Masquerade

The theme that year was masks and disguises. It was gonna be a Phantom Of The Opera-style masquerade ball, according to MJ and her friends. Neither of the boys were going, because both of them were scared.

"MJ's going with Flash," Harry told Peter. "You, ur-"

"I wasn't gonna ask her," Peter said. He had seen her blue and gold dress hanging from her closet door when looking through the window. "I'm staying home."

Harry nodded. He shifted closer to Peter, who instantly covered up what he was doing- there were spiders, costumes, drawings, his notebook was covered in them. Harry didn't notice.

"Some people just go as friends," Harry said hopefully.

"Guess so."

"It won't be that bad."

"Long as they hold back on the bucket of pig's blood." Since beating up Flash, the high-school torment had gotten worse, rather than better. "I don't know, Harry."

"We don't have anything better to do."

Peter had lots of better things to do. But he thought of the blue-gold dress. "Alright."

Harry called by his father's study to ask to borrow the car. Norman was standing at the wall with his back to the door, examining his creepy, toothy trophies on the mantlepiece.

"Dad? I'm going out."

"Get Bernard to take you."

Harry stepped into the room, putting his shoes right on the pristine carpet, something he often did by accident. "S' prom night."

Norman turned around. He had a drink in his hand, and Harry backed away again.

"Are you taking a girl?" Norman asked cooly.

"No."

"Are you taking anyone?"

"No."

They stood in silence.

"Well, go on then," Norman finally said. "Get out."

There were green lights around the school gymanisum, and a spluttering chocolate fountain, and a punch bowl in the darkest corner. Harry hung around it until Peter showed up.

"I hope my aunt's gonna be okay on her own," was the first thing he said.

"You gotta take some time for yourself," Harry said hopefully. He counted back the days since Peter's uncle had died, it hadn't been that long. "Y'know. You'll be fine."

Peter scanned the room for MJ. He couldn't see her- but then he properly saw Harry, if only for a second in the light. "You came in costume, huh?"

Harry's suit fit him perfectly, he looked pretty good, but his only concession towards the party's theme was a red-and-blue plastic mask. It looked like he'd made it himself. Peter wished he himself had gotten a mask, if everyone else had made the effort.

"I made it in eighth grade." Harry said. "It was an art project."

"I like it."

"I would have taken one of my dad's. But he was in the room."

"Uh-huh."

MJ had come in. Her dress was wrapped tightly around her, and a Venician mask with feathers covered her face. She was arm-in-arm with Flash, but she waved when she saw them.

"Wow," said Peter.

"She looks really good," said Harry, whose feelings towards her confused him and had done for some time. He pulled the mask off his face and propped it up on his forehead.

Some students pushed past them to get at the punch bowl, so they moved along, drinks in hand. The lights were flickering, and the music was getting louder. The various teachers and chaperones stood around near the doors, some of them even looking at Peter, his reputation had changed since the fight in the corridor...

"Hi, Flash," Peter said as he went past them.

"Hi, fags."

Harry flipped his mask back over his face. Peter gazed at MJ wistfully.

"You know," he said. "I heard her dad screaming at her before she went out. Said her dress was too low-cut."

Harry had never met MJ's dad. "Why don't you just punch his lights out, like you did with Thompson?"

"I don't want to make her life harder."

"Sounds like you'd be making it easier."

"It's more complicated than that."

Peter took a long drink of punch, and Harry did too. It tasted different, someone had spiked it.

"Come on up, Miss Watson."

Peter and Harry watched, still slumped at the back of the room, as MJ was crowned prom queen. Flash kissed her in front of everyone, theatrically, with middle finger raised to the audience- he reminded Peter of a dog marking its territory.

"Thanks for voting for me," MJ said. She wasn't wearing her mask anymore. "Thanks, it means a lot." Then she descended the stage and disappeared into her knot of friends. Both boys watched the lights reflecting off the gold bits of her dress.

"Is this punch spiked?" Peter suddenly asked.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I thought you knew."

"No!"

"It's no big deal." Harry was on his fourth drink, and Peter suddenly felt desperately uncomfortable, he himself had never been drunk in his entire life.

"Harry-"

"Hey," Harry said, "just try and live a little, okay?" Then he must have remembered what Peter had been through in the past month, because he stopped talking and looked guilty. "I mean. You oughta have some fun. You deserve it."

