"May, I do no need to bring a blazer on the field trip."
Peter was currently standing in the middle of his apartment, his aunt running around from one corner to the next trying to get him prepared for his class's field trip to Columbia University. The sun was barely up but she was running around like someone had snuck Redbull in her coffee. Uncle Ben was just sitting at the counter, calmly watching the whole scene unfold. His dark hair fell back over his head as he smirked at May. She'd been like this all morning, frantically skipping from place to place to get everything ready despite Peter's pleas for her to stop.
"Yes you do!" she called back from inside his room, popping her head out of the door, "You need to look nice and spiffy. Those college administrators catch word that you're half as smart as you really are, they'll be crawling all over you. And you need to look good when they take notice."
"May!" Peter groaned, tilting his head back in exaggeration.
"Let the boy dress himself," Ben shrugged, reaching idly over for his cup of coffee.
"Yes!" Peter sighed in relief, "Thank you."
His uncle eyed him over the rim of his mug, the beginnings of a smile on his face. "If he wants to look like a nerdy vagrant, that's up to him."
The teen shot his uncle a glare, which was only met with a smirk and a coffee mug lifted up in salute.
"Okay!" she relented, hands up in surrender as she made her way over to the kitchen, "At least remember to take your lunch. Can't let my little genius starve."
The teen accepted his bagged lunch with a small smile. "Please stop calling me that."
"Never," she smirked, "Now go knock those fancy university professors dead."
His aunt placed a great big kiss on his forehead and Peter gave the obligatory disgusted sound, though they both knew they kind of enjoyed it. The boy wiped at his forehead, shooting May a sweet look and Ben a wave before making his way towards the door.
"Tell me all about it when you get back!" May called out as he stepped through the door.
"I will!" Peter called back, closing the door behind him and heading towards the elevators.
He only had to wait a few seconds for the doors to open. However, the person on the other side made him think he should probably just take the stairs. Standing in the corner, flipping through what looked like a Columbia informational pamphlet, was Frankie. Today she donned a pair of jeans and a dark blue top that looked like it had been ripped straight from a generic catalogue, though her converse covered in doodles kept her usual strange style. Her muscular shoulders strained against the ugly fabric of her blouse and her fading pink streaks looked limp against the fabric. A notebook was tucked under one arm precariously, pen tucked up behind her ear. She looked like she was trying to look impressive, or what she thought people thought was impressive. Peter felt his shoulders sag, realizing that she'd spotted him before he had a chance to step out of view.
"Are you getting in or not?" she grumbled, turning back to her pamphlet, "Clearly we both have somewhere to be."
"Cheerful as always," he mumbled back, stepping into the elevator begrudgingly.
The two teens lapsed into silence as they went down. Neither had much interest in talking. She must be saving her insults for when they got to Columbia. Some solid quips to make sure he was humiliated in front of people he wanted to work for someday. He could hear her music blasting from her headphones- some older pop rock hit from the 90's, if her usual taste was still intact. She kept her eyes glued to the pamphlet in front of her, seeming to be soaking every detail out of it.
Another detail he picked up on was the fact that she had no lunch in her hands. There was no way she had it in her backpack since neither of them had brought one. No use in it on a field trip. He could hear her stomach grumbling over the faint sound of music spilling from her ears.
Without much thought, Peter tugged out one of the headphones, making Frankie jump.
"Hey, what the hell-"
"It's better for your hearing," he said calmly, not having the energy to participate in one of their usual fights, "Where's your lunch? Mr. Harrington said they won't be providing any."
The taller girl shrugged, though he could see the tips of her ears go pink. "I forgot."
"You don't forget things," the boy pointed out, "Ever. It's one of your more annoying qualities."
"Really?" she quipped back, "I thought my general rage was my more repugnant attribute."
"It's not great," Peter shrugged, pressing on, "Where's your lunch?"
The girl's eyes flicked up to him once, so quick he wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't been looking. "Charlie took the last of the food. All we had left was spinach and a box of Cheerios. Dad hasn't gone grocery shopping and apparently my brother needs to bulk up for the start of the season. I'll buy something when I get there."
"I don't think they sell the souls of the innocent," the boy smirked, "That's what you eat, right?"
"Ha ha," Frankie deadpanned, shooting him a glare, "You're a riot, Parker."
