Chapter going up early today because I took the day off after two super stressful weeks at work. So you get your fix a little sooner than usual!

This whole series has led me down some pretty weird research rabbit holes. For example relevant to today, I read everything I could find about the NYC public schools disciplinary systems and processes. There's a wealth of information online about exactly what school officials can and can't do, and when, related to bullying and violence in schools. So now I know a lot more than what I picked up from actually going to a public school in NY way back when. Pretty useful, if depressing to look up.

Ah the joys of adding realism to one's fanfic. This is how I get on all the fun watch lists.

This chapter title comes from the song "Man's Road" by America – the one from the movie version of The Last Unicorn. Because I told you it would come up!

Enjoy!


Chapter 16: Makes the World Afraid


The last two weeks of March, the entire school was buzzing about the upcoming science exhibition. Almost a third of the school was participating either individually or in groups. Peter's classmates E-Bit, Estrella, and Nkosi had banded together to make what they called "the realistic volcano" which was a standard baking soda volcano except they had fashioned a forest of greenery out of colored sugar pressed into shapes, which meant it would melt and disappear when the volcano erupted. They'd built it at Estrella's house with the help of her grandmother who baked with them every time they went over.

Nkosi also used molds for his gaming mini-figs to make a few people and monsters out of the sugar, which he intended to display on the volcano to make the whole thing look like an epic battle thrown into chaos when the volcano struck. Peter knew that Nkosi's figures were all based off various characters and storylines from his D&D campaigns, and he was thrilled to find out that E-Bit had gotten into it as well; E-Bit was being represented by the holy person at the summit who would trigger the volcano via "the traditional method" to vanquish their enemies. Peter knew it wasn't really going to make sense to anybody else, but he supposed none of them cared. They were having fun and they would get a good laugh out of it.

Peter asked Nkosi if they would mold a sugar figure to represent him and make sure he got to watch it get destroyed, and E-Bit promised that his sacrifice would not be in vain.

"Wait. How did I turn into the virgin fed to the volcano gods here?" Peter asked.

"By doing things with robots instead of us," Estrella told him.

Peter could only agree. "Fair enough."

In every hallway, all anyone could talk about was the exhibition, who was going to win, and, more precisely, how the robotics club was going to triumph again. Peter heard about them with every step he took. The rumor mill had caught the idea that the club was up for some kind of corporate sponsorship, or maybe the kids were all going to get hired instead of going to high school, or something, and so everyone expected great things from them at the exhibition. It was a given according to everyone that the robotics club would take the eighth grade and school prizes, so the only interesting thing left to talk about was the sixth and seventh grade prizes.

Peter kept his head down, biting his lip. But he didn't dare let anyone see him smile.

On Monday, just four days before the exhibition, he ducked out of lunch in the middle to use the restroom — knowing that E-Bit by themself let alone Nkosi and Estrella would guard his seat as well as his food — and on his way back, walked right into the robotics club following their class into the locker room to change after gym.

Peter froze but didn't feel particularly worried; after all, they were still under orders to avoid him. So he was doubly surprised when they stopped and waited for the rest of their classmates to enter the locker room, leaving Peter alone with them in the hallway.

"You're not supposed to be near me," was the first thing Peter said.

"No," Johnny shot back. "You're not supposed to be near us. Besides, we finished our bot yesterday. It's locked up in Doc's cabinet and no one will touch it until Friday. So there's nothing you could do to mess this up for us now."

Peter took a step back but lifted his chin. "Then I'll see you at the exhibition."

He turned to go, only to feel a grip on his collar, yanking him backwards.

"Oh, you don't get to run away from us that easy." Dutch held him and was snarling in his ear.

The hold on Peter's shirt was tight and choking. The fabric pulled against his throat like a noose.

Johnny and Fred and Bobby all circled around him as he tried to get his fingers into the collar of the shirt to give himself some breathing room.

"Doc says you're the only other person entered in the robotics event," Johnny said. "And at first we thought we should try to scare you off."

Peter leaned back and kicked Dutch in the shin as hard as he could. Dutch let him go and Peter ended up braced on his hands and knees on the floor, gasping for air.

"But then we realized," Johnny was saying, "that if you forfeit, then our win doesn't look as good. So you're gonna let you run whatever crappy bot you have against us. And after you lose, we're going to tear it apart."

Dutch aimed a kick at Peter, who dodged it enough that it landed on his side instead of his gut.