"I really don't."

"Course you do. You're a good person. Idiot."

He handed Peter another drink, but Peter didn't drink it, he just stood there. The alcohol was heating up the party- MJ was dancing quite sexily on the dancefloor with her friends, but Peter could tell she wasn't really into it. Flash had his hands all over her.

"My baby's the prom queen!" he was shouting drunkenly.

Harry was watching the crowds, the couples, like a prisoner staring from his cell room window. Peter waved a hand in front of his face.

"Hey."

The music stopped, although the room was still dark. The principal was climbing to the stage, his face like thunder- Harry grabbed Peter's hand and then instantly dropped it. Peter stared at him, confused.

"Quick, let's go," Harry said, in a slightly slurred voice.

Peter wasn't sure what to do. But he himself had been drinking, and he suspected the alcohol was reacting badly with his spider-powers, or the other way around, or something...he felt out of it, now. "Okay."

The familiar corridors looked very different in the dark. They found themselves in the smallest classroom, a music room, the shutters up and the moonlight shining in.

Harry stared out of the window.

"I like it in here better than the gym," Peter said, his speech slurring too. "I got beat up so much in that gym." He went to sit on one of the plastic chairs, but missed somehow and rolled onto the floor.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, a bit worried.

"I've never been drunk before! It feels awful."

Harry went to help him up. He had held Peter before, and helped him up off the ground a lot, but he felt different now.

"I feel sick," Peter muttered.

Harry started to worry a bit that he really might throw up. "Lie down."

"Shouldn't," Peter said, but he sort of collapsed across the chairs. He lay there, slumped to one side, looking barely concious.

After a moment, Harry sat down next to him. He moved closer and closer, and finally shifted Peter's head onto his lap. He didn't do anything after that- he just sat there, in the dark, stroking his hair. He could feel things stir that he didn't want to be stirring.

"Peter," he whispered, his lips very close to his ear, but he got no answer. He quickly kissed his forehead, felt guilty, and straightened up again. Somewhere off in the distance, there was shouting- the party had moved outside, perhaps-

Suddenly the door creaked open and MJ came in. She looked tired, and her hair was messy- she stopped dead when she saw them.

"Hi," she finally said, hesitantly.

"Hi," said Harry, his voice cracking. His hand was still in Peter's hair, so he moved it. He felt creepy and ashamed now someone else was near. "Peter got drunk."

"Is he okay?"

He hoped she couldn't see his erection. "Yeah."

MJ moved to the seats and sat down next to him. Harry noticed a blue bruise on her arm, the same colour as her dress.

She saw him looking. "I hit it on my closet door," she said cheerfully.

"Oh, okay."

He turned away from her and looked down at Peter- if he hadn't, he would have seen her expression change to something quite different.

"I'm gonna ask my dad to pick us up," he said. "Ur, you can come if you want to."

She pointed to her tiara. "Can't."

There was silence.

"Where's your mask?" Harry asked, realising she was without it. "It looked expensive."

"It was my mom's. I think Flash has it...where's yours?"

"Dunno."

Peter stirred a little.

"He didn't have that much to drink, did he?" MJ said worriedly, looking down at him.

"I dunno."

"Why'd you come in here? Lots of other people just left."

Harry shrugged.

"You weren't..."

It took Harry a second to realise what she meant. It was a second that might have changed his life, if he'd gone about it a different way-

"I'm not gay!"

"Oh good," she said. Then she caught herself. "I mean, um. Cool. Either way."

"Honestly, I'm not. And not with him! Ewwww!"

"I believe you."

Peter stirred again and muttered something. It sounded like, "I wanna go home."

"I'll call my dad," said Harry. He reached for his cell phone, which was the latest model and encased in shiny green. MJ listened to the dial tone echo in the room.

"Dad? Can you pick up me and Peter? Someone spiked the punch and things went crazy, Peter's kinda passed out." Long pause. "Really? Thanks."

He put the phone down again. "He's coming." Gingerly, he started to move his friend away and stand up. "But I think he mostly wants to check on Peter. I think he's kinda mad about how this turned out."

"Why?"

"Cos it looks bad if some kids from my school did some dumb stuff, cos I'm an Osborn, yeah?"