Peter looked over at the taller girl, her body figure a little painful to look at. She was all sharp edges. But he could hear her stomach grumbling, something she clearly hoped he couldn't hear. He couldn't help the twinge in his chest at the sound. She was kind of a bitch, but he'd noticed she didn't eat much throughout the day lately. When she did, it was something very plain and unappetizing that had been shoved into a paper bag like no one cared if the food survived.
"Do you want half my sandwich?"
Frankie's eyes flicked over to him, body stiff and eyes distrustful. She looked him over for a moment before opening her mouth. "No."
Peter waited for her to continue, for some comment that somehow insulted both his intellect and his manhood. But nothing came. He glanced over at her to see that Frankie was messing with her shirt, still staring at the paper in front of her. She looked deeply uncomfortable in the clothes she was wearing, like they were too tight in the wrong places.
"What? No witty comeback?" Peter inquired, bringing his eyes forward and watching the floor numbers tick down, "I expected more from you."
"Contrary to popular belief," she sighed, pushing the pamphlet closer to her face, "I have more important things to focus on than crushing your spirit. It's just a hobby."
The elevator finally came to a stop with a sharp ding and the doors slid open. At the sound, Frankie's eyes snapped up and she stuffed the paper in her back pocket. She scampered out of the elevator and Peter followed suit, lunch clutched in his fist and glasses sliding down his nose. They both made their way out of the lobby into the street, turning towards the subway stop.
"Quit following me, dweeb." Frankie spat over her shoulder, trying to walk faster than him, "I swear I don't have anything to torture you with."
"Why don't I believe you?" Peter grumbled, glaring at the bag.
"Because I don't want you sticking a moldy tuna sandwich in my bag again while I'm trying to make a good impression," she snapped back, shooting him a sharp look, "Don't think I forgot the last time you did that."
"It was equal retaliation for you dunking my lab notes in Dr. Pepper."
The girl snorted, seemingly fond of the memory. "Your whole notebook got sticky. It was lovely- hey buddy!"
The taller girl suddenly took a sharp turn, pushing her way towards Delmar's bodega. Peter, thrown off by her suddenly high pitched voice, wondered if she was going inside when she ducked down and started petting Mr. Delmar's cat, Murph. She cooed at the little furball, scratching behind its ears familiarly. The fat cat rubbed up against her hand as well, seemingly used to this routine.
"Hey, cutie," she purred at the cat, "How are you today? Sorry I don't have any treats-"
"Get to school already!"
Both teens jumped at the sound of Mr. Delmar's booming voice coming from behind the glass doors to his shop. Peter straightened up almost immediately, not wanting to upset the shop owner- even though he hadn't done anything. Frankie, on the other hand, didn't seem to have that concern.
"I'm going, old man," she shot back with a smirk, giving the cat a good nudge behind the ears before standing up, "You get to work pushing those sandwiches."
"I'll have one for you after school," he said gruffly, opening the door for his cat to saunter through, "You too, Mr. Parker. Now get to school."
"Thank you, Mr. Delmar," Peter piped up, giving the older man a wave and a smile that was quickly returned. Frankie gave the man a quick salute, heels popping off the ground before turning towards the subway stop. Peter quickly followed suit.
The rest of the walk was quick, silent. Frankie had ducked back into her pamphlet and Peter paid her little attention. The train was full enough for them to have several people between them as they sat down, giving Peter some relief. Soon enough they made it to their stop, school only a block away. Frankie had fallen silent, both earbuds planted firmly in her ears as she tried to block out the world.
All the better for Peter. He welcomed the quiet as they made their way towards the bus parked at the front of the school. Several dozen students already milled around, all dressed in varying levels of business casual. He pushed his glasses a little further up his nose as he and Frankie semi-willingly walked up together.
"Hey, Penis Parker!"
Peter felt his shoulders sag at the sound of Flash's nasal voice. The boy in question was a few feet away from them, dressed in clothes that cost the same as a months rent standing far too close to an uncomfortable looking girl Peter recognized from history class. She'd just transferred into Midtown. Frankie's face was twisted up in a freckled scowl at the sight of the boy. If there was one thing the two of them agreed on, it was that they both hated Flash Thompson.
