(Author's Note: I know I said I wouldn't be following a strict story/plot-line, but I think the events of the previous two chapters shouldn't be glossed over, so I'm probably going to be referencing them quite a bit. This chapter is meant as a direct sequel dealing with what happened.)
I straightened my burgundy sweater, blinking at myself in the mirror. I noticed the unpleasant creases wrinkling my khaki pants, and winced. I should have ironed them.
"Peter?" May's voice called gently from outside of my bedroom. "You about ready?"
"Yeah, I'm coming," I answered while grabbing my backpack, after which I cracked open the door and headed out to the living room. May was awaiting me by the door, a melancholy look splashed across her face.
"Are you sure you're ready to go back?" she asked as I halted by the door. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she gazed deeply into my eyes. "You don't have to go. What happened was awful, and they even said if students needed more time to recover -"
"I need to go back," I interrupted, shying away from her attempts at comfort. "I… I need to be there for my friends."
"You need to stop worrying about your friends for a second and think about yourself," May argued, throwing me a pointed glare. "Peter, there's nothing wrong with admitting that you're upset, o-or traumatized."
"I'm fine!" I exclaimed grumpily, brushing roughly past her and storming out of the apartment.
The drive to the school was marked by silence. May, although clearly concerned, couldn't seem to find the right words, and simply sat fretfully in the driver's seat. I stared dully out of the window, my mind wandering back and forth to nowhere in particular.
The atmosphere at the school was… different. Instead of the usual laughter and cheer that brimmed inside of the hallways, the corridors were marked by quiet footsteps, hushed murmurs, and fearful glances in every direction. It was the first day back since the shooting. Over a week had passed.
One by one, we filed into a auditorium, taking our seats. The teachers and principals were gathered on the stage, talking amongst themselves. I squirmed beside of Ned as I waited anxiously. Peering around the expansive room, I spotted MJ seated a few rows ahead with some of the other girls from the decathlon team. I met her gaze, offering a small smile and a wave. She waved back, her eyes lingering for a moment before she turned back to her other friends.
Even as she looked away, I couldn't help but watch her absentmindedly. My mind unwittingly recalled the moments during the shooting; of her huddling behind a desk with other friends while the shooter stood just feet away, then lowering her down to the ground. I thought of her rushing after me as I clambered back to the building. The strange look in her eyes had stayed with me ever since. She hadn't mentioned anything to me afterward, so I supposed my hasty assumption about my identity had been incorrect. Still, there was a layer of doubt hidden beneath that I couldn't seem to shake.
The assembly began just then, drawing my attention to the stage. The principal was the first to speak, welcoming all of us back to the school. He acknowledge the travesties that had occurred, and the steps that were being taken to ensure that such a thing never happened again. Various teachers and other adults spoke as well, assuring the students that there would be grief counselors for anyone who desired them.
The meeting went on and on in a similar manner. I couldn't bring myself to pay attention to much of it. In my mind, all I could hear were gunshots and screams, echoing throughout my head in a relentless chorus.
Finally, the assembly was drawn to a close, and the students dismissed to each of their classes, shortened for the day to make room for the meeting. I rose to my feet, trailing behind Ned as we walked out of the auditorium, then out into the hall. With slow, almost drowsy footsteps, I walked to first period.
The day seemed to drag, and when the final bell was rung, I felt nothing but relief. Shouldering my backpack, I quietly made my way outside. As I slipped through the pair of double doors, I spotted MJ walking up ahead, alone.
"MJ!" I called to her, scrambling to catch up. She paused, pivoting around.
"Oh, hey Peter," she replied with a tiny smile, clutching the straps of her pack.
"You doing okay?" I asked, my eyes wide as I surveyed her carefully.
"I guess," she answered with a shrug. "As well as anyone can be."
"Well," I said, shifting my feet nervously. "I'm glad you weren't hurt." At this, MJ's smile started to wobble, and she looked away momentarily.
"Yeah," she murmured, biting her lip. "I'm glad you're okay too," she added, lifting her gaze back to mine. Then, in a move that surprised me, she shuffled towards me, wrapping me in a warm hug. I blinked, then returned the embrace, breathing in the scent of her. When we pulled away, I felt a tug at my chest, but I pushed it aside. Now wasn't the time.
"I-I should go," I stammered, swallowing the lump in my throat as I glanced down at the watch strapped to my wrist. The afternoon was beginning to wane, and I wanted to get as much time in as Spider-Man as I could.
"I'll see ya around," MJ replied, the casual nonchalance returned to her tone as she darted off to the bus stop.
I shot a quick text to Ned, calling off our weekly study time tonight. I wasn't in the mood. Other things were more important right now.
The afternoon fell into evening, and then evening to night. As the hours ticked past, I swung from alleyway to narrow street, putting an end to the ventures of as many thugs as I could. Even so, as I crawled through the window to my bedroom that night, 3 minutes past curfew, I felt an itching at my consciousness.
After a quick shower, I emerged into the living room to find May seated on the couch, staring blankly at the wall.
"Could you sit down, Peter?" she asked as I entered the room. Her eyes were wide, almost fearful in their surveillance as I approached the couch, taking a seat beside of her.
"Is something wrong?" I inquired, a hint of concern shooting through me at the grimness of her voice. May regarded me with a sudden look of sadness, then shook her head.
"I'm worried about you," she said. I flinched, glancing away.
"I told you," I mumbled, "I'm fine."
"No, you're not," May argued firmly. "Every night since the shooting, you've gone out there, past curfew, and you come back here looking even worse than when you left. And don't think I haven't noticed the sleeping pills you got -"
"It's not that bad, May," I replied defensively, unable to help the rise of my tone.
"It is that bad!" May suddenly shrieked, and I winced at the hysterical note infiltrating her voice. "Peter, there's nothing wrong with admitting that you're not ok."
"But I have to be ok!" I shouted, standing to my feet as I turned to face her. "Because people's lives depend on it! If I go out there, and I don't have my head on straight, people could die! And then their deaths? Then that's on me, May."
"You're just a kid, Peter!" May exclaimed. "You shouldn't have to wear that kind of burden. You don't deserve to. You need to take the time to grieve, like the rest of your friends are doing."
"I can't!" I screeched, throwing my hands into the air in exasperation as my eyes involuntarily welled with tears. "I… I just can't." I collapsed back onto the couch, suddenly too weak to stand any longer.
"Peter," said May, clasping my shoulder with a comforting hand. "Just tell me what's bothering you." I gritted my teeth, struggling to calm the raging storm within my mind.
"I… I could have done better," I answered, my voice beginning to crack. "I should have gone faster. I should… I should have saved more of them, May." Tears began to fall down my sullen cheeks as my shoulders started to tremble uncontrollably. "I should have done better."
"Oh, honey," May responded in a sorrowful tone. "You did everything that you could."
"What if I could have saved more?" I asked shakily, before a fit of sobs suddenly racked my frame, and May slung her arms around me. I buried my head in her shoulder, weeping into the warm fabric of her sweater. "I-I'm sorry," I whispered after a moment, then squirmed out of her embrace.
"Peter, listen to me," said May, cupping my face in her hands and directing my eyes towards hers. "What happened was not your fault, you hear me?"
I hesitated, then slowly nodded. May wiped the dampness and tears from my face, then ran a hand through my hair to straighten out the tangles. "We're gonna get through this, okay?" she continued. The determination of her words suddenly seemed to pour a rush of strength into me.
"Okay."