MJ nodded glumly. "Me and Flash and Liz are going out. Flash got us some fake IDs." She said it like she was talking about a medical procedure she'd rather not undergo. "You sure Peter's gonna be okay?"

"My dad'll look after him. He likes him. More than he likes me actually."

MJ nodded slowly. Then she seemed to come to a decision, albeit one she clearly knew was bad, an abandonment of them both. "I- I better go. Don't get caught in here, okay?" She smiled a little. "The grown-ups are going crazy."

Harry smiled back, his eyes and mind far away. Then MJ climbed on a chair, opened the window, and slid out.

"Make sure he gets back to his aunt, yeah?" she said. Then, uncertainly, "I'm glad you don't play for the other team. Be a waste." And then she was gone.

Harry remained in the room for a few more minutes, looking at Peter's sleeping form. Finally, his eyes opened.

"I feel...really sick."

"First time you ever got drunk, buddy," Harry said. "Here's to many more."

Peter got up off the chairs. "Was I asleep?"

"Yeah."

"Was MJ here?"

"Yeah."

Peter considered all this. "Where'd she go?"

"Out the window. We'd better do that too...we'll get in trouble if anyone finds us here, and my dad's coming."

Peter nodded. "This didn't work out too good at all, did it?"

"If they find whoever brought the alcohol, they'll be in big trouble."

"It was probably Flash."

"Probably."

Then, with a sudden bewildering agility, Peter leapt out the window, and landed easily on the grass below. He held out a hand to help Harry, but Harry didn't take it. He climbed out by himself, and they went looking for Norman's car.

The driver was a pale blonde who Harry didn't know- one of his father's disposal minions. Norman was sat at the back with his laptop open.

"Get in the car, Harry," he said shortly. "Peter? I hope my son's not been a bad influence on you."

"It wasn't Harry's fault, Mr Osborn," Peter said. He seemed to have got back to normal very fast. "Someone spiked the punch-"

"I know. I was met at the gate. Prom's canceled." He tapped the back of the driver's seat to let her know to take them home. "You deserve to be educated in a better establishment than this, Peter."

"It's not that bad, Mr Osborn."

"I like it," Harry said.

"It doesn't matter whether you like it." The car rolled past a group of the drunken escapees from the prom: Harry thought he saw MJ but he couldn't be sure. "These kids have discipline issues."

Peter nodded uncertainly but Harry said, "Well-"

"Don't start, Harry," Norman said. "The last thing I need right now is trouble from you."

Peter squeezed Harry's arm. It made him jump.

They pulled up outside the Parker house.

"See ya, Harry," Peter said.

"See ya, Pete. Want me to come in with you?"

"S'okay. My aunt's probably asleep."

Harry watched him run through the yard, go through the door and turn on the light. He saw his silhouette through the curtains, taking off his jacket and folding it, before the car drove off.

Norman watched him too. "No more parties," he said to Harry.

"Okay," Harry said. "Whatever."

"You need to start making something of yourself."

"I know."

Norman went back to his laptop. As the car hit a bump the two bottles of vodka in Harry's pocket clashed together. There was a hard clang, but no-one noticed.

"Dad," he said, "I'm not saying I am, but just imagine, uh-"

"Shut up."

The woman in the driving seat glanced at them both for a quarter of a second, but then turned her eyes away again. Harry hated her for it as Norman smacked his hand against his shoulder, so hard it hurt.

"It's just a phase," he said coldly. "It'll go away once you find the right girl."

"But-"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore. Or ever again. Understand?"

Harry nodded. Norman took his hand off his shoulder and picked up his cell phone.

"Bernard?" he said. He was a lot nicer to Bernard these days, to the extent that Harry sometimes wondered what the butler had on him. "We'll be back in a minute. Get my son a hot meal, would you? Thank you." He hung up.

Harry stared out of the window, and then leaned his head against the cold glass. He could see the reflection of Norman's laptop screen...his father was watching a video of some sort of creature riding out of an explosion. But he didn't care for the context. He closed his eyes.

No-one was ever punished for prom night: they never found out who brought in the alcohol. But Peter did find Harry's mask a few days later, dirty and trampled in the corridor. He turned it round and round in his hands. He didn't even recognise it as Harry's- it was quite battered - but he liked the blue and red. Perhaps he could make something of it.