"Jesus, Flash" she spat, nose crinkling in annoyance, "Is it physically impossible for you to leave a girl alone? Or will you just spontaneously combust if you're not a total douchebag to every freshman you meet?"
"What can I say, the ladies love me," the darker haired boy winked at Frankie, smile spreading wider over his face. However, the girl managed to duck out of Flash's line of sight while he was distracted. She quickly waved at Frankie, the barest traces of a thank you on her lips as she strode away. "Not like anyone's crawling over themselves to get with you, Foxy Boxer."
The taller girl pulled the earbuds out of her ears, her sharp face squinting over at Flash. "For the millionth time, it's kickboxing. Not foxy boxing, ass-hat."
"Right", he responded smugly, "You kick and punch giant bags because a doctor said you're a psycho."
"You're so right," she simpered back, eyes squinting angrily, "Want me to demonstrate how well it works?"
Flash stepped back, trying and failing to cover up his nervousness. "Fucking freak. No wonder you only hang around poor trash like Parker."
Peter felt his face burn, shoulders hunching up in embarrassment. Apparently the girl next to him didn't feel the same way. The tips of her ears went red as she glared menacingly down at Flash.
"You shut your goddamn mouth," she spat down at the shorter boy, "You don't get to talk shit, you spoiled human fleabag. Only I get to talk shit about Parker, so if you don't want your two thousand dollar watch shoved so far up your-"
"Mr. Thompson," an adult voice called out, "If you could get on the bus and stop harassing our female students, that would be wonderful."
Out of the crowd of students came Mr. Harrington, his usual dopey yet disappointed look plastered on his face. His glasses were pushed up the bridge of his nose as he made his way over to the three teens, eyeing Flash with his usual annoyance.
"I was just talking, Mr. Harrington," Flash tried to smooth over, leaning back on his heels, "It's not my fault that these two losers can't take a joke."
"Just get on the bus, Flash" the teacher groaned, pointing towards the crowd of students who were already shuffling onto the aforementioned bus.
"What about psycho over here?" Flash griped back, pointing angrily over at Frankie, "She was the one threatening me. She threatened my body."
"A real shame," Harrington shrugged, clearly unimpressed with the teen's plight, "Now please load onto the bus and review your decathlon material. We don't want a repeat of last week's practice."
Peter could swear he saw Flash's whole face go pink. He could barely contain the laughter bubbling up in his chest. He may not like her, but even he had to admit that Frankie Hart was not someone you wanted to mess with. As Flash stomped away towards the bus, Mr. Harrington turned towards the other two teens.
"If it isn't Peter The Great and Hart The Horror," he said half-cheerily, still trying to get the poor nicknames to stick, "Are you two coming to practice after the trip."
"Yeah," Peter responded quickly, "Of course I am."
Frankie, on the other hand, shrugged. "What else would I be doing?"
"Fair point," Mr. Harrington conceded easily, pointing towards the bus, "Seriously though, get on. We're leaving in a few minutes. We can't leave a student behind again. The parent's threatened to sue."
Peter watched as the teacher slumped away, seemingly only half aware of what students were doing around him. His eyes flicked over to the taller girl, who was about to shove her earbuds back into her ears. The boy, however, felt his stomach turn at the fact that he had to say something to her. God, he hated that.
"Thanks, by the way," he managed to spit out, trying to sound gentle and friendly.
Frankie looked down at him, her brows drawn together. "What?"
Peter felt the words on his tongue, but they tasted bitter. "For standing up to Flash for me. You didn't need to-"
"Don't thank me," she cut him off immediately, eyes rolling hard, "He's a half-rate rich boy asshole. No one should give a shit what he says."
"Still," he continued begrudgingly, "It was nice."
Frankie's face twisted up, looking like she'd just sucked on a lemon. "Gross. I'm never doing that again."
Jaw tightening in aggravation, Peter nodded with a glare at the girl. "Of course. I would expect nothing less from you."
"Good," she sighed, putting one earbud in, "And don't think this means you can- I don't know, swap friendship bracelets with me or something. Just because I hate Flash doesn't mean I like you."
"Just because you have one human impulse doesn't mean I like you either," Peter shot back immediately.
