I always hated the school cafeteria. It was a breeding ground for mischief and cruel misbehaviour. There was always someone from the in-crowd picking on some poor soul just trying to mind their own business…and today was no different.

Doris Schlumberger was today's target of choice. As she walked by Flash's table, he reached over and agilely snatched her lunch tray from her hands, knocking her books on the floor in the process. "Hey, what do you need food for?" he asked mockingly. I heard him all the way from the serving line. "You just read books all the time. It's not like you need energy for it." Flash was always bragging about his football exploits to his friends, and stealing bookworms' food, claiming he needed it more than they did. I thought it was ridiculous, but his friends found it hilariously amusing.

I rolled my eyes as he continued his bullying. I knew I had to put up with it, for the sake of my reputation, but I hated the way he treated people. Even me, sometimes—he acted like I was some possession of his, to flaunt like he did the letter on his jacket.

I strode across the cafeteria towards his table, looking like I didn't have a care in the world. This is my mask, the one I wear for my own protection, so people can't see the hurt and vulnerability inside. If they knew…well, then they would have the power to hurt me.

I passed Peter's table, painfully aware of his gaze on my approach. I always knew he had a little crush on me, but I had hoped he would grow out of it. Not my type, I kept telling myself. Scrawny, nerdy and timid…doesn't exactly sound like anyone's ideal guy, does he?

Well, something has definitely changed.

The nature of the cafeteria is such that there is always some kind of mess. Today, it happened to be a pool of spilled juice, right past Peter's table. Distracted as I was, I didn't notice it, but apparently Peter did…just as I stepped in it and slipped, he was already behind me, somehow managed to catch me with muscles I didn't know he had, and miraculously caught every item of my lunch on the tray that had gone flying from my hands a moment earlier.

Breathless and astonished, I looked at Peter. "Wow…great reflexes!" I looked down awkwardly. "Thanks."

"No problem," he replied, almost shyly, but less timid than I remember him ever being.

I looked up at him again (since when did he get to be taller than me?) and noticed that something else was different… "Hey, you have blue eyes…I didn't notice without your glasses…" Oh, great, now I can't even string together a coherent sentence. "You just get contacts?"

Peter looked tongue-tied, and smiled goofily. Now that's the Peter I remember. I chuckled awkwardly, raising an eybrow. "Well…see ya." As I walked away, again holding my lunch tray, I looked around nervously, hoping nobody had noticed the scene we had made. Great. Just what I needed—public humiliation. Oh well, at least I didn't just fall down when I slipped. That would have been even worse. Oh, Parker, why do you have to be so damn nerdy

I finally made it to where Flash and his buddies were sitting, and found a seat across from him. Behind Flash was Peter's otherwise empty table. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. But what could I do? I'm just MJ, the girl who needs to stay popular.

I threw myself into the frivolity of 'cool' conversation for the next several minutes as I tried to eat. But there was another disturbance in the usual pandemonium of the cafeteria. And, though I know it shouldn't have been funny, given that he's my boyfriend and all, I had a tough time hiding my laughter when Flash got nailed with somebody's lunch tray. With the lunch still on it.

For the second time that day, someone's lunch had flown up in the air, but this time, instead of being smoothly caught, it had made a mess of Flash's back. He turned, growling, and the first person he saw was…

"Parker!"

He got up, fists clenched, and stalked after poor, innocent Peter. I didn't think he had the guts to throw his lunch at Flash Thompson, captain of the football team, coolest guy in school. The day before, I never would have believed it.

But now I wasn't so sure.

Peter was walking, purposefully, out of the cafeteria. I had never seen him so confident in my life. I shook myself back to reality. Then I saw the tray sliding along the floor after him, trailing from some weird stringy substance. My eyes widened. Did he really? I didn't manage to stifle my giggles when the tray, still pulled by the string, jumped up against the closed cafeteria doors.

Then I saw the expression on Flash's face, and feared for Peter's life.

"Flash, please!" I yelled, but he didn't hear me.

I ran after him through the halls, catching up to him just in time to see Peter dodge a fist (what? That should have clocked him!) and Flash start his verbal abuse.

"Think you're pretty funny, don't you, freak?"

"Flash!" I called frantically. "It was just an accident!" But I myself wasn't so sure of that anymore.

"My fist breaking your teeth—" he spat at Peter— "that's the accident."

"Come on, Flash. Stop," I coaxed, trying to keep my demeanor calm.

"I don't wanna fight you, Flash," Peter said. I couldn't tell if he was nervous or just really calmly quiet. I was surprised he hadn't fainted.

By now I'm sure you've noticed I had a very low opinion of Peter, aside from his innate niceness.

"I wouldn't wanna fight me neither," Flash threatened. I'm sure he thought it was terribly clever as a comeback, but his terrible English always did bother me.

Flash began bouncing up and down, fists raised, like a boxer. I flinched every time he punched Peter, sure Peter wasn't going to last long in this fight. Every blow Flash gave was powerful enough to knock Peter into oblivion.

Well, they would have been, had any of them connected.

Peter dodged every single one of Flash's punches, weaving from side to side with incredible ease and agility. Where on earth did he learn to do that?

Suddenly, Flash rushed him, fist outstretched, and I was sure he was a goner. But next thing I knew, Peter was bent over backwards, looking straight up at me, and Flash was colliding with some of the guys in the crowd next to me.

