Hi Guys!
Wow-don't ask me how, but I made it to 71 reviews. Okay, I know how: YOU GUYS! Thank you so so SO much. I love each and every review. I so appreciate your readership! :-)
-Homey
Disclaimer: Spider-Man definitely does NOT belong to me!
©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!
"You know what I hate? I hate that some girl had to die because the Spider-Man everyone seems so fond of couldn't get off his butt and save her. He's not a hero. I don't care what you say, Mike."
Gwen hesitated on the staircase as her father's words drifted up to her. There it was again. "Spider-Man". A masked hero—well, not according to the Daily Bugle—who went around saving people's lives. Except. Not.
She wiped from frustrated tears from her cheeks, leaning heavily against the banister. Today was the day of Liz's funeral. She had been lying in bed the past few days, ignoring her parents, not eating, drinking the occasional glass of water.
Peter tried to call numerous times. Gwen hit ignore.
At last, she summoned up enough courage to continue walking, hit the bottom step, and forced a smile.
Captain Stacy stopped talking mid-sentence and stared at her with surprise. He was standing in the foyer with a cell phone pressed to his ear.
"Try not to stay on there too long," Gwen said. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy. "The, uh, cell phones have radio frequency and…and…it's…bad…"
Captain Stacy could see his daughter was crumbling. He said goodbye, hurriedly stuffed the phone in his pants pocket, and hurried to embrace her. Gwen leaned heavily against her father, struggling to hold back her tears.
"I'm so sorry, Gwennie," he said. "So sorry."
"It's not your fault," she promised. "It's mine."
He pulled away, staring into her eyes. "Don't say that."
"But it is," she said with a little laugh. "It's very much my fault."
"No." He said firmly. "It's most certainly not."
She shook her head. "Dad-"
"Please, let's not have this conversation. We have croissants. In the kitchen?"
It was tempting, but Gwen shook her head. "No. I should get showered."
She turned and hurried back up the stairs, leaving her father to wonder if he was the reason she wouldn't come down.
Gwen found Mary Jane as soon as the funeral ended. The two latched onto each other like they were lifesavers, but they weren't, they were both drowning.
Liz's mother, a pretty young woman with her daughter's golden hair, absolutely lost it during the service and had to be pulled away by her husband. Watching that was like a swift punch in the stomach, Gwen thought. Watching that was like death.
Peter was there. Sure enough, he approached them. Gwen shot Mary Jane an anxious look. She shook her head and mouthed, let me take care of it.
"Gwen," Peter said as soon as he was within earshot. The words tumbled out of his mouth, harried yet careful. "Gwen, talk to me. I'm sorry. I know this is my fault. I'll do anything—I'll never speak to you again—if you'll just say something."
"Pete," Mary Jane said coolly, laying a hand on his chest. "Gwendolyn doesn't feel like discussing your relationship with her at the moment. Consider it, 'complicated' until further notice."
He glared at Mary Jane with such ferocity she recoiled. "Stay. Out. Of. It. MJ."
Gwen knew there was something more in that gaze, and for the millionth time she felt another twinge in her stomach. Her friend was dead and she was worrying about boys.
He turned to Gwen, fixing her with his large brown eyes. "Talk to me. Say something. Say anything. Say you…"
"Say she what?" Mary Jane demanded. "Say she hates you? Because she does, Peter. You took her out that night and she should've been with Liz-"
"I know, Mary."
"Don't say my name like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I mean something to you!"
Suddenly they were yelling, screaming accusations at each other and drawing attention from the crowd. Gwen tried desperately to separate them to no avail. Her boyfriend and her best friend were going at it like prizefighters, minus the punching.
"I can't stand who you are!" Mary Jane was saying. "I can't take it-"
"It's wasn't yours to know—I'm supposed to choose who-"
"And you wouldn't have chosen me?" Mary Jane was crying. Crying. Over Peter Parker? Gwen was horribly confused. "You wouldn't have chosen me?"
"I wanted to tell you, Mary, I did."
"You're a liar, Peter."
Obviously, there was more history between them than Gwen had bargained for.
"Please," she begged. "S-stop."
At the sound of her voice Peter turned to her. "Please. Please say you forgive me, Gwen. We can't end it here."
"End it? I never said we were ending anything."
He looked relieved. "Thank-"
"But Liz, my best friend, is dead. And that's not okay." Her voice shook. "Maybe we should take a break. For now. Until I'm better."
"I can help you get better."
Mary Jane scoffed. "Yeah right, Pete. You're as screwed up as anybody else."
"Shut up, MJ," Gwen snapped, surprising herself. The redhead clamped her mouth shut, giving them both a ferocious glare before she turned and stomped off. Wearing heels.
With Mary Jane gone, Gwen's resolve faltered. Her lower lip started to tremble, and then her hands were shaking. She leaned against Peter and let out a sob. It felt like she could breathe again, when his arms wound around her and he whispered that she could get past it. They could do this.
"You promise?" She said, knowing she was soiling his shirt.
He sighed. "We'll try, Gwen. We'll try."
He snuck in that night. Gwen wasn't sure how, but one second she was alone and the next he was sliding under the covers next to her.
"You okay?" He whispered.
She considered telling him yes, an instinct reaction, but shook her head. Now was not the time for lies. Not if they were going to work.
"I'm sorry," he replied. "I feel…largely responsible." His eyes filled with tears and he ducked his head, burying it in a pillow.
Gwen scooted closer to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, grateful for the comfort. "This is…kind of like Twilight to be honest."
"And I'm not so far from being Edward," he mumbled.
"Pardon?"
"Nothing."