That seemed to be funny to Frankie, who was turning towards the doors of the bus with a grin on her face. "Whatever. The other half of the dork patrol is here for you, anyway."
Without another word, Frankie stomped away, passing Ned on the way. Peter's friend sent her a small glare as she passed, the only interaction the two ever seemed to share. Peter doubted they'd ever spoken, but Ned had declared all the way back in elementary school that he had to hate her on principle.
"Hey man," the dark haired boy greeted cheerily, "Are you getting on the bus or not?"
"Yeah, dude" Peter replied immediately, following behind his friend and onto the bus with a scowl on his face.
The tour was giving Frankie anxiety sweats.
First of all, the head of Engineering's T.A. was giving the tour. Given that Engineering was Frankie's desired major, that was enough to make the teen want to gag from nerves. But add on top of that the fact that one of the professors greeted them halfway through nearly brought her over the edge. But she kept it together. At least on the outside.
These people could potentially be deciding factors in whether she got accepted to Columbia. Well, it wasn't her first choice. MIT held that spot. But it's not like she was able to jet off and attend a tour whenever she wanted. And Columbia was in state. So that was something.
She'd made it through lunch without puking. That was a good start. Maybe it helped that she didn't have a lunch to eat in the first place. She briefly wondered if she should've taken Peter up on his offer, but quickly pushed that thought away.
Now they were all touring the genetic engineering wing. Flash was livestreaming for his 'Flash Mob' as if he didn't have a care in the world. Which he probably didn't. Rich people didn't need to qualify for school, they could just pay their way in.
"...and over here you'll see our assortment of arachnid subjects." the guide said calmly, as if being around genetically engineered spiders was mundane.
Quickly, Frankie raised her hand to get the guide's attention. "Is their venom being studied for medicinal purposes?"
The tour guide's eyes fell on Frankie for a moment, looking her up and down with a barely held back look of boredom. "That's not really what we do here."
One look at her and she could already tell she didn't like Frankie. Her stomach twisted and face flushed a hot pink, hand falling back down to her side. Quietly, she shrunk back into the group.
Normally, Frankie would have been paying attention. She would have been taking aggressive amount of notes and hanging on every word, but she was already embarrassed and something had caught her eye.
Peter was missing.
She shouldn't care. She didn't, really. She hadn't been paying attention since lunch. But having someone- specifically a rival- disappear is a little more than disconcerting. And no one else seemed to notice or care. Looking around, he was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey", she whispered to MJ, who was standing next to her, "Have you seen Parker?"
The taller girl shrugged, keeping her eyes on the tour guide. "Why?"
"Well, what if he's talking to some professor?" Frankie hissed, keeping her voice quiet, "And he's schmoozing them and getting a letter of recommendation to MIT or something? I deserve the same chance."
MJ's eyes flicked over to the girl beside her, brow quirked up, "Sounding a bit paranoid there."
Frankie scoffed, crossing her arms. "I'm not paranoid. I'm observant."
"Could you guys please quiet down?" Ned asked, clearly trying to sound intimidating but ending up sounding just as polite as usual, "I really wanna hear this."
"Sure, whatever," Frankie shrugged, not really bothering to argue. It was always slightly harder to argue with Ned. He may not like her, but she didn't have anything against the boy. She may be an asshole, but she wasn't a dick.
Letting her eyes wander, Frankie felt her fingers twitch nervously against her arm. The tour guide continued to speak, droning on about arachnid abilities and their genetic properties. The girl couldn't care less and took in the room around her. Everything felt bigger in this building. There was more space to breathe, more things to learn. Nothing like Midtown, where everything was cramped and sweaty and loud. It made her brain feel like it was swelling up against her skull. A few more years and she'd be somewhere like this. If she could convince anyone she was worth the time.
As her eyes wandered, they fell on the boy she'd been looking for in the first place. Peter was tucked away in a corner, his phone out to take photos of the spiders they'd been observing. Frankie's lips pressed together, glancing at the overly perky tour guide before slipping away from the group. Who cared? This wasn't her major anyway.
Thirteen steps.
She silently made her way over to Peter, who hadn't seemed to notice her yet. She stepped up behind him, careful to make sure her footfalls didn't make any sounds as she ducked her head precariously over his shoulder.
"Here's Johnny!"