Just then, Harry ran up behind me. "Harry!" I exclaimed. I knew this was not going to end well for Peter. He just didn't have what it took to fight a guy like Flash…especially not when Flash had backup. "Help him!"

Flash's friend Todd, the one who had tripped Peter on the bus the day before, rushed Peter from behind as if to tackle him. And then came the most astonishing thing of all—Peter, little scrawny Peter, without even seeing Todd's attack, jumped six feet in the air and flipped around in the air at least twice (I lost count) as Todd ran straight through under him.

Harry was as shocked as I was. "Which one?" he asked me.

Todd looked at Flash, nervously I thought, and said, "He's all yours, man." Flash shoved him away in disgust, and proceeded to launch a furious attack of flying fists on Peter, unleashing every bit of his fury and athleticism, but somehow, Peter was able to avoid every single one, eventually grabbing Flash's wrist and holding it so tightly that Flash groaned in agony. Peter, what are you doing? I wondered.

Next thing I knew, Flash was flying down the hallway, coming to rest next to one of the dorks he picks on daily, who proceeded to dump his own lunch tray on Flash. Laughter erupted around me, but I felt like time was frozen. I stared at Peter with concern and just the slightest fear, watching as he stared at his outstretched fist as if he didn't recognize his own hand. I didn't hear or see anything but Peter, as his expression became unreadable and he fled from the scene. I looked after him, worried, and scared both of him and for him.

xxxxx

That night, my parents had the worst fight I think I've ever heard. My father was calling both Mom and I trash, and—well, I'd rather not relive the details. But usually, the fights consisted of my drunken father slamming my mom, a perpetual victim, both verbally and, when things got really bad, physically. I managed to escape out the back door, hoping to wait it out in the yard, or better yet, just get out of the neighbourhood.

"Get in here, little girl, and do the dishes, NOW!"

"YOU can do the dishes!" I screamed back at my father as I slammed the door.

Oh, damn.

Peter was outside, taking out the garbage. He must have heard everything.

"Were you listening to that?" I asked angrily.

"No…well…I heard, but I was just…taking out the trash." He looked sorry to have been seen, but even more sorry that I had to put up with that kind of crap.

"I guess you can always hear us," I replied, fighting back tears.

He hesitated. "Everybody shouts," he said, obviously trying to make me feel better.

"Your aunt and uncle don't." Why is it that every time my life falls apart, there's Peter, no matter what he's gone through that day, trying to comfort me? And why is it that I'm so concerned about disturbing the neighbours at a time like this?

Peter shrugged. "They can scream pretty good sometimes." I knew that he knew that my family's fights were far from normal or healthy, but it still made me feel better, somehow, that he was trying to be nice about it. I think this was the first real, comfortable conversation I've ever had with Peter Parker, and I was surprised how…normal it seemed.

"Listen, MJ, about today—at school with Flash—"

"You really freaked us out." Well, you showed up the cool kids, impressed the dorks, astonished Harry…I think I'm the only one who was actually freaked out…

"I'm sorry," Peter said, actually looking contrite. "Is he okay?"

"He's just happy you didn't give him a black eye for graduation," I replied. He's sure got his priorities straight.

I strolled towards the fence. Something about seeing Peter standing calmly on the other side of that fence prompted me to ask, "So where are you going after you graduate?"

"I, uh…I wanna move into the city. And hopefully get a job as a photographer—work my way through college." He seemed more interested in my plans than in his own. "What about you?" he asked.

"I'm headed for the city too," I replied. "Can't wait to get outta here. I wanna…" I paused.

"What?" he asked, curious.

I shook my head. No, it's silly.

"Come on…try me."

"I wanna…act. On stage." I looked up nervously, unsure what he might think of a little girl's silly dreams.

"Really?" he asked, and I nodded. "Well, that's perfect! You were awesome in all the school plays."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "I cried like a baby when you played Cinderella."

I almost laughed before I noted his seriousness. "Peter, that was first grade." Trust Pete to be both touching and ridiculous at the same time.

"Well, even so." For once, his gaze was steady on me, his shyness forgotten in his attempts to encourage me. "Sometimes…you know people. You can just…see what's coming."

I couldn't help my curiosity. "What do you see coming for you?"

He paused as if troubled. "I don't know. Whatever it is, it's something I've never felt before."

"And…" I was almost afraid to ask. "What for me?"

"For you?" His expression softened. "You're gonna light up Broadway."

I blushed, hoping he couldn't see it in the darkness. I looked up at him, again noticing his height. "You know, you're taller than you look."

"I hunch."

"Don't."

The moment was broken by a loud engine on the street out front. Flash's brash voice invaded our connection.

"Hey MJ. Come take a ride in my new birthday present. Come on!"

I looked back at Peter, finding it hard to tear myself away. "I gotta go."

"Bye," he replied, gazing after me.

I easily assumed my carefree persona. After years of practice, it gets to be habit.

"Oh my gosh, it's gorgeous!" It was obvious Flash was proud of his new toy. "Look at it!"

"Yeah, pretty tight, huh?" He grinned. "Wait'll you hear the sound system. Hey—don't scratch the leather." I rolled my eyes at his distrust, but played along.

"Wooohoo!"