Listen With Your Heart Chapter 2

Phoebe barely made it to the Staten Island Ferry. The Ferry was the fastest way for anyone to get from Staten Island to the city. If she'd ended up missing that then she certainly would've been late for school. As it was she made it with plenty of time to spare before the first warning bell sounded at Midtown Science High School.

After Phoebe secured her bike at one of the few bike racks at the front of the school she rushed for her locker. She needed to retrieve a textbook before she got to her first class. Her locker was positioned in view of the bulletin board where pictures of this year's teams and clubs were hung.

A student in the same grade as her called Peter Parker was putting the newest ones there. Parker was the photographer for the school so it was a common sight for him to constantly be using his camera along with something else.

As Peter Parker was sticking a tack onto the picture for the debate team a basketball bounced off the side of the head. One of the schools basketball jocks Flash Thompson was the perpetrator. He, with two of his friends, laughed at Parker when he umped flinching at the impact.

"Sorry," said Flash, sarcastic. His grin revealing he obviously didn't mean it.

Taking it in stride, Peter said "Morning, Flash."

"Good morning, Parker," drawled Flash. As he walked passed him with his friends from the team Flash lunged at Parker in a bluff.

Thinking he was going to get hit Parker blanched only to figure out it was a fake.

Phoebe rolled her eyes at the immaturity of the jock having watched the entire encounter. She waited until the undesirable group left. She then took the opportunity to approach Parker once she shut her locker.

Peter was picking his skateboard from the floor when he saw her coming.

Smiling, Phoebe assured "Just ignore them, Peter. They're just jerks."

Nodding, Peter chuckled "When are they not?"

Phoebe gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder and then walked off to class.

Later on as Phoebe's English literature class in her homeroom their teacher Miss Zorski mad an announcement that had our girl very excited.

"Just to remind you all in a few months time the Emerging Authors Competition for the New York Times is coming up. So for those of you who are interesting, but haven't started your projects yet I suggest you get a move on," advised Miss Zorski.

Raising her hand, Phoebe asked "Miss Zorski, can you go over the rules again for this years competition?"

"Entre applications are right here on my desk," informed Miss Zorski, "for those of you who plan on entering. And remember the winner gets to have their work published."

The school bell rang signaling the end to this period and the beginning of lunch. While the rest of the class left to get a good seat outside for lunch Phoebe went to the teachers desk taking one of the applications there.

"How did I know," said Miss Zorski, kindly.

Abashedly Phoebe hid her face behind the application sheepish, asking "Was I really that obvious?"

Smiling, Miss Zorski said "You didn't have to be. You're a natural born writer, Phoebe. Anyone with any sense can see it especially in your schoolwork. I swear whenever ire ad the essays you submit for grading I can feel the emotional power lying beneath your words."

Shrugging, Phoebe disagreed, saying "I don't think so. I haven't written anything lately. I don't know why, but it's like my muse of inspiration just vanished without a trace."

Squeezing Phoebe's shoulder sympathetically in comfort, Miss Zorski said "I understand. Don't stress too much about this it'll. Underestimating yourself is a mistake you don't want to make. You'll be sure of yourself just give it time. Now hurry or you'll miss lunch."

During the majority of the lunch period Phoebe claimed one of the tables in the schools courtyard that was the outdoor cafeteria sitting on it with her notebook open. To Phoebe this Emerging Authors Competition was a chance for her to enter a world she'd been longing for most of her lifetime.

Growing up, when Phoebe reached a certain age, her father had lent her some old books to read, the first books the kid had ever read about anything. For the first time she saw a world that was bigger than the one she'd been born into. And she wanted more. She wanted to be something more. But being so young she had no idea what the word, writer, really meant. Certainly didn't have a clue about how to go about it.

As a child she'd always taken the time to write stuff down whatever came to mind in her thoughts, but never material of any true worth. With the combined support and guidance freely provided by both her father and teachers Phoebe has matured into a decent writer with marvelous potential. Only they couldn't assist her in this. Phoebe needed to do this task on her own.

But, whenever she turned the pages of a book, what once was her whole world suddenly seemed…small. Phoebe's life was so ordinary. Nothing had changed since she was a child. Except her, Phoebe had changed. For the very first time in Phoebe's life she truly did try to write. She tried to write about things she'd seen, how she'd felt. But the words just wouldn't come. Phoebe knew the life he wanted. She knew what she had to do to get it. She just need to know how with the correct motivation.

In Phoebe's absentminded frustration she failed to notice someone else approach until that person sat on the same table as her. Looking up from her work Phoebe smiled as she recognized whom her visitor was.

"Hey, Gwen," greeted Phoebe.

Gwen Stacy was a classmate of hers and had been for a while. Also, Gwen was the head intern of her fathers working in his labs assisting him at Oscorp Tower. Since Phoebe visits him there so frequently it's a common occurrence for them to run into each other regularly there.

"Hey, Phoebe," returned Gwen, taking a book out of her bag to read, "what are you doing?"

Waving her notebook, Phoebe frowned, saying "Well I'm trying and failing to think of something to write for the Emerging Author's Competition Miss Zorski told us about."

"Oh yeah I heard about that," said Gwen. "The ideas must be flowing in your head. So many you don't have any inclination what to do with it all."

Phoebe scoffed "If only that were the case. To the contrary there's absolutely no creativity left. I'm beginning to believe I'm spent in that department."