"And then," Dutch said, "we'll do the same to you."

"As soon as we win," Johnny said from above, "it's open season on you, princess. So get ready."

Peter was shaking and shaken, but he rocked back on his heels and pushed to his feet before Dutch or Jonny could attempt another blow. He faced them, hands curling into fists.

"I'm not afraid of you," he said. "And I'm not going to let you hurt me again."

"Aw, princess thinks he can stop us." Dutch gave a sick grin. "I hope you like the taste of blood because I'm going to hit you so hard you'll swallow your teeth."

"Hey," Bobby said, speaking up at last. "We should get out of here before somebody sees."

"Friday," Johnny said, pointing finger-guns at Peter. "We'll ground you into dust. Twice. That's a promise."

Peter clenched his teeth together. But he looked into Johnny's eyes and didn't back down. "We'll see."

"Is something the matter?" came a sudden voice. Peter looked up in sheer relief to see his homeroom teacher, Mister Thompson, appear. "Peter?"

"Later, princess," Dutch said as the four of them retreated into the locker room.

Mister Thompson stepped close to Peter and looked him over. "Are you okay?"

Peter fought the urge to cough, or cry, and tried to act normal. "Yes, sir."

"Hmm." The teacher shook his head. "Wanna tell me why your neck is all red like that?"

"Um."

"Those kids have been bothering you, haven't they?"

"Not...for a while," Peter admitted.

"Listen," Mister Thompson said. "If they hurt you, you can tell me. No one is allowed to hurt you, Peter."

"You can't do anything," Peter said sullenly. "I know how the rules work. If you didn't see it, then it's my word against all of theirs."

"Peter." He sighed. "The system isn't perfect, but bullying is not acceptable. I'll do everything I can if you're willing to confide in me."

"I just…" Then his phone in his pocket beeped. Confused, Peter pulled it out. An app he didn't remember having was open on his phone. It said "Recording Paused. Replay?"

Peter blinked. He hit the "Play" button.

"You're not supposed to be near me," he heard his own voice say.

Mister Thompson stared at him. "You recorded your interaction?"

"I didn't mean to," Peter said. "I guess I bumped it when I...you know, in the restroom."

"Play me the entire recording," Mister Thompson said.

Peter did so, flinching at the sounds of himself struggling to breathe and the kick to his side that was audible because it had landed close to the phone. But every word was clear as day, including the multiple threats to hurt him. It only ended after Mister Thompson's arrival.

At the end, Mister Thompson's jaw was tight and his eyes were narrow.

"Now, here's what's going to happen," he said. "You're going to email that to me. I'm going to watch you do it, so we both know you didn't edit it in any way. And then I'm going to take it to the principal. Terroristic threats are a serious offense, and so is physical assault."

"I…" Peter gulped, then gave up on trying to pretend he didn't need help. Because he really, really did. He held out his phone so his teacher could watch him email the file. "Okay."

"No matter what happens next, if they ever come near you again, I want to hear about it. Okay? But first we need to make sure your Aunt is aware of all this. The office will call her in as soon as I make the report. Is that all right? You're comfortable with her knowing what happened?"

"She already does," Peter said. "I mean, that it's happened before. And I'm not worried about Aunt May. I just…"

"You're scared. You think that if you ruin their chances in the exhibition, they'll take it out on you later."

Peter nodded.

"It's going to be okay." His teacher smiled at him. "Look, let's find you someplace you can get some quiet. Go grab your lunch. Your friends can come too if you want. You're not in trouble, but I think you could use a break."

Peter felt like all eyes were on him when he walked back into the lunchroom next to a teacher — although probably it was only a few and for a moment before there were better things to talk about — but all it took was a look at Peter's pale face and bruised neck for his friends to grab their stuff and follow him. In his pocket, Peter's phone was buzzing, but his hands were full so he couldn't look at it.

Mister Thompson led them back to his classroom, which he unlocked for them. "I have a free period next. You all are supposed to be in art, right?"

"Yeah," E-Bit said.

"I'll let Miss Rayas know you're with me. Unless you really want to go?"

All four shook their heads. Art was all still-life drawing this week, none of them were any good at it, and Miss Rayas was boring.

He chuckled. "Okay. Hang out here. I'll be back."

Estrella immediately started to ask what had happened with Peter, but Nkosi held out a hand to stop her. Instead, they went back to their discussions about whether or not to add a moat around their volcano at the last minute, giving Peter a chance to catch his breath in peace.