The acne covered boy nearly jumped out of his skin, phone nearly tumbling out of his grip as he swerved around to see Frankie barely containing her laughter. His face twisted up, shoulders hunching in annoyance.
"What the hell, Frankie?" he sputtered, trying to keep his voice down.
"What?" she responded easily, laughter still pricking her voice, "It was a golden opportunity."
The boy ran his hands through his hair, glancing over at the group to make sure they weren't caught. He leaned back slightly, as if that would keep him from being seen. Frankie just stepped behind one of the display cases, keeping her smile firm on her face. She noticed one of the cages was opened.
"Why were you following me?" Peter questioned tiredly.
The girls brows pulled together, fading pink hair falling over her face. She really didn't have a good reason beyond messing with Peter. But she couldn't say that to him, instead shrugging and sticking her chin up. "Got bored with this leg of the tour. Not really a fan of the whole genetically manipulating animals thing."
At least that was true. Peter seemed to buy it, slowly shoving his phone back into his pocket. "Yeah, not my area of interest either."
"So what are we gonna do?" she asked pointedly, straightening her shoulders.
Peter scoffed slightly, eyeing the taller girl with aggravation. "We're not doing anything. You're going back to the group."
"Like hell I am."
Peter's head ducked down, his hands dropping and phone thumping against his leg. "Can't you just leave me alone?"
"To do what?" she inquired nosily, looking him over, "Take pictures of spiders? I hardly think that qualifies as fun."
His face scrunched up in annoyance, his glasses slipping down his nose. "It's for the school paper."
"Jesus, it's like you popped out of an Archie comic," Frankie chuckled, sending him a sickly sweet smile, "Wanna head down to the soda fountain and play jacks later?"
"Stop making John Mulaney quotes sound evil," he grumbled, trying to step around her, "That's a crime against humanity."
"Then give me some goddamn entertainment," she griped back, hands thrown up in aggravation as she blocked his path, "Call it a temporary ceasefire. I don't care. Just… I don't know, gimme something to work with."
"Jesus, it's like you were made in a lab to make my life miserable!"
Peter's mouth ran fast, groans and insults spilling out at lightning speed. Frankie could feel her entire face heat up again, but this time with anger. Why the hell did he think he could talk to her like that? It made her chest swell up, the feeling of his eyes boring into her angrily. Her own face twisted into a sick sort of smirk. This was what she knew, what she understood how to navigate.
However, something caught her eye mid-rant and interrupted her temporary levity. Something dark and strange looking was crawling down Peter's arm, over his sleeve like it was reaching for his skin. Her eyes zeroed in on it, unsure of what to make of it. "Dude, there's something-"
Peter completely ignored her, glaring up at the taller girl. "Could you please just leave me-"
"I'm not kidding, there's something on your-"
Suddenly, Peter was yelping in pain, hand shooting up to his chest. His entire face twisted up as he cradled his hand. Frankie reached out, hands unsure and awkward as she pulled his hand towards her and slapped the thing away. He cried out again, apparently having hit him too hard on the bite.
"Sorry, I-"
"What are you doing?" he groaned, face turning white with pain.
"I- I think that was a spider or something," Frankie tried to explain, gaze falling down to the bite, "Fuck, that looks ugly."
It was ugly. The bite was white and pink, half swollen with a tiny trail of blood. It definitely shouldn't look like that so fast. Frankie had never really seen a spider bite before, but that didn't look normal.
"No shit, it hurts," he replied, voice tight and aggravated as he ripped his hand from her grip.
"Maybe we should get you to Mr. Harrington and-"
"No," he cut her off, taking several steps back, "I don't… let's just finish the tour."
The blonde fixed him with a look, pointing towards the strange looking bite with worry. "That sounds like a very dumb idea."
"What do you care?" Peter spat back, turning his back and looking over his shoulder at her, almost like he was only half certain about ignoring her. "Just- just get back to the group, okay?"
Frankie's mouth pressed into a firm line. She wanted to tell him to not be such an idiot and get it checked out. That he didn't know what had bit him, that he could get really sick if he didn't do something. But the words stuck in her chest. He wouldn't listen to her anyway. The shorter boy walked away, still cradling his hand to his chest and she fought the urge to go tell Harrington. But she wouldn't. If he wanted to deal with it, whatever. It was his business. That didn't mean it didn't leave a sour taste in her mouth.
