Of course, here I am, making another story. I couldn't help it, though! This will connect with my other story, Window to the Soul, somewhat. Please check that out, too, if you're interested in a Bucky/OC and Peter/sibling relationship! Let me know what you all think =)
Prologue
The shrill, piercing ring of the bell echoed through the classroom, sending everyone scrambling to their feet. Ms. Jones called out for us to remember our black and white collages were due the following day, but I couldn't be bothered by that.
Not only was I already done with it, but I only had fifteen minutes before English lit and I had to pee, stop by my locker, and retrieve my weather-beaten copy of Jane Eyre from Mr. Adams' classroom. I had accidentally left it on my desk and if I wanted to get a start on my essay, I needed it for citations.
I wasn't like the other kids who lived off of Sparknotes; I loved books. Reading was my life and I refused to skim through an author's hard work to save on some time.
Moving quickly through the crowded halls, I narrowly avoided Flash and, in turn, his highly unwanted advances. Waving at my little brother in passing, I then flipped him off when he made a stupid face at me.
Breathless, I knocked on the door to room 103, shifting from foot to foot and desperately hoping I wouldn't piss my pants. There was no answer, but I knew Adams was in there. He hardly left his desk, let alone his classroom. I had only seen him in the cafeteria once and at assemblies, he made it known to all who would listen that his time could be better served in his classroom.
Gingerly pushing the door open, I peered inside, glancing at my preferred seat. My book was nowhere to be found.
Cursing under my breath, I stepped into the room, biting my lip as I noticed a tall, lanky guy being reamed out by Adams. The aged teacher wasn't one to go off on students unless they weren't pulling their weight in class; the kid must have been slacking off or something.
Glancing hastily at my watch and realizing neither had noticed my presence, I decided to save myself some time and save the guy another five minutes of agony.
"Mr. Adams, sorry to interrupt, but I left a book in here and I don't see it at my desk."
The boy jumped nearly a foot in the air, spinning and knocking Adams' nameplate from the desk. He caught it quickly, impressively so, and righted it before the teacher even noticed.
Peter Parker.
He was friends with Jake, my younger brother, the pair of them freshman. He was tall and lean, with an extremely boyish face and warm hazel eyes. He seemed torn between dying of embarrassment and worshipping me at my feet for drawing Adams' attention away from him.
"Miss Lang, can't you see I'm a little busy?" he queried, removing his glasses from his wizened face, his silver mustache ruffling in agitation.
"I know, and I'm really sorry," I lifted a shoulder, offering him a charming smile and leaning against the nearest desk, "but I gotta get this essay written or Dormer will have my ass."
His lip curled, and, though he scolded me for my language, I knew his disgust stemmed from Dormer herself. He and that woman had an on-again, off-again relationship throughout the years - everyone knew as they weren't very subtle about it - and it was common knowledge they were currently off.
And, as I was Adams' bonafide teacher's pet and we had a presentation on Civil War battlefields on Friday, I, of course, got a pass.
"Nobody brought it up," he replied, scratching at his chin and peering about the room for the book, "take a look around, but be quick. I have AP Euro starting in a few minutes."
"Ah, AP Euro," I sighed wistfully, roaming the aisles and scanning the shelves along the walls, "how I miss it. Mind if I sit in?"
"You have Dormer next?"
"Evans," I replied instead, shaking my head and sighing in despair. Math was not my strong suit and calculus was kicking my ass. It didn't help that Mrs. Evans was the dullest teacher known to mankind and I ended up doodling or jotting story notes in the margins of my notebook.
"In that case, you're gonna have to go," Adams answered, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over his stomach. If it were Dormer, he probably would have let me stay.
Peter stood awkwardly between us, looking extremely uncomfortable and unsure if he should stay and continue to get his ass handed to him or try to slip out while we were talking.
"Peter," I sighed finally, causing him to flinch and glance, wide-eyed, at Adams. When the teacher didn't immediately launch into another tirade, he queried softly, "Yeah?"
"Have you seen a copy of Jane Eyre anywhere?" I inquired, throwing my hands in the air and resting a fist of my hip, "looks like it's gone through hell and back?"
"Miss Lang…"
"Er, yeah," he scratched the nape of his neck sheepishly, drawing his backpack around his front and rifling through its contents, "it, uh, was at my desk. I was gonna drop it off… at the lost and found, you know? I-I didn't know it was yours."
"Well you are my hero, good sir," I announced happily, approaching the boy, staring up at him. I may have had two years on the guy, but he had at least a good foot in height over me. Squeezing his arm in thanks, I took the book from his shaky hand and pressed it to my chest. Offering him a wink, I turned to Adams and tapped two fingers to my temple in salute. I adopted a British accent and implored, "Don't be too hard on him, mate. He's just a young lad."
"He failed my Renaissance test!" Adams growled, his face flushing.
He wasn't the only one. Peter rolled his eyes skyward before screwing them shut, his face blushing a brilliant crimson. He avoided my gaze at all costs as Adams continued to rake him over the coals, "He's been too busy watching all of those videos online to listen to my lectures!"
Videos?
Glancing between the two of them, I fought the urge to laugh, pressing a fist to my mouth and snorting. Peter's eyes snapped to meet mine and a tiny grin crossed his face despite himself.
"Fail one more test-"
"I swear, Mr. Adams, I won't," Peter assured him quickly, "I wo- it was a one time thing, I promise. I'll pay more attention, really. I won't fail another test."
"No you won't, because Miss Lang here is going to tutor you," Adams replied, his tone brooking no argument from the freshman, "Robin, you'll get extra credit if you tutor him."
"I don't-"
"Deal," I interrupted, jogging toward the door as the bell rang, signalling my tardiness to my calc class, "Peter, four o'clock, my house, this afternoon."
I didn't allow him a chance to argue before I bolted, my bladder still screaming.
/
So everyone, what do you think? Please let me know if you like it!