Peter didn't feel much like eating the rest of his lunch, so he pulled out his phone instead.

There were many texts from Mister Carbonell.

"Hey kid. You doing okay?"

"I know it's the middle of the day, but I just had a bad feeling."

"If you need something, you know I can be there in a flash."

"Peter, are you okay?"

"Is it those bullies again?"

"Text me back or I'm calling May."

Peter took a deep breath and typed, "They cornered me in the hall. Mister Thompson stopped them before it got too bad. My phone recorded it somehow, so I sent it to him. He's talking to the principal."

After sending that, he decided to add, "I think I'm okay."

The reply was immediate. "Do you want me or May to come get you?"

Peter rubbed at his neck, which was still sore, like a rug burn. It also made his chest feel fluttery with the echoes of panic — being asthmatic, any time breathing was at risk, he had good reason to be scared. But he forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly. Either that or he'd wind up in bigger trouble than before.

"I don't know," he sent.

"Say the word and I'll come get you. The school is going to call May anyway. Your teacher is a good guy. He won't let them get near you again."

Peter wished he could believe that, but even if he was safe today, Mister Thompson wasn't always going to be in the right hallway at the right time. And after the science exhibition, wouldn't it just get ten times worse?

Another text arrived. "You're not alone, figlio. Decide what you need, and that's what will happen. I promise."

Peter shut his eyes, took a slow breath, and let his feelings bubble.

I'm so scared of them and I hate it.

I want them to go away. I want them to be punished.

And I want to beat them in the exhibition. To show them that I'm not worthless. Even if they beat me up, they'll always know I was better than all four of them.

I don't want to be scared anymore.

He opened his eyes and typed, "I want to face them on Friday and beat them in the exhibition, since we'll definitely win." He added a winky face emoji which was more cheer than he really felt. "But after that, I just want them to leave me alone. They should be punished, but mostly I want them not to bother me again for the rest of the year. Or in the neighborhood."

Sending that felt good, a weight off his chest.

He followed it with, "I know not all of that is probably possible. But it's okay to want it, right?"

Mister Carbonell looked like he was typing for a while, then sent back, "Of course it's okay."

A moment later, another text said, "Kid, you deserve better than you get just about every day. So trust me when I say that things will work out this time. Hang in there. May and I got this."

And that was enough to settle Peter's nerves. He managed to eat the rest of his lunch and even participated in the discussion with his friends while they waited for the period to end.

Mister Thompson reappeared just before the classes let out to switch to the next. "Nkosi, Estrella, E-Bit, you three get going to your next class. Thanks for keeping Peter company."

"What happens to Peter now?" Estrella wanted to know.

"We're going to go sit in the office for a while," he said, and he looked tired as he said it.

Trepidation came back as Peter followed his teacher to the main office, which he had only seen in passing. The secretary gave him a sympathetic smile as he entered. "Peter Parker?"

He nodded.

"We've called your guardian and she's on her way. The principal will see you when she gets here. Until then, you can wait there." She gestured to a chair in front of her desk.

"I've got class," Mister Thompson said, "but once I get them set up with an activity, if your aunt isn't here yet, I'll be able to sit with you. Just ask Lisa here to call for me."

"Okay." Peter couldn't quite smile, but he was grateful to the man for being helpful even if he had no intention on asking Mister Thompson to miss class just to sit here with him. He perched on the chair and looked at his feet.

It was only after Mister Thompson left and closed the door, leaving it very, very still and quiet in the office — the secretary was reading something on her computer, not even typing — that Peter could hear a faint voice from behind the shut door of the principal's office. A familiar voice, though he couldn't place it.

Peter sat for another ten minutes or so before the door opened. "Peter!"

Aunt May burst into the room followed by Mister Carbonell. Aunt May dashed straight to him and put her arms around him before he could even get out of the chair.

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

He nodded against her. "Thanks for coming," he whispered.

"Any time, Peter," May whispered back. She released him.

Mister Carbonell fixed his eyes on Peter's throat. "May I?"

Peter nodded and stood, tipping his head back so Mister Carbonell could see clearly. Mister Carbonell held his chin and gently shifted his head back and forth, taking a close look.

"Where else?"

How he knew to ask that, Peter had no idea, but he pointed to the spot on his side. Mister Carbonell gestured for Peter to lift his shirt. They both flinched at the darkening bruise coloring his pale skin.

