I will never forget the day Peter's Uncle Ben died. I remember seeing something about a carjacking on the late night news, and dismissed it with the usual indifference one normally uses with a news story. People get shot, it happens, it sucks but what can you really do about it? But when I heard the name, well…I just about cried. Why such a peaceful man should die in such a violent manner, I will never understand. Ben Parker was the nicest man I ever knew. Kind, strong, moral, responsible. Brave. He took a stand for things he believed in. Too bad Peter couldn't have picked up on more of those qualities…

xxxxx

A girl's graduation is supposed to be the best day of her life, next to her wedding day (I managed to mess that one up, too, but you'll hear about that later). Peter got the science award—no one was surprised about that—Harry actually managed to graduate—which impressed his genius father—and I broke up with Flash Thompson.

"Listen, Flash. I know it's been fun and all, but I can't stay in this relationship. I don't want to be with you anymore."

He looked angry at being the dumped and not the dumper, but didn't look overly disappointed at losing me. "Fine," he growled.

"Here's your ring." I slammed his class ring into his hand; the ring I had been wearing on my pinky for the last seven months, the one that accused me of deception every time I saw it. This isn't me. For the last four years, I've been fooling everyone else, I've been fooling myself. At least Peter had the guts to be himself. I've been playacting my entire life. And all this time, I haven't really been happy. I've been acting happy. It's time for that to change.

"You know what? Whatever," came Flash's eloquent reply. "Your loss." Modest, too.

He stalked off, or swaggered, or however you'd like to describe that self-satisfied way jocks walk. For the first time, I realized how much I hated it.

Even so, I felt almost lost without that ring on my finger. It had been my security blanket, protecting me from crossing that fine line between cool and picked-on. Now that high school was over, though…it was time to grow up. Make my own life, my own real personality. My own character: morals, bravery, responsibility. Just like Ben Parker.

xxxxx

Harry Osborn was definitely a better choice than Flash Thompson. Apparently, he had noticed our little altercation after commencement, and come over to comfort me. Not that I actually needed comforting, but I appreciated the gesture all the same. He was a lot more friendly than I had expected, too—I had expected more of a preppy, 'my father owns half this city' sort of attitude, but he's really quite down-to-earth. Probably comes of having Peter as a best friend…somebody's got to keep Pete's feet on the ground, and his head out of the clouds. Wow, that sounds funny, knowing what I know now.

Anyway, Harry got around to asking about my plans for my life, now that high school was over. I didn't quite know how to tell him about my burning desire to act—funny how I could tell Peter, whose admiration made me squirm, but not Harry, who actually seemed quite sweet—but I mentioned some kind of post-secondary education, I wasn't quite sure yet. I had been hoping to get into acting school, but I had to earn some money first. I wasn't about to let myself get indebted to my father for a thing like this.

When I told Harry I'd be moving to Manhattan, he looked surprised. "Well, me too! We should get together sometime—you know, housewarming and all that. Explore the city."

I smiled, flattered that he would want to spend that kind of time with me. "Sure," I replied, almost hesitantly, "I'd enjoy that."

xxxxx

Life after high school was definitely not going my way. Instead of getting lots of acting jobs, I was working at a greasy spoon diner in Manhattan. Guys were always following me from the diner, hoping to get lucky, I guess. As if a waitress is presumed to be so desperate for anything…it makes me sick. Alyssa, one of the girls about my age at the Moondance diner, actually took one of them up on his offer…says she hasn't regretted anything that much in her life.

So I'm sure you won't be surprised at this.

"Buzz off!" I told the guy hurrying across the street after me. I've had enough of these guys try to follow me home, I am not going to put up with it any longer.

"MJ! It's me—Peter."

I turned. "Hi!" I hadn't seen him in months…he looked amazing. Minus the glasses, plus a nice jacket and a good haircut…and healthier than I'd ever seen him. "What are you doing around here?"

He shrugged nonchalantly (I love that word—so descriptive!) "I'm, uh…I'm begging for a job." He looked far more interested in my life. "How 'bout you?"

Oh, no. He had been so supportive of my dreams of acting…I knew he'd be so happy for me if I was making them come true. I couldn't bear to disappoint him. So, I told him I was headed to an audition. Well, I'm certainly acting right now.

"An audition?" I had been right—he sounded so proud of me. "So you're acting now?"

"Yeah," I continued. "I work steady…in fact, I just got off a job." Well, technically that's true, but it wasn't an acting job…I was so mad at myself. I had promised myself I was going to start really being me, no more games or playacting. I've certainly gotten off to a wonderful start.

"That's great, MJ! You're doing it!" My heart just about broke at his encouraging voice. "You're living your dream!" He sounded faintly wistful, but only because I know him so well.

Then it all hit the fan. The voice of my obnoxious, overbearing boss cut through. "Hey, Glamour Girl!" he yelled.

I did my best to ignore him, hoping he would just go away. I don't need Peter seeing this part of my life. He was so happy for me…

But Enrique doesn't know when to quit. "Your drawer was short six dollars. Next time that happens, I'm gonna take it outta your cheque." Peter looked fairly uncomfortable by this point, and I could feel total humiliation creeping up my face. "Excuse me, Miss Watson! I'm talkin' to you! Hey!"

Busted. I knew it was too late by that point to pretend any longer. "Yes, Enrique, okay? I get you."

"It better not happen no more, d'you hear me? Don't roll your eyes at me!" And with that, he finally left.

I turned back to Peter, shamefaced, unable to meet his eyes. When I finally looked up, he looked more embarrassed than I did. I slowly opened my long coat to reveal the ugly orange waitress uniform I was wearing. "Some dream, huh?" I said sadly.

Peter, kind as ever, replied, "That's nothing to be embarrassed about."

Yeah, right. Most people wouldn't think so. "Don't tell Harry."

"Don't tell Harry?" He looked vaguely confused.

Now I was confused. "Aren't you guys living together? We're going out—didn't he tell you?"

"Oh, yeah. Right," he replied casually, but I knew it was news to him. He looked…disappointed?

"I-I think he'd hate the idea of my waiting tables. He'd think it was low, or something." Amazing, how important Harry's opinions were. Even though he wasn't daddy's little rich kid, he still had standards, I knew. And I was afraid I didn't measure up. All my life, all I wanted was to measure up—and had to pretend in order to do it. So much for my fresh start, huh?

"It's not low." Peter couldn't help but be comforting; it's all he's ever done in his whole life where I'm concerned. Pathetic, aren't I? "You have a job," he said, making it sound like the most important accomplishment anyone could have. "Y'know, Harry—he doesn't like to live on the little place I like to call Earth."

I laughed at his characteristic dry sarcasm, and the truth held within it. "No, I guess not." What a sweet, caring guy. In all of two minutes, he has managed to cheer me up, affirm my position in life, and give me hope for my future. "Thanks, Pete." It seemed inadequate, somehow, but it would have to do. It was all I had to give him. Gosh, I've missed his encouragement. Everything, really. He's quite endearing, once you get to know him. "We should catch up sometime."

As I walked past him on my way home, he replied, "Let's get some lunch some evening." I raised an eyebrow. Now that's the tongue-tied Peter I remember. "I'll…I'll come by and have some of your Moondance coffee someday. And I won't tell Harry," he called.

I smiled at his earnest demeanor. "No, don't tell Harry."

"I won't!" I turned back again and waved in response. So cute…sometimes he's just like a little boy.

It really had been good to see Peter again. He always made me feel better. And…something else too…I couldn't quite pinpoint it, but he made me feel something else too.