give up. The elevator under her feet slipped first. It was like being swept off the ground with nothing to land on. She heard numerous shouts of her name, the closest and the loudest being Peter's.

"AMY!"

And then she was looking up at him, her hand outstretching for him on instinct. And then she was falling. Her stomach dropped. Air enveloped her. It was this and nothing else. She was falling and falling. And then Peter was catching her. She felt the webbing stick to her hand and caught it between her fingers. A jerk went through her body.

Peter's heart had stopped. The moment Liz had stepped over the edge to safety, the elevator had given up and fallen from under Amelia's feet. He'd felt all his movements seize. The joy he'd felt rescuing everyone had turned to ice. There had been only one thought: Amelia. Just one. It was pure instinct, webbing her hand to catch her. They both had had their hands outstretched, fingers splayed but in a futile attempt. When the web wound around her arm, Peter had physically felt his heart skip a beat.

For the first few moments, there was silence. 

It was this:

Peter sticking against the ceiling. Amelia dangling from his web several feet down. Peter frozen in fear. Amelia unresponsive. 

For the first few moments, it was Peter looking down at Amelia hanging from his web hoping for her to be alright ─ praying. He had never really believed in God. That was a lie. He had believed when he was a little kid, but then he had grown up. Because if there really, really was a God, Peter was pretty sure He had a personal vendetta against him and that was an unsettling thought to carry around.

He pulled on the string and felt Amelia move. And infinitesimal movement, but a tug vibrated the taut web. And now Amelia looked up at him and Peter breathed. "You're okay, you're okay," he repeated, but he didn't know if it was to calm him erratically beating heart or to reassure Amelia. She seemed out of breath, but other than that, perfectly fine. "Just keep looking at me, you're fine."

And Amelia didn't stop looking at him. She wished she could see his face right now ─ those doe brown eyes that never failed to make her heart skip a beat and tether it at the same time. He grabbed her outstretched hand and Amelia felt her fear dissipate. "I got you," he said, helping her to the edge of the floor. 

Numerous outstretched arms of her classmates, teacher, and the security personnel grabbed her and pulled her straight, but Amelia was still looking at Peter. 

"So, uh, is everyone okay?" Peter was looking at her too, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking with that mask on. But it wasn't hard to tell what Amelia must've been feeling, anyone who looked at her could've seen how relieved she looked.

Something steady took root in her chest. She could feel her heart grow. There was happiness pushing against her throat. Maybe that's why she didn't register Spider-Man falling or Mr. Harrington thanking him or Flash asking him if he was really friends with Peter Parker or being escorted out of the building. There was something new blooming in her chest, something that felt like a new spring. Unfurling. Threatening to spill. It was pink and blue and green and red and all colors imaginable, about to burst from her chest. Amelia was still thinking about Peter when she stepped out into the sun.