"Oh, Peter." Aunt May looked like she was close to tears. "I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault," Peter told her at once.

"No, it's those kids' fault," Mister Carbonell said, and he was mad. "I'm going to…" But he stopped himself and took a breath. "Well, let's see what the principal says first."

The secretary had watched their interactions quietly but now rose. "I'll let them know you're here now," she said. She tapped on the door and stuck her head in. A moment later, with a grimace, she returned. "You can go in. Except, uh, Mister…"

"He's family," Aunt May said firmly. And she stared the woman down.

Peter trailed behind Aunt May and Mister Carbonell into the principal's office. When he got there, he froze in his tracks to see that the man whose voice he'd recognized was Doctor Kreese-Silver.

The principal was sitting behind the big desk, but she rose as soon as they entered and held out a hand with a grave expression. "Sorry to meet you under these circumstances," she said. "I'm Naomi Freeman. Please, have a seat."

Peter had seen her a bunch of times, mostly giving speeches at assemblies and such, and he generally liked her. She had dressed up for Halloween like Diana Ross complete with the afro hair, and she had opened the Halloween dance by lip syncing "Stop in the Name of Love" and dancing along with the assistant principal and the school nurse as her backup dancers. She also had said in one of the first assemblies of the year that if any student felt uncomfortable with reciting the Pledge of Allegiance for any reason, they could be excused with no consequences. Peter and his friends had all stopped that very week and so had a lot of other kids.

As much as any kids ever liked their principal, they liked Principal Freeman. At least she talked to them like they were real people. That was better than half the teachers.

In contrast to Principal Freeman, Doctor Kreese-Silver was standing to one side, his arms folded and looking particularly angry. He even glared at Peter while Aunt May and Mister Carbonell made their greetings and shook hands.

Aunt May sat down in the chair between Peter and the robotics teacher. There were only two chairs, so Peter was prepared to stand, but Mister Carbonell put a hand on his arm and gave him a gentle push. Which also allowed Mister Carbonell to position himself right behind Peter's chair with his hands on his shoulders.

Peter didn't miss Mister Carbonell glaring at Doctor Kreese-Silver hard enough to cause him to spontaneously combust, and that helped steady his nerves.

"Well," Principal Freeman said. "I'm afraid we have a very difficult situation on our hands." She looked at Peter. "Let me tell you first and foremost how sorry I am that another student hurt you, Peter. And how glad I am that you spoke to Mister Thompson. I know it can be scary to come forward. I promise, you are not in trouble for any of this."

Doctor Kreese-Silver actually huffed.

"I have reviewed the accidental recording you made," she continued, "and I also checked the school's security cameras. While they didn't catch everything, it's clear enough that the actions we can see match up with what you sent us. What I would like to know is if this is the only incident of violence or if there have been others."

"First," Mister Carbonell said, "I would like to know who this is and why he is here."

"Doctor Kreese-Silver," the man introduced himself, "and those boys are my homeroom students as well as part of my robotics club."

Peter was pretty sure that just cemented Mister Carbonell's hate for the man.

"There was another incident," Aunt May said. "At Halloween."

And suddenly Peter realized he'd never told them. "Um, that wasn't the first one."

Everyone stared at him.

Peter wiggled in his seat. "They were the same ones at the grocery store last summer, too."

The principal gestured, but Peter's throat froze. "Uh…"

"You cannot make baseless allegations without being willing to detail the specifics," Doctor Kreese-Silver said with a dark frown.

The principal opened her mouth to speak to him, but Mister Carbonell was faster.

"First off, given that there's a recording and camera footage of what happened today, there's nothing baseless going on here. And second, what kind of teacher starts with victim-blaming a target of bullying?" He glared at the man. "So you better step back or — "

Aunt May reached over to put a hand on Mister Carbonell's arm. "Enough, Tony." But she did look at the principal. "I don't think I feel comfortable having this particular teacher in the room for this discussion."

Doctor Kreese-Silver bristled. "They are my students, and especially if this is going to prevent them from participating in the exhibition or endanger their presence in my club, I have a responsibility to represent their interests."

"You don't, actually," Principal Freeman said. "And I am permitting you here as a courtesy because of...other factors. But you do not have the right to interfere with an investigation into bullying."

"I'm not leaving until I know the extent of the report being made about my students." The robotics teacher glared at the principal. Peter was afraid they were going to fight right then and there, but Mister Carbonell cleared his throat.

