I wake up to brown eyes in the almost-dark. (I've imagined this in a slightly different context a hundred times by now.)
Peter's lightly shaking me awake. And Michelle, by default, who smacks him away. Despite former promises not to cuddle her, I must have latched on at some point last night, like always. The fact that I'm not on the floor is another reason I love Michelle. For all her tough talk, she's as soft as a pillow. Actually, that's not completely true. Michelle is the fiercest person I know - when the stakes are higher than sleeping arrangements.
I detangle myself from her and smile at Peter, hoping today is different.
Peter smiles back. It's small, but it's there.
"Shower open?" I whisper.
"Yeah. When did MJ want to get up? Aunt May said she'll make pancakes once everyone is awake."
I squint at the clock. 6:13 a.m.
"7. But she'll settle for 6:45 if she smells food."
Peter nods. My eyes adjust a bit and I force myself up, into the hallway, and around to the bathroom. At the door, I hear May and Ned talking quietly in Peter's room. If I were less tired, I might eavesdrop. But I'm not. Ned will probably tell me anyway.
During my slightly too-long shower, I try my best to stop thinking about Peter and last night and his eyes before the dirt comment and this morning and the thousands of impossible future scenarios that would link those moments together under more favorable conditions. For months now, I've spent most of my time thinking about Peter Parker and how I need to stop thinking about Peter Parker. Again, endlessly, it doesn't work.
After pancakes, May drives us to the school where the bus and rest of the team wait. She hugs each of us individually, wishing us luck and reminding us to keep her updated by texts and calls.
"I know how competitive all of you are," May says with a smile, "but remember that this trip is a chance to have fun and act like real teenagers for a few days."
Her smile relaxes as she looks pointedly to Peter.
"Okay? Just remember the stuff we talked about. Be a little more adventurous."
"More adventurous?" Peter asks. "Are you sure?"
May's hands go to her hips.
"You know exactly what I mean. And I'm going to check up on things. Count on that."
This seems soaked in subtext, though I have no idea what sort. I should talk to Ned.
"Alright kids, come back in one last time."
May binds us all into a group hug before kissing our foreheads. I maneuver to the end of the line for this one (least amount of forehead lipstick). Ned gets it worst, Peter plenty, and Michelle a smudge. Hopefully I have nothing.
May must realize this, because she musses up my hair afterward and laughs.
"I'm going to force Peter to do that every night while you guys are away. How will you kids survive without a full balance of Parker love?"
Peter starts to say something in an exasperated tone as his cheeks turn pink but she shakes her head and laughs again. At the same time, I try to suppress the color I feel tickling my neck. If Peter ever kissed my forehead and then did that to my hair….
"I'm only half serious. Totally serious - but anyway, I love you guys and I'll be here when you come back!"
We walk to the bus where Mr. Harrington and the rest of the team are talking. Peter, Michelle, and I try to discreetly wipe our foreheads with our sleeves.
"Ned? You've got… a lot," I say, gesturing.
He smiles.
"I know."
"Oh come on, man," Peter says. "Seriously?"
Mr. Harrington counts each member of the team and passes around a sign-up sheet before we can step onto the bus. As the last three of us approach the door, Flash taps Peter's shoulder.
"What's that?" he asks, pointing above Peter's eyes to the circle of smudged red. As Peter opens his mouth, Flash nails his forehead with the heel of his hand. "What? Somebody already do that?"
Without thinking, I jam my knee into the back of Flash's leg. He falls with the most unflattering huh-yuht sound I've ever heard as he hits his head on the bus door. My heart is racing.
What just happened?
Peter pauses, his mouth in a tight line. He steps over Flash and onto the bus. At the top of the stairs, he turns and waits for me. Flash stands up and tries to play it cool.
"I get it. Making me eat dirt. You wanna recreate some childhood memories?"
I notice the red mark now on his forehead, a mirror of Peter's. I can't think of anything to say. I'm still processing the fact that he actually hit Peter. And that nobody on the bus saw it, judging by the lack of Mr. Harrington's voice. I could kill him. I could really kill him.
I shove Flash out of my way and go to sit with my friends. I can't believe him.
Michelle being chosen as our captain is the best thing to happen to our team. Particularly because Mr. Harrington lets her arrange which rooms all of us sleep in as a privilege.
The list goes:
MJ and Y/N Peter and Ned Cindy and SallyAbraham and Eugene.
(Anytime she writes our names down for anything, she always writes "Eugene" instead of "Flash." He has made many public protests about it.)
Our room is right next to Ned and Peter's. And at the opposite end of the hall from Mr. Harrington. If we're too loud or if we stay up too late, the chance of being caught is slim. (Not that we would ever stay up late enough to compromise the competition… just a little after curfew. The following night we'll stay awake until some time in the morning.)
Now that the half tense (me, Peter, and Flash), half friendly (everyone else) team bus ride is over, MJ and I get to unpack. But first I need to tell her about what happened earlier.
"Flash hit Peter," I blurt.
"What do you mean?"
"He made a comment about the mark from May's lipstick and he hit him. Just-!"
I make the motion with my hand.
"Are you serious? Why didn't you guys say anything to Mr. Harrington? Or me or Ned? I'm team captain, I could have-"
"Because," I rush, "Peter acted like it didn't happen and when he didn't say anything, I got a feeling he might get angry with me if I did and yesterday was so awful. I think he wants this year's trip to be normal, you know, compared to last year? I just had no idea what he wanted me to do."
Michelle takes a breath.
"So, you did nothing?"
"I mean, I kind of got Flash back for it? He hit the door with his head and got the wind knocked out of him."
That's not enough, I know. Talking about it has me worked up again. I could kill him. I'm sure Michelle feels the same way, given her current expression.
"Ask Peter about it," she suggests. "If he says drop it, we drop it. If he says anything else, we go from there."
I nod. Slowly we begin to unpack.
Drawers are being opened and closed as we both turn to each other at the same time and say the same thing:
"I could kill Flash."