The rest of the tour was short. One last lap around the labs and the class was out in the courtyard waiting for the bus. Frankie, however, was waiting for her dad to pull up to the curb. She sat there, knees curled up to her stomach and phone in one hand. MJ had already started walking home, leaving the other girl with a rumbling stomach and a long stretch of silence. The back of her neck itched bad, keeping her mind and hands occupied as she scratched at it.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peter stumbling towards the curb. She straightened her back, suddenly concerned. He was sweaty and looked like he was about to fall over.
"Hey!" she called out, "Parker!"
He didn't seem to hear her, too busy trying to keep himself upright as he made his way to his Aunt May's beat up car. Or maybe he was ignoring her. That would be… understandable.
Before she could think too much about it, a familiar car pulled up in front of her. She stood and peered in, but instead of her father sitting at the wheel, it was a very annoyed looking Charlie. He was still in his workout clothes, clearly just coming from practice.
"What are you doing here?" she grumbled, face falling down into a scowl.
Charlie glared over at her. "Dad's busy. Get in."
"Are we going home?" she asked, still standing with her arms crossed on the curb.
"Where else, moron?" he griped with a shit eating grin, "Unless you want milkshakes."
Frankie's eyes flicked down to the concrete, her old shoes scruffed up and covered in old ink. She looked back at her brother, face carefully bored. She wouldn't tell him how empty her stomach was or how hard her heart beat at the idea of going out to get something. "Only if it's chocolate."
Without another word, she got into the car and buckled herself in. Still, something nagged at the back of her brain. She looked through the windshield at the Parker's old car where Peter's head rested against the window. A smear of sweat spread across the glass as they drove past, and Frankie couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry. Old habits die hard.
The itch was getting worse along the back of her neck. She scratched hard at it, feeling bits of skin scrape underneath her fingernails. She could feel it turning red and hot under her fingertips.
"The hell is wrong with you?" Charlie scoffed, reaching over and slapping her hand away from her neck.
Frankie slapped right back, hitting her brother hard on the hand. "An itch, dumbass."
"You look like you're clawing your spine out," he pointed out with an eye roll, keeping his gaze on the road.
The younger girl kept scratching, feeling like something was just under her skin. She reached back behind her with both hands and started to scratch harder. She could feel areas where he's pulled off some skin stinging under her nails.
"Jesus, what the hell are you-"
"OW!"
A sharp pain went up and down Frankie's neck, bright and intense. Her face twisted up and her whole body ducked down under the sting of it. She grabbed hold of her neck hard, thinking maybe if she applied pressure the pain would go down.
The car swerved at her cry, her brother thrown off and eyes wide. He quickly corrected himself, jerkily turning into a parking lot so quick that Frankie briefly thought he would crash. The car threw itself into a stop, almost throwing the two occupants through the windshield when Charlie turned towards her with wild eyes.
"What the fuck was that?" he asked her incredulously, hands tight on the steering wheel.
"I- ow- I don't-"
Frankie's words sent shooting pains up her neck, like talking was making it worse. Underneath her palm, she could feel something writhing. Carefully, she moved her fingers and grabbed hold of whatever was stuck to her. With a tug and a pinprick of pain, she pulled whatever it was off of her and held it in front of her face.
"Oh God," her brother moaned, throwing his head back against his seat in annoyance, "A spider? That's what's got you freaking out?"
The stringy blonde shot her brother a harsh glare. "It really freaking hurt, Charlie."
"Whatever," he spat back, "Just toss it out the window. We're going home."
Frankie's mouth opened, a retort at the ready when it snapped shut in pain. The edges of her jaw felt like they were about to pop out. Drowsily, she looked over at the spider caught between her fingers. It didn't look special. Its legs writhed angrily and its little body wiggled like it was trying to escape. No special markings, no discoloration. Just a plain black spider. Maybe a few flecks of red. Absolutely nothing special, as far as she could tell. She shouldn't be worried about poison, but the pain in her neck begged to differ. Part of her wanted to go to the hospital, but they didn't have the insurance for that. Besides, she was probably overreacting.
With one last glance at the thing, she crushed it between her fingers and threw it out the open window beside her.