"Listen," Mister Carbonell said, "you two can have your spat later. I'm only interested in clearing up Peter's part and getting him out of here, so let's get that done. What do you need to know about the previous incidents?"

Peter realized what Mister Carbonell was doing. He wanted them done fast, and fighting about Doctor Kreese-Silver would make it take longer. But, also, Peter had a feeling that Mister Carbonel wasn't going to just let Doctor Kreese-Silver be a jerk the whole time. Like baiting somebody into making the big mistake and then catching them in the act.

Honestly, Peter was just glad Mister Carbonell and Aunt May were here. With them, he knew nothing really bad could happen to him.

The principal let out a breath. "I need a description of the events, please. As complete as you can make it."

Peter looked down at his hands. Mister Carbonell squeezed his shoulders. "Okay."

And, in halting words, without looking up, he told the principal about what had happened at the grocery store in August and the Halloween dance. Every time he heard Doctor Kreese-Silver sound like he was going to say something, Mister Carbonell cleared his throat. It seemed like it took forever for Peter to get through everything, but finally he finished.

"Well." Principal Freeman looked upset. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, and I wish I had known about it, even if there was not much we could do. You said yourself, you only think it was the same four students at the dance."

Peter nodded, disappointed.

"Well, even so, we do have a pattern of bullying evident, and we have indisputable evidence of what happened today." She looked at Aunt May. "My hands are tied to a certain extent, but I promise you to do as much as I am permitted. A week of suspension would be the appropriate punishment, followed by detention for a month."

"A week!" Doctor Kreese-Silver looked enraged. "They'll miss the exhibition."

"Yes, they will," Principal Freeman said, unmoved. "And I know that may interfere with your attempt to...well, anyway. I'm not going to reward this behavior with the chance to participate in additional extracurriculars, no matter how high profile."

"Hold up," Mister Carbonell said. "I know this is unusual, and I can't believe I am actually agreeing with Doctor Pretentious over there, but is there any way you could delay their punishment until after Friday?"

Peter, Aunt May, the principal, and Doctor Kreese-Silver all looked up at Mister Carbonell as if he was nuts. Except Peter actually felt better and smiled at the man, who smiled back.

"May I ask why?" the principal asked, blinking.

"Tell her, Peter." Aunt May began smiling too — she had caught on.

Peter hauled in a breath, looked up at the robotics teacher, and then faced Principal Freeman. "Because I'm going to win the robotics part of the exhibition at least. And it won't mean anything if I can't beat them."

"As if you could win over my team," Doctor Kreese-Silver sneered.

Peter didn't back down. "I will. You'll see."

"Well." The principal looked at May, then Peter. "It's unusual, but if the victim of the bullying asks for leniency, we do take it into consideration. If you're sure that's what you want."

Peter nodded. "I'm sure. Suspend them after the exhibition. But I want to face them first."

Principal Freeman actually smiled at him. "I respect your courage, Peter."

"But I want a guarantee those students won't get anywhere near Peter until Friday," Aunt May said, "and that there will be absolutely no unsupervised interactions between them at the exhibition. If they touch him again, I will file charges with the police."

Peter was fairly sure that's not how it worked, but the threat had the intended effect. Doctor Kreese-Silver himself spoke up. "I will speak with them."

"Yeah, not good enough," Mister Carbonell said. "Here's what you're going to do. You," he gestured at the robotics teacher, "are going to escort them any time they're not in class from the second they arrive in the morning until you see them go home with their parents for the rest of the week. When we get to the exhibition, May and I will keep an eye on Peter ourselves."

"Honestly," the principal said, "that is more than reasonable. In-school suspension would be more appropriate, but I can't justify ISS and still let them participate in the exhibition. Jefferson, since you are their homeroom teacher, you will be responsible for their direct supervision for the rest of the week. If you are not available at any time, Assistant Principal Kim will step in."

Peter thought Doctor Kreese-Silver looked like he was swallowing something really unpleasant, but the man nodded. "Very well."

The principal turned back to Peter. "Do you have any questions for me at this time?"

"No, ma'am."

She nodded. "Come by the office tomorrow, please. We'll need you to sign the write-up of what happened today, the report you made to us, and your acknowledgement of the steps we are taking in response. Otherwise, you can go home for the day."

"Someone is going to call their parents, right?" Aunt May asked.