"Don't sulk, Phoebe, you look like a pigeon," jested Gwen, playfully.

Phoebe swatted at Gwen with her notebook laughing at her way of cheering her up.

"But seriously, Phoebe," encouraged Gwen, "I'm confident you'll think of a subject to write about. Remember, 'necessity is the creation of invention'."

Lifting her bottle of water in a toast, Phoebe saluted "Here's to hoping."

Their lunch was then rudely interrupted by an incident in the courtyard.

All of a sudden people converged on the opposite end of the courtyard. Whatever it was over was definitely riling them enough to get them to chant heartily in unison. The pair was so occupied with each other before they'd failed to pay attention.

Exchanging a look with Gwen, Phoebe questioned "What in the world is that all about?"

"Not sure, but lets go find out," said Gwen.

Gathering their things, the remainder of their lunches long forgotten the duo went to join the mass of students grouping together. Their curiosity was sated almost in an instant.

Shaking her head, Gwen sighed "Flash."

Indeed it was Flash and he was in the process of picking on an underclassman.

"Eat your vegetables, Gordon! Come on," said Flash, holding the kid upside down by the legs forcing him headfirst straight into his own plate of food. The kid had his eyes and mouth tightly shut head averted so the side of his head was in the food instead of the face. "Come on!"

This revolting display made Phoebe sick to her stomach especially with no one in a crowd of so many seemed to choose not help him.

"Hey, Parker, come on. Get a picture of this. Come on," smirked Flash, lifting Gordon high enough so Peter Parker could get a clear shot at Gordon's messed up face.

Shaking his head in refusal. Peter Parker said "I'm not going to take a picture. Put him down."

"Come on," said Flash.

"Put him down man," repeated Peter Parker. "Gordon, don't eat it. Don't eat it."

"Take the picture, Parker," spat Flash, increasingly impatient.

"Put him down, Flash," said Peter Parker.

Forcefully, Flash said "Take the picture."

Parker had enough of this. It was time to use his trump card.

"Put him down, Eugene," shouted Peter Parker.

Saying Flash's real first name was taboo to anyone that dared say it out loud on the school grounds in the student body. It definitely wasn't something he was initially proud of.

The moment Peter spoke it there was an immediate reaction. The students groaned and Flash tossed the helpless Gordon onto the cement eliciting a pained grunt from him.

"Hey, man," said Peter Parker, going to help him up, but Flash intercepted him.

Flash punched Parker square in the face throwing him to the ground. "Come on! Get up, Parker," goaded Flash, pumped.

Peter Parker rose to his feet, but unable to retaliate because Flash punched him in the gut. The breath knocked out of him Peter curled into a ball.

"Get up! Come on," sneered Flash, blunt, severely aggravated. "Come on!" He then kicked Peter directly in the stomach while he was down.

Phoebe winced as if she could feel each blow. Peter was going to be extremely lucky if nothing was broken.

Rolling onto his back wheezing, nearly inaudible, Peter rasped "I'm still not taking the picture."

"Stay down, Parker! Who wants one more," boasted Flash, the cheers egging him on. "One more! Huh? Huh?"

Phoebe wasn't the only person thoroughly disgusted of this embarrassing shameful spectacle.

Shoving her way out of the group Gwen stepping into the line of fire between Peter and Flash, calling "Flash!"

When Flash turned catching Gwen standing there it stopped him in his tracks. Her interference, also, caused everyone else to settle. As disagreeable as Flash was he'd never actually hit a girl.

"Flash, we still on for after school today. My house, 3:30," asked Gwen, brow raised subtly reminding him of the tutoring sessions they'd been undergoing together would shame him into ceasing his attack. "I do hope you've been doing your homework. Last time, I was very disappointed in you."

Flash tired to get around Gwen, but she simply matched his movements blocking him again.

"No, Flash, how about we go to class," said Gwen. "Hmm? How about it?"

On cue the school bell rang alerting everyone to the end of the lunch hour.

Firmly put in his place Flash walked away, muttering "Whatever."

Their main entertainment over and done with the students dispersed heading off to the next classed. One student couldn't resist kicking Peter's camera breaking the device.

Phoebe spared a glance at Peter Parker over her shoulder compassion rising within her heart seeing him struggling to stand after that beating examining the damaged remains of his camera. It was in disrepair, but replacing it would be costly. Resources he didn't exactly have access to.

In the next class the three coincided together neither bothered to resist checking on his welfare.

"I thought that was great what you did out there," allowed Gwen. "It was stupid, but it was great. You should probably go to the nurse. You might have a concussion."

Peter Parker didn't say anything back he just continued staring at her completely besotted.

Phoebe grinned covering it with her hair.

Smiling, Gwen asked "What's your name"

"You don't know my name," asked Peter, curious.

"Oh, she knows your name, as do I," said Phoebe. "She just wants to know if you know your name."

Nodding, he said "Peter Parker. Peter Parker."

"Okay. Okay, good," said Gwen, amused. "I'd still go to the nurse though."

"You're Gwen, right," inquired Peter, squinting his eyes in thought.

"Gwen Stacy," answered Gwen.

"And you're…Phoebe," asked Peter.

Nodding, Phoebe said "Phoebe Connors."

Absorbing the information, grateful, Peter said "Right."

Authors Note: Peter learns he has a sister in the next chapter. Wonder how he's going to react to that piece of news.