"Oh, yes, I will personally make their parents aware of their actions," Principal Freeman said. "And of the fact that they have Peter to thank for being permitted to participate in the exhibition."

Peter squirmed, but couldn't come up with anything to say.

"All right," Aunt May said. "Well, if there's nothing else, I'd like to get Peter home."

"Of course. And, let me apologize again, Missus Parker and Peter, on behalf of the school. I'm so sorry this happened to you. Let's work together to make sure it never happens again."

Peter shook her hand when she offered it to him, but opted not to approach Doctor Kreese-Silver. To be fair, he didn't approach them, either.

That didn't stop Mister Carbonell from saying something under his breath to the robotics teacher that Peter couldn't hear, though, and it made the robotics teacher look angry and Mister Carbonell look...really, almost gleefully pleased. Peter decided he just didn't want to know. Not now. Maybe after Friday.

In the car — Aunt May's, not Mister Carbonell's — Peter finally relaxed. "Thanks for coming," he said.

"Always, Peter," Aunt May said.

Mister Carbonell looked over his shoulder at Peter in the back seat. "Definitely, Underoos. We got your back."

"I guess your bad feeling was right on, huh?" Peter asked, remembering the text.

"Guess so. I'm just so glad you're not really hurt."

"Well, besides that, I'm also glad that you recorded everything on your phone," Aunt May said. "Good thinking."

"I didn't mean to," Peter admitted. "It turned on by itself."

"Oh, it did, huh?" Aunt May sounded like she was smiling. "How clever of it."

And Peter knew he was missing something again, but he decided he just didn't care. His side ached and all he wanted to do was watch a movie and maybe finish the nameplate he'd made for his bot.

But they turned down a different street than the one that led home. Peter blinked. "Where are we going?"

"You've had a bad day," Aunt May said. "That calls for ice cream all around."

And a giant cone of soft-serve chocolate and vanilla swirl didn't fix everything, it didn't take away the bruises or the fact that Peter was nervous about facing those boys one more time at the exhibition — but it helped.

And so did having Aunt May and Mister Carbonell piled around him to watch a really old movie called The Goonies. Peter and Mister Carbonell spent the movie discussing the various traps and tricks, and deciding how they would recreate them with modern tech. Aunt May made Peter promise to call her if he was ever being chased through some underground tunnels by criminals.

After the movie, Mister Carbonell stood up to go. But he paused on the way out.

"Pete, I know...there's a lot going on. I know you would have every right to say you didn't want to do the exhibition, or to tell the principal to kick those kids to the curb. You'd have every right to take the easy out. But you didn't. And I'm...I'm proud of you, kid."

Peter felt warm. "Thanks, Mister Carbonell."

The man huffed. "Okay. Seriously, kid. Aren't we past this 'mister' stuff yet?"

Peter grinned. "No."

He made a frustrated noise in his throat. "I am going to legally change my name to Mario Tony. Then at least I'd get you calling me Mister Tony."

Aunt May laughed. "Is that actually an improvement, though?"

"At this point." He glared at Peter who grinned back unrepentantly. "Anything is an improvement. Come on, kid. I'm not just some random adult, am I?"

"No," Peter said. "But you're still Mister Carbonell."

"Oh my god. What the hell else is it going to take here?"

Peter shrugged.

And he reveled in feeling like he knew they were just playing a game, that Mister Carbonell would never be mad at him about this no matter how much he pretended to be.

He thought about what Aunt May had said in the principal's office — that Mister Carbonell was family. That was a big, scary word, but maybe...maybe it wasn't completely untrue. Maybe.

"You okay?"

Peter realized Mister Carbonell was looking at him and he wondered what was on his face. He shook aside the gulf of feelings that came from thinking about family and nodded.

Mister Carbonell didn't look convinced. "You sure? It's okay if you aren't. You had a hell of a day, and not in a good way. And we got this week sorted out for now, but that doesn't mean it's easy."

"It's not," Peter said, nodding. But Peter thought about the movie, about the choice the characters had to bow out or keep going, and how they decided to stay the more difficult course because it was the right, and the only, thing worth doing. "It's our time, Mister Carbonell. It's our time now. And Goonies never say die."

Mister Carbonell chuckled. "All right, Sean Astin. Heart of the team. Not a bad analogy, actually. Just remember — the kid always outsmarts the bad guys. And you're the smartest kid I know."

Peter grinned. As badly as the day had gone, he knew Friday was